The Missing Monarch (10 page)

Thad took a step closer to the head of
the table and placed his
fists on the glossy surface of the wood, leaning down slightly to meet
everyone’s eyes. “What do you think? I’ve heard both sides of the argument, and
they both have valid points. Shall I uncover the scepter or keep it hidden?”

“I think we need to pray about it before we make that
decision.” Isabelle locked hands with Levi on one side of her, and
Stasi on the
other.

“Yes, let’s pray,” Alec agreed, bowing his head as his fingers
clasped Lillian’s hand on one side, and drew Dom Procopio’s on the other. “Will
you lead the prayer, Deacon?”

As the others clasped hands and bowed their heads around the
table, Monica felt Thad’s frustration simmering beside her. She stepped forward
to take Thad’s hand, but he
turned away and faced the fire, his arms crossed
firmly.

The others hadn’t noticed. Their heads were bowed and their
eyes closed as Monica stretched to close the gap between General Petrela and
Dom, who’d already opened the prayer.

The siblings around the table joined in, thanking God for
keeping them all safe and for bringing love into their lives. They prayed for
healing for their father, and begged God to especially watch over Peter, before
asking God’s guidance about whether to look for the scepter.

Thaddeus spun around and faced them all from the head of the
table the moment they said “Amen.” Monica couldn’t be sure if any of them had
realized he wasn’t praying with them, but his refusal to join them in prayer
prickled
at her. At the very least, he could have held hands and bowed his head
along with them, even if he didn’t believe God was listening. If he hadn’t
thought God was there, it shouldn’t have made any difference if he participated
in the prayer.

No, it was almost as though he was angry at God, rather than
unbelieving.

Before she could consider the issue, Thad cleared his
throat.
“It seems to me the risks of fetching the scepter are outweighed by the
benefits. We need it by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no sense putting off going
after it. But in order to reduce the odds of detection, I’ll retrieve it by
myself.”

“Right now?” Alec asked.

“I’ll wait until dark. Right now, I strongly feel I ought to
visit our mother. She’s at Father’s
bedside at the hospital?” Thad seemed to be
in a hurry to end the meeting. Monica wondered if the prayer had made him that
uncomfortable.

“Yes. I can take you there,” Stasi offered.

“I’d appreciate that. I’ll freshen up and change clothes first.
Can I meet you in the foyer?” He shot a glance at Petrela, as though challenging
him to try and stop him, or to tie him
up like an animal again.

The general simply winked.

Monica couldn’t help but wonder whose side the man was really
on. Could they trust him? Did they have any choice? With just shy of a day
remaining before Octavian expected the scepter, they had to focus on the mission
before them—and just be grateful Petrela was letting them go about their
business unfettered.

Thad and Stasi set a time, and then Isabelle offered to take
Monica to the suite that had been prepared for her. Monica thanked her and
followed, making note of the time Thad had planned to meet Stasi for the trip to
the hospital. He hadn’t invited her, but she still hoped to tag along. She’d
never been introduced to her mother-in-law, and if there was any chance Thad was
planning to break the news to Queen Elaine that she had a grandson, Monica
wanted to be there.

* * *

Thad wasn’t surprised to see Monica already waiting in
the foyer as he made his way across the second-floor hall toward the stairs.
She’d obviously taken advantage of the opportunity to freshen up and had her
shoulder-length hair pulled up in front, draping down
in back with thick curls
that caught the light of the crystals from the chandelier above. Sunlight
splashed across her as she turned to face him, and he saw that the blouse she
wore, which had looked plain from the back, had a wide-collared neckline and a
tie belt, accentuating her hourglass figure.

He nearly missed the next step, but he caught himself with his
hand
on the rail, and recovered fully by the time he reached her level. “You
look—” He stopped himself before he could compliment her. Was it playing into
Octavian’s plans to admit the woman who’d caught his eye years before could
still turn his head? He wanted to carry her off and make up for the long years
they’d been apart. But Monica had made it clear that she was angry with
him.
Hopelessness clung to his soul.

“—refreshed,” he finished.

The bright smile that had leaped to her lips when he started
the sentence faded quickly at his disappointing words. Guilt stabbed him. She
looked far more than refreshed. She was the embodiment of his every dream, the
balm for his hurting soul, the paradise at the end of his long journey. And if
he intended to defeat Octavian, she was absolutely off-limits.

Thad swallowed back the guilty feeling. It didn’t matter. He
had a job to do.

“Any sign of the general?”

“He was talking to his guards earlier—my impression was that he
was instructing them to give us a longer leash, so to speak. And I hope he’s
asked them not to report to Octavian directly.”

