The Missing Monarch (9 page)

To his surprise, Monica picked up the line of discussion that
he’d dropped, speaking the name the rest of them seemed so hesitant to utter.
“Octavian, the man you know as ‘8,’ has yet to be defeated.”

“But is he still a real threat?”
Stasi questioned. “He’s never
shown his face. Perhaps he’s been scared away now that we’ve defeated so many of
his henchmen.”

“We haven’t defeated them
all,
”
Levi Grenaldo replied. Isabelle’s fiancé had been sitting quietly at the table
beside Isabelle. Now he dropped her hand to gesture. “Lydia had three generals,
who Isabelle discovered were conspiring with Octavian.
David Bardici, Corban
Lucca and—” he turned an accusing look at the general “—Marc Petrela.”

For one long moment everyone seemed to freeze. Thad fully
expected Petrela to jump in and defend himself, to make an excuse for why he’d
been included in the emails between the conspiring parties, but he said
nothing.

Alec continued the story where Levi had left off. “David
Bardici is dead, Corban Lucca was routed in Milan but we don’t know what’s
become of him, and we don’t know where Marc Petrela stands.” The prince raised
an eyebrow toward the general.

Petrela had been sitting silently near the far corner of the
conference table ever since he’d dismissed his guards. Now he spoke so quietly
that everyone had to strain to hear him.
“I am glad to hear that the royal
family is on top of the situation. I understand your hesitancy to accept my
presence, given the inherent awkwardness of my recent associations.”

Monica coughed derisively, but didn’t say anything.

Thad understood the source of her consternation. Petrela had
made their lives miserable for the past twenty hours. Why would he attempt to
distance himself from Octavian using rhetoric?

And yet, as Petrela continued his explanation, Thad began to
consider that the general’s claims might have some credence.

“I grant that I have been involved with Octavian to a highly
suspicious degree. I myself have frequently questioned what my own motives were,
and who I think I’m working for. I’ve had my doubts whether
I was doing the
right thing, especially over the last two weeks. And yet, we now stand closer
than ever before to overcoming this madman who has for so long had his sights
set on overtaking Lydia.”

“We?” Anastasia questioned. “Are you claiming to be one of
us?”

“If Octavian asks, I will deny it,” Petrela admitted openly.
“But to you I will confess, I have been
cooperating with Octavian only to gather
evidence against him—to spy on him and, ultimately, to undo him. There is
nothing I can say or do at this moment that will prove to you precisely where I
stand, but I can promise you this—when the moment of truth comes, and it is fast
approaching, then you will know I have always been on your side. Until then, you
will just have to
trust me.”

While silence descended over the room, Thad considered
Petrela’s claims. Was he telling the truth? Thad couldn’t think of a way to test
him—not without wasting far more time than they had to waste.

Alexander shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can
trust you.”

Petrela didn’t appear to be fazed by the prince’s statement.
“It doesn’t really
matter. You have no choice.”

SIX

T
he general looked at Thad. “Will you
explain it to them?”

Thad felt as though all his strength had been drained, along
with his ability to form a coherent sentence. Where should he begin? With the
news that he had a son? With Octavian’s demands for the scepter? He stood and
crossed the room toward Monica. She’d made sense of his muddled thoughts
earlier. There had been a time when she’d known him better than anyone and could
supply the words he couldn’t find on the tip of his tongue.

Could she do that again for him today? He hoped so, because he
felt at a total loss.

As the warmth of the fire seeped into the cold of his bones,
Thad stood next to Monica and tried to spell out all that was on the line. He
didn’t know if Octavian could be stopped—but he was quite sure he needed the
help of his siblings if he was going to have any chance of keeping their kingdom
out of Octavian’s hands. “Octavian
has
acted. Not
only is he a sincere threat, but as of this moment, he has the upper hand.”

Thad let his hand settle onto Monica’s shoulder, and he
suddenly found it easier to speak.
“Kirk, what have you told them about my
wife?”

“Just that you have one, and her name is Monica.”

Thad nodded. “Six years ago, I secretly married Monica Miller,
only to learn days later about our father’s entanglements with the man known by
the code name 8. Octavian demanded that I sign away my claim to the throne that
had been made legal when I was formally declared
Father’s successor following
his coronation. At the same time, he wanted me to hand over the priceless relic
of our family’s reign, the Scepter of Charlemagne, which would solidify his
claim to the throne.”

“Thank God you didn’t.” Isabelle flashed him an appreciative
smile.

Thaddeus wished he could smile back, but the sorrow inside him
was too great to allow
his mouth to turn upward with that expression. “I hid the
scepter and went into hiding, abandoning my wife in hopes that she would never
be discovered.”

All eyes turned to Monica.

“Were you discovered?” Stasi asked in a small voice.

Monica looked up at him as though waiting for him to speak.
Thad could hardly form the words. “Tell them,” he whispered.

“I don’t
know when Octavian found me.” Her voice sounded thick,
weighed down with pain. “I’ve lived for six years in Seattle, near my parents. I
finished my doctoral degree in ancient languages and started teaching. There was
never anything that would have indicated that this madman realized I
existed.”

