Page 6 of Dalla's Royal Guards
Darkness blurred Dalla’s vision when another guard thrust his sword into her side. She staggered as pain first exploded, then faded. Her knees hit the muddy soil at the same time as Leifsson pulled his sword from Runa’s body. His curses rose above the muted thump of her slowing heartbeat.
“No! Damn you. I curse you all to eternity to live and die again so you feel my rage and pain,” Leifsson sobbed, dropping into the mud beside them and next to the body of his last son. He lifted his face to the rain and raged.
A sweet sense of revenge filled Dalla as she landed on her side between Aesa and Runa. Leifsson’s savage grief and rage gave her a small solace that the Gods had not forsaken them. She reached out her hand to Aesa. Aesa’s lips moved.
“I’m sorry.”
A single tear fell from the corner of Dalla’s eye before the light faded from them.
One
Island Kingdom of Narva
Present Day:
Crown Prince Sheik Nasser Al-Rashid was leaning over the topographic satellite map of the small, desert kingdom of Kashir along the Mediterranean coast when the door to his office opened, and his brother, Musad, their father, Hari, and his brother-in-law, Mario Marchand, entered. Straightening, he silently greeted each man with a brief nod of his head.
“How is Lissa?” he asked. He urgently needed to know the condition of his and Musad’s younger sister, but he kept his voice steady against the tensions in the room.
“Weak, but resting. Her fever has broken. Have you… Have you heard anything new?” Mario hesitantly inquired. The exhaustion in his voice was no surprise after such an ordeal, just as the desperation that kept him high-strung and unable to rest himself was no surprise.
Mario and Lissa had barely escaped with their lives from Mario’s kingdom, Kashir, after a coup led by the country’s Prime Minister, Hannibal Crosse, and General Victor Hellman, Kashir’s recently installed Joint Chief of the Military.
During their escape, the couple’s four-year-old daughter, Cianna, and her nursemaid had been separated from them during a heavy firefight. Lissa had been critically wounded, and Mario had been forced to leave their child behind to save Lissa’s life.
Nasser reached out and gave Mario’s arm a squeeze before replying. “Yes. Cianna’s nursemaid sent word through her nephew—they were safe, for now,” he reassured.
“Where?” Mario demanded.
Musad stepped up and rested his hand on Mario’s shoulder. A wild, dangerous light flickered in Mario’s eyes. Nasser and Musad recognized it from their younger days.
“Let us focus on returning Cianna to you and Lissa. You must focus on Lissa,” Musad said.
“Musad is right, Mario. You are the true ruler. Neither Hannibal nor Victor Hellman expected the rebellion sweeping the nation. Hannibal might have disbanded your Parliament, but they are losing control of Kashir. The outside forces they’ve brought in are no match for those that are fighting for their country,” Hari added.
“If they find Nanna and Cianna—” Mario began.
“Nanna’s nephew assured us that they are safe. We will meet him tomorrow night. Musad and I will go in, rescue them,and get them out. I have some of our best men going on this mission,” Nasser promised.
“If anyone—” Mario paused and shook his head.
Nasser nodded. “Hannibal Crosse and Victor Hellman have a lot to answer for. They attacked the Princess of Narva. They should’ve known we wouldn’t stand for it.”
“They know that if they hold my daughter hostage, I will do anything they want. I would resign my position as ruler of Kashir. I would give them access to the Vasbin complex. I’d do it without a second thought if it meant keeping Cianna and Lissa safe,” Mario declared in a low, tortured voice.
“That will not be necessary. You focus on Lissa. Leave Cianna to us. I swear on our lives that we will bring her home safe,” Musad vowed.
Mario nodded. “I know. Once she is… I want Hannibal and Victor’s heads.”
Hari chuckled. It wasn’t a sound of amusement, but one of menacing agreement. Nasser didn’t miss the calculating expression in his father’s eyes. His father was a shrewd politician and a compassionate ruler. Hari Al-Rashid was also a warrior, born from centuries of rulers before him that had protected the large island kingdom in the Mediterranean off the coast of Kashir.
Nasser and Musad were warriors. Preserving the nation’s heart required risk—it always had. The experience of battle and first-hand risk was an integral part of ruling Narva, and had been from the beginning; because the further removed from his people’s suffering a ruler was, the crueler he or she could became.
It was an odd juxtaposition with the modern age. Narva’s high cliffs, protected ports, and history made it one of the most popular spots for the rich and famous. It was also an international financial center known for its vast wealth—wealth built over a thousand years of pirating. The polish of the present and the intrigue of the past came together into something unique. Daring adventure was in their blood.
“We will retrieve Cianna and then retake Kashir,” Nasser agreed, certainty ringing from his voice.
Over the next four hours, the four men worked out the finer details of the mission.
