Prince Incognito (7 page)

So they hadn’t given up their search. Having seen all he cared to, he ducked back toward their hiding place under the lip of the cliffs. Unless the men on the boat decided to beach their craft and search the wadi, he and
Lillian would be safe where they were.

“What’s that rumbling sound?” Lily’s voice met him as he settled back into the spot where he’d been resting.

She was only a couple of meters away. If they whispered, there was little chance the searching men would hear them, especially not over the sound of the boat. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances, but motioned for her to move closer
to him.

Lily darted over and took a seat in the shade next to him. “Is it my uncle?”

“I think it might be his men. They’re searching the shoreline. So far they haven’t ventured inland.”

“Do you think they’ll see our footprints?”

“The waves should have washed away those that are visible from sea.”

Regret chased across her features as she shook her head. “I shouldn’t
have fallen asleep.”

“Would you have been able to prevent the boat from approaching, then?” He shook his head to answer his own question. “You needed your rest. We’ll both have to conserve our energy as best we can until we find food.”

Lily’s face brightened. “I saw a dust cloud earlier, moving far to the south of us. Do you think there might be a caravan traveling through the desert?”

“Could be. The shifting sand makes regular road maintenance almost impossible, so traditional caravans still cross the desert by camel. But bandits roam these deserts, as well as militant rebel groups. By the time we could get close enough to see who they are, they’ll have spotted us. Approaching them would be a risky venture, especially since it seems your uncle is powerful in this area.
Anyone we encounter could betray us to him.”

Rather than be discouraged by his words, Lily’s face lit up, and she gripped his arm. “Wait—I just remembered something. The Rising Sun Horse Race is supposed to be traveling through the Sahara, from Tripoli toward Cairo.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” he confessed.

Lily’s enthusiasm wasn’t diminished. “I’ve followed it in the
news since I was a girl. It’s only held every three years. My parents promised me that if I came on this trip with them, we could go to Tripoli in time to watch the race start. But when the time came, they decided to stay in Sardis instead.”

Disappointment welled up in her voice as she spoke, and he couldn’t help but wonder why her parents had broken their promise, especially when the race
happened so rarely, and seeing it clearly meant a great deal to her. “If we could reach the race route, we might be able to blend in. But that doesn’t solve our question of food and water.” His words dropped off, and Lily’s hand clenched around his arm, her eyes wide.

The receding rumble of the boat motor had stopped.

“What do you suppose—” she began in a whisper.

“They’ve beached
it. They’re coming inland to search. From the sound of it, they’ve moved south of us. If they head this way, they’ll most likely come up over that ridge, there.” He pointed to the opposite wall of the canyon.

“And they’ll have a wide-open view of us.” Lily looked around frantically. “We’ve got to find somewhere else to hide.”

Having already scoped out the area, he didn’t know what
to tell her. There was nothing but the canyon and the scraggly bushes, which wouldn’t camouflage anything larger than a jerboa.

“The other side of the gully. There’s enough of an overhang, if they look down from above they won’t be able to see us there.”

“Assuming they don’t come up the wadi.” He peered up and down the ravine. There wasn’t anywhere else to hide. “Come on, then. We’ll
have to erase our footprints as we go. If they spot those it will lead them straight to us.”

He snapped off two branches from the nearest scrubby tree, handed one to her, and demonstrated how to walk backward, wiping away their footprints behind them as they went. Quickly, they shuffled over to the far side of the gully, checked for snakes and scorpions, and ducked under the lip of the rock.
There wasn’t as much shade on that side, but the dry heat baked all the sweat from their skin.

Muted voices carried through the still air, muffled by the sounds of the seashore beyond them. Lily had hold of his arm again, and he could feel her tension as she strained to hear, listening for any sign that they were about to be discovered.

He brushed the hair back from her ear and pressed
his mouth close, whispering, “The safest place for us is right here. Don’t panic and try to run away. We’ll only run if we’re sure they’ve spotted us.”

She nodded. “How many men do they have?”

“I counted eight on the boat.”

Lily let out a slow breath.

They were outnumbered. They couldn’t risk letting it come to a fight—though he’d managed to fend off that many men and more
the night before, he wasn’t sure what he was capable of, or why he knew so much about hand-to-hand combat. It wouldn’t be wise to depend on his untested skills in defense, not given the odds against them.

A voice carried clearly through the simmering air. “Let’s check the ravine. If they came this way, there’s nowhere else they could be.”

