The Missing Monarch (14 page)

“This stone panel slides to the left from the other side. So
from this side, it should go right.” He tucked his fingers along the chiseled
edge of the stone, and pulled.

“Isn’t that heavy?” Monica looked impressed at how easily he
slid the
stone to the side.

“It’s a false stone, chiseled thin like a veneer.” He scooted
out through the narrow gap, just wide enough to allow his broad shoulders to
pass.

Monica started to follow him.

“Wait.” He squinted in the bright moonlight. “Let me make
absolutely certain we’re alone. Secrecy is imperative at this point.”

“I understand.” Monica ducked her head
back.

* * *

Thad circled around the castle ruins, grateful for the
bright moonlight that illuminated the island. There were no boats in the inlet,
no sign that anyone had been there since his friend Kirk had taken Stasi to
Dorsi, using the island as a refuge after the ambush.

It was a good place to hide. He’d spent a few weeks there,
himself, hiding from his
father and Octavian, trying to decide how to get away
before he’d settled on being an engineer on the oil rigs. How many times had he
sat on these very rocks, feeling the same warm ocean breeze kiss his cheeks,
wishing Monica could be there with him? He’d been so tempted to bring her to
stay with him, but what would that have accomplished? Shortly thereafter, he’d
gone to
Alaska, and she couldn’t have come with him there. He’d done the best he
could, given the circumstances.

As he looked across the crumbling stones, Thad thought of the
stories he could tell Monica, the hidden corners of the ancient castle, the
vistas he’d like to share. There was so much about the island he wanted to show
her and tell her. But now was not the time. He needed
to hurry.

Thad pulled out his phone to check the time. It was nearly four
in the morning. They’d taken forever traveling through the tunnel, and unburying
him from the rocks. He stared at the glowing numbers and wished he could turn
them back, but they moved relentlessly forward, bringing him ever closer to the
showdown with Octavian.

The virtual clock hand made its
circuit across the face of his
phone, while a little symbol in the corner detected the nearest satellite,
assuring him that, as promised, he had coverage if he wanted to place a call.
Thad looked up at the starry sky, and saw a satellite above, its light larger,
its body closer than the stars, winking at him, almost as though it recognized
his phone’s signal and sent its
greetings from the sky.

Shoving the phone back in his pocket, Thad got to work. He had
to find the scepter and return to the palace, and hatch a plan to save his
son.

“Can I come out?” Monica whispered from the tunnel
entrance.

Thad hesitated. It would be lovely for her to stand next to him
on the Island of Dorsi, to drink in the sights and smells of the moonlit
paradise. But then, just as he’d been tempted to investigate the cracks in the
tunnel walls, he’d be tempted to show her around the island. More than that,
he’d give in to the ever-growing temptation to pull her into his arms and make
up for the six years they’d lost.

But surely she wouldn’t welcome his touch, not as long as their
son was still in Octavian’s clutches.
She hated him for causing Peter’s
kidnapping.

He’d only be wasting his time trying to woo her.

They didn’t have time to waste.

“No. I’ll be right there. One minute.”

Of course, it ended up taking more than a minute. By the time
he found the corner and the stone he’d marked with a cross, and then counted
over and up according to the numbers in his wedding anniversary
date, and
located the stone he’d wedged back into place six years before, it had to have
been twenty minutes, maybe more. He looked over to see Monica dozing in the tiny
doorway, and he was glad she’d taken the opportunity to rest.

He still had his work cut out for him.

There was the trouble of digging the stone from the mortar, and
finding the tools he’d hidden elsewhere
in the queen’s tower, working the stone
free and pulling it back to reveal the compartment in the wall, and the slender
stick hiding there, as still and innocent as the coordinating crown he’d passed
in the throne room earlier.

He grabbed it up, holding it out in the moonlight just long
enough to feel the rush of triumph pulsing through his veins, unfamiliar hope
surging through him in a heady burst.

And then the silence throbbed with a relentless pulse, and Thad
felt dread and panic fill him instead. He looked around frantically as the air
around him began to thrum, agitating the balmy air, whipping it to violent
thrashing.

