Spy Girl (9 page)

The Prince takes my hand and leads me into the castle’s hallway. It has a magnificent hand-painted, barreled ceiling set atop massive stained-glassed windows.
 

“This hallway alone is worth the price of admission.”

“This hallway isn’t on the tour. It’s part of my parents’ residence.” He pulls me into his arms. “Thank you for that. For being so kind to my father.”

“You’re welcome.”

“My one regret is that my father won’t get to see me marry. I have spent too much time behaving like a boy. My twenty-sixth birthday is coming up in a few years. If I don’t choose a wife by then, one will be chosen for me. My father worries my playboy ways mean I’m not mature enough to rule.”

“Doesn’t Parliament rule?”

“The answer to that is, sort of. The parliament oversees the day-to-day operations of the country, but the King rules and controls the military. I had to do a stint with our Royal Maritime Division.”

At least he’s not a wimp who can’t take care of himself.

He brings his lips to mine in a soft kiss and murmurs, “Would you like to be my princess?”

I back away, rolling my eyes. “Does that usually work?”

“What ever do you mean?”

“I suppose dangling jewels in front of every girl you bed would get expensive, but the promise of being a princess—that’s cheap.”
 

“Are you saying I’m cheap?”
 

“I’m saying you’ll say anything to get a woman into bed.”

“Sweetheart, we both know all I have to say is that I’m a prince, and they spread their legs willingly. Honestly, it gets a little tedious. I get the feeling you aren’t interested in me.”

I let out a laugh. “So, of course, that makes you want me. Princes are probably used to getting everything they want.”

“Shall we test that theory in my bedroom? I can make it the next stop on our tour,” he says, raising a dark eyebrow in my direction.

“No.” It’s obvious, the only way I’m going to keep his attention is by pretending not to be interested. He takes my hand, undeterred.

“See, I don’t get everything I want. Are you spoken for?”
 

“No.”

“Are you sleeping with Daniel?”

“No comment.”

“So, you do sleep around?”

“Sometimes, if the mood strikes me. But I’d prefer romance on the path to love.”

“I can do romance,” he says, stealing another kiss.
 

“Your accent is sexy as hell.”

“
All
of me is sexy as hell, but I’ll let you discover that slowly.”

“And the promise of a castle tour?”

“Still good. If you will allow me to escort you to the Queen’s Ball.”

“I’d be honored.”

He holds out his elbow for me. “Then let the tour commence. The hallway you see here is built on the foundation of the original castle built in the twelfth century. The castle was built and rebuilt numerous times over the years as pieces of it were destroyed by war. Descendants of the House of Vallenta have ruled from this palace for over eight hundred years. This hallway is so ornate because at one time it led from the Court of Honor to the Throne Room. Now, it leads from the King’s home, to the Prince’s residence, and then beyond to the public areas of the castle.”

He takes me through room after room filled with incredible architecture and history.
 

The library is particularly spectacular—octagonal in shape with stone walls and tall, arched bookcases with thick moldings accented by black onyx.
 

The Prince pulls out books of ancient poetry and reads them to me.
 

“Here’s a good one by San Agustín,” he says, flipping through another. “
La medida del amor es amar sin medida.
”

“The measure of love is to love without measuring,” I say, quickly translating. “That’s really pretty and—” I stop speaking when gunshots ring out.

“What the hell?” The Prince’s eyes get big, and he goes rushing toward the door.
 

I grab his shirt to stop him, quickly transitioning from flirting to readiness while pretending to be nervous. “Where is your guard?”

“I left him at your place. I forgot to tell him we were leaving.”

An alarm sounds.
 

More shots ring out, sounding closer this time.

I don’t know what’s going on, but we are sitting ducks here in the library. The only way out, besides the two palladium windows, is the long hallway we’ve been working our way down. I imagine an ops team storming the castle and now sweeping each room in pairs until they find what they want. The good news is I can’t smell any kind of poisonous gas, haven’t heard any flash bangs, and can’t see assault team movement outside the windows.
 