Lily’s lips drew level with his ear. “We need
to pray.”

He took her hand and squeezed it.

“Lord, please don’t let them find us,” she began in a whisper.

He let out a silent breath, shushing her, and her words fell away, the soft pulse of her breath against his neck evidence that she continued to pray, murmuring silently as she gripped the hand with which he’d enfolded hers. He pinched his eyes shut and joined her in silent
prayer.

The soldiers’ voices carried closer. “Let’s hurry. I don’t like being out in this heat.”

“This heat has nothing on the heat Bardici will lay on us if we come back empty-handed.”

“He can’t expect us to conjure them out of thin air.”

“I still say they drowned when they hit the rocks.”

“You convince Bardici of that, then.”

“He won’t believe it unless you
find the bodies.”

The soldiers’ words grew louder, clearer, as the men drew nearer.

“You suppose they’re down there?” The voice seemed to come from almost on top of them.

“If they are, you’d think we could see them. There’s nowhere to hide.”

“Besides that, it’s a wadi. Alec knows better than to hang out there. If a flash flood comes up, he’d be done for.”

The name
they spoke lodged in his mind. Alec. Was that the name of the man they were looking for? Was that
his
name? It carried through the distant recesses of his mind, spoken by his mother’s voice, calling to him. But he didn’t have time to answer. He had to pay attention to what the men above him were saying.

“Doesn’t look like any flash floods have come through in a while.”

“No, but something’s
been through there. The sand looks disturbed.”

Silence. In the tense, empty air, he could almost hear the soldiers adjusting their binoculars.

“Snakes.”

“What?”

“See the way the sand shifts in narrow trails? That wadi’s full of snakes.”

“Poisonous?”

“Most likely.”

Sand rained down over the lip of the ravine, sprinkling to the ground just off to his left,
as though the men had ventured near the edge, dislodging it.

“Bardici said to leave no stone unturned. We should check down there, just to be sure.”

“It’s your funeral.” More sand pattered down. The men who’d been crouching stood. Metallic clinks and splashing told him they’d pulled out their canteens for a drink.

Suddenly an object cut through the open air in front of him, half
burying itself in the soft sand as it landed.

A canteen.

“Titus,” a voice scoffed, “you need to be more careful. Are you going down for that?”

Lily’s hand gripped his arm tighter. If the men came after their canteen, they’d find them for sure, sitting as they were less than three meters from it.

And every soldier knew better than to let himself become separated from his
water in the desert.

SIX

“F
orget it. There’s no easy way down, and I’m not tangling with snakes over a stupid canteen. Let’s get back to base and tell Bardici they’re gone.”

“He’s not going to like it.”

“He doesn’t like a lot of things.”

The men grumbled, but their voices were quickly swallowed up by the distance, and Lily’s grip relaxed on his arm.

His gaze didn’t leave the
canteen. It was a blanket-covered, military-issue four-quart desert canteen with nylon strap, the screw-on lid attached with a chain so it couldn’t be lost.

The nylon strap had been extended to accommodate enough play to allow a soldier to drink without unstrapping it from his body—precisely so that it wouldn’t be dropped, or lost, or left behind.

He stared at it a little longer. Why
had it fallen? Had Titus dropped it on purpose? Did the soldier—it was the same voice that had declared their sweeping brush marks snake trails—really believe the wadi to be filled with poisonous reptiles?

Was Titus baiting him by dropping the canteen? Or had he left his water behind to help them? Why would he try to help them?

Lily inched closer until her mouth was close to his ear.
“Should we take the canteen?”

He shrugged, still undecided, and pinched his eyes shut as a name echoed through his thoughts.

Alec! Alec!

His mother was calling him again, wanting him to wake up, to get going.

But who was his mother? And who was he?

The throttle of a distant motor chugged to life. “They’re back in the boat. Let’s give them time to clear the mouth of
the wadi. We don’t want to risk them seeing us.”

“And then?”

“When we’re sure the coast is clear, we’ll open up the spring again, drink as much as we can hold, fill the canteen, and head for the dust cloud you saw to the southeast.”

“But it’s not evening yet.”

“I know.” He replayed the men’s words. Bardici didn’t want to leave any stone unturned. If any of the soldiers
revealed that the team hadn’t searched he wadi, the general might dispatch another team. A larger team, one free of sympathizers—if, indeed, it had been a sympathizer who’d knowingly helped them out by dropping the canteen. “We don’t have the luxury of waiting any longer.”

