Rachelle McCalla - Protecting the Princess

Kirk took back roads to the marina. The attack shocked him, but he’d always been a man of action. He’d find a way to get the princess to safety, then come back and ask questions. Besides, it was likely too soon for anyone to know why the attacks had happened or who was behind them.

He slowed their vehicle as they approached the marina and found an out-of-the-way parking spot not far from the rocky cliffs. It was still a long trek to his sailboat, but that stage of the trip didn’t worry him nearly as much as what he was about to do.

Killing the engine, Kirk leaned over and lifted the duffel bag just enough to allow him to see Stasi’s frightened blue eyes looking up at him.

“We’re at the marina.” He laid out the bare facts of the situation. “There aren’t too many people around. I’m going to take you to my boat.”

He watched indecision war across her face. Would she trust him? Given the accusations that had been made against him in the past, he knew she’d have every right not to trust him. But she also had no other alternative, and he’d have to have her cooperation if he was going to get her out of the city alive.

And he had to get her out of the city. As a sentinel in the royal guard, he’d taken a vow to protect the royal family. There was no doubt in his mind that every minute she stayed in Sardis, her life was in greater danger.

“How am I going to get to the boat without anyone seeing me?”

Her question was an excellent one. With her golden-blond hair, inherited from her American mother, Princess Anastasia would easily stand out among the mostly darker-haired Lydians at the marina, especially since her dramatic curls were styled in an elaborate formal hairdo.

He couldn’t risk letting anyone even suspect the princess was with him. He was certain her life would depend upon that.

“I’ll carry you. You’ll fit in my duffel bag.” The enormous military-size bag was meant to carry everything a soldier needed during deployment. It was more than big enough for the petite princess.

Her mouth dropped open, and her head peeked up higher.

Kirk looked around warily. So far no one was paying them any attention. The explosions would have been clearly visible from the marina, and most of those milling about appeared to be caught up in discussions, or on the phone, staring toward the place where the smoke still rose, gesturing toward the plumes, no doubt trying to determine what had happened.

Fortunately, though the Jeep he’d driven belonged to the royal household, there was nothing about the vehicle to identify it as such. And nimble Jeeps were common enough on the steep terrain and narrow streets of Sardis, Lydia’s capital city.

Unfortunately, plenty of folks, including the royal guards who’d been standing at the gates, had surely seen the princess riding with him as they left the palace. If anyone wanted to locate her, they wouldn’t have to ask around long before they figured out she was with him. He would have to hurry if he was going to get her out of Sardis before anyone caught up to them.

Reluctance filled her face, but to her credit, the princess didn’t protest his plan. She ducked low while he emptied the canvas bag of what he could—his royal guard uniform and some books. These he stowed in the locked compartment under the rear seat. The key to the compartment was on the key ring he’d taken from the cabinet.

“Can you wriggle in there?” He settled the open military duffel over Stasi’s head.

The petite princess fumbled inside the oversize bag, and Kirk hopped out, circling around to her side of the Jeep and helping her tuck her feet inside before carefully upending the bag with her in it, and tucking the folds of her dress in after her.

Fearful eyes watched him pull the zipper up toward her face. He could see a hundred questions on her lips and knew she had to be afraid. Of the insurgents, and also, of him.

“I’ll keep you safe.”

She gave a tiny nod, and he zipped the bag closed.

Hefting the strap over his shoulder, he carried her as gently as he could without making a show of it. He tossed his head back and tried to look carefree as he made his way toward the boardwalk.

The youngest member of the Royal House of Lydia had always been light. This wasn’t the first time he’d carried her. Growing up best friends with her elder brother, Thaddeus, Kirk had spent most of his childhood playing with the royal siblings: Thaddeus, Alexander, Isabelle and Anastasia. He’d always had a soft spot for tiny Stasi, born almost two months premature, who’d tried so hard to keep up with the older children.

While the royal siblings seemed content to run on without her, Kirk had never been willing to leave her behind. From the time he was seven and she was old enough to hold on, somewhere around the age of two, she’d been an almost constant fixture perched atop his shoulders as they’d played games in the royal garden, or gone zipping through the halls of the royal palace.

That had been years ago, before her brother’s disappearance had turned the royal family and most of the Kingdom of Lydia against him. Many Lydians, the king and queen included, doubted he’d actually killed Thaddeus or even been witness to his accidental death, but he’d still gone on trial—most likely in an attempt to pressure him to reveal Thad’s whereabouts since the body had never been found. Once the jury had found him not guilty for lack of evidence, he’d been untouchable, and a judge had ordered him back to his post in the royal guard.

He wasn’t welcome there. He was tolerated at best, either by those who hated him for not revealing where their future king had gone, or by those who were jealous of all the media attention he’d been shown, his picture splashed across every newspaper for almost two years before the matter was settled.

He hadn’t carried Stasi in far longer than those six years, but she still felt light as he tried to remove her from the danger in Sardis. Kirk shuddered to think what may have become of the royal family. Somehow, the explosions that had rocked the royal world on its edge had tipped his back into alignment. He now had a chance to prove himself to them—to demonstrate, beyond any doubt, that he would do anything to protect them. More than that, he could show them that he would never have committed the crime he’d been accused of.

At the sight of trouble up ahead, Kirk neither slowed nor rushed his steps. He drew nearer to a Lydian soldier who patrolled the marina.

The man held out his Uzi like a crossing guard beam. “Kirk Covington?”

“Yes.” Kirk was used to folks he didn’t know recognizing him. Though his picture didn’t fill the papers as much these days, his name still landed in the tabloids often enough. People either loved or hated him. Most of those associated with the royal family fell into the latter group, and Kirk got the sense this soldier was one of them. But his experience with the media had taught him to stay one step ahead of those who might question him.

Before the soldier could ask him anything, Kirk leaned a little closer to the man. “Do you know anything about those explosions up on the hill?”

The man seemed to weigh his answer. “There’s been some sort of attack. They may be locking down the city shortly.”

“Ah.” Kirk nodded. “Then I suppose if I’m going to get away for the weekend, I’ll have to take my boat out now.”

The soldier seemed to shuffle in place. Kirk got the sense he didn’t really know what was going on, but the man was certainly keyed up over what had happened. He needed to get moving before the soldier thought to question him further.

“I won’t keep you.” Kirk tipped his head to the soldier and stepped around him.

He continued down the pier to where his sailboat sat in the water. Behind him, he heard the static buzz of the soldier’s radio, and his ears pricked up at an urgent-sounding transmission, though he couldn’t make out any words.