A helicopter buzzed toward the island, shattering the darkness
with its bright search lights, flashing
across the stone walls like searching
hands until they locked on him and he looked up, caught in their brilliant
glare.

He’d been spotted.

TEN

M
onica woke with a start. She gasped as the
sound that had tugged her from sleep grew louder and lights swirled overhead
before locking their beams on Thaddeus. She saw his knuckles whiten as he
clenched the scepter and watched him glance from a dislodged hole in the wall to
her hiding place among the rocks, and back up to the sky.

She could feel the
battle that waged inside him, knowing that
if Octavian took away the scepter, they’d lose everything.

And just as quickly, she felt Thad ticking off his options. He
couldn’t hide the scepter in the hole inside the wall, because they’d see him do
it and know where he’d put it. He couldn’t pass it off to Monica, because he’d
give away the tunnel under the palace, thereby
exposing her and everyone at the
other end to Octavian’s endless reach. The tunnel was a trap, and Thad turned
his back to her, resolutely signaling that he understood that he had to keep her
hiding place a secret at all costs.

He couldn’t toss it into the sea, because they’d only watch
where it landed and dive in after it. It was too big to hide in his pockets. In
fact, he didn’t dare let it go.

She watched as he did the only thing he possibly could do. He
held the scepter tight in his hands and stood his ground, ready to take on
whoever came at him.

Fear stole her breath as she watched the helicopter hover above
the island, men pouring down the ladder toward Thaddeus. With gratitude, she
realized they must be under orders
not to shoot him or at least not to kill him
on purpose. After all, they still needed his signature or would prefer it. But
if it came down to losing the scepter or killing Thad, she could guess which
Octavian would pick.

No doubt the men had been made aware of his preference,
too.

Prayers poured from her lips as Thad kicked high in the air,
knocking the first
man from the ladder before his feet ever hit the ground. The
man landed with a sickening crunch and didn’t get up.

The next dark figure leaped from above, lunging at Thad as he
fell through the air toward him.

Thad stepped to the side and let him fall, turning to face him
as he landed. Thad swung a punch before the man was steady on his feet, and had
the advantage
for all of his three-punch fight. The man went down and Thad
looked up.

There were three more men on the ladder, and the bottom one
hesitated, as though trying to decide how best to descend, or whether he wanted
to descend at all. Monica prayed more fervently, grateful that the men could
only descend one at a time, that the helicopter couldn’t land among the jagged
stones of the castle ruins.

The third man came at Thad kicking, but once again Thad managed
to stay back from the thrashing boots until his assailant had twisted himself
around and nearly landed. Then a high back kick caught the attacker in the
shoulder, hammering him into a nearby stone wall. But the man wasn’t out, and
the next figure was already leaping toward Thad.

Monica pinched her dry eyes shut against the dust-swirled air
stirred up by the thrashing rotor blades. When she opened her eyes a second
later, Thad staggered with a man clinging to his back, gloved hands tight around
his neck, and he ran backward against a wall, ramming his attacker against the
stones just as the last man dropped from the ladder.

Thad braced himself
against the wall, crushing the man behind
him as he kicked out with both feet, catching his latest assailant full in the
chest, sending him reeling backward. Then Thad lunged backward again, and the
man who’d been clinging to his back sagged to the ground.

Just in time, Thad rushed at the last man, throwing a punch
toward his jaw. The figure recoiled, and Thad finished
him with another
punch.

But already two of the men on the ground staggered to their
feet, and Monica watched in horror as Thad struggled to catch his breath, to
stand up straight, while the men rushed at him.

Thad leaped to the side as they pounced, then threw a quick
kick behind him, sending the first man into the second. They swayed only
slightly before rushing
him as a team.

Surely intent on keeping the scepter as far from them as
possible, Thad turned his back toward them and unleashed a pattern of kicks that
kept them at bay. But at the same time, the men he’d already pushed aside rushed
at him again. Even as Thad pushed the other two back, his persistent attackers
piled upon him.