* * *

Lily drank as much water as she could hold, until her stomach sloshed with her every movement. Then, when
the soldier was done drinking his fill, she drank a little more. They made sure the canteen was full before starting off.

Though plenty of daylight remained, the late-afternoon sun was already at enough of an angle to the earth that the sky filtered its light, reducing its burning impact. Still, they kept as much as possible to the ribbon of shade that rimmed the western side of the canyon.
Without proper desert clothing, lacking even hats, she knew they were particularly susceptible to sunburn. And they’d have to ration their water carefully.

They started off in silence, still stifled by the threat of the soldiers’ possible return, their ears pricked to pick up the rumble of a boat motor or the thump of a helicopter’s blades. But they heard nothing more than the tiny whisper
of the wind. Even the sounds of the sea faded behind them.

Lily’s thoughts churned. She could feel a nasty bruise under her jaw where her uncle had shoved his gun. His betrayal stabbed at her more sharply than the jab of the barrel. And worse yet had been her parents’ obsequiousness in the face of David’s cruelty. They’d broken promises of late, but this was a new low.

Rather than
dwell on the hurt of their actions, she turned her thoughts to the mystery of the man who marched beside her. Who was he? And why was her uncle so determined to capture him?

When they’d traveled far beyond the sound of the sea, Lily asked, “Who’s Alec?”

“The name the soldier mentioned back there?”

“Yes. Is that you?”

“Might be.”

“It doesn’t ring any bells?”

“Not much does.”

“But you know about surviving in a desert. You know how to fight. Where do you think you got those skills?”

“When you found me I was wearing a uniform, so maybe I’m a soldier. Maybe I was deployed out here until I got called back to Lydia.”

She swallowed, her throat already dry. “Why do you think they called you back to Lydia?”

“There are two possibilities
I can think of. One, I was part of something, maybe part of whatever that ambush was trying to attack. Your uncle said I have intelligence they need, right? So either they were attacking to get their hands on me and find out what I know, or else…” he let his voice fade, but kept walking.

She plodded through the desert beside him, waiting for him to finish his thought. “Or else?” she prompted
finally.

“It’s possible I’m part of the rebel group that ambushed the motorcade. Maybe I know something about the operation, or maybe I was sent in to learn something.”

“You don’t sound as though you approve of that possibility.”

“I don’t approve of your uncle or the way he does business. Granted, I have no memory of anything, so I can’t be the best judge, but any man who shoves
a gun at an innocent woman…” He shook his head. “Not to mention, I seem to recall that Lydia is a Christian nation. The royal family members are all godly people. I can’t condone an attack on them.”

Lily’s heart beat harder at his zealous proclamation. “I think, if you feel that strongly about it, that should tell you something about who you are.”

He paused and looked at her for the
first time in their conversation.

Hope rose inside her as she met his eyes. “I don’t know who you are, but I know that I trust you—right now, I trust you more than I trust my own parents. You’ve proven yourself to be worthy of that trust, and they haven’t.”

He cupped his hand above her forehead, blocking the sun that shone in her eyes as she looked up at him. She stopped squinting
and smiled. “Whoever you are, you’re a kind, compassionate man. Your actions reveal that.”

But his hardened expression didn’t soften. “You need to be careful. Until I know who I am, you can’t trust me. Not completely.” He turned back toward the southeast and pressed on.

Lily followed, the soldier’s words a reminder she didn’t want to accept. It was almost as though he was telling her
to guard her heart against him, but already she cared for him. “Alec?”

“Hmm?” He looked back at her.

She grinned. “You answered to it. I think it
is
your name.”

“Call me whatever you like.” He kept moving doggedly forward.

They continued in silence, but Lily found she was tired of hearing nothing but their muffled footsteps and the lonely whispers of the wind. Replaying
the events of the day before, she tried to sort out what she could of the ambush on the motorcade. Everything had happened so quickly, the blasts erupting from nowhere in the midst of a peaceful, music-filled procession.

The Lydian national anthem had been broadcast from somewhere, and now it stuck in her head, playing in a constant loop as she recalled the words she’d been taught as a child.
Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, she decided to sing.
“O, Lydia, my motherland,”
she began, working her way through the verses, faltering only slightly when her parched mouth struggled to carry the words. But conviction strengthened her voice as she sang the lines,
“None can triumph o’er your walls, where duty, faith and freedom calls.”
The ancient words quickened her breath, and
her song faded to a whisper as she reached the last line
, “O, Lydia, forevermore.”

