Protecting the Princess Page 19

  Stasi fought him for control of the handlebars. “We have to take cover. I’m tired and cold. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

  It was true, her lips had taken on a bluish tint. But they’d take on a far deeper blue if the vicious undertow caught them. “It’s not safe.” Kirk used his greater strength to pull the watercraft wide of the island. “There are too many hidden rocks, and the undertow is deadly.”

  Stasi sagged on the seat in front of him, whether from defeat or exhaustion, Kirk wasn’t sure.

  “We’ll find a hiding place.” He pointed the craft toward the next less-than-promising island. “I’ll keep you safe.” Though the oath came from his heart, in his head, he wondered how he could possibly accomplish it. They were running out of islands. Already the protected cove of the keys was giving way to the force of the storm on the wide-open sea.

  Their trip was becoming more dangerous. And, he realized as he glanced behind them, Viktor was gaining on them.

  All their swerving about had cost them precious time. Determined to lose their pursuer, Kirk gunned the Jet Ski to greater speeds. He thought about trying to circle back to Sardis, but looping back around would essentially take them through Viktor’s path. It would only bring them closer to danger, not farther from it. And it would waste precious fuel.

  As Kirk recalled, the Jet Skis could only make an eighty- or ninety-kilometer trip in perfect weather. Given the rough seas, their fuel efficiency would be much less. And the Sardis archipelago stretched nearly fifty kilometers from the mainland.

  With a sinking stomach, he realized they might have already passed the point of no return. They likely no longer had enough fuel to make it back to the mainland. Not on the rough sea. Possibly not on any sea.

  He had no choice, then. They had to keep going, and find a place to hide—soon. Or Viktor could catch up to them on the open water. Then all Bosch would need to do was fight them off their precarious perch on the Jet Ski. Their exhaustion and the weight of their body armor would do the rest.

  There was little other option. Of the many islands stretching out toward the open sea, the only one that offered any place to hide was Dorsi. Kirk cringed at the idea of leading Viktor to the ancient fortress, especially since he knew Bosch had been seeking the scepter of Charlemagne. Even if, by some chance, Thad hadn’t left the scepter on the island, Viktor could easily uncover enough clues in the old castle to ultimately lead him to the Lydian heir and the scepter.

  But Dorsi was nearly unapproachable. The only decent spot to anchor was the hidden inlet, and that was tricky enough to find. He and Thad had even had difficulty finding it the first time, and that was with a map to guide them. It wasn’t something anyone was likely to stumble upon, certainly not in the thrashing seas they slogged through.

  If he could shake Viktor just long enough to make a break for the inlet, he might be able to escape without detection. And in that respect, Dorsi was a perfect choice. A strand of keys lay just off the east side, in close enough proximity that, if he weaved among them quickly enough, he might leave Viktor in the shadow of an island while he and Stasi slipped away to safety.

  He gunned the Jet Ski through the mounting waves. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

  Stasi pinched her eyes shut and gripped the handlebars with all her strength. Though the waters of the Mediterranean were temperate in June, the rain that fell from the sky was much cooler, and the force of the wind around them chilled her. Already, uncontrollable shivers trembled through her, and it was all she could do to keep her teeth from chattering.

  Surely Kirk knew what he was doing. She’d wanted so badly to hide at Channel Island, not because she thought it would be a safe choice, but simply because she was so exhausted. They had to rest soon.

  A violent shiver chased up her spine, jarring her lungs, sending her into a sputtering fit of coughing. Between the waves and the drenching rain, her face had been assaulted by a near-constant onslaught of water. She’d breathed in far too much liquid, and it filled her stomach and her lungs.

  Her lungs.

  She’d always had to be careful to keep her lungs clear. They’d always been her weak point—prone to pneumonia and congestion. The constant deluge of water could prove to be more deadly than the enemy who pursued them.

