"I would appreciate it if you would tell no one," said the prince.
"Your secret's safe with us," said Jason.
"I'm no threat to Von Warberg. If they ever found me, I'd tell them that—but I doubt it would matter that I have no ambitions to the throne. My very existence is a threat to them. So I have to keep hidden." He set his mug down on the coffee table. "In a way, I don't even think of myself as the prince. My life is far removed from what it would have been had…things been different. On the other hand, it's the reason I live this way. I lived in the city for a while, but then someone saw the resemblance between me and the king, and I had to leave. I endanger everyone I'm with, except of course for the people who are already in danger." He looked meaningfully at Jason. "In a way, it's a relief that you've found me out. I've wanted to tell people for so long…even though I try to forget who I am as much as I can."
"We have no reason to give you away," said Tasha. "You've helped us. It's only fair that we return the favor."
"Thank you." He sat back down. Tasha and Elena sat on the couch beside Jason.
"Do you want us to keep calling you Dominik?" said Jason. "Or—"
He ran his hand through his unruly brown hair. "When I ran from Muldavia, I had to change my name to Dominik, but my real name is James."
"James, then."
He nodded. "It's good to hear my own name again. Now, you said your father has the same watch?" He picked it up from the lampstand, held it in his hands.
"Yes," said Jason. "I assumed he got it as a keepsake during the war. But right before we came here, I saw a picture of your father, the king. He looked just like my father—they could have been twins. And now we found you, and you look similar—the pieces all fell into place. As near as I can figure it, my dad came here some time after the war, and they met at some point, and your father gave my father the watch."
"And then there is the rumor," said Elena softly, "of the impostor."
"Oh, yes," said Jason. "I remember you telling me about that. You think that was my father?"
"It makes sense."
"I suppose it does."
"What do you mean—impostor?" said James.
"Well, it was a legend my father told me," said Elena. "On the day of the coronation, the king was unable to attend, for some unknown reason. The impostor took his place for a day, so that the coronation would go smoothly. There was a lot of unrest in those days, before the...assassination."
James turned to Jason. "So your father took over for a day, and didn't take advantage of it? He could have been king. But he gave it up. He is a hero."
"Something I have known all my life," said Jason. "From what I hear, your father was a hero too."
"Far removed from who I am, I'm afraid."
Jason recalled what he'd done. He was so far from what his father would want him to be…. Though James was in hiding, he'd helped Muldavians cross the border; what had Jason done? He certainly hadn't made things better for anyone, that was for sure. Even the man that he'd tried to help in Muldavia had probably gotten in trouble because of his actions….
There had to be a way to salvage this. Jason might not be able to do anything directly, but perhaps he could help James. If James could go to America, away from his enemies, then he would be able to reveal his identity. It could rally the people, and show them that there was hope. The oppressive government would topple. He wouldn't just have to help the odd refugee anymore; he could free the entire country. As the heir to the throne, he alone had such power. He probably didn't even realize the power he had, isolated from his own country for years.
"You've been helping to free a few of your people," said Jason. "How would you like to free all of them?"
James shook his head. "I'm not the one to do it, I'm afraid."
"You have power just by being who you are. The king would be able to rally the people like no one else."
"How can I do it, in exile?"
"You could come back to America with us. You could do broadcasts—you could show them you were still alive. You could give them hope. That alone could spark a revolution."
"I doubt that they're to that point."
"You haven't been there lately, have you?"
"It's been eleven years."
"A lot can change in eleven years. I think there's a lot more dissatisfied than it seems on the surface. The Gypsies we met—your family—said that they see a lot when they travel the countryside. The country's ripe for revolution."
"You've seen my family? Rovann, Nikola, Stefan—?"
Jason nodded. "They took us in after I was shot. They took care of me….We owe them."
"That's who they are," said James, a faraway look in his blue eyes.
"Stefan wasn't there, though."
James leaned forward. "Why not? Is he okay?"
"He's…in Zohr."