“That
would be a relief. What do you think of his claim that
he’s really on our side?” Thad met Monica’s eyes, intending only to gauge what
she thought of the general. But when she looked up at him through her thick
eyelashes, he felt his hardened heart swell with longing, and he was tempted to
pull her into his arms again, to feel the press of her lips against his.

But that
would be foolishness.

“I’d love to believe him, but it sounds too good to be true,
don’t you think? Besides, if he’s been working on our side, he could have
mentioned it sooner. It sounds too convenient to me.”

Thad nodded. Her ideas aligned with his. “He knows he’s
outnumbered. He’s made a handy excuse. I won’t challenge him as long as he’s
willing to let us move
about freely—but I won’t trust him, either.”

Footsteps pattered above them and he turned, expecting Stasi,
in time to see Isabelle instead.

“Oh, good, I caught you in time.” Isabelle hurried down the
stairs. “You can’t go out the front door.”

“Why not?” Thad felt miffed at her suggestion. He barely had a
day left—he didn’t want to waste single minute with foolishness.
“It’s the most
direct route.”

“That’s the door the paparazzi tend to monitor. We’re very
fortunate they haven’t gotten wind of your return already. The last thing we
need is a media frenzy to deal with.”

Thad realized what his sister was suggesting. As a popular
princess, Isabelle had long been plagued by the media, and she had understood
them as well as anyone.
“We’ll have to sneak out the back way.”

Isabelle agreed. “We should be able to dodge them while you’re
here, since they aren’t expecting you and most of them assume you’re long dead.
But eventually, we’ll have to hold a press conference and announce your
return.”

“Not until this mess with Octavian is sorted out.” For all Thad
knew, he’d end up in hiding once again—and
it would be a thousand times simpler
to hide if no one realized he’d ever returned.

“Of course, not until then. We don’t have time to deal with it
right now. There’s Stasi.” She nodded at her sister, who was entering on Kirk’s
arm.

“Thanks, Isabelle.” Thad turned and offered her a small
smile—the most he could manage after so many years out of the practice.

“No problem. Get my nephew back.” His sister winked.

Thad hurried to keep up with Stasi, who had Monica by the arm,
and rattled off the names of rooms as though she was leading a whirlwind tour.
“The north dining room has secret passages leading to the kitchen and the
garden.”

“You don’t need to tell her about the secret passages,” Thad
chided his little sister. “That
knowledge is privy only to the royal
family.”

“She’s part of the royal family,” Stasi challenged him.

Thad wanted to disagree with her on that point, but he couldn’t
think of a valid argument. They quickly reached the back exit, where Kirk and
Stasi trotted over to the royal garages.

“Do we need to call a driver?” Thad noticed all the keys were
locked in a glass
cabinet.

“I’ve got it.” Kirk pressed his thumb against the touch pad and
pulled out a set of keys. “We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.” He
led them to a black Ford Focus, which Thad had noticed earlier was one of the
most ubiquitous cars on the Lydian streets. “Hop in.”

Thad circled around to the front passenger’s side, but Stasi
cut him off.

“I don’t think so. The missing monarch is not allowed to sit in
the front seat where anyone might see him. That’s why we have tinted windows in
back.” She opened the rear door and gestured for him to climb in.

Thad squeezed his large frame into the compact backseat. He
tried not to notice how close he was to Monica or the way their fingers tangled
as they searched for the
clasps to their seat belts. He tried not to think about
the bare spot on her ring finger where she’d once worn his wedding band. But
being back in Lydia and being close to her made it impossible to fight the joy
he felt marrying her.

Fortunately, he didn’t have long to think about the distracting
proximity to his wife. A moment after Kirk zipped through the back gates,
two
cars emerged from near the bushes and took to the street directly behind them.
Thad caught just a glimpse of one leering driver before the glare of the sun
blocked his view.

He instinctively ducked down and met Monica’s eyes as she did
the same.

“That looked like one of the guards from the plane,” she
whispered. “And General Petrela in the passenger’s seat.
I thought he was going
to leave us alone.”

“Perhaps he only wanted to make us
think
they were leaving us alone,” Thad growled with displeasure,
redoubling his doubts about the general’s claims. “If they steal the scepter out
from under me the moment I uncover it for them, they won’t have to give up
Peter.”

“Do you want me to try to lose them?” Kirk asked.

“I
don’t see the point. Petrela knows we’re heading to the
hospital to see Mom.”

