Chapter 13 - The Prince's Pawn

Not alone on the boat

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Khalid

“We need to talk,” Callum said, pushing open the doors to my stateroom.

“So I gathered. Please don’t tell me the Crown is sending an intercept boat.”

I followed him inside and he closed the door behind us, twisting the lock. As soon as he turned back around to face me, he pulled Aria’s phone from his jacket pocket, the acrylic horseshoe-embossed case glinting in the light.

“She got a text while you were up there making eyes at her. And a voicemail.”

I took the phone from him and unlocked the screen. While she was unconscious, we’d changed the access, so we could get into it.

I expected to see something from Dave, or at worst, something from her father. But that wasn’t who had contacted Aria, over and over, with a long list of missed calls, then a text message, and finally a voicemail.

“The Bitches?” I asked out loud, looking up at Callum in confusion.

All he did was nod, leaving me to open up the text message.

Hello Miss Summers. This is Gayle with Helping Hands at Home. We have something important to discuss with you. Please call us at the earliest convenience.

“Oh please don’t tell me…” I whispered, my mind racing with possibilities, each more terrible than the last. Was her father worse? Had something happened to the home health aide and she would miss her shift? No matter what it was, I had a feeling my plans were about to take a turn.

With a deep breath, I went over to the voicemail and pressed play.

Hello Miss Summers, it’s Gayle again. I’m so sorry to tell you this in a message but I haven’t been able to reach you. I’m sorry to say that your father passed away last night. Missy found him in his chair this morning when she came for her shift.

My vision blurred as I stared at the transcription of the voicemail, and suddenly I was back in the palace, Omar’s hands on my shoulders as he told me Father had choked to death at breakfast.

The overwhelming grief I had felt then came spiraling back, but I pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.

… my deepest condolences. We’ve transported his body to the funeral home, but they cannot proceed without your authorization. Please, call us back as soon as you can.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the tightness in my chest give way to a dull throb. My father’s face flickered behind my eyelids—only to be replaced by Aria’s. The worried flash in her eyes when she’d asked if her father had messaged her back… she knew it wasn’t like him to go so long without contact.

And now it was clear that while we had been carrying Aria through the hotel garage, her father was likely breathing his last alone.

After sitting in silence for a moment, I looked up at Callum. “How long do you think we have?”

“Hard to say,” he shrugged. “She calls them The Bitches, so it’s unlikely they’re on friendly terms. That being said, there’s a dead body sitting in a funeral home with no one to claim it. That won’t go unnoticed.”

I nodded. The most we had before someone realized Aria was missing was a week, and that was a stretch. Most likely, I was down to a few days before authorities were called, and from there it wouldn’t be long before someone got in touch with Dave. Then the whole house of cards would come tumbling down.

“You gonna tell her?”

I felt a knot twist in my stomach, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. I rubbed my eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“I can’t tell her,” I said to Callum, my voice barely audible. “Not yet.”

Callum’s face was a mixture of concern and disbelief. “Alright, but I’m going on record to say it’s a bad idea. She has the right to know, and if she finds out you hid it from her... You know what she’s capable of.”

“I am aware of what she can do. That’s not the same as what she will do. Calm down,” I replied sharply, my patience wearing thin. “Now is not the time. We need her focused on the task at hand – killing the king and saving our country. Once that’s done, she can grieve for her father.”

“I’m not concerned about her grieving. I’m concerned about you. I saw you up there with her.” He held up his hands as I shot a warning look his way. “Not judging, she’s pretty. If you get past the zombie eyes. But if she touches you again, she’ll know. And next time, she might not let go of you in a timely manner, if you catch my drift.”

I absolutely did, though I still didn’t think Aria would ever turn her ability on me. Not unless I did something violent to her. “I know you want Aria gone, but I need her here for now. Our situation hasn’t changed. I need her.”

“I know you do,” Callum replied, his voice strained. “It’s just… I worry you don’t take her seriously. You should.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples as the weight of the situation bore down on me. “Once my uncle is dead, Aria can be released to tend to her father’s affairs.”

“Fine,” he conceded reluctantly. “But we’re on a tight clock now. We have a few days at best.”

The urgency in Callum’s voice cut through the air like a knife, and I felt my pulse quicken.

“Then I’ll have to wrap this up in a few days. And in the meantime, you’ll make sure she doesn’t hop on my lap again.”

I tried to force a smile, but didn’t quite manage it.

“Oh, you best believe I’ll handle her,” Callum deadpanned.

It wasn’t the right time to bring it up, but I wasn’t thrilled with his tone. My uncle was the enemy that needed to be destroyed, not Aria. I wasn’t entirely sure Callum realized that.