"Zohr." James sat back, closed his eyes. A tear slipped down his cheek. "That is all but a death sentence. I thought I was protecting them when I left, but….Stefan. He was—is—like a brother to me."
"He has a wife now, and a little boy and girl. His wife—Marija—is going to have another baby."
"So….Marija. I would have guessed that. At least he has not been in Zohr long. There is hope—if he can get out. The trouble is, once they take you to Zohr, it's almost impossible to escape….
"How are the others?"
"They are doing well. But they're worried about Stefan."
"They would be. If one member of the family is taken, it's like they're incomplete…you don't know Gypsies like I do, Jason. I almost am one of them—as much as I am anything. More than I am a king. Maybe it was a mistake to leave…." He pressed a hand to his furrowed brow. "Perhaps I should go back—share their fate. I'm hiding here, like a coward—it's only an excuse to say that I'm protecting people. The truth is, I'm afraid of dying. Of the pain that comes before death….but if I face it, perhaps it won't be so bad. At least I won't be betraying the people I love."
"I'm not so sure you should go back that way. You could free your country—"
"Jason, I'm not king material. I can't rally the people. Even if I am technically the prince, I haven't been brought up royal. I don't know what to do, what to say….Royalty is a dying breed these days, anyway. I belong with my family."
"But—" Jason struggled for an argument. James probably wasn't thinking clearly after the news about his brother. "Are you doing them any favors by going back to them in this climate? They'll still be in danger. If there's even a chance you can help bring change—wouldn't that be a better way for them to live, instead of living in fear?"
"It's just that….if I keep running, if I don't share in the plight of my people, it will still be hiding like I am now. If I went to America, I'd be safe and free while they'd be under oppression. How could they respect a king like that?"
"It's the same reason a general isn't at the front lines—if he gets killed, the troops are in chaos. You've got to stay safe in order to unite the people behind you. Then, when you have gathered an army, you can fly back to Muldavia and lead them to victory."
James sighed, looked away. "I still don't see myself doing any of that. I never even knew my father…he's someone remote, majestic, powerful—basically the opposite of what I am. But, as you say, if there's a chance I can help them, perhaps I should leave….with you." He stood. "You have given me a lot to think about. If you don't mind, I would like to be on my own for a while, think this over."
"Of course."
"Meanwhile, make yourselves at home. I assume you probably don't want to go back to bed yet."
"Not for a while," said Tasha.
"There is some food in the refrigerator….I am sorry. I'm being a poor host."
"We can take care of ourselves."
He nodded. "Just don't stray too far from the cabin." He rose and walked out the door into the evening.
Elena turned to Jason. "I can't believe we found the prince! When that man—Cartier—said he was still alive, I hardly dared hope. But it turned out to be true! We have a king again. Or we can, once he gets back. This is amazing." Her blue eyes lit up with excitement.
They went in the kitchen and made some sandwiches out of ham and slices of thick homemade bread. After they ate, Jason asked, "Are you up for a little walk?"
"Sure," said Tasha, slinging the camera gun around her neck.
"My leg is a lot better today," said Elena.
"Good," said Jason. "I'll help you if you need it." They walked out onto the porch; a carved walking stick leaned against the wall near the porch swing, which Jason took. Elena put her arm in his, and they headed toward the ruins.
Half of the sandstone structure had already crumbled; moss crawled over what was left. Arches reached toward the sky, while the rest of it blended in with the side of the mountain. It perhaps had once been a castle, but it was now crumbling to dust.
Jason walked under the arched doorway; trees grew inside, most of the large flagstones obscured by dirt or cracked in numerous places. The sound of water echoed musically; Jason meandered through the trees and brambles to the rock wall at the back.
A stream poured out of the side of the rock to a pool below. Jason sat down among the ferns and moss on a large chunk of rock, and Elena joined him, sneaking her hand into his. "It's so beautiful," she said.
"Yes, it is."
Tasha cleared her throat. "I think I will go find the prince," she said. "He should probably not stray too far himself. Don't leave; I'll come back for you." She turned and walked back through the thicket.