  At the thought of Viktor, Stasi blinked her eyes open and peered past Kirk’s solid arms to the craft that hounded them. Viktor’s fierce face cackled with malice, as though he knew that, one way or another, she and Kirk were done for.

  Pressing her face into Kirk’s arm, Stasi found she could breathe more easily in the shadow of his shoulder. Sucking in a few steady breaths, she tried to think. Kirk and his men had risked so much so that she could sign the covenant. All their efforts would come to nothing if she didn’t make it back to Sardis alive. They’d come so far and sacrificed so much.

  Coughing out more seawater, Stasi struggled to catch her breath, to urge Kirk on. They couldn’t give up. Not yet.

  She prayed that God would keep them safe. That somehow—in spite of the bleak situation, God would rescue them from Viktor, and from all those who opposed the crown.

  But how?

  Peering out past Kirk’s arm, she saw the last islets of the Sardis keys flash past. There was nothing left but the Island of Dorsi and the open sea. Kirk pointed the Jet Ski toward the Dorsi inlet and gunned it to top speed.

  What was he thinking? If they led Viktor to Dorsi, Thad’s hideout would be exposed. They couldn’t afford to give away where he’d been hiding! If their enemies knew Thad was still alive, they wouldn’t stop until they tracked him down. Worse yet, if Thad had left the scepter hidden on the island, Viktor might find it!

  Kirk slipped in through the rocks that rimmed the island, narrowly avoiding their jutting forms as their craft careened toward the hidden opening that led to the secret inlet. She pulled her knees tight to the Jet Ski, barely missing scraping against the jagged reef. The heaving waves tossed them forward like a toy boat, and moments later beached them high on the sand.

  Kirk peeled himself off the craft and lifted her off after him.

  She tried to thank him, to say anything, but her teeth chattered with such uncontrollable force no words came out. Stumbling after him up the beach, she found she was too weak to protest when he hoisted her into his arms and carried her up the familiar path that led to the queen’s tower.

  Once inside the small covered room, Stasi found she could catch her breath. Rain still drummed on the stone structure all around them, but in the ancient enclosed space, everything was dry. Water poured in rivulets from her clothes, pooling on the floor.

  Kirk opened the stone compartment where many of Thad’s things were hidden and pulled out a blanket, tucking it around her shoulders before pulling her into his embrace. “Are you going to make it?”

  “Y-y-yes,” she chattered, still shivering convulsively. “Do you think we’ll be safe here?”

  “I hope so.” Kirk let go of her shoulders and crossed to the narrow arrowslit window that overlooked the inlet. His face blanched.

  “Did he follow us?”

  “He just beached his Jet Ski.” Kirk crossed to Thad’s small arsenal of supplies. “It won’t take him long to find us. We’ve got to be ready.”

  SIXTEEN

  Stasi rummaged through the bin with shaking fingers. Thaddeus had left many items stowed away, but what use were a spyglass and a sleeping bag against the heartless enemy who was likely carrying more than one gun? Fighting back a cough, she noticed Kirk’s lips were moving, and she slid close enough to hear his words.

  “Dear God, protect us.”

  She found the superpowerful emergency parachute her brother had invented. Maybe they could climb to the top of the tower and parachute away? She tucked it under her arm and grabbed another i
tem. Thad’s crank flashlight. Right. Maybe she could shine it in her enemy’s eyes and blind him?

  A despairing sob escaped her lips.

  “None of that.” Kirk had some sort of sword in a scabbard. He grabbed her hand.

  She glanced through the arched doorway and saw Viktor quickly climbing the winding stairs.

  Kirk tugged her in the direction of the stairs leading to the battlement with its crenellated parapets. They reached the flat landing that towered at least twenty meters above the rest of the island. The rain continued to fall, pooling in slick puddles, sometimes several centimeters deep.

  “Don’t get too close to the wall,” Kirk cautioned her. “Some of these old stones are loose.”

  Stasi nodded and prayed as she gulped a breath for courage.

  Then Viktor burst onto the open tower, and Kirk stepped in front of her, brandishing the sword he held.

