Page 12 of A True King

I stare out at the ocean. Christian is out there, somewhere. My mind wanders to the last night we had together. The way he made love to me, worshipped me like he had been hiking for days and I was the first water he had seen. My legs clench together involuntarily as I think about the way he licked and sucked on me until I was screaming so loud that I was sure the king himself would come running.

My eyes are too swollen from the hours I’ve already been crying to shed another tear. I’m doing this to protect him. He can’t know where I am, or he’ll be in danger. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved and now I can’t have him. The pain is blinding and relentless.

Gulping in some air after holding my breath for too long, I turn my back to the beauty of the water over the reef and sit down on my bed. I rented this small guesthouse with cash. The owner didn’t seem bothered by this. I paid a full month in advance. I used cash to buy a pre-paid phone and pre-paid credit card. Most of my belongings are either at my parents’ home or back at the palace, including the phone. I wonder if it’s been found. I don’t think I even turned it off when I left. I was so mad that I stormed out of the palace leaving behind many belongings. Of course, l also left my work cell phone, but that was on purpose as I was fully aware that Christian would see it sitting on my nightstand.

I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Turning, I grab the newspaper I bought from the small market down the street. Page seven. It’s a buried article talking about Norddale and how things are going back to normal after the most recent assassination attempt on the lives of the royal family. It mentions how all the staff have been cleared and all those involved have been arrested. No mention of anything further, no ongoing investigations, nothing that helps me to know what is happening.

Rolling over, I glance at the pre-paid phone. I’ve wanted to call him so many times. Just to hear his voice would steady my nerves, but I can’t risk it.

Deciding that I need to clear my head, I pick up the straw hat I bought a week ago and shut and lock all the doors before heading out to walk along the beach. I pass a middle-aged man I met a week ago. He’s a tourist. Another European, backpacking around the Caribbean. He waves at me as he climbs up on a rock that overlooks the reef. I wave back and continue my walk. Normally, I’d say hello and chat, but I’ve kept my distance from everyone here, too afraid that I might be found.

Many tourists have come and gone over the past two weeks, but there are a few still around from when I arrived. Vieques is a small island. I chose it because it’s off the beaten path. My parents’ neighbor said she enjoyed visiting here. She had shown us pictures and I always imagined coming here someday. Of course, I had also expected Christian to be here with me.

I should be enjoying myself, but I’m not. Instead, guilt washes over me for the millionth time this week. I should have told him. But how? I should have explained myself, warned him, or at least given him the truth. Yet, as the last few years went by, I dug my hole deeper and deeper until it was so deep that I couldn’t even see the light at the top anymore.

God, if he finds out, he’ll hate me. I hate me. I’m a traitor and coward.

The worst part is, from what I’ve read, they don’t even have the right people. There are more of them, and they are right under their noses. But if I go back, then I’ll be expected to report information, and if I don’t, then…well, I don’t want to even think about that.

I shudder at the memory of seeing photos of the last person that they tortured and killed for failing to do their part. A shot to the head or even a sliced throat would be kind in comparison to what they did to that man.

I sit down on a rock that hangs over a shallow pool of water. Letting my feet dangle in the cool, salty liquid, I remember the day that my life ended. It was the beginning of my end. The Mia that existed before that moment was a different person, a better person.

I’d only worked for Christian for about three months. Yet, it had only taken about three minutes for me to fall completely in love with him. When little girls think of Prince Charming, Christian is the image they see in their minds. Tall, handsome, intelligent, kind, and…I blush as my mind goes to the dirtier side of Christian. The side no one else sees but me.

When I went for coffee that morning, it didn’t seem odd to have a man strike up a conversation while in line. But then, he said my name.

I hadn’t believed the stranger when he’d told me who I really was. It wasn’t until I cornered Dad in his gardening shed that he admitted the truth. I am a princess. And no one can ever know. Only, this stranger, this man who approached me on the street near the palace knew. He knew all about it. And the threats he made, the photos he showed me, changed my entire life. Every time I try to stop, he shows up and tells me exactly how he’ll hurt everyone I love while forcing me to watch. So, I continue to feed him mundane information. It is only ever about Christian’s schedule. Nothing more. It’s harmless, or so I thought. It’s all a matter of perspective. That’s what I used to tell myself before my perspective changed.

When they found me in England and told me my role had changed, and when I returned to the palace, they were expecting me to bug rooms and report on conversations and take photographs. Essentially, use the trust I had built with the royal family to help end the royal family. And that’s when I knew, I couldn’t go back. Not then, not ever.

I took out cash and left my parents’ home. They thought I was returning to the palace, being cleared of any wrongdoing from the assassination attempt. But instead, I was heading here, escaping my fate, taking control of my destiny, and breaking my heart in the process.

Chapter Six

Christian

I look jealously over at Anna and Logan. My sister is snuggled against her husband across from me in the limo that Cain secured for us upon our arrival in London. Logan keeps a protective arm wrapped around her. Anna’s fingers fly across the screen of her phone. I have no idea who she’s messaging but her facial features keep morphing between annoyed, surprised, and angry.

Logan leans down and whispers something in her ear. A smile graces her lips.

Turning away from their show of affection, I look out at the English countryside. I have watched this same scenery too many times in the past week.

We’re starting with Mia’s parents’ home, and we are nearly there.

Again, they aren’t expecting us. Only this time, I have actual questions for them. Familiar buildings appear before me. We won’t be long now.

“It’s a cute town,” Anna observes.

I glance over at my sister, who is now sitting up and taking in the surroundings as we pass by the small village where Mia grew up.

I grunt in response, too deep in my thoughts to give her a verbal retort about the town. I can feel her eyes roll after I look away. Anna is the most stubborn, pigheaded, petulant woman I know, but she’s also the sweetest and most caring. She is so much like our mother, but she doesn’t know it. Her memories of our mother are few and far between. She was barely old enough to understand death. I press my lips together and force my thoughts in another direction. I can’t be reliving my past right now; I need to have my wits about me.

The car turns off down a small road, if you can call it that, it more resembles a trail. We pass hedges of boxwood bushes and then it opens to another trail.

I steal another glance at my sister, and I can already tell she’s completely transfixed by her surroundings. She loves this countryside cottage shit.

Our vehicle comes to a stop, and I wait for Cain to open the door.

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