“What’s your security protocol in a time like this?”

“Screw protocol. I need to see what’s going on.” He tries to shrug me off.

“Don’t you watch movies? I’m assuming gun fire is not an everyday occurrence in the castle?”

“Well, no.”

“Lorenzo, you’re the Prince. It’s your responsibility to your country to keep yourself safe.”

“How do I know you’re not mixed up in whatever this is?”

“Because you’d already be dead.”

He nods. “Good point.”

His eyes fill with fear. Fear can be paralyzing.
 

I gently squeeze his hand to calm him. His eyes are moving wildly with every shot that rings out. I remember reading about all the castle’s secret passageways.
 

“When you were little, did anyone tell you where to hide if anything like this ever happened?”

He looks at me with surprise. “Yes, my grandfather, when I was young. I totally forgot about that.” He starts to sing. “
The spotted dog is your friend. Wag his tail then go to the end.
”

He grabs my hand and starts to run toward the door. I pull back. “Where is the dog?”

“The War Room down the hall.”

The sounds of gunfire get closer.
 

I immediately pull the Prince away from the door and toward the fireplace, where I push the third fleur de lis—causing a piece of wood paneling to slide open. I pull him into the passage, knowing we don’t have much time. He starts to ask me how I knew to do what I just did, but I hold my fingers to his lips as we quickly and quietly make our way to the War Room.

There’s a peephole, thankfully, allowing me to see inside. The room appears to be empty.
 

But I can feel the chaos in the air. As if someone were breathing on the back of my neck. Danger is near.

But it’s now or never.

“Can you wag the spotted dog’s tail, quickly? Without exposing yourself?”

The Prince nods, reaches out of the passageway, and moves the tail of a hunting dog carved into an ornate piece of art. Another panel within the passageway we are in slides open slowly as the panel to the War Room closes. It’s obvious it’s rarely used. I take that as a good sign. I also don’t remember this being in anything I read, and I’m hoping it’s very much a secret.

I hear the sound of boots thumping on the marble floor and then the War Room door bursting open.

The Prince’s eyes get huge. I slap my hand across his mouth to make sure he stays silent. If the gunmen were to hear us, all it would take is a machine gun aimed at the wall to take us both out. The only thing between us and them is a thin wooden panel.
 

Shots are haphazardly fired into the room, so I pull the Prince into the other passageway, relieved to find it made of stone.
 

While I’m glad the gunmen can’t see us, I hate that I can’t see them. I feel blind and part of me would rather face them.
 

But it’s imperative that I get the Prince somewhere safe first.
 

We move quickly down the passage and cover a good distance.
 

I stop for a moment to take my phone out, hoping to call for help.
 

Of course, there are no bars.
 

The Prince grabs me, pushes me against the wall, and kisses me. I can feel his heart racing. I tilt my face and allow my lips to brush across his. I’ve studied what stress chemicals do to the body: a heightened state of awareness, the fight or flight instinct, and a rush of adrenaline. The Prince responds as many a man who fears for his life might—who fears this might be the last time he touches a woman. His hands roughly caress the length of my body as he tightens our embrace.
 

In this moment, he’s forgotten he’s a Prince in danger and is acting like just a man.
 

As much as I am enjoying it, I can’t acquiesce. I press my palm against his chest and push him away.
 

“There has to be more to the poem. Where is the end and what do you do when you get there?”

He bobs his head, and I can tell he’s mentally singing the song again. Finally he says, “I’m supposed to sound the alarm.”

I have no idea what that means. The last thing I want to do is sound an alarm that will reveal our exact location, but I’ll worry about that when we get there. “Then we must go.”

I pull on his hand, but he pulls me back to his lips. “I’d rather kiss you.”

“Lorenzo, we need to get you somewhere safe.”

“Yes. You are right.”

We race through the tunnel, for at least half a mile. Most of it downhill. Like we’re heading into town.