  Viktor drew his gun.

  With a flick of his wrist, Kirk knocked the weapon from Viktor’s hand, and the shot went wild. The gun flew free of the turret, rattling down the stone wall.

  Stasi never heard it hit the bottom.

  Leaping sideways past Kirk, Viktor lunged at her, and Stasi clutched the items she’d carried and ducked out of the way just as Viktor swung his leg in a wide kick.

  Stasi threw the flashlight at the man’s head, momentarily stunning him, and sending a trickle of blood streaming down his cheek with the rain.

  Kirk leaped onto Viktor’s back, tearing him away, but even as he pulled the man backward, Viktor kicked out again, this time catching her with his boot under her jaw.

  Stars exploded behind her vision as Stasi’s head snapped back. She tried to shake off the blow, to counter in some way, but it was all she could do to get her eyes open in time to see another boot flying toward her face.

  Then there was nothing but pain, and the stone floor beneath her.

  Stasi blinked past the agony and forced her eyes to open. What had happened? She heard Kirk’s voice, but the sound seemed to have come from somewhere far away, beyond the turret.

  She strained to see through the falling rain. Viktor stood by the far parapet, leering.

  “Tell me where the scepter is!” Viktor shouted. “I know he took it! You’ve got three more seconds before I pry your fingers from the wall and you fall to your death. And who will save your princess then?”

  With a jolt of clarifying anger, Stasi realized that the loose stones of the crenel had fallen away, and Kirk apparently clung to the remaining ledge, with Viktor plying him for information, determined to kill him.

  Stasi had no doubt that, even if Kirk told the man everything, Viktor would kill him. He’d kill them both, or kill Kirk and turn her over to her enemies.

  “No!” Stasi shouted. She raised herself up to a sitting position and blinked back the stars that followed. Her shout had caught the attention of Viktor, and his hand still hovered in the air.

  “I thought I’d killed you already.” Viktor took a menacing step in Stasi’s direction.

  Through pain-filled vision, Stasi spotted her brother’s emergency parachute, which had fallen next to her in her skirmish. She grabbed it up and was about to throw it at the man when she spotted the release button.

  With little time to think beyond the possibility of the open parachute catching Kirk, or possibly giving him some means to climb back up onto the battlement, she aimed the pack at Bosch and squeezed the button with her thumb.

  The force of the ejecting parachute threw her back against the parapet behind her, and more stars erupted from her vision. She wavered, half expecting Viktor to hit her again at any moment. Instead, she heard the distant rattle of something falling down the steep sides of the tower.

  “Kirk!” She scrambled across the wet stones on her hands and knees. Had he fallen? Her heart tore at the thought of losing him, and she realized she’d never gotten the chance to tell him that she loved him.

  She reached the edge of the tower. What remained of the crumbled section of parapet was less than a meter high. Clasping the side of the thick wall, she pulled herself up onto her knees, and saw fingers holding tight on the other side.

  “Kirk!”

  “Help me up,” he panted, and pain labored across his features.

  The nylon ropes of the ejected parachute dangled just past him. Stasi wrapped the pack tightly around a solid crenel and pulled the rope into a tight knot. “Can you grab the rope?”

  Kirk got hold of it with both hands and, with her straining from the top end, he inched his way over the edge.

  “Careful of your ribs,” she reminded him as he winced in pain.

  Kirk rolled onto his side as he crawled over what was left of the stone wall.

  “Are you all right?” Stasi gathered his face into her hands. The rain had mostly died down, and far to the west the sinking sun broke through the clouds, sending golden rays of light streaming down.

  “Better,” he panted. “Better now.”

  “I’m so glad.” She bent her face to his and planted a tentative kiss on his lips. When she began to pull away, he rose up slightly after her.

  She kissed him again. “I never got to tell you. I love you.”

  The smile fled from his eyes, replaced by a wary look.

