The Missing Monarch (16 page)

ELEVEN

“H
ave you seen Monica? Do you know where
she is?”

Interrupted in the midst of his prayer time with his family,
Thad’s already-exhausted mind was slow to identify the caller. The voice was
familiar...Richard Miller, and he sounded frantic.

“I thought she was with you, at the hospital.” Thad pulled
Stasi’s arm close and squinted at the delicate
numbers on her watch. They had
less than two hours before Octavian’s arrival. He’d expected Monica to return
anytime.

“Sheila and I were at her bedside when a nurse brought us a
note from your mother. It said your father was awake and wanted to speak with
us.”

“What?” Thad felt his blood run cold.

“But he wasn’t. He’s still in a coma, though his vital signs
are improving. I’m afraid the note was a ruse to get us away from Monica.”

His head spinning from the sudden rush of fear, Thad tried to
piece together what Richard was saying. “Monica is missing?”

“When we returned to her room, she was gone.”

Sheila Miller’s voice cut in. “But her shoes were still there.
She wouldn’t have gone far barefoot.”

“Not on her own,”
Thad acknowledged, quickly surmising what had
happened. When Octavian’s men failed to take the scepter the night before,
Octavian would have felt the loss and wanted a stronger bargaining position. His
men could have easily guessed that Monica had been injured.

And Octavian had connections at the hospital—or at the very
least, Lucca had. Thad wished he’d thought to send
some of his father’s guards
to watch over Monica’s room, but he’d been too exhausted to think. He’d assumed
she was safe with her parents. Too late, he realized he’d never even briefed
them on the situation. He’d been too ashamed to face them. With regret, he
realized part of him was still trying to hide.

“Keep looking for her. I can dispatch security to scour the
hospital.” Thad winced at the thought of losing more manpower at the worst
possible time. He needed every man he had to cover the palace.

“I really don’t think we’re going to find her here.”

Thad groaned as his heart began to mourn for Monica. Why had he
let her out of his sight? “Come on back to the palace, then. We’ve only got a
couple of hours.”

As he closed the
call, a wave of despair passed over him, and
he pinched his eyes shut. In spite of all his efforts to remain emotionally
detached, he’d allowed himself to fall right back in love with Monica, to hope
against all hope that somehow, things might work out between them.

Arms wrapped around him, and he opened his eyes to see his
siblings surrounding him.

“Monica’s been
kidnapped?” Isabelle clarified.

Thad tried to answer, but his nodding head sagged against the
arms that supported him, and he felt his anger and despair rising up with the
hot tears that flooded his eyes. He clutched the scepter, realizing that, for
all his efforts to retrieve it, he still hadn’t saved his family. Octavian had
both Monica and Peter now.

“Dear God,
we ask for Your guidance and strength.” Alec’s deep
voice rumbled beside him, and his sisters and their fiancés joined in, their
voices blended in chorus as each of them poured out their hearts for the welfare
of his wife and son.

Though it exposed his deepest fears and the parts of his heart
he’d tried hardest to hide, Thad forced his lips to utter honest words as he
whispered a plea to God.

* * *

“Mommy, wake up. Mommy?”

Monica rolled over, away from the nudge against her
shoulder.

“Mommy, wake up.”

“Mmm.” She pinched her eyes shut. “Do you want pancakes or
waffles for breakfast?”

“Mommy!” Peter’s voice sounded incredulous. “You can’t make
waffles here.”

Suddenly Monica remembered, and sat bolt upright.
She wasn’t at
home in Seattle. It wasn’t a lazy summer morning. Her world had been upended,
her son kidnapped, and now she was with him again. She’d been kidnapped,
too.

She pulled him into her arms and covered his head with kisses.
“Peter! Are you okay? I’m so glad to see you, I missed you so much!”

Peter basked for a moment in her attention, then batted away
her kisses. “I’m okay, Mommy. Natalie has been watching me. We flew in a plane
and we got to go to the beach!”

“The beach.” Monica felt the fear-wedged tension leave her body
like a sigh. Her little boy hadn’t been terrified. He’d missed her, but he’d
been enjoying the beach and the plane ride. And he trusted his favorite
babysitter, a standout student in the foreign
languages department where Monica
taught. “Where is Natalie?”