“I’d hate for Petrela to tell Octavian we’re not cooperating,”
Monica agreed. She leaned toward him, her mouth open partway, her eyes
intent.

Time seemed to slow as her face drew nearer to his. He could
imagine his lips closing over hers as they had so many times before, so many
years
before. It would be all too easy to wrap his arms around her and hold her
close, until he was willing to give up everything for her, including his
kingdom.

And that was precisely what Octavian wanted.

Thad started to lean away from her, but Monica tipped his chin
toward her and studied him, scowling. “Isabelle had an excellent point.
Paparazzi or not, we don’t want
anyone at the hospital recognizing you. You’ve
got enough of a prickly five-o’clock shadow to obscure the outline of your jaw,”
she surmised. “And your hair is much longer than it ever was.” She turned her
attention to the front seat. “Kirk, can Thad borrow your cap and
sunglasses?”

“Gladly.” He slipped them to Stasi, keeping one hand on the
wheel. The little princess
handed them back, watching with interest as her
brother slipped them on.

“There.” Stasi smiled triumphantly “
I
hardly recognize you. And since everyone else still thinks you’re
dead, no one should be expecting to see you.”

“Good.” Thad exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been
holding. “Let’s visit Mom while we’ve got the chance.” He didn’t voice the rest
of his
thoughts out loud. He didn’t figure anyone needed the reminder,
especially not after the appearance of Octavian’s men. They had their work cut
out for them if they were going to get Peter back, and the clock was
ticking.

SEVEN

M
onica felt her heart beating in her throat
as they made their way through the antiseptic halls of the hospital, trailing
Stasi on what must have been a well-worn route to King Philip’s room, past
posted layers of security.

Her fear didn’t come from the general or his guards who trailed
them down the hall but from the anticipation of meeting the queen
for the first
time. They left Petrela and his men next to the security guards who held vigil
over the isolated wing where the king lay. Monica hung back in the doorway while
Stasi entered first, planting a kiss on her mother’s cheeks and her father’s
forehead before stepping back for Kirk to greet Queen Elaine.

Kirk entered after Stasi, with Thad trailing his childhood
best
friend, lingering just out of his mother’s range of sight behind the privacy
curtain that shielded the hospital bed from the door.

From her vantage point just inside the doorway, Monica could
see all of them, though they couldn’t all see one another. Thad glanced at her,
and she gave him an encouraging smile.

Meanwhile, Kirk had kissed the air next to his future
mother-in-law’s pale face and cleared his throat. “We brought you a
visitor.”

Elaine glanced at Monica in the doorway, and shook her head.
“No visitors. Only family. He hasn’t had a good day.”

As the queen looked to the fallen king, Monica realized for the
first time how deathly pale the recently dethroned monarch’s face looked under
the ventilator and how little
the sheets over his chest rose and fell. She
pinched her eyes shut, praying that he would recover. Praying that somehow,
someday, he’d get to meet the grandson he didn’t even know he had.

“They are family,” Kirk murmured, reaching back to open the
curtain.

Monica watched the confusion on the queen’s face change to
disbelief and joy.

Thad peeled off the cap and
sunglasses as he stepped toward his
mother, who nearly melted into her chair before rising, shakily, to her feet.
Thad gathered her up into his arms.

“My baby.” Elaine patted his shoulder, her cheeks streaming
with tears she had likely given up all hope of ever crying. “You’re here. You’re
really here.”

Even Thad’s eyes glimmered wet as he held his mother. He didn’t
try to speak. There was too much to be said, and Monica couldn’t imagine where
he would even begin.

Monica felt fat tears dripping down her cheeks, spilling off
the tip of her nose, but there was little she could do to stop them. God was
good. He had united this mother with her son.

Surely He would unite her with Peter again, too.

Somehow.

“You came back?
Are you going to take the throne?” The queen
pulled away from her son just far enough to look up into his face.

Sorrow warred with the joy of reunion as Thad’s lips twitched.
Monica could feel his struggle to answer his mother’s question. In fact, Monica
had begun to wonder, given the things Thad had said of late, whether he had any
hope of being crowned king.

So
she was very relieved to hear him answer. “I’m going to
try.”

After a good deal of hugging and beaming, Stasi handed her mom
some tissues before she and Kirk snuck away, promising to wait down the hall for
the two of them.

It wasn’t until Kirk and Stasi had left the room that Elaine
seemed to notice Monica. “And who is this?”

“I’d like to introduce you to Monica
Miller.” Thad gestured for
her to come forward.

