The Missing Monarch (8 page)

The general didn’t appear to be about to back down, either. “I
will use my judgment.” He raised his right eyebrow slightly. “I’d appreciate it
if you would use yours.”

“I intend to.” Thad stood a little taller, and the guards who
held him stepped back. “Can we get going now?”

Petrela extended his hand toward the waiting limo. “After
you.”

While Thad climbed into the car, Petrela exchanged words with
his men, who dispersed to the other waiting vehicles.

Monica and Thad squeezed into one seat together with one of
Petrela’s guards, facing Kirk, the general and another guard.

It was a full
vehicle. The luxury-sized seats accommodated
them, but Monica still felt the press of Thad’s body next to hers, and nearly
choked on the conflicting emotions the contact generated. She hated Thad for
endangering her son. So why did she find it so difficult not to reach for the
hand so close to hers, or lean on his shoulder, or bury her head in his chest to
cry?

Kirk
made sure they were all synchronized at the local time of
eight-thirty in the morning, and helped Thad input recently changed numbers into
his phone. Kirk looked as though he wanted to talk, but he kept glancing at
Petrela.

“Speak freely,” Thad told his friend. “Pretend he isn’t
there.”

Petrela bristled visibly at Thad’s words, but he made no
move.

Kirk
gave a wry smile before jumping in. “Your family is
waiting at the palace. I told your siblings that you’re on your way.”

“What about my mother?”

“She won’t leave your father’s side. He’s at the hospital.
Since Alexander didn’t know much about your status, we all thought it best not
to tell her anything until we knew more about the circumstances.”

“Thank you. That
was wise,” Thad agreed. “How are the others
faring?”

“They’ve got a lot of questions about your visit. As you’ve
probably heard from the media reports, Parliament established a temporary ruling
council after your father disappeared during the ambush. In order to meet the
requirements that the ruling monarch be a descendent of Lydia, they created an
oligarchy of contenders
to the throne, open to all those with a claim to the
crown.”

Monica listened carefully, filling in the blanks with what she
knew of the tiny Christian nation. The kingdom had been founded by the members
of the house church formed by a woman named Lydia, who was actually mentioned
several times in the Bible in the book of Acts. The ruling family could trace
its roots
all the way back through the centuries to the first Lydia, after whom
the kingdom was named.

“The crown has officially passed from your father, and by law
cannot revert back to him, even if he recovers.” Kirk plowed ahead with his
updates. “Isabelle and Anastasia signed the oligarchy documents.”

“What about Alexander?” Thad named his other sibling.

“I’m afraid Alexander
didn’t arrive to sign within the time
limit set by Parliament, but that shouldn’t be much of an issue at this point,
since Alexander is now engaged to one of the other members of the oligarchy,
Lillian Bardici.”

“Bardici.” Thad scowled at the name. “David Bardici, the Lydian
general, has been killed, has he not? I caught just a bit of that story on the
news. Explain
to me exactly how the Bardicis fit into the picture.”

Kirk took a deep breath. “At Octavian’s prompting, the Bardicis
claimed to be descendants of the ruling line from four generations ago, but
we’ve uncovered documents that have disproved that theory. Neither of the
Bardicis on the ruling council, Lillian nor her father, Michael, have any actual
relation to the Lydian
line.”

“So the oligarchy council has no basis, then?”

Kirk nodded, regret on his features. “It was created to solve a
problem that no longer exists. All that remains now is for the rightful ruler to
be crowned.”

Monica watched the men discussing the future of the kingdom,
and saw clearly what Kirk was hoping. He wanted Thad to be crowned king. With
the recently
dethroned King Philip in a coma, unable to be recrowned, and
without any basis for the oligarchical council, it only made sense for Thad to
take the position he’d been born to hold. But Octavian and his determined plans
barred the way.

More than likely, Marc Petrela heard the implication underlying
Kirk’s words, but Monica figured it wouldn’t be any great revelation to
him.

Nor did Thad respond to his friend’s implications. There wasn’t
time to talk further. They arrived at the palace and shuffled around in the
courtyard until Petrela and his men seemed satisfied with the formation they’d
created around Thad.

