Royalty on the run
A series of explosions took out the royal motorcade and threw the country of Lydia into chaos. Princess Anastasia missed her limo, and doesnât know what has become of the rest of her family. Whisked away from her native country for her protection, Stasi is dismayed that her life is now in shambles. But at least sheâs not alone. Kirk Covington pledges to keep her safe. Heâs a royal guardâ¦and the man sheâs spent years blaming for her brotherâs disappearance. Now sheâll have to trust him with her lifeâand her heartâin order to regain the throne.
âGet down,â Kirk ordered.
Stasiâs eyes widened as she looked at him. What was happening? Were Kirkâs actions related to the attack? She already doubted she could trust the man. Heâd been linked to such a horrible crime before.
âDown,â Kirk commanded, his open palm pushing her head below the level of the dashboard.
She grabbed his wrist and tore his arm away from her royal head. âNo. I wonât do what you say.â
Kirk stopped the Jeep with a jerk and glared at her. âDonât fight me. Donât you see? The royal family has been attacked. If anyone sees you, theyâll know you werenât killed. Iâve got to get you out of here.â
Stasi looked at him dumbly. Too much didnât make sense. âWhat do you mean? You think someone might try to kill me?â
âPlease.â Kirkâs voice plunged to pleading depths. âYouâve got to stay down. Your life is in danger.â
Stasi shrunk in her seat, but her eyes didnât leave Kirkâs face. âWhat are you going to do with me?â
âIâm going to hide you, if I can.â He looked around at the empty streets. âBut youâve got to do what I say.â
On the Sabbath we went outside the city gate to the river, where we expected to find a place of prayer. We sat down and began to speak to the women who had gathered there. One of those listening was a woman named Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth from the city of Thyatira, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paulâs message. When she and the members of her household were baptized, she invited us to her home. âIf you consider me a believer in the Lord,â she said, âcome and stay at my house.â And she persuaded us.
âActs 16:13â15
To Eleanor, my princess, who taught me to wear pink and enjoy jewelry.
You are stronger than you think you are. I love you.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my loving and supportive family, who insist they enjoy frozen pizza, freeing me from cooking so I can write. I love you all!
Thanks also to my awesome friends whose insights contributed to the factual accuracy of this book. Special thanks to Lonny Douthit, my cousin who flies helicopters, who patiently tried to explain them to me. Any errors are mine, not his!
And to all the friends who chimed in on my efforts to name the Crown Princeâbecause of you, he is not Xerxes or Phineas or Arthur. Thank you. And let me not forget all those friends who supplied terms and words when my brain ran dry. Because of you, the-woman-behind-the-ticket-counter-who-sells-tickets-at-the-airport shall henceforth be known as a ticketing agent. Ah. So much better.
And special thanks to my editor extraordinaire, Emily Rodmell, for her insight, expertise and patience with my frantic Friday afternoon email barrages. Enjoy your weekend in peace, youâve earned it!
Disclaimer: The people and events of this story are fiction. There is no nation of Lydia, although there was a woman named Lydia mentioned in Acts chapter 16 of the Bible, and she had a house church in that area of the world. Beyond that, this story is the fruit of my imagination, and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
ONE
Her Royal Highness Princess Anastasia of Lydia grabbed the doorknob and gave it a turn, but when she tried to push the door open, it wouldnât budge.
Stasi blinked. How strange! Her door had never given her any problems before. She tried again, this time pushing harder, but with no success. Finally, throwing all her weight into it, she shoved the door with her shoulder. Nothing.
Had someone barricaded her door so it wouldnât open?
Stasi looked around her suite uneasily.
She was trapped inside her own room, and the royal motorcade would be leaving any minute for the state dinner.
Refusing to give in to the panic she felt, Stasi grabbed her phone and dialed the number for the palace managers.
Theresa Covington answered.
âIâm trapped inside my roomâand the motorcade is leaving any second!â She fingered her sapphire necklace uneasily.
âIâll send someone immediately.â
âThank you.â Stasi ended the call and waited, glancing nervously around, wondering why her door wouldnât open, and if the peculiar disturbance had anything to do with the other unusual trespasses sheâd experienced lately. She knew of at least three other times in the past few weeks when items in her room had been eerily displacedânot stolen outright, but disturbed, as though theyâd been rooted through, and then put back slightly out of order.