Before I can stop him, he pulls a string causing a loud alarm to sound. Shit!

“What happens when you do that?” I yell.
 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Is there more to the poem?”
 

He nods and recites. “
Sound the alarm. Call up the Core. Help waits beyond the door.
”

“And you have no idea what lies beyond the door?”

“No, but we seem to have gone downhill, toward town.”

“Do you have any weapons?”

“No,” he says. But I do. I’m wearing my father’s watch. “How is it that you are so calm? I’m freaking out.”

“We’re safe right now, Lorenzo,” I say softly.

“This isn’t the way I wanted our date to go,” he smiles and trails a finger across my lips, his confidence returning, “although, there is some thrill in danger. Our kiss in the tunnel was exquisite.”

“And that is apparently why the papers say you are a
daredevil Prince with no regard for his country
.”

He kisses me again. “You’re strong under pressure. You’d make a good princess.”

“Let’s see what’s behind the door,” I tell him.
 

I’m not about to let him get shot and ruin my chances of being a part of Black X permanently.
 

I discreetly turn my watch dial to midnight and stand with my back against the wall.
 

“Wait. I should go first,” he says.

“You’re the future King. No way I’m going to risk a whole country hating on me. I’m going first.”

I open the door, sweep the room, and find that we are safe, inside the bedroom of a home located in town.
 

He grins. Looks at the bed. Looks at me. Raises his eyebrows. “A bed. How convenient.”

I don’t bother to reply. I need to sweep the rest of the home.
 

Once I determine that we are safe and alone, I say, “Now what?”

“I don’t know. I need to go back to the castle and check on my parents. I’ll make a call.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket.
 

“Don’t!” I grab it from his hand, turn it off, take out the SIM card, and smash it into bits. “Sorry, but you can be tracked by that, and we just got you somewhere safe.”

“You are very resourceful,” he says, curiously.

“Girl Scout.” I shrug like this is basic knowledge then use my phone to call Ari, waiting impatiently as the call is routed through an untraceable network.

“Where the hell are you?” Ari yells at me before I can say anything. “There were shots fired at the castle. The Prince is unaccounted for.
The Prince’s guard is freaking out trying to find him.”

“I’m with the Prince.”

“Are you secure?”

“Yes. Please let his bodyguard know. Are his parents alright?”

“Yes, they are.”

“What happened?”

“Two men apparently were part of a tour group. They broke away and breached a private part of the castle. Had assault weapons. The press was reporting live as they were there doing an interview with the Queen. There are some injuries but no casualties. The guards were wearing Kevlar. That’s all I know.”

“Thanks, Ari.”

“Well?” the Prince says expectantly when I end the call.
 

“Two men who were part of a tour group got in. Your parents are fine.”

“And the assailants?”

“Not sure. But you can use my phone to call and find out.”

X X
X

A motorcade picks us up and returns us to the castle, which is bursting at the seams with military.
 

I’m taken away from the Prince upon arrival and placed in a room by myself. It’s a gorgeous room, formerly the Queen’s study. I know it contains a secret passageway that leads to the kitchen, should I need to escape. But since there’s a guard standing watch at my door, I’m feeling a little like the enemy, rather than the girl who saved the Prince.
 

I still have my phone, which is dangling from my shoulder in a Dolce & Gabbana chain wallet. I open it, pulling out a pair of earbuds and then hitting the eavesdropping app on my phone, which now allows me to overhear the conversation taking place next door.

“You can’t just take off like that!” someone says.
 

“And you shouldn’t allow him out of your sight!” an older voice booms. “
You
weren’t doing your job.”

“He doesn’t allow me inside when he takes women in the bedroom,” the man replies curtly. That must be his personal bodyguard.
 

“Prince Lorenzo, this has to stop. You are going to be the King—God help us—of our great nation. You need to stop putting yourself at risk where women are concerned. Our investigators are researching this girl’s background with a fine-toothed comb. I can’t help but think she had something to do with this. It’s too much of a coincidence.”