Page 14 of A Valiant Prince

Maria nods. “Will do, Your Highness. Your brothers arrived just before you. I settled them in the guest rooms down the hall,” she says as she walks to the door before stopping to point out a wall of cabinets. “There’s water in the fridge. Call if you need anything.” And with that, she shuts the large carved wooden door.

I look over to a built-in cabinet. On an educated guess, I press a door and it pops open, revealing a small fridge. I take out two waters and hand one to Anna as I sit down on an ottoman in front of her. She opens the water and takes a long sip. I follow suit. The water feels good against my scratchy throat.

“It’s very…isolated here,” I comment, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” she agrees and moves, wincing when she turns her injured arm by accident. I set down my water and pick her up again, moving her to the bed. I place a pillow under her wounded arm.

“There,” I say, admiring my handiwork.

“My computer and my phone,” she requests, motioning toward it.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I ask her. She glares at me, and I throw my hands up in surrender.

I pick them up and place them on her lap. I sit back and watch her come to life. Her fingers move seamlessly over the keyboard, although I can tell she’s being careful with her injured arm. She’s in her zone, so focused she doesn’t acknowledge the loose hair that falls out of her bun and curls around her cheek. I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. She doesn’t look up but only murmurs a “thank you” as she continues to stare at the screen. The glare of the computer casts shadows on her face as I study her facial features. She just might have the most perfect face of any woman ever.

After a few minutes, I walk over to the French doors and pull back the curtains farther to let in more light. I turn and look at my princess. She seems so small in the giant bed. I smile a bit. Her personality is so big, I forget at times how physically small she is.

“Why are you grinning like a fool?” she asks, not bothering to look up from her task.

“Because, I’m reminded that you may be physically small, but your spirit knows no bounds,” I say to her as I crawl on the bed and settle her against me. She laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I ask her as I look down at the screen. It’s a black screen full of codes that I don’t understand.

“You,” she says. I brush another loose hair away from her neck and bend down to kiss her there. She sighs but continues her rapid typing.

“What are we looking for?” I ask her as I trail light kisses up her neck.

“I…don’t exactly know…” She trails off and pauses before she begins typing at a speed that seems not human.

“What?” I ask.

“What the? Holy fuck,” she mutters.

“What?” I say a bit louder.

“M’s signal was near the palace an hour before the bombing,” she says as she keeps typing.

“What does that mean? He planted the bomb?” I ask, my mind starting to explore the possibilities. Was the man hired to kill me here now? Was he inside the palace? Part of me desperately wants to know who the mysterious assassin, M is, but a bigger part of me cares not about the hired hand and instead wants to know even more desperately who hired him.

“I…don’t know,” she admits as she keeps searching for something. Her hand comes up to her forehead and rubs it.

I reach out and start to close the lid on her computer. She grabs it, prying it back open.

“What are you doing?!” she cries out.

“Anna, you need rest,” I say to her.

“No, I need to figure out who planted that bomb, who’s trying to kill you, and who blew up my uncle’s plane,” she snarls.

“Hey,” I say a little more gently as I turn her face so she’s looking up at me. “Your father has hired very smart people to do all of that. I know you can do it too, but right now, you’re not helping yourself. You need to rest and let your body heal.”

Tears well in her eyes, and it cuts me to my very core. I cup her cheek, and she leans against my hand.

“It’s alright. Just breathe, Anna,” I say to her as I run my lips across her forehead. I hear a sob escape her lips, and I push her computer away as I pull her over and press her tightly against me. I let her cry against my chest, her tears forming wet spots on my shirt, but I don’t give a damn. I stroke her back and her hair, which falls out of the bun and runs down her back in messy waves.

After a few minutes, her sobs subside. Aside from her sniffles, she’s quiet but I can tell she hasn’t fallen asleep.

“I have to fix this,” she whispers. I can feel her hot breath through the cotton of my shirt.

---