Then they hurried inside the large marble foyer with its twin
staircases curving down, where Thad’s sisters Isabelle and
Anastasia tackled him
with hugs. Petrela’s men tensed and looked at the general for direction, but his
expression seemed to indicate that he didn’t consider the princesses to be a
threat.

The smaller blonde sister, who Monica understood to be
Anastasia, called Stasi, turned to her next. “You’re Monica?” Obviously Kirk had
told the sisters about her, as Thad had instructed
Alec.

“Yes.” As Monica awkwardly wondered whether she should curtsy
or shake the princess’s hand, Stasi surprised her with a hug.

“Thank you for bringing my brother home.” The petite princess
squeezed her tight, followed by Isabelle, who embraced her and thanked her, as
well.

Too dumbfounded to respond, Monica wondered if she should
explain that Thad hadn’t returned
because of any winsome request on her part.
Did anyone understand why Petrela stood among them? They seemed far too
distracted by their brother’s return to consider the question. But they’d learn
the details soon enough. Besides, Monica wasn’t entirely certain she could trust
her voice, having often wondered how her sisters-in-law might receive her, but
never envisioning
them welcoming her so warmly.

Of course, once they learned she’d hidden their nephew away for
five years, only to have him kidnapped and used as a pawn in exchange for the
crown they’d worked so hard to reclaim, they might feel quite differently.

“Where’s Alexander?” Thad asked, looking around.

“He isn’t doing very well on the stairs, or else he could have
come down
to greet you. He and his fiancée, Lily, are waiting upstairs in the
conference room. We promised to join them the moment you arrived,” Isabelle
explained.

Thad absorbed the news with a nod. “Perhaps that’s the best
place to meet. We have twenty-seven hours.” He sighed, seemingly unwilling to
explain everything in the foyer, only to reexplain once they joined the others
upstairs. “Shall we join them?”

Kirk led the way. “Levi Grenaldo and Dom Procopio are up there,
as well.”

Monica felt a sense of relief hearing that Dom Procopio would
be joining them, the only other person who’d known she was married. Having kept
the marriage a secret for so long, it would be a relief to be around someone
who’d been there in the beginning.

She followed quietly up the stairs, letting Petrela and his men
shadow Thaddeus closely, since they seemed so intent on doing so. Most of the
others had entered the conference room by the time Monica came around the
corner.

Dom Procopio waited just outside the conference room. The
round-eyed older man extended his arms toward her when he saw her, and she
returned
his embrace gladly. Finally, after so many new faces, someone familiar.
Though the sight of the man who’d officiated at her wedding brought back
bittersweet memories, she was grateful for the hug.

“Monica,” he greeted her warmly. “It’s good to see you. It’s
been too long.”

Choked by emotion, Monica nodded and followed him into the
room. They’d brought quite a crowd
with them, including half a dozen of
Petrela’s men, besides the two he’d stationed outside the doors. But the room
was quite large, and its vast space seemed to absorb the figures.

Nonetheless, the presence of Octavian’s men had a stifling
effect on Thad’s siblings, who glanced at them repeatedly, as though beginning
to question why the men were there. Thad’s emotions
also seemed stunted, though
Monica wasn’t sure whether to attribute that to Petrela and his men or the
long-term freezing effects of his Arctic sojourn. The guards took their places
around the periphery while Thad and his siblings made their way toward the
table.

A man stepped forward and linked his arm around Princess
Isabelle’s waist. Just as she guessed who he
was, he extended his hand to Thad
and introduced himself.

“Levi Grenaldo.” Isabelle’s fiancé.

Thad shook his hand, recognition in his eyes. “You’re a
lawyer?”

“I specialize in international law.”

Isabelle jumped in to add, “Levi’s father, Nicolas, is the
president of Sanctuary International, the asylum organization that was
instrumental in getting me safely
out of Lydia.”

“Sanctuary International would be happy to continue to help
Lydia in any way possible,” Levi added. “Unfortunately, in the course of
Isabelle’s adventures, we discovered one of our trusted agents was secretly
working for the conspirators who were targeting Isabelle.”

