Page 67 of One Last Stand

London pulled her wool hat over her ears, the wind on the higher slope of Mt. Lucielle whipping down from the taller peaks to find them as they wound along the hiking path.

Even from here, the view fanned out over the city, the deep-blue river dissecting the two banks of the city, the tall spire of St. Andrew’s Cathedral crisp against the fresh snowfall of the faraway peaks. A wonderland that seemed trapped in time.

Above them, the castle walls loomed tall and impenetrable. No wonder this place had held out against invaders for so many years, with its stone walls and parapets for archers.

Behind her, Shep had stopped, putting up his collar. He’d shaved, his dark hair sticking out from under the cuff of his wool hat, and wore his red Air One jacket, as if he’d forgotten that here, he was just a tourist.

Or . . . well, she didn’t know what to call him. Friend? Boyfriend? She had sort of staked a claim to her mother yesterday, but he’d done nothing yesterday to confirm it. No more foot rubs, no hand holding . . .

It had started a small twinge inside her.He knows the real me.

No, he knewLondon. And she . . . well, she wasn’t real, was she? And maybe, just maybe, he’d started to figure that out.

She kept going up the path. Maybe they just needed to get away from the suffocating craziness of the embassy, find their way back to Shep and London.

And that kiss.

“My mother and Jacey used to go round and round. Jacey wanted her freedom, and my mom feared that freedom would get her killed.”

Oh.

“It was just because she loved Jacey so fiercely. It was fear. It makes people hold tighter than they need to.”

A quietness hung between them, but she didn’t want to read into it.

Aw,there she went, reading into it. Because perhaps he’d been holding tighter out of fear too. And maybe he’d started to regret that.

“Your father gave me a walking tour of Luciella, along with a history. Ask me anything about the reign of King Maximillian, or better yet, the entire history of the house of Ribaldi,” he said, changing the subject and not at all adding fuel to her spiraling. “Did you know that King Aleksandar helped with the partisan underground in the Second World War, secreting downed airmen out of Austria and Liechtenstein?”

“I thought they were neutral.”

“They were under the protection of Switzerland, like Liechtenstein, so technically. But according to your father, the castle has secret tunnels that run through the mountain down to the valley, where people hid or even escaped through. They’d hide in boats that took them down the river into the Adriatic Sea.”

They’d reached a small overlook, and she walked over, staring down into the valley that ran into the village. Small houses with red or black roofs dotted the mountainside all the way down to the cluster of white and yellow stucco homes in the city. And the other way—“Look! You can see the backside of Lucielle ski area from here.” She pointed to the snow-covered bowl, bordered by furry white trees. “I’ll bet you’d like to ski that.”

“Not with that headed my way.” He pointed to a dark cloud shadowing the mountain. “That says rain. And any higher, ice.”

She turned to him. “Wanna hike down?” He stood less than a foot away, and she saw his eyes roam her face.

Maybe he would?—

“Nope. I’d rather be out here in the rain, with you.”

Oh, sweet. So, hello, just stop the crazy.No, he didn’t reach for her, give her one of those soul-baring kisses, but . . .

Aw,and now her mother walked back into her head.“My worry isn’t that Shep will betray you but that you will betray him.”

Right. Because she’d dragged him halfway across the world into a life he clearly didn’t want. Except,notdragged him, because he’d insisted on following her, but maybe—of course it was—out of fear . . . so . . .

“You okay?” he asked. “You’re really quiet. Jet-lagged?”

Oh.“Yes, maybe a little. But I was just thinking about the last time I went hiking around a castle.”What? Where did that come from?Still, it sat in the back of her head, the idea that there were parts of her he didn’t really know. “When I was thirteen, my parents and I took a month off and went on a castle tour. We visited every castle in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. We even visited Schloss Lichtenstein—which, by the way, is in Germany, not Liechtenstein. It was more like a hunting hangout than a castle, but it was on the side of this mountain.” She stopped, looked up. They stood along the backside of the castle now, on a balcony overlooking the impossible route of attack. “Many castles, I guess, are on the sides of mountains or at the top. Always on the lookout for trouble.”

“Or always a place to run to.”

She glanced at him. “Hadn’t thought about that.”

“Your father said that back in 1013, when this castle was first built, they installed a postern gate, and it was used numerous times by people fleeing from danger.”

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