As she sang, her steps fell into rhythm with the haunting melody, and she found her feet less inclined to drag. Too soon, the song came to an end, and she caught her breath, swallowing past the dryness of the desert air, preparing to launch into the song again.

But before she found her voice, the soldier
next to her picked up the tune, his deep voice a solemn bass as he chanted in the minor key. His masculine intonations caught her so off guard, it took her a moment to realize he wasn’t singing in English.

The exotic words that slipped from his lips fit the tune even better than those she’d sung, and her heart beat faster as she hurried to keep up with him, straining to hear each word, though
she didn’t know what any of them meant. The wadi through which they’d traveled had given way to endless white sand, and the sun sank lower in the sky, stretching their shadows long across the wind-rippled desert floor. They plodded on as he sang, his voice deep, sturdy, strong. She wished he’d keep singing forever, a marching tune for their unending trek.

When he finished the song, the last
note lingered in the still air.

“What was that?” she asked once she got up the courage to break the sacred silence.

“The Lydian national anthem.”

“In what language?”

“Old Lydian.”

A cold shiver chased across her skin in spite of the heat of the desert. No one had spoken Old Lydian in generations—English had been made the official language of the tiny country around
the time of the First World War, and everyone had stopped speaking Old Lydian. How did the soldier know it?

“The song was originally written in Old Lydian,” she surmised.

“It was composed in the ninth century by Queen Gisela. She was a daughter of Charlemagne, the Holy Roman Emperor.”

Lily didn’t question how he was able to recall the ancient facts. She’d already determined that
only his personal memory had been erased. But she wondered if, perhaps, by tapping into the facts he recalled, she could somehow get him to reveal something about himself that would help them identify who he was. When he fell silent, she prompted him. “Queen Gisela? That’s a lovely name.”

“I understand she was a lovely woman. Her husband was King John, and her son was King Thaddeus. My brother
is named after him.”

The revelation caused Lily to stumble, and when the soldier caught her by her arm, preventing her from falling, she looked into his eyes, and could see the window to the past shutter as quickly as it had opened.

Desperate to reach him before the window closed completely, she scrambled to think of something to ask. “You have a brother?” she asked at last.

He blinked, and she could see that the window had closed.

But this time he’d left enough of a trail she hoped they might be able to follow it. “You have a brother named Thaddeus.”

“Do I?” He appeared to be genuinely uncertain.

“He was named after King Thaddeus.” They’d stopped walking, and Lily had no intention of traveling on, not until she’d plumbed the tiny spring of information
to its depths. A thought struck her, and she gripped his forearms with both hands.

“Thaddeus,”
she repeated. “Is it a common name in Lydia?”

The hollow void behind his eyes held no answers.

She wished she could call back the man who’d peeked out from his walled-off consciousness only moments before.
“Alec.”
She repeated the name the soldier had used. “Alexander.”

He blinked.

“I went to watch the royal motorcade, to watch the royal family of Lydia pass by. Do you know the names of the royal family of Lydia?”

“King Philip and Queen Elaine.”

“Who are they?” She wanted to shake him but resisted the impulse. Instead, she prayed silently that her words would pierce the dark shroud that hid him from himself.

“The king and queen of Lydia.”

As
an American, Lily had limited knowledge of the Lydian royal family, but her father held joint Lydian citizenship, and her uncle’s position high in the military meant that Lydian politics were occasionally discussed in her home growing up—not that she’d ever cared about them enough to listen before. In fact, she’d tended to tune out anything her uncle talked about, simply because she couldn’t stand
the man.

“Do they have any children?” She moistened her dry lips with her tongue.

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve known everything else. You knew about the helicopter’s fuel capacity, you knew where to find water in the desert. You know Old Lydian, but you can’t remember anything about
yourself.
”

His forehead furrowed, and sorrow etched through the scabs on the left side of his
face.

Lily shuffled to his right, staring at his profile. She hadn’t seen a picture of the whole royal family of Lydia since the princes were much younger, and yet, it fit. His face fit, the names…everything fit. Her breathing increased as she realized who he might possibly be.

“You can remember facts,” she prompted him, “but not personal details. So why can’t you recall the names
of the princes and princesses of Lydia?”

* * *

He stumbled back. He wanted to lie down, but he knew the sand was still baking hot. That simple fragment of knowledge only compounded the truth of what Lillian had said. He knew all about the desert.

He shuddered as ripples of memories tore through him with the force of the searing blasts that had rocked the streets of Sardis.