She had to will her feet to move. Thad had embraced all his
family members, demonstrating genuine affection toward them, but he’d only ever
held her that one time in the conference room, and she’d decided since then the
gesture had simply been a symbolic act, to put on a united front before his
siblings. The rest of
the time he kept her at arm’s length, which she figured
was probably a wise move, since she might have slugged him out of repressed
resentment if he got within range.

Now she crept forward trepidatiously. The queen blinked at her,
dabbing her cheeks with tissues, waiting for Thad to explain further.

Monica wondered what he would say. Would he claim her as his
wife?

“Monica is—” Thad spoke slowly, buying time as he chose his
words “—the mother of my son.”

“You have a son?”

It was all Monica could do to nod, as Thad’s distancing words
squeezed her heart.

“Well, where is he?” Elaine looked past them, as though Peter
might be hiding shyly just beyond the curtain.

“He’s, um, well—” Thad cleared his throat. “Octavian has
him.”

“Octavian?” Elaine seemed to flutter back down into her chair,
her face even paler than before.

The tears, which Monica realized she’d never wiped from her
face, now poured down freely again. This wasn’t how she’d ever envisioned being
introduced to the queen. Not nearly.

Thad took the chair next to his mother’s, holding her hand as
he went back in
time and explained all that had happened, dismissing his
relationship with Monica by using the word
eloped
.
Not once did he call her his wife. Not once did he state that they’d been in
love.

Slowly, Monica crept back to the doorway, until she was able to
lean back against the solid support of the wall and watch her husband with his
mother as though it was a scene
on a screen and not something that touched the
deepest parts of her heart.

At least Queen Elaine’s face softened when Thad showed her the
pictures of Peter Monica had passed to him on Octavian’s plane. But her
expression grew stiff when she glanced back up at Monica, and she shook her head
as though surely there had been a mistake.

Finally, Thad sat back in his chair,
finished with his
tale.

The queen seemed to be having trouble swallowing.

“Can I get you something, Mother?” Thad asked.

“Yes, please.” She pulled a few coins from her purse. “There’s
a beverage machine down the hall.” She told him where to find it and what drink
she preferred.

As he stepped past her, Monica thought about going with him,
but Queen Elaine
patted the chair Thad had vacated and spoke three words that
sent a fearful chill down her spine. “Monica? Let’s chat.”

Monica wished she’d bolted out the door after Thaddeus while
she had the chance. More than that, she wished she’d bolted at the first sight
of him years before. But there was nothing for it now but to cross the room
under the queen’s scrutinizing gaze
and sit as primly as possible in the chair
next to hers.

“Are you still married to my son?” Queen Elaine must have
realized Thad wouldn’t be gone long. She certainly wasn’t wasting any time with
small talk.

“Yes.”

“You don’t act married.”

“We haven’t seen each other in six years.” Monica was fairly
certain Thad had already expressed that part of the story,
but it was the only
explanation she could give.

“You’re upset with him.”

“He left me.” Monica felt the need to defend herself from what
felt like a full-blown attack. “And now my son is in the hands of that awful
Octavian.” She didn’t add the part about their slim chances of getting Peter
back. The queen had enough on her mind, what with Philip in a coma and her
family having been attacked.

“It will all come out all right.” Elaine patted her hand where
she gripped the arm rest of her chair. “Have a little faith.”

Monica coughed back her reaction to the queen’s patronizing
statement. She knew the woman was only trying to help and was under grave stress
herself. Still, it struck Monica as ironic that after all the prayers she’d
prayed, and after Thad’s refusal to pray, his mother would tell
her
to have faith.

Elaine seemed to feel the need to reassure her. “Thad will get
his son back. He trusts God—”

“No, he doesn’t,” Monica burst out, in spite of her efforts to
hold back.

The older woman studied her carefully a moment. “He doesn’t? He
always did.”

“I know he did. He encouraged
me in my faith considerably
during college. But now he won’t even pray with his siblings. He scoffed at the
suggestion when I tried to get him to pray with me.” Monica lowered her voice,
realized Thad could return at any moment. “I’m afraid he’s lost his faith during
his time in exile. Not that I blame him, having been there, but this is the
worst possible time for him to
be adrift.”

The queen had her hand, and now squeezed it reassuringly. “He
needs God’s help now more than ever. I’ll keep you both in my prayers. And
little Peter, too.”

“Thank you.” For a long moment, Monica looked at her shoes and
listened silently to the constant beeps and ticks of the machines that monitored
King Philip’s vital signs.

Then Thad reappeared
with the queen’s beverage, and she took a
drink before reaching out and grasping her son’s hand.

Elaine raised a knowing eyebrow at Monica before suggesting,
“We should pray before you leave.”

