Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) (13 page)

Drago closed his eyes with a sigh. "Prince Alaric was such a good man. Honorable. Just what the people of Gaia needed in a king." He swallowed, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts, then opened his eyes. They were sad. "King Darius?"

"Alive, but incapable of ruling, at present," I said. "The loss of one son and the return of the other was too much for him. Prince Stefan is acting regent, as I'm sure you've already deduced."

Drago was slow to nod while processing this. "And what of the princess?"

I studied him a long moment. "How do you know about her?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Your father told me about her a few months ago. I'll admit: I was very surprised your family kept that secret for so long, but then I'd always wondered why you spent so much time in Yosemite and not back at Aegis Quarters in Valdon. Now it makes sense."

I stared down at my hands. "Princess Daria is in Orindor, soon to be married to Lord Danton Pontefract." It had been harder saying those words than I'd expected. I felt Vera's eyes on me at once.

"That ninny?" Drago grunted. "I'd hoped she was smarter than that."

Thaddeus laughed. Vera fixed him with a glare so murderous Thaddeus choked on his laughter, glanced back down at the magazine in his lap, and cleared his throat.

"Princess Daria did it to save Valdon."

It was Vera who had said this. She stood tall by the window, and she looked proud. This surprised me a little. Not that Daria had earned Vera's trust and respect, but just how deep that trust and respect ran. Vera rarely defended anyone. In fact, I could count the number of times I'd seen her do it, and it didn't fill one hand.

"I'm guessing Lord Pontefract didn't step in to offer help, eh?" Drago didn't sound as if he was a fan of the Pontefracts. This made me like him even more.

"No…" I shook my head. "Not without a betrothal."

"I'm not surprised," Drago said. "Never liked Commodus much. He always thought too much of himself—he and his arrogant brother. But still…I'd never wish his playboy son on any respectable woman."

"I've no doubt Princess Daria can handle herself." My words came out angry, and the room fell silent. The effect Daria had on me was unnerving at times. I'd always thought I'd known myself—known how to master self-control—until Daria. Loving her had unlocked a back door to my heart and unleashed emotions I could not control.

Drago regarded me. "I didn't mean any offense, Alexander." After a short pause, he asked, "And what about your parents? Where are they in this mess? You said they're both still on Gaia?"

I was thankful he'd changed the subject. "I left my mother in Karth, but my father is with Prince Stefan in Valdon." I hesitated. "Eris has the shield of power."

The look Drago gave me was despairing, and then it changed as a thought struck him. "You're attempting to unite the territories against him."

I nodded, not wanting to say more. Not wanting to put Drago in any more danger.

Drago seemed to sense this and sighed, gazing out at the middle distance. "You've no small task ahead of you, Alexander Del Conte, though I expect I don't need to tell you that." His brow wrinkled and he shook his head. "I always wondered when this day would come. I just hoped I wouldn't see it in my lifetime."

"I know," I said. This had been my fear—my mother's fear. The shield was the only item with enough power to break down the barrier between worlds, and if Lord Commodus Pontefract handed the unity stone to Eris, there would be nothing powerful enough to stop Eris from doing so. I could only hope Daria's presence in Orindor would keep that from happening. Stefan had been right to initiate Operation Ark.

Drago held my gaze a long moment before swiveling around in his chair to face the monitors. He touched one of the screens and it sprang to life, boasting a high-definition image of Earth from outer space. The car magazine on Thaddeus's lap slid to the floor in a rustle of pages. "Whoa." Thaddeus said, making his way to the monitors.

"I'll make your passports first," Drago said, touching a few places on the screen until a very illegal blank form came into view.

Thaddeus leaned over Drago's shoulder, slack-jawed and staring. "How…?" He reached out and waved his hand at the space behind the computer screen.

I got up, walked over to them, grabbed Thaddeus's arm, and pulled his hand back.

"Is that some kind of portal?" Thaddeus was now leaning around, looking at the wires running from the back of the monitor.

"No, it's a computer," I said. It was going to be a long flight to San Francisco. I wondered if it would look suspicious going through airport security with Thaddeus blindfolded and gagged.

