Page 9 of The Spy

She swallowed the hurt that rose inside at acceptance. “Thank you. That is so kind. I find the prospect of wearing the crown cold and bleak without my mother beside me.” She laughed without humor. “Of course I always knew when I became queen, she would be gone, but the whole idea never sat well with me, even as a child. I would cry on my pillow thinking about it.” Why was she bearing childhood memories to this woman? Whatever the reason, she didn’t want the conversation to end. She felt closer to him while talking to her.

The crown is a lonely burden to bear, but it is a joyous one too.”

“I hope it becomes that for me,” she stated as they ended their call. She didn’t see it yet. Her life was filled with duty at the moment. Duty which brought her satisfaction, but nothing close to joy… or even happiness. Feeling joy again felt as much a betrayal as letting another mother into her life.

Her phone rang again. No number appeared on the caller ID. She held her breath, hands shaking. “Hello?”

A pause, several clicks and then a quiet voice that sent shivers up her back.

“Sammy?”

“Lucan?” He sounded so distant.

“I’m thinking of you.”

She knew better than to ask where he was, what he was doing, or even if he was ok. She would take whatever he could offer and be grateful for it. “Thank you for coming to the funeral.”

“It was good to see you. I’m sorry, Sammy, about your mom. I remember losing my dad. It’s the worst, and I still miss him. I just wanted you to know that’s ok.”

A lump filled her throat. “It’s so hard.”

He gasped on his end, like he was sucking in a shuddering breath. “I know. I know it is. I’m sorry I can’t be there.” Silence followed. “I’m sorry about it all.”

“Lucan. Be safe. I know what you’re doing.”

“I’ll be done. I’ll come back.” The hope in his voice tore her heart.

“I’ll see you then.”

“You will. I promise.” He cleared his throat. “At the coronation.”

A click followed and silence. And she hugged the phone to her while tears fell down her cheeks.

She closed her eyes and relived the first time she had met Lucan. She was in training, an elite class of international espionage training, a global group committed to keep the peace, represented by every nation on earth. Their purpose was to remain neutral, their goal peace, whatever would bring peace. Her parents thought she had entered a diplomacy school. That was the worldwide cover for her training facility.

She had been sitting at a desk, one of the few paper and desk classes she would have to take, and the door slammed open. Lucan stood in the entry, a tall man behind him. “I didn’t come here to use a pencil and paper.” Lucan’s defiant tone spoke for her as well.

“You can’t participate unless you learn this aspect of your job as well as the field work.”

Lucan’s eyes had flitted through the class in his frustration and then stopped on her. They widened, and his mouth opened. And she smiled.

He returned her smile and it lit his face. Then he nodded to the teacher and sat in the seat at her side.

She smiled now, thinking about his constant attention. Whatever was going on around them, Lucan was keyed into her. He had been from the moment he saw her.

He was large, towering, broad, built. His hair was cut short, his jaw sharp, his cheeks lined with stubble, and his eyes, they were a sea grey, and full of light. And watching her, always watching her. She knew if she blinked, he took note. Instead of feeling self-conscious, she felt treasured. She had never felt anything like it from anyone else. But when Lucan was near, she knew she was precious to someone.

After class he stood, a head taller than her, and held out his hand. “Lance.”

When she placed her hand in his, he covered it with his other. “Sammy.”

“Let’s get some lunch?”

When she agreed, he kept her hand, and they walked out together.

And they had been together the rest of their two years in the program. When she rose to the top of the class, he joined her. In the next class he would be first until she ousted him. They were both immediately recognized by all their instructors as those who would excel.

One day about six months into their first year, they were lying on a blanket, a rare moment of sunshine and free time and he said, “I know who you are, Princess.”

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