  His response stabbed at her. Did he not feel the same way? The previous kiss they’d shared seemed to indicate so, but his grim expression told her otherwise.

  He eased himself to a sitting position. “I should retrieve the body before it gets dark.”

  “Body?”

  “Viktor’s. There’s no way he could have survived that fall, even if the impact from the chute didn’t get him. Judging from what it did to the fountain statue years ago, I’d say he was likely dead before he ever hit the ground.”

  “I killed him?” Remorse stabbed through her. Granted, he was a horrible person who’d tried to kill them both. And there would have been awful repercussions if Viktor told anyone what he’d seen on Dorsi, or worse yet, found the scepter. But at the same time, the thought that she’d taken a human life cut at her heart.

  “The chute killed him.” Kirk gave her a solemn look. “You didn’t do it on purpose. But still, I’m glad you did it. He made it clear it was us or him.” He groaned as he got to his feet, steadying his ribs with one hand as he made his way to the steps.

  Stasi followed him down the stairs to the queen’s chamber. “How are we going to get back to Sardis? The Jet Ski won’t have enough fuel to make it back.”

  “This.” Kirk pulled an object from Thad’s storage bin, and held it up for her to see. A long piece of plastic tubing dangled from something that looked like a cross between an air pump and an enormous perfume atomizer.

  “Another of Thad’s inventions?” Stasi looked the bulbous thing over, wondering how it was going to transport them across fifty kilometers of open sea.

  “It’s a siphon. We can move the gas from the other craft all into our tank. It may not get us all the way to Sardis, but it will get us most of the way. We’ll take an oar and row into port if we have to.”

  By the time Kirk got the gas siphoned, the sun was setting and the cloudy sky was dark.

  “Let’s not worry about fetching the body right now.” Stasi shivered against the relentless cold. Kirk had bundled her in a blanket, but she’d been shivering for too long to stop now.

  His gentle hand cupped her cheek. “You’re right. I need to get you to town.”

  With that, they climbed on the Jet Ski and headed off into the sunset.

  Stasi pinched her eyes shut and let Kirk steer. She felt so exhausted, and her constant shivering convinced her she likely had caught a fever. They slipped past several islands before Kirk began to wave and shout.

 
“What is it?” Stasi looked ahead to see a boat approaching them, with smiling faces eagerly waving back.

  “Linus and Jason,” Kirk explained. “Looking for us.”

  They motored alongside the larger boat and clambered in, attaching the Jet Ski so they could tow it back to port behind them. Stasi was glad to be off the tiny craft and onto something steadier. The men brought her more blankets and hot chocolate, which she sipped while she slumped against Kirk on a bench seat.

  “Viktor Bosch’s body is on the island of Dorsi,” Kirk explained to the men.

  “How did he die?” Linus asked.

  Jason chided his friend. “Don’t you know? No one visits the island of Dorsi and returns alive.”

  “That’s right.” Kirk gave them both a stern look of affirmation. “We’ll have to go back out later and recover his body.”

  “We can take care of that. You need your rest,” Jason told him.

  “Who’s going to be the head of the royal guard with Bosch out of the picture?” Linus asked.

  “Jason is eligible for the job. And he’s the highest-ranking officer who has demonstrated allegiance to the crown.” Kirk nudged Stasi gently. “Would you like to appoint him?”

  Stasi looked up through bleary eyes at the men who’d done so much to protect her. “Gladly. And Linus can have Jason’s vacated position.”

  The man gave a shout, and Stasi startled. “Is it a promotion? It was intended to be.”

  “A promotion and a raise.” Linus laughed happily. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  As they neared the city, the men radioed ahead, and Galen met them at the marina. Stasi felt too weak to stand, and couldn’t stop shivering.

  “Her fever’s getting bad,” Kirk murmured to the others. “Let’s take her straight to the hospital.”

  Stasi didn’t argue with them. She didn’t have the strength, but let Kirk carry her to a car and then into the hospital in Sardis.