“Out here.” Peter led her out of the room where she’d been
sleeping, to a comfortable-looking, carpeted living room, where an elaborate
train set filled most of one end of the room, a stack of children’s books
teetered near the sofa, and a large-screen television with a home entertainment
system occupied
most of one wall, its screen dark.

Monica smiled. Natalie knew Peter wasn’t supposed to watch more
than a half hour of television. The babysitter jumped up from the couch the
moment she spotted Monica.

“Let me show you what my train does!” Peter leaped at the toy
and quickly got to work setting the pieces where he wanted them.

“Okay, you show me.” Monica knew it might
take her son several
minutes before he was ready to give his train presentation. She turned to
Natalie, whose eyes were wide with fright.

“What’s happened, Professor Miller? Strange men gave me a note
written in Old Lydian. They said it was from you. The note claimed you’d been
injured and needed me to bring Peter to you, but I didn’t expect we’d be leaving
the country.”
She looked at the cast on Monica’s arm. “You
were
injured. But what are we doing halfway around the world, and
who is the creepy guy with the orange face?”

“Octavian?” Monica got a word in when her frantic student
paused to breathe. “He can’t be trusted.”

Her words seemed to confirm Natalie’s fears. “I should have
stopped to think. Peter was at your parents’ house. But
you’re the only person I
know who knows Old Lydian, so I thought the note must really be from you. And I
was so worried when they said you were hurt, all I could think of was getting
Peter to you quickly, and keeping him from being frightened.” Her voice cracked,
and she wiped a tear away quickly as though Peter might see.

“Natalie.” Monica patted her shoulder, regretfully
realizing
Octavian would have had no trouble spotting the connection between Peter and
Natalie. The babysitter was often at their house. And Natalie’s dissertation
project, comparing Old Lydian with Ancient Greek, had recently been featured on
the department website. “You didn’t know. I probably would have fallen for an
Old Lydian note, too. I’m glad you kept Peter from
getting scared.”

Natalie sniffled and glanced at Peter, who was absorbed in
playing with the train. The babysitter leaned a little closer to Monica and
spoke quietly, her voice still trembling. “What
is
going on? I think we’re being held prisoner, and I’m pretty sure we’re somewhere
off the coast of Greece, but I can’t begin to imagine
why
.”

In between clapping for
Peter and encouraging him in his game,
Monica explained to Natalie the situation with Octavian, her history with
Thaddeus and the impending showdown that was rapidly approaching.

Natalie’s eyes grew wider and wider behind her glasses as she
absorbed everything Monica said, asking clarifying questions at some of the more
confusing parts. She pulled an album from the stack
of books near the sofa.

“So, this is Octavian.” She pointed to a picture of the man,
heavily airbrushed to make him look better.

“Yes.”

“We’ve met him a few times. He’s seemed quite eager to make a
favorable impression on Peter. He gave him the train set and lots of other toys.
He told me to show him this album—the captions make all these men sound like
heroes.”

Monica absorbed the news without surprise. “He’s already trying
to win him over so he can control him. He wants Peter to admire him and his
coconspirators.” The thought made her feel sick to her stomach. Octavian was
essentially trying to brainwash her impressionable young son.

Natalie flipped through the album to another page. “Who’s this
guy?”

“General Marc
Petrela.” At the sight of the man’s picture,
Monica recalled the way he’d abruptly pulled her from the hospital, and the
memory doused her with a fresh wave of fear. She’d been so relieved to see Peter
safe and sound, she’d lost track of time. “Why do you ask?”

Natalie’s eyes narrowed and her voice dropped to a faint
whisper, while she quickly flipped the album to a random
page, almost as though
she was afraid someone might see the picture and guess who she was talking
about. “He said some things—” She shook her head. “I didn’t understand what he
was getting at, but it makes more sense now that you’ve told me the rest of
what’s been going on.”

“What did he say?” Monica felt her pulse rate rise. She’d long
been wondering whether Petrela
could be trusted. Since he’d kidnapped her from
the hospital, she was ready to believe he was working for Octavian and had no
intention of helping Thad and his family regain the crown, but she was eager to
hear what Natalie had to say.