He tipped Elena's chin up toward his; her eyelashes fluttered above gleaming blue eyes. She closed her eyes, leaned toward him; how could he resist the invitation? He gave her a slow, smooth kiss; she returned the favor, then drew back from him temptingly, her eyes dancing, daring him to come closer.
He pressed his cheek against her golden hair; thrills laced through him. "You're so beautiful," he said.
"So are you," she whispered in his ear.
"Come on." She pulled him toward the waterfall. He picked up his cane and hobbled after her.
She put her hand under the waterfall. Water poured onto it, then sprayed off in sparkles that caught the last rays of sunset. He cupped his hand beneath the stream; water, as cold as ice, ran down onto his palm. She stood behind the waterfall, half-veiled by its sparkles, an entrancing, elfin figure.
He took a step closer, and stumbled on the slimy moss. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back to his feet while he braced the cane along the side of the rock wall. Elena took a drink from the waterfall and he did the same. It was cold, clear, refreshing. She smiled up at him, and pulled his head down to her, and kissed him.
The cold water sent a chill through him. He shivered. "Maybe we should go back," said Jason.
"Good idea," said Elena. "Tasha will be able to find us there easily enough."
They made their way back to the cabin. Jason shoved some logs in the fireplace, and Elena went into the kitchen to make some tea.
She came back with two mugs. Jason pulled a quilt over both of them and sipped his tea. She snuggled close to him, and he wrapped one arm around her, as she laid her head on his shoulder.
"So, Jason. You've told me some things about yourself, but I want to know more." She twisted to look up at him, sipped her tea.
"What do you want to know?"
"You've told me about your past, but I want to know why you came to Muldavia. Besides to see me, I mean." She smiled, a dimple showing in her cheek.
"Well, you know that I was here to gather intelligence…"
"What kind of intelligence?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Come on, Jason! It's me, Elena."
"I know but—"
"You owe me that much, don't you, my dear? We've been through so much together."
"I—I can't—it's for your own protection." The room wavered a little.
"But we're going to America. No one will find out."
"We're not out of the woods yet. Besides, it's need to know. I can't break the rules."
Her lower lip pouted. "Not even for me? Do I matter at all to you, Jason?"
"Of course you do, but…"
"You can break the rules for me, Jason." She kissed his lips, slowly, lusciously.
"I'm sorry. I can't."
"You're no fun." She shifted on the couch until she faced him, her blue eyes luminous, a dangerous spark in them.
"What has gotten into you, Elena? Why does it matter so much?" It wasn't his imagination; the room wavered again, as if a thin film of water had obscured his vision.
"It doesn't, I guess. Not anymore." She sighed, and rolled her shoulders. "Mm, this job has been stressful. You wouldn't mind giving me a massage, would you?" She turned her back to him.
He tried to lift his hand, but found he could barely move it. Pins and needles tingled down his flesh, as if he were becoming paralyzed.
Fear tore through him. "Elena, something's wrong….the tea….maybe poison…." He slid down the edge of the couch, unable to hold himself up. Elena caught him and helped lower him down.
"It's okay, dear, shh."
"Don't…drink…the tea…" He could barely form the words.
"What, this?" She took her tea, gulped the rest of it down, then set it on the coffee table. "Perfectly harmless. I think all you need is some much-needed rest, Jason. Come on, I'll help you to your bed."
She slung her shoulder under his arm, and he tried to walk, but she ended up half-dragging him into the bed. "There." She pressed her hand to his forehead. "Sweet dreams." She smiled, but something about that smile wasn't right….Maybe it was just the dream taking over, for the next thing she said didn't make sense. "When you wake up, things won't be nearly as pleasant for you."
The last thing he saw was Elena lifting her wrist close to her mouth and speaking softly into her watch. "I've found the target, repeat, I've found the target. Send a helo now to these coordinates. I have the male agent, and I will soon have the king. The female agent—well, I may just have to dispose of her. Holt out."
He faded into darkness, as if falling headfirst into an endless tunnel, and then…blackness consumed him.