Monica looked around frantically, trying
to spot a weapon, or
anything she could use against Thad’s attackers. There were loose rocks
everywhere, and she scooted out of the hole, staying to the shadows, shuffling
off to the right, where a parapet had once promised the castle guards cover
while defending the royal family.

They would provide her the same cover tonight. Quickly she
plucked up two baseball-sized
rocks and hurled them with unleashed fury at the
men who groped for the scepter.

The first hit a man in the back, and though it appeared to
startle him, he hardly twitched.

Monica realized they were likely wearing body armor.

Fine, then. Their heads were exposed. Peter had been intent on
learning how to throw a baseball all summer. She’d gotten pretty good at
pitching it accurately into his mitt. Granted, she was throwing with a lot more
force now, but she also had a lot more at stake, and plenty of pent-up fury to
propel the rocks with pummeling force.

She pulled back and let loose a chunk of rock.

It hit a man on the back of the head just as he reached for the
scepter. For a second his hands hovered, outstretched in the
air, giving her the
opportunity to send a second missile knocking against his ear. He fell.

But even as Monica felt a surge of triumph at her success, she
glanced toward Thaddeus in time to see him crumple under a mighty blow.

There were only two men still standing, plus those on the
ground who still moaned and writhed as though they might yet suck up the
strength
to pull themselves to their feet again. Monica could only guess at the
compelling prize Octavian had offered for the man who returned with the
scepter.

The men fighting Thaddeus had pushed him backward, and they
were now too far away for her to hit them with any accuracy from behind the
protective cover of the parapets. She hated to risk showing herself, but there
was nothing else for it. Already one man had hold of the scepter, prying it out
of Thad’s hands, while the other pummeled her husband’s midsection with flying
fists.

An arsenal of rocks cradled in her left arm, Monica scuttled
out from behind the wall and hurled a stone at the man who’d grabbed the
scepter. He looked stunned, but didn’t fall.

Her missiles were losing
force as her arms grew tired, but all
she had to do was remember what she was fighting for, and she found the strength
to hurl the next rock harder. Pitching it at the man who punched her husband,
she caught him in the back of the head, and he went down.

The other man must have realized they weren’t alone. He spun
around, spotted her and lunged.

Monica dived for the
cover of the low wall, but her assailant
caught her by the shoulders before she ever reached it. He picked her up,
holding her high above the stone floor, before hurling her down again.

Her elbow cracked as she hit the ground, and pain shot through
her. Instinctively she crumpled into a ball, clutching her arm, howling as agony
surged through her in nauseous waves.

The man kicked her with his boot, rolling her over onto her
back before grabbing her. She tried to writhe out of his arms before he could
throw her down again. He spun backward, and just as she braced herself for the
fall, he seemed to crumple away behind her, and she sagged against a familiar
chest.

“Quickly.” Thad scooped her up and headed toward the tunnel
entrance.

“They’ll see us,” she protested through the pain.

“I think they’re mostly out cold, and we don’t have any other
choice. We’ve got to get away.” He tucked her feet through the opening and half
shoved her through. She shuffled out of his way and scrambled with her good arm
to find a flashlight. A moment later he was in the tunnel with her.

Thad clicked on the flashlight
and held it in his mouth while
he slid the stone cover into place. Then he wrapped her in his arms, carrying
her as he started down the stairs.

“Hurry,” he panted. “If any of them saw which way we went, they
could come after us again any moment.”

“I can walk,” Monica assured him, flinching when his hand
brushed her elbow. “My left arm’s useless, but I can walk.”

They made their way, half sliding down the steep stairs. Monica
was dizzy by the time they reached the bottom. She told herself it was due to
the rapid spiraling descent, but she knew the pain radiating up from her arm,
combined with lack of sleep, were likely strong contributing factors. And they
still had such a long trudge ahead of them.

“We need to hurry.” Thad
shined the flashlight beam ahead of
them.