“I think he was trying to warn me not to trust Octavian. He
said he wanted me to pass Peter to him during the exchange, that he’d—” She
squinted, clearly trying to recall the precise words the man had used. “He said
he’d
cover
him. What does that mean?”

“The exchange.” Monica had kept her eyes open for a clock since
she’d entered the room, but had seen no sign of one. “What time is it? Saturday
at noon, Octavian is planning to meet at the palace throne room, to exchange
Peter for the scepter. And
today is Saturday.”

“It’s got to be nearly noon now. They took my phone when we
boarded the plane and I haven’t seen it since, but the sun is rising high in the
sky.”

“Then we should be leaving soon.” Monica swallowed back her
fear. Was Octavian going to keep his promise to exchange Peter for the scepter,
or had everything he’d said been a lie? And even if the madman
followed through
and handed Peter over to Thaddeus, what would become of
her?

* * *

Thad opened the conference room cabinet that held the
whiteboard, grabbed a marker and drew a line down the middle. They had just over
an hour before Octavian arrived.

Kirk had brought in the newly appointed head of the royal
guard, a man named Jason, as well as his right-hand
man, Linus. Alec brought in
his most trusted men from the army, Titus and Julian, and they worked together
with the guard officials to position their men to defend the throne room, as
well as the palace itself.

“We’ll have all entrances and exits covered ten men deep. No
one will get in or out of the palace without our permission,” Alec assured his
brother.

“If your wife and son arrive with Octavian, we won’t let them
leave again,” Kirk assured him.

Thad wanted to believe it would be that easy. He prayed that
Peter and Monica would be all right. More than that, he begged God to give him a
second chance.

But now, alone with just his brother and sisters, their fiancés
and Dom Procopio, Thad couldn’t stand still. He was
determined to make every
possible preparation in hopes of keeping Peter and Monica safe.

He labeled one column on the whiteboard
Octavian,
and the other
Us.

“He’s got Peter and Monica.” Thad filled in the empty space
under his enemy’s name, writing quickly. “He’s got billions of dollars in
resources, a mercenary army, unknown intel and six years’ head start in planning
this thing.” Thad blew out a long breath and looked around the table. “What have
we got?”

“The scepter.” Alexander held out the object he’d vowed to
protect with his life.

Thad prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“We have the home turf advantage,” Levi noted.

“But he picked the spot,” Isabelle reminded them, “so I wonder
how much of an advantage that will end
up being. I can’t help but suspect he has
a reason for wanting to meet here. As Petrela pointed out, Octavian had the run
of the place for almost a week while we were in hiding, and we know he had
devices brought in. They may have been listening devices, or he could have
rigged an ambush. He could have done anything.”

“We’ve scoured the palace, and it appears to be undisturbed,”
Stasi noted. “But I agree. We can’t assume he hasn’t done something to make our
advantage his.”

Thad had already written
turf
in
their column, but he put a question mark after the word. “Anything else?” Their
column looked woefully small and uncertain compared to Octavian’s
advantages.

“We’ve got the royal guard,” Kirk offered.

“And the army,” Alexander
added. “Insofar as they’ll answer to
me.” Having only been appointed head general the week before, he’d hardly had an
opportunity to alert his men of the change, let alone establish any
protocol.

“They’ll answer to you.” Lily squeezed his hand.

“But what about Petrela?” Alec asked. “He’s disappeared again,
and we still don’t know with any certainty where he stands.”

Thad’s pen hovered over the column line. Then he reluctantly
wrote
Petrela
in Octavian’s column. “Anything
else?”

He looked around the room, but didn’t hear a response, and
started to put the cap back on his marker.

“Your Majesty?” Dom Procopio cleared his throat. “You have God
on your side.”

Thad felt a shameful blush creeping up his neck. “I haven’t
always been faithful,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I was mad at God for
letting Lydia fall into this situation in the first place. I was angry that God
forced me out of my homeland and my marriage. I’ve returned to my faith in God.
I want to hope He’ll see us through, but—” he gave the lopsided columns a long
look “—it’s hard to have hope when my wife and son are in the hands
of someone
so evil.”