Kirk rubbed his face with his hands as she spoke, and shook his
head as
she finished. “You don’t suppose, when I started to mention her over the
phone...”

General Petrela’s deep voice murmured. “Octavian didn’t know
about Monica until just a few days ago. Even then, he didn’t have a name, just a
possibility that there was a woman in Thad’s past. He started looking into every
woman Thad was known to have been friends with prior to his disappearance.
That’s how he tracked down Monica.”

Kirk’s face blanched pale. “It had to have been the phone call,
then—or else it was when I explained to the family about Monica, right after the
phone call. But there were just the six of us in the room then, so unless
there’s a mole, or a unless Octavian has some way of listening in—”

“Don’t forget,” Petrela cautioned them, “Octavian
had control
of this very palace for almost a full week following the ambush. I wasn’t in the
area, but I know he sent instructions to Viktor Bosch to make modifications.
Devices were sent—but I don’t know what they were, and Viktor is dead, so he
can’t tell us.”

“Listening devices?” Isabelle shuddered. “Do you think he has
the whole palace bugged?”

“This palace
has over a hundred rooms.” Thad recalled that
Viktor Bosch had been the head of the royal guard at the time of the ambush on
the motorcade. He leveled a look at the general. “Does Octavian have the
manpower to monitor that many devices at once?”

“He does,” Petrela confirmed, “though I understand the shipment
contained only two devices. I can’t say for certain what the
devices were or
where we might find them. They could have been any number of things. Given the
time constraints I advise you to carry on as though you can’t be heard.”

Anastasia gave a little whimper, and Thad realized he’d brought
his family nothing but bad news and dreadful uncertainties. They’d been so
hopeful that he might help them end their ordeal. And they had yet
to hear the
worst part.

There wasn’t anything to be gained by letting the possibility
of devices distract them from their discussion. Thad had no intention of
revealing anything that Octavian didn’t already know. But they needed to press
on—the clock was ticking.

Thad took a deep breath. “I’m indebted to you, Kirk, for all
the sacrifices you’ve made on behalf
of Lydia. You saved Stasi’s life, you went
on trial for my murder, you kept my secrets for six years.”

A sniffling sound caught Thad’s attention, and he looked down
to see Monica fighting back tears.

Thad finished quickly. “I won’t blame you for what happened.
Whatever Octavian may have heard, however he overheard it, somehow that led
Octavian to my wife. And not
just to
her
.” He
swallowed, and met the eyes of everyone else in the room before finding the
strength to finish his statement. “Unbeknownst to me, during our brief marriage,
Monica conceived a son. His name is Peter.

“Yesterday, he was kidnapped from his grandparents’ house.
Octavian is holding him prisoner. If I don’t hand over the scepter and sign over
the crown
at noon tomorrow, Octavian has vowed to kill him.”

* * *

Monica couldn’t stand it any longer. She’d promised
herself she wouldn’t get emotional, but the stark summary of Peter’s predicament
sent silent tears streaming down her cheeks. She rose to excuse herself from the
room.

Before she could navigate her way around the long table, Thad
stepped in front of her.
She looked up at him to apologize. He wrapped his
strong arms around her shoulders and held her against his chest.

The tears flowed freely then, too much emotion and confusion
fueling them. She’d failed her son. Octavian had him—and from what she’d heard,
Octavian had every advantage over them. Would she ever see Peter again? Even if
she did, would Octavian have taught
him lies and corrupted his tender heart?

Thad supported her, holding her up when she felt like sagging
to the ground. After the formal distance he’d kept between them, she was
surprised to feel his fingers lightly rubbing her back in the soothing manner
that had brought her comfort years before. But back then, he’d been easing the
sting of a harsh test grade and the loss
of her cat.

The world had gotten so much more complicated since then, and
she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed his touch. Or maybe she had, but she’d
been so angry with him, she was unwilling to admit to herself how much she
missed him.

Thad’s announcement had silenced the room, and it felt as
though too many precious minutes crept by before anyone spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Kirk said finally. “I’m so sorry. I never
dreamed—”

“We can’t go back in time and undo what’s happened.” Thad’s
voice rumbled in her ear. “We have until noon on Saturday to sort it out.”

Sniffling back her tears, Monica realized the smell of oil that
had clung to him so strongly had begun to dissipate. In its place, she breathed
in the old familiar scent
of her husband, evoking memories she’d refused to
think about since he’d left her. But now he was here, holding her, and she felt
her wounded heart giving a little groan.

“But, Thaddeus—” Stasi’s plea prompted Monica to peek out past
the safe haven of Thad’s arms “—what can we do? We’ve got to get your little boy
away from that horrid man.”

“He’s not just a little
boy,” Isabelle corrected her sister.
“He’s a prince. Let’s not forget the reason our lives have been spared over the
course of this ordeal. At various times and in various ways, Octavian considered
each of us a potential avenue to power. He tried to marry me off to a puppet
mogul in hopes of producing an heir.
That
plan would
have taken months, even years to come to fruition,
and now he’s holding a
descendent of Lydia prisoner?”