Monica nodded and lurched forward. Stars danced across her
vision as she stood, and she tried to catch her breath, tried to blink back the
stars so she could see straight, but the world seemed to be spinning too quickly
now, and all she wanted to do was crumple into a ball and rest.

Thad was in her face in an instant. “Monica?
Are you okay? Can
you keep moving?”

In answer to his questions, she tried to take a step forward,
to show him she was fine, but the stars’ dance only became that much more
frantic, swirling and rushing and threatening at any moment to pull the earth
right out from under her feet.

Pinching her eyes shut, she leaned against the wall and propped
herself up with
her right arm. “Go on without me. You need to get the scepter to
safety.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “I’ll catch up later. I need to
rest.”

* * *

Thad looked at the scepter in his hands and back to
Monica. Yes, they needed to get the scepter safely away from Octavian’s men, but
there had been no sound from above to indicate the men had located the sliding
rock that covered the tunnel entrance. The hidden door was in a dark,
out-of-the-way corner of the Dorsi fortress. With any luck, even if Octavian’s
men had spotted which way they went, they’d have great difficulty identifying
the panel and figuring out the trick to opening it.

Besides, if the men got the door open and started down the
stairs, he and Monica would be able
to hear them coming. They already had
somewhat of a head start. Their situation wasn’t quite as dire as it had been a
few minutes before.

He could take a moment for Monica’s sake. She’d dug him out of
the tunnel and saved his life with her rock throwing. Or at the very least,
she’d saved the scepter.

Scooping his arm around her waist, he eased her away from the
wall as gently as he could, taking care not to jostle her injured arm. “Monica?”
He nuzzled her cheek, and watched her eyes, waiting for a reaction.

Her eyelids fluttered. She winced as she shifted against him,
and Thad felt his heart burning inside his chest. For the past six years, he’d
stayed far away from her so she wouldn’t get hurt. And now she was hurt, in
spite
of all his sacrifices.

“Monica?” He kissed her cheek lightly.

She moaned.

Guilt tore at him. Earlier, in the car, she’d asked him to
share what he was feeling, but he’d pushed her away. Was there any way he could
make up for that by sharing with her now?

He could try.

“I never meant for you to get hurt,” he began in a whisper.

Instead of snapping at him
as she had before, she looked up at
him with warmth simmering in her brown eyes.

“All those years when we were friends,” he continued, “I never
let myself believe I felt anything for you. It wasn’t until I was faced with
leaving you behind that I realized I couldn’t do it. It was selfish of me to
marry you so quickly without telling you everything about who I really was,
but
I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t know about Octavian.”

“I had no idea. I never would have married you, never would
have fathered a son if I’d known the risks—”

“Then I’m glad you didn’t know.”

“Yesterday you said you wished you’d never taken a second look
at me.”

She looked him up and down, a long, lingering look that melted
the last icy corners of his
heart. “For the last six years I’ve wondered where
you were, whether you were okay. I’ve wondered how I could juggle my career and
life as a single mother. But I’ve never once regretted loving you.”

Thad drew closer, soaking up the warmth between them. His lips
brushed hers.

She lingered for a moment on the edge of his kiss. “I regretted
that I couldn’t come with
you.”

A little sob rippled up through her, and Thad pulled her
closer, sweeping her into the kiss he’d been holding back for the past six
years. She moaned softly, and he realized he hadn’t told her half of the truth
she deserved to hear.

“When my father explained what Octavian was after, and I
realized what I needed to do to stop him, I had two choices. I could run
away
with you, or run away alone. You loved Seattle. You were looking forward to
teaching. You were young and beautiful, and had a promising future. I couldn’t
ask you to give that up for me. How could I take that from you?” He stroked her
hair, which had come loose during her struggle with Octavian’s men.

He planted tiny kisses across her temple as he continued. “I
was afraid, if I gave you the choice, you would choose me, and then, when it was
too late and you’d thrown your future away, you’d wish you hadn’t. So I made the
choice for you. I went alone, to a place where Octavian would never find
me.”

Monica kissed him back gently. “I would have gone with
you.”