Drago stood abruptly—throwing Thaddeus back a few feet—and headed over to the stove. He grabbed a mug hanging from a small carousel, poured himself espresso from his Bialetti, and then resumed his seat at the desk. I'd never cared for coffee, but Daria did, and smelling it now pulled my thoughts back to her. I wondered what she was doing, and then I banished the thought as soon as it came. It was too painful thinking about her doing anything with
him
.

Drago took a sip then set the mug down. "First, we need to take pictures…" Drago reached into his pocket and pulled out a smartphone. Thaddeus looked even more bewildered. "Hm, why don't you stand in front of that wall…?" Drago pointed to a bare, white corner near the door to his weaponry shrine.

I went first, then Vera, but Thaddeus was still leaning over the desk, studying every surface of the computer screens. In fact, at that very moment, he was sniffing one of them.

"Thaddeus," I said.

He glanced over his shoulder.

"Come here."

Thaddeus came, and I moved him to the corner and told him to stay put as I stepped away. Vera folded her arms over her chest, watching Thaddeus with a rare display of amusement.

Drago held up his phone to look at the image displayed. "No, no, lad. Move a step to the right…there."

Drago snapped the picture before Thaddeus could say a word and walked back to his desk. Thaddeus trailed him like a puppy. Vera rolled her eyes, returning to her place near the window. Thaddeus hovered while Drago made our passports, printed them, and handed them out, and when Thaddeus opened his, he frowned. "What's this?"

"This"—I held up my passport—"is how we get out of Italy."

"No, what
is
this? Tell me that's not how I look." Thaddeus showed his passport to me, looking horrified.

I glanced over the photo. He looked sort of like a startled homeless person who'd just been caught relieving himself in public. "That would be a lie."

Thaddeus gasped and looked back at his photo. "Hey, Prego—can you take another one? This picture…I look terrible!"

"Let me see…?" Vera strode across the room, and Thaddeus showed her the image. "Hm…" Her gazed darted between Thaddeus and the picture. "You look…irritating…hideous…and psychotic. No, I think it's perfect."

"Hey!" Thaddeus folded his passport shut while Vera smirked and went back to her wall.

"We'll handle your weapons on the way to the airport," Drago continued. "But we'll fix your clothing now."

"What's wrong with my clothing?" Thaddeus asked.

"Nothing is wrong with it, but you'll stand out at the airport. You three look like assassins. Italian security will never let you near the gates dressed like that. Unlike Americans, Italians aren't concerned with mortally offending everyone, therefore they
do
believe in profiling."

Both Thaddeus and Vera looked to me for clarification. "What he means is that airports…er, where we will be going have very high security to keep out potential threats, and we look
very
threatening dressed like this."

"And…?" Vera didn't understand why this was a problem.

"
And
we need to blend in and look harmless. Otherwise, they'll never let us board."

Vera frowned.

"I've got some things that'll work for you two gents—" Drago looked between Thaddeus and me. He grinned, struck by a sudden thought. "And I might just have something for our…female. Compliments of an ex-girlfriend."

It wasn't long before Thaddeus had replaced his leathers with khakis and a black polo, and I'd replaced mine with dark jeans and a white dress shirt. When Vera emerged from the bathroom, Thaddeus looked her over and whistled.

Apparently, Drago's ex-girlfriend worked in fashion. Vera was dressed in a pair of high heels, a tight, pinstripe skirt and fitted black blouse that made her look like an executive. A very well-shaped executive. Thaddeus gawked at her with that boyish smirk on his face.

"Stop staring before I stab your eyes out with my heel," Vera snapped at him, but her cheeks colored as she shoved her leathers inside the small, carry-on bag Drago had provided. Her ankles wobbled a little in her heels. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to fight in this"—she flung her hands down at her outfit and ground at her heel—"
thing
."

"You're not supposed to fight, period," I said. "Today, you're a harmless civilian, remember?"

Thaddeus snorted. "V's about as harmless as a starving gargon."

Vera looked at him as though she really were contemplating the pros and cons of stabbing him with her heel.