Levi picked up on his fiancée’s line of reasoning. “I doubt
Octavian has any intention of letting Peter go free, even if we hand over the
scepter. He’s far too useful to him.”

“Worse than that.” Thad articulated the scenario he’d suggested
to Monica earlier. “If we hand over the scepter, we render ourselves
obsolete.”

Alec huffed. “Worse than obsolete. We’d be the biggest threat
to his power.”

“That wicked little tyrant.” Stasi pounded her petite fist
against the table. “He’s dreamed for years of knocking us all off. If we give
him what he wants, he’ll kill us just to ease his frustration.” She stared at
her oldest brother. “You
can’t
play into his plans.
It won’t
help anything.”

“And yet—” Lillian Bardici cleared her throat “—we’ve got to
rescue that little boy. Kidnapping is a crime. Can’t we ask Interpol to
help?”

Levi, the international law expert, shook his head. “The
International Police Organization can’t interfere in political matters. They’ve
got to maintain their neutrality. I’m afraid they’d only turn us down.”

“I’ve been working with the United Nations peacekeeping team
that was dispatched in the wake of the ambush,” Isabelle added. “They strictly
avoid any actions that could be interpreted as taking sides. In the eyes of the
world, this is a political issue. We can point to all the crimes Octavian has
committed, but Octavian claims he’s been wronged, as well—that Father has
reneged on the agreements between them.”

“What about the emails you intercepted?” Stasi questioned her
sister. “Don’t they prove Octavian was conspiring with Lydia’s generals?”

“Unfortunately—” Isabelle blew out a frustrated breath “—I was
able to retrieve only one week’s worth of emails. Yes, it tells us there was a
conspiracy, but we don’t know how the plots
began
.
Petrela claims he was only part of the plot because he wanted to stop Octavian.”
She pointed to the general. “Any of the others could make the same claim, and we
have no way of proving otherwise. You can’t arrest someone for receiving an
email.”

Alec nodded in agreement with his sister’s analysis. “There’s a
chance one or more of the generals may have been acting
to defend the
crown—receiving the emails as a way of keeping tabs on Octavian for us, just as
Petrela claims he’s been doing.” Alec’s tone, along with the sideways glance he
shot the general, betrayed his underlying reluctance to believe Petrela’s
claims.

“In that case, they should have been reporting back to the
crown,” Isabelle noted.

“They may have been,”
Thad acknowledged. “Father is in no
position to tell us either way.”

Lily cleared her throat. “It could take a long time to sort out
everyone’s guilt and innocence. We’ve got just over a day left to rescue Peter.
Let’s not let ourselves get so distracted that we lose sight of that.”

Alec took his fiancée’s hand. “I agree. Peter must be liberated
and returned to his
mother. But how are we going to accomplish that?”

Monica felt another wave of silent tears rising up as those
around the table pledged their intention to free her son. Thad’s arms shifted
around her, and she realized she’d gotten so caught up in the conversation,
she’d forgotten how inappropriate it was for her to be so close to him. It felt
so right to be in his arms
again. She almost wished she could stay there, but
instead she stepped away. After all, she was still angry with him for his role
in her son’s capture. She’d spent the past six years resenting him for leaving
her. She wasn’t ready to forget that—certainly not as long as a madman had her
son.

She swallowed back her tears as the team members struggled to
find a solution
to Peter’s predicament.

“Let’s not forget who we’re dealing with,” Levi reminded
everyone. “Whenever we’ve underestimated Octavian, he’s always turned out to be
two steps ahead of us. Thad, you’ve said he lacks two things to accomplish his
plans—your signature and the Scepter of Charlemagne.”

Monica looked at Levi for a long moment, wondering, as she
assumed everyone
else was wondering, what he was getting at.

Levi looked around the room slowly before asking, “Do we know
for certain he doesn’t already have the scepter?”

A shot of fear sizzled through her, enough to compel her to
back farther away from Thad and blink up at him. He’d been the last person among
them to touch the scepter, but that had been six years before.

Everyone
looked to the general.

“Octavian kept many secrets from me,” Petrela acknowledged. “I
couldn’t probe too deeply in matters beyond my jurisdiction for fear of
attracting attention to myself. I’ll tell you anything I know that might help
you, but I really can’t say whether he has the scepter. Octavian holds his cards
very close to his chest.”

Thad shook his head slowly.
“Then we don’t know.”

“Levi raises an excellent point,” Dom Procopio said, speaking
up for the first time. “If you only have one advantage against this Octavian
fellow, you ought to be certain you really have it. Otherwise you’re playing
with nothing, and you’re bound to walk into a trap.”

A murmur of agreement passed through the siblings, but Kirk
balked at the idea.
“Monica was safe for six years until I spoke of her,” he
reminded them. “If the scepter has been safely hidden away for that long, I’m
loath to uncover it now, not when Octavian’s bound to have spies and moles
everywhere.” He shot a wary look at Petrela. “I’d hate to lose it simply because
we were afraid to trust its hiding place.”