But Thad immediately shook his head. “I’m sorry. We’ve got a
lot of ground to cover, Mother.” He shot Monica a conspiratorial look. “Our
guest
in the hallway wants us to get
going.”

“Then we should be going,” Monica agreed, realizing that
General Petrela’s wishes were to be obeyed above everyone else’s—she didn’t want
him reporting back that they weren’t cooperating. She didn’t want to give
Octavian any excuse to hurt her son.

* * *

Thad felt guilty leaving his parents so abruptly, but
the general had caught him when he’d gone to
fetch his mother’s beverage, and
delivered an urgent message.

Octavian wasn’t happy.

And that wasn’t good. Thad led the general and Monica to the
waiting room down the hall where Kirk and Stasi were holed up.

“What does he want?” Thad growled at the general as soon as he
had the door closed behind them. “I have until noon tomorrow to hand over the
scepter.”

“He asked where we’d gone,” Petrela began.

“And you told him?” Stasi squeaked.

The general’s stoic expression didn’t falter. “He has ways of
knowing where a person is. I’ve never quite pinpointed
how
he knows, but he knows. There’s no point lying to him. I’ve seen
what he does to men who claim to be other than where he knows them to be.”

The solemn warning doused Thad’s
frustration at the general’s
interruption. The man wasn’t playing games. If he was on their side, it had been
more than kind of him to warn them. And if he wasn’t on their side—well, the
threat had teeth behind it.

Petrela continued. “He wants his representative to be allowed
to visit your father.”

“Under no circumstances—” Kirk began.

“Who’s the representative?”
Thad asked.

Petrela’s mouth twitched.

“Tell us,” Monica requested in that tone Thad had heard her
use—the one that expected compliance.

“Corban Lucca.”

“No!” Stasi leaped from the chair she’d been sitting in. “Lucca
is the one who stole Father away to Milan, using the ambush as cover so everyone
would think the king had deserted his country in its hour of need.
Lucca was
going to hand
me
over to Octavian’s associates. We
can’t trust him.”

“We can’t trust Octavian, either,” Monica agreed, “but he has
my son, so I don’t see how we can refuse him.”

Kirk held up his hands, silencing them both. “I spoke with some
of the royal guards who are stationed in the hall. They said Lucca has already
tried to use his authority as
a Lydian general to get in to visit your
father.”

“Lucca should have been arrested on sight,” Thad protested.

“I agree,” Kirk acknowledged, “but the entire kingdom has been
in upheaval. We need a king on the throne to restore order and see that all
those who’ve conspired against the crown are brought to justice.”

Thad ignored his friend’s obvious insinuation. “They
didn’t let
him past, at least?”

“Of course not. But apparently Lucca has been conferring with
your father’s doctor, as well. I was going to try to track down the doctor and
find out what Lucca said.”

“There’s no time,” Petrela cut in. “Octavian said he would send
Lucca by immediately. I think you should move your father.”

“But he’s in a coma,” Stasi protested.
“His condition is
fragile.”

Thad studied the general. Was the man really trying to help
them? Or was he counting on the move being too hard on the king’s
already-precarious condition?

Or was he stalling, keeping them distracted behind closed doors
down the hall so Lucca could make his move? And why did Lucca want to see the
king, anyway? Nothing good could possibly
come of it.

Monica’s thoughts must have followed the same trail, because
she scooped up his hand and met his eyes. “I think we need to get back to your
father’s room right now.”

Thad nodded. “Petrela, see if you can’t track down that doctor,
and while you’re at it, find out if we can move my father to a different room.
Stasi, call Alec. Let him know what’s up.” As
he spoke, Thad backed toward the
door, Monica’s hand still tight in his. “Kirk, talk to the new head of the royal
guard. Tell him we need more men stationed at the hospital right away.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Kirk answered with a glimmer in his eye
that reminded him of his friend’s suggestion that he take the crown.

Thad realized he
was
taking
charge—but somebody had
to. If Lucca was on his way, they needed to act, not sit
around and try to reach a consensus. He hurried down the hallway toward his
father’s room.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Monica asked as they zipped past the
guards.

“Sure. Why do you need it?”

“My father is a doctor. He might be able to advise us on how
much damage moving your father might cause.”

“Good
idea.” Thad handed her the phone while scanning the
hallway. So far there was no sign of Lucca, the Lydian general who was still
technically the head of
the Lydian Navy, though of course his involvement
with the email conspiracy Isabelle had uncovered, combined with his other
activities against the royal family, left him on the brink of court-martial.