“I appreciate all you’ve done.” Thad thanked him. “I agree with
your wisdom in keeping
your father’s organization out of the loop from this
point on. We need to maintain secrecy as much as possible. I’ll explain
momentarily.”

Monica ducked around the massive mahogany table that occupied
the center of a room surrounded by wood inlaid walls interspersed with
bookshelves. A marble fireplace dominated the far wall. The crackling blaze kept
the damp chill
of the stone palace at bay. She took a chair by the dancing
flames, hoping to ward off some of the cold that had settled in her bones after
her Arctic adventure. Even as she soaked up the warmth, she prayed that her son
wasn’t too cold or frightened.

The mere thought of him sent tears springing to her eyes, and
she bit her lip to hold them back, glancing up quickly to
see if anyone had
noticed.

But no one seemed to be paying her any attention. Thad’s
sisters had seemed to catch on to the nervous vibe—that this wasn’t a happy
homecoming at all. They exchanged questioning glances, and Stasi played
nervously with her necklace.

Thad looked at Monica for just a moment, long enough for her to
be certain he’d seen the tears that
were about to fall. Then he looked away, his
stony expression unreadable.

Monica let out a long, slow breath before inhaling again
deeply. She had to keep her cool. She’d already put up with a long trek to
Alaska as well as the flight to Lydia. It wouldn’t do to lose it now—not when
her son’s future hung so precariously in the balance.

* * *

Thad turned to see
his brother, Alexander, rising from
his chair to greet him. After six long years, the soldier prince had changed
greatly—even more so, given that Thad had seen little of him in the six years
prior to that, when he’d gone off to the United States for school. Now, as Thad
understood it, Alec had been appointed to the role of General of the Lydian
Army, having defeated General
David Bardici, one of the conspirators who’d been
helping Octavian from inside that branch of the Lydian military.

Alec regarded him silently for a moment before hobbling forward
to embrace him. Growing up, they’d squabbled and fought constantly. But Alec had
just risked his life to preserve a crown Thad wasn’t sure he’d ever wear. Alec
shuffled back a step on a walking
boot, and Thad pointed to the orthopedic
brace. “You were injured?”

“Shot in the foot.” Alec pointed to the bright-eyed woman who’d
been sitting next to him at the table. “By her uncle.”

The woman rose. “I’m Lillian—”

“Bardici,” Thad finished with her, remembering the name from
Kirk’s summary on the way to the palace.

“My fiancée.” Alec wrapped an arm around
the woman, who beamed
up at him.

As the recently engaged couple gazed at each other happily,
Thad glanced at Monica, who sat by the fire, her attention on the dancing flames
as her chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths. He’d never had the
opportunity to introduce her to his family as his fiancée. He’d never introduced
her at all.

Suddenly a formal introduction
felt long overdue.

He cleared his throat as he crossed the room to stand by her
chair. “Thank you all for being here. I know you’ve made immense sacrifices to
make this meeting possible, and I realize you’re all eager to see the current
situation stabilized. You’ve overcome many foes to bring us to this point, but
there is one enemy who has yet to be defeated.”

His
siblings and their fiancés looked back at him, as did Dom
Procopio, his father’s most trusted spiritual advisor. But they also looked
nervously at General Marc Petrela—a figure known to his siblings and, most
likely, by extension, to their fiancés, as well. His presence clearly stifled
their willingness to speak.

Even Petrela himself seemed to realize the difficulty his
presence presented. To Thad’s surprise, Petrela stepped around to his men and
murmured something to each of them before escorting them to the door. He stayed
in the room, but closed it behind the last of his men before turning to face the
royal family. “Now you may speak freely,” he announced.

Isabelle shook her head, looking back and forth between the
general and
Thad. “I—I don’t understand what he’s doing here.”

“It’s a long story,” Thad told his sister. “And we don’t have
much time—”

“You haven’t explained that, either,” Stasi accused.

Thad closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of his family as
he tried to think. After so many years of not feeling anything, being in the
presence of Monica and his siblings all at once,
on top of finding out he had a
son...he was overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure what kind of guidance he could give
under the circumstances.