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Aria

I stretched out on the deck, letting the sun warm my skin. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a moment to just lay still and relax. Even though I was technically kidnapped, it was a strange kind of relief.

Or maybe it was just the understanding that it wouldn’t last. I was here to kill someone after all.

My whole life, I was always waiting for the next thing. I could never trust a lull or a moment of peace. I knew there would always be something around the corner. Oh, you made a friend in school? Sorry, love, we’re leaving town tonight. Oh, you’re eligible for a full scholarship if you join ROTC? Well, that involves getting your fingerprints taken so… sorry.

I used to play this game where I pretended we never left Ireland and I lived this perfect life. Even as a kid, I knew it was stupid. I would have had problems there too. But I have to believe if I had stayed where I belonged, I at least would have had more time to myself, instead of spending every waking hour working or avoiding human touch. It was a bittersweet realization that even in captivity, I felt a small taste of freedom.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted my thoughts. My eyes shot open and I saw a young man in a crisp uniform standing over me. He couldn’t be more than twenty.

Who the hell is this guy?

“Can I help you?” I asked cautiously, sitting up. I tried to keep a safe distance, not wanting to accidentally touch him and learn things I shouldn’t.

“Sorry to disturb you, madam, but do you know where Prince Khalid is? I was told he was up here,” he questioned, his voice English formal and well-practiced.

“I don’t,” I admitted, trying to hide my surprise at seeing another person on the yacht. “I saw him go below deck a few minutes ago.”

“Thank you, madam,” he said with a nod and walked away.

I watched him go, feeling stupid for thinking it could possibly be just the three of us on this massive boat. Someone had to be driving. However large the crew was, that meant more people… and more possibility of someone accidentally touching me.

Or not so accidentally…

I watched as the crew member disappeared below deck, and my mind pivoted to wondering exactly who else was on the boat? Sweet-faced boys like the one I had just spoken to? Or tough-shit guys like Callum who were only too happy to raise a hand?

And who did the crew take their orders from? Khalid or Callum? I put my cardigan back on, wrapping it around me, and got up from the lounge chair.

It was time to put the abaya back on. At least until I got a better idea of who I was trapped here with.

I skittered across the deck and opened the door, only to see Callum blocking my way. His eyes narrowed upon seeing me, anger flaring within them.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, his voice harsh and grating.

“My room. Is that a problem?” I snapped back, my own anger rising to meet his. The last thing I needed right now was another confrontation with him.

“Everything with you is a problem. Just like the rest of the pikeys,” he retorted, taking a step closer rather than stepping aside. I could feel the tension radiating off him, and I knew I had to tread carefully. One wrong move, and he’d be only too happy to turn ugly.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to lash out at him over his use of the slur. “I’m going back to my room. And don’t you ever call me that again.”

He sneered, taking a step closer. “Why not? It’s what you are, isn’t it? Should I check your pockets?”

“Does calling me that make you feel better about the kids calling you a Paki your whole life?” I spat back, knowing full well South Asian and Middle Eastern immigrants weren’t exactly given a warm welcome in the UK.

The rage in his eyes flared as he grabbed his cane and held it to my throat, keeping me at a safe distance. My breath hitched, but I refused to show fear.

“If you knew shite about East Glasgow, you’d know getting called names ain’t naught to fuss about,” he hissed menacingly. “And getting chased for your skin color isn’t quite the same as being called out for what you actually are. Everyone knows you’re beggars and thieves. And the darklings are even worse.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pressure of the cane against my skin. “I don’t know what a darkling is, so if you know something I don’t, maybe you should spill it and quit being a dick.”

There was a quick flash in his look of disgust—guilt? Second thoughts? It was gone too quick to be sure. For a moment it felt like there was no air between us, my lungs frozen as we stood there on the stairs.

He pulled his came away from neck and turned sideways, giving me just enough room to slide past him on the stairs.

“Go back to your room,” he finally said, his voice low and menacing. “You don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

Ready to be out of his presence, I didn’t need to be told twice. I started down the stairs, fighting the urge to recoil from him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort.

Once I was past him, I could breathe a little easier. But as I walked down the corridor, I realized I was shaking. When I touched Khalid, I saw how close he and Callum were, how loyal, funny, and kind Callum was. So why did he hate me the way he did, when it wasn’t my idea to come here?

He was absolutely dangerous to me, and not knowing exactly what his problem was made me nervous. I knew for a fact Khalid didn’t mean me any harm.

I didn’t have any such assurance from Callum. And for now, there was no way I could successfully grab hold of him to find out.

And least not without paying for it afterward. Maybe with my life.