Page 4 of The Princess and Her Mercenary

Chapter Three

Ndari wasn’t sure Keane understood what the word ‘destiny’ meant.

“Destiny isn’t kidnapping,” she shouted at him, shoving her hair out of her face and mouth. The wind whipped up from the helicopter blades was playing havoc with the long locks. “Destiny is like fate, or when the stars align to bring something together. It isn’t forcing a situation on a person.”

Keane’s shaggy red hair whipped around when he shook his big head and bellowed, “Can’t hear you,” then grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the helicopter as it landed. He wrapped his big hands around her waist and hoisted her in, following close behind. Before she could choose a seat, he pushed her into one. She landed awkwardly and twisted around to sit properly.

Keane kneeled at her feet and reached around either side of her lap. She tried to bat him away, but he pushed her hands to the side as if she were a child.

“What are you doing?” she snapped in annoyance.

He either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her, but she figured it out when he buckled her in. Then he plucked a feather out of her hair and took the seat next to hers, buckling himself in. He grabbed her hand and wrapped his big paw around it.

Was he… holding her hand? During a kidnapping?

Ndari tried to yank hers away, but he only tightened his grip. She placed her other hand on top of his and tried to push his hand away while pulling her trapped one out. Her efforts proved useless and left her frustrated while he looked as though he wasn’t exerting any effort at all. She gave up with a growl and stared pointedly out the other side of the helicopter, away from him.

Seconds later she turned back to him. “The palace will organize and send out a search party. They’ll catch up to us soon, then what will you do?”

Ndari actually wanted to know the plan. She didn’t really want to go back to the palace and felt somewhat duty bound to let Keane know they were going to be picked up pretty quick. Near as she could tell, the guards had been caught completely unawares and that’s how he got in and out so quickly. But that wouldn’t happen again. No way could his luck hold out. The guards weren’t stupid; they knew how to organize themselves and they tended to get a little bloodthirsty when a member of the royal family was threatened.

Keane just shook his head at her and pointed at his ear. Then he turned to the man sitting across from them. A guy dressed in the same outfit as Keane, some kind of desert fatigues with a heavy jacket that had to be way too hot for the weather. Yet neither man looked uncomfortable. She thought they must be used to having to wear such hideous clothes in hot conditions. Ndari was happy she was wearing a lighter material dress, though she’d have to ditch the elaborate cloak at the first opportunity. It was only sensible when inside the air-conditioned palace.

The men began gesturing to each other, hands flying as they mimed symbols at each other. Ndari watched Keane with a frown and then realized that they were using some kind of crude sign language to communicate with each other. Though she knew the Irishman was far more intelligent than he let on, she was impressed with this new knowledge. By either learning or developing a new language, Keane and his men could communicate silently. It would be a very useful skill to have in their line of work.

She tried to decipher what they were saying through their expressions, but it was impossible to tell. Neither man actually had any discernible facial expression, unless stone-faced had become a legitimate way of expressing feelings.

She turned her attention outside, trying to watch the passing landscape to figure out where they were and where they were headed. Again, she gave up after a minute, unable to recognize anything she saw. The truth was, she almost never left the palace. She got herself in trouble pretty much every time she tried. Her brother kept her close to home, tried to amuse her within the palace walls without stifling her personality too much.

Ndari was a never-ending trial for Sally. She wasn’t proper, wasn’t demure or regal. She was Princess Ndari, the wild younger sister to the Crown Prince. She loved to party but came from a country that prized conservatism. She loved art, nudity, self-expression. All things that were not highly prized among her family. Sometimes they sent her away, to get it out of her system. Ndari wasn’t sure if it was possible to get one’s personality out of the system. It didn’t help that Ndari’s sister, Alyssa, was determined to show the world what a perfect little Princess she was. The opposite of Ndari in every way.

They flew for about half an hour before the helicopter began to descend. Keane finally released her hand and leaned toward the window, his sharp eyes scanning the desert below.

If he could’ve heard her, she’d tell him that he wouldn’t see anything but sand. Her country was a desert country, small, largely unheard of, proud, patriotic and… sandy.

The sand whipped up into a dust devil as the helicopter landed. The men waited for the blades to stop before opening the door, but sand was still in the air, waiting to infiltrate Ndari’s clothes, hair and skin.

“I hate the desert,” she muttered as Keane unbuckled her and pulled her out of the helicopter.

“No, you don’t,” he said, tucking her against his side and then striding with her toward what looked like a cluster of tents.

Ndari dug her feet into the sand and pointed at the tents. “What are those? When did you arrive in my country?”

“Couple days ago. We couldn’t move on the palace until everything was in place.”

“Until what was in place?” she demanded.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly, turning his back on her and reaching for the water bottle one of his men handed to him. He cracked it and handed it over to her. She took it impatiently.

“Stop dodging my questions,” she snapped. “Are we going to go see Ivan and Jaya? My brother might think to look in Indonesia for us. He knows how attached I’ve become to Jaya.”

Keane grabbed her free hand and pulled her toward one of the tents. She tried pulling away from him, but he dragged her inside. It was as small as she always assumed tents would be. There was a makeshift bed right on the floor that consisted of a pile of pillows and blankets, a backpack and a small table. There was also a faint musty odor that had her wrinkling her nose.

“We’re leaving, right?” she asked.

“Naw,” he said, sitting down on a chair she hadn’t seen. “Going to lay low for a while.”

“For how long?” she demanded, panic leaking into her voice as she stared around the barren tent.

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