Page 115 of The Stolen Princess
“The weapons!” Portlend yelled, pointing to Tolsten House. “We need to go help!”
Drake lifted his machine upright, pushing it toward the direction of the transporter. “I’m following after the transporter. You can go to Tolsten House.”
“Do you think that was the princess getting away?” Kase asked.
Drake hoped it was, because if she was back at Tolsten House, she probably hadn’t survived.
“Who else could it be?” he said, trying to convince himself. “She’s the only one who knew where the weapons were.” Or was she? Drake didn’t know what to think.
Grady looked back at Tolsten House like he was unsure what to do, then he nodded. “I’ll go with you,” he said, moving his machine forward, too. The rest of the men turned their machines toward the fire.
The vehicle had a head start and was traveling at a speed that would make it hard for them to catch up, but Drake vowed not to let them out of his sight.
He looked down at his power light. The machine only had two bars left, and Drake hoped it would be enough.
His mind raced with every possible scenario until it settled on the story that Myka had returned back to Tolsten House, set off the weapons, then run away to safety. He hoped that was the story. It meant she had left her people to fend for themselves, but it also meant she was still alive.
His eyes moved to the mirror and the heavy black cloud that filled the sky behind him. Adler’s weapons had been found and used. Drake hoped that explosion hadn’t killed every servant and guard at Tolsten House. That would be the biggest death and destruction outside of war time. And there was a big part of him that hoped it hadn’t killed Myka.
He would know as soon as he caught up to the transporter. He pushed the lever forward, closing his hands around the handlebars so tightly, his fingers ached.
“We’re gaining on them,” Grady yelled.
Drake nodded, feeling the cutting wind against his face. The transporter was less than a hundred yards in front of them. “I’ll take the driver’s side,” he gestured to the left. The transporter swerved, peeling off of the dirt path. Drake and Grady followed, making up some ground on the turn. The front window of the transporter rolled down, and an arm reached out.
“Gun!” Grady yelled as the first round of shots fired back at them.
Drake skidded to the side, dodging the bullets. The transporter strayed from its path as the driver messed with his gun again, sending off another round of shots. Drake used the driver’s distraction to close the gap between the PT and the vehicle. He turned his head, looking at the driver of the transporter. Drake half expected Myka to be behind the wheel, but instead, a man in his mid-forties with a bald head and small stature stared back at him. Drake moved his eyes back out in front of him, trying to keep his own PT steady. He reached for his gun. The metal transporters were indestructible, and so were their tires. Drake’s best hope was to fire into the open window at the driver. He glanced inside, craning his neck to see the back seat, but it was dark. There was a man who looked familiar, but Drake couldn’t place him. Next to the man was a woman.
“Myka!” he yelled. “Myka!” The woman didn’t move, making Drake panic. Was Myka in trouble?
The driver reached his arm out, shooting at him. Drake swerved, and the bullet hit the PTs headlight, shattering it and dimming everything in front of him. He shot back, hitting the man holding the gun in the shoulder. The shock of his wound made the driver drop his gun into the dirt below. Drake raised his arm, getting ready to fire at him again when the man veered the transporter into his PT. The sudden direction change forced Drake to turn his PT into a large boulder. The crash of the machine sent Drake flying into the air. His last thoughts were of Myka before everything went black.
34
Myka
Three Weeks Later
Myka stared out the window from the west wing of Tolsten House, looking at acres of charred grass and trees. The fire had taken the east wing and most of the main house, but they had been able to save the west wing. Some of the rooms were sealed off due to smoke damage, but overall, the structure was usable, and today was the first day Myka had been allowed back inside.
Everything felt familiar but different. She was back in her home. Her old bedroom remained the same. Her closet was full of the same unworn dresses, but nothing really was the same. Down the hall, the king’s suite where she had last seen her father was empty. The halls and the grand rooms were just as empty. In a way, she felt like a prisoner again, trapped in this new version of her life that she didn’t understand. What was her purpose? What was her role?
Since the explosion three weeks ago, everyone had turned to Myka for leadership, as if she somehow knew all the answers to this mess.
But she didn’t know the answers.
She didn’t know anything.
The five High Rulers of Tolsten sat behind her around a rectangular marble table, discussing how Tolsten would move forward. There needed to be a rebuild of the castle, a new commander appointed, an official statement and apology made to the Council of Essentials, and, of course, an election. In the meantime, the five High Rulers were in charge of the government. She’d expected that, but what she hadn’t expected was how much the High Rulers had wanted to include her in their decisions, like her act with the bombs had exalted her to a higher position among the ruling class.
After the explosion, Myka had kept her distance, not knowing if the people of Tolsten would be mad at her for what had happened. She’d walked the few miles to Rommel and Joett’s house. She hadn’t cried. She had been too shocked to cry. It wasn’t until she had lain down on their bed that the tears had carried her away. They were gone—both of them. They had died for Tolsten and for her.
Days passed in a blur of heartache until Arco had finally come for her.
“It’s time to put Tolsten back together,” Arco had said.
Myka had gone with him, had left Rommel and Joett’s comfortable home because she wanted that, too—she wanted Tolsten back together. Now she stood in Tolsten House, meeting with the High Rulers. She wasn’t sure of her place in the government, but she was willing to help with whatever they needed.
