Page 7 of Raul
“Gracias, Señor,”she said with a tight smile as she followed Dario past a sign warning that trail access was forbidden by royal order, due to the nesting dragons.
“Please call me Raul,” he said, falling into step beside her as they entered the dimness of the fog-enshrouded forest. “Formality is out of place in the wilderness.”
She nodded. “Let me know if you need anything. I have protein bars in the outside pocket of my pack.”
“I’ll be sure to speak up,” Raul said. “Tell me how you got roped into this job. Aren’t you supposed to be piloting Gabri’s jet?”
“It’s my week off from flying since I’ll be on duty forel duqueandSeñoritaPierson’s honeymoon in two weeks. I grew up in Ciudad Militar by the naval base, which means I know the area quite well.” She strode along easily. “El duqueis aware that I have spent a lot of time hiking and camping in these mountains.”
Was she supposed to have been on vacation this week? A brief twinge of guilt swiped at him, but it was too late for him to fix it now. “Is your family military?”
“My father was a rescue diver. Civilian, but assigned to the U.S. Navy,” she said.
Raul noted the past tense in her statement. “He must have been very skilled if he was appointed to the base.”
“He was awarded the U.S. Presidential Medal of Freedom. Posthumously,” she added.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Raul detected a note of pride undercut by sorrow in her voice. “Only a true hero can earn such an honor.”
“He saved twenty-two sailors trapped in a sinking boat before he had a catastrophic equipment failure,” she said. “It’s exactly how he would have chosen to die.”
Now he remembered the accident and the story of her father’s heroism, but her voice had held the tiniest bit of an edge. He hesitated. There was something more to her story, a hidden undercurrent, but it wasn’t his business. “Did you receive your pilot’s training in the Calevan militia?”
She nodded. “I started flight school before I graduated from university, because I knew that’s what I wanted to do.” She cast him a sideways smile. “When I was a teenager, I had the privilege of touring one of the American aircraft carriers. Since then, I’ve always wanted to fly a fighter jet off the flight deck. That must be such a rush. But you have to be a major celebrity to even hitch a ride off a carrier.”
“You sound like an adrenaline junkie,” Raul said, intrigued.
“Not really. I plan meticulously. I check and recheck my equipment. I train hard. But if something unexpected happens, well, that’s half the fun.” She grinned, her hazel eyes lighting up. “You know when we do the evasive maneuvers while taking off from Caleva? That’s my favorite part of flying.”
“I stand by my statement.” He understood more about why she had been chosen as his guide.
“You were in the militia too,” she said. “What was your specialty?”
“Defusing bombs.”
Her eyes went wide with surprise.
“Joking,” he said. No one would allow the heir to the throne anywhere near a bomb. “I did some sniper training. I have good eyesight and steady hands.” Also, snipers could be positioned away from the front lines.
“Do you still shoot?” she asked.
“Twice a year at reserve training.” He gave her a wry smile. “I’m better with an épée, thanks to my father challenging me to regular duels.”
She gave a little snort. “That will come in handy if you time-travel back to the sixteenth century.”
She had a sense of humor, then. He liked that.
“It’s excellent exercise.” He used one of his trekking poles to demonstrate an advance lunge. “Especially against Pater, who is known for his ruthless spirit on thepiste. I find myself fighting for my life.”
“I heard he was aiming for the Olympics before he became king,” she said.
“He would have brought home a gold medal,ciertamente.” Raul didn’t share the fact that Luis’s father, King Carlos, had stopped his son from participating, believing that if Luis lost, it would bring shame to the crown. Unlike Carlos, Raul’s father was a supportive parent, encouraging Raul to follow his interests. However, both kings shared a conviction that they had the right to meddle in their sons’ lives.
The trail grew steeper, and Raul was glad to have the trekking poles. He noticed that Erica barely planted hers, while he was using his to give himself a little boost with each upward step. Maybe he should fence with his father more often.
The trail bent around a large boulder and narrowed.
“My apologies,Señor, but I must go in front of you to make sure we’ve stayed on the correct path,” Erica said.