Soon, we were back on the road and heading for the airport. This time, Drago drove us in his Mercedes. The Mercedes, he had said, was for his side job: He was a taxi driver in Rome. It was his way of keeping an eye on the city. Since the enemy had watched us get away in the Ferrari, we needed a different vehicle to take us to the airport. Although Thaddeus still feared cars in general, he and Vera were both grateful for the extra legroom. Well, at least Vera was. Thaddeus seemed to be inching closer to her every time I glanced back.

When Drago announced we were about ten minutes away, he handed me his cell so I could call Clara. I decided not to call the main line—the line the president would have used—in case there really were intruders, so I called her personal cell instead. Her cell went straight to voicemail. That was unusual. I didn't leave a message, and I handed him back his phone.

"No luck?" Drago asked.

I shook my head, then rested my arm on the door and stared out at the green and rolling countryside. My worry festered, but there wasn't much I could do from a few thousand miles away.

"Who's Clara?" Thaddeus asked.

"A family friend," I replied.

"And you trust her?"

"Infinitely more than I trust you."

He ignored my slight. "Where are we flying to, again?"

"San Francisco," Vera replied.

"San Francisco," Thaddeus repeated. Three times.

"Your hand is touching my leg," Vera said irritably.

"Sorry, V. I'm just…so drawn to you in that skirt I can't—okay, okay!"

I glanced back to find Thaddeus scooting back to his side of the bench with his hands in the air. Vera had taken off her heel and aimed it at him. Drago smiled at the road and I sighed out the window.

We stopped by FedEx first to meet up with Drago's contact there and send our weapons to the States. Vera looked the least thrilled about this—even despite my assurances that we would be reunited with them again soon. We climbed back in the car and I tried Clara again with no luck.

Drago handed us our airline tickets and pulled alongside the curb to drop us off. "It's been a pleasure finally meeting you in person, Alexander." He extended a hand.

I took his hand with a firm shake. "It's been a pleasure for me, too, finally putting a face with a voice, as well as meeting the patron of a very sharp greatsword to a very young man."

Drago laughed.

"Thank you for all you've done," I said in all seriousness. "I still feel bad about the Ferrari."

He waved it off. "Don't. I should be the one thanking
you
. I don't get to be an aegis very often." He shook hands with Thaddeus and Vera. "I'd ask you to send word and let me know you've landed, but, considering, I don't believe that's a good idea."

"If there's a way, I'll contact you," I said. "Thanks again."

"Oh, before I forget…" He pulled out a hand-stitched leather wallet and handed me a wad of Euros. Most of them had the number one hundred in the corner.

"Drago, I can't—" I started, but he placed his hand over mine.

"Take it. I insist. Your parents have been good friends to me, and just in case Clara isn't waiting for you when you land, this will get you other means of traveling to your destination. Please…be careful." He squeezed my hand, and I had the distinct impression he was talking about more than just the flight.

I nodded. "I will. Thank you." I put the money carefully away in my pocket. Drago climbed back into his car and waved as he drove off, and the wad of bills suddenly felt very, very heavy.

8

DARIA

T
hunder cracked and I dropped my book on the bed. It had been raining like this all afternoon. Sometimes the wind ravaged my window as if it were trying to break inside, and at one point it got so bad, I performed a protective enchantment to reinforce the glass. Using magic was still a new phenomenon for me, and I was working at understanding its nuances, but I'd imagined something like invisible air mattresses on either side of the glass to cushion it against the blows. It seemed to help a little.

I felt like a prisoner in my room. Danton had escorted me back per his father's request, and Danton hadn't said much along our walk. He wasn't rude or anything like that, just quiet and withdrawn. I didn't know if his silence was a result of heavy hallway traffic or because of how I'd spoken to his father—maybe a little bit of both. When we'd arrived at my room, he'd taken my hand and looked me in the eyes—the first time he'd done so since our meeting with his father.

It was then I realized I'd been wrong about his silence. He was completely and totally embarrassed by how his father had treated him.

"I'm sorry to leave you like this, but I have to, ah, see to Lord Alistaire and his daughter."