Chapter Nine
The youngest girl with dark hair, who looked to be about eight, bounced down the steps. “Hi, Uncle Mario. Did you bring me anything?”
Mario pulled a wrapped candy from his pocket. “Sorry, this is all I brought. Maybe if you’re good, I ‘ll bring you something next time.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Like a horse?”
“Now, Serafina, you know there are plenty of horses you can ride in the king’s stable.”
“But I want one that’s all my own. One that no one else can ride. That mean stable master says all the horses except the king’s favorite can be ridden by anyone in the royal family, even you.”
Mario ruffled her hair. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, your father will get you your own horse when you’re ten.”
She frowned. “But that’s an awful long time to wait.” Her eyes darted to me. “Is she your girlfriend? Are you two going to kiss in front of everybody like Dante kisses Aunt Lemon?”
I could feel my neck and face heating and hoped no one noticed, but of course everyone sitting there looked at me.
Mario put his arm around my waist. “Kelly, this rambunctious little twit is Serafina, my youngest cousin. Serafina, this is Kelly Chandler. If you’re nice to her, she’ll let you call her Kelly. She’s a friend I brought to see the parade, and we’re going to watch the parade instead of kiss.” He squeezed my hand. “We can do that someplace where no one’s watching. We like it better that way.”
“That’s too bad. When Nico kisses Aunt Kat, she always smiles so pretty.”
“Kelly, these are Serafina’s sisters, Violetta, who’s nineteen, and Chiara, who’s fifteen. Up above them are Dante and Lemon, who are engaged. Meet Nico and Kat, who got married a year ago. Nico was tall and athletic looking with black hair and blue eyes. Kat had long dark hair. Mario pointed to a young man with glasses. “That’s Rafe, and the lady with red hair is Genesis.”
Mario waved to the others. “Meet my friend, Kelly Chandler, from America.”
The last couple sat with their arms around each other’s waists. Serafina pointed to them. “Rafe and Genesis had a terrible argument. They wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but they just made up and can’t stop kissing and hugging. I guess they like each other again.”
I was glad one of the princes liked redheads. I took a step toward the first row of the bleachers, but Mario stopped me. He whispered in my ear. “Genesis looks a little like Delores, my bad-tempered redhead ex-girlfriend. She was always trying to boss me around and get me to buy her jewelry, but Genesis is very nice.”
Now, I regretted mentioning that ring earlier. He might attribute some of Delores’s other bad habits to me. I might as well assume I’d never see him again after I left Monterra, except perhaps on TV if any foreign games were shown on local channels. I wasn’t planning to pay extra for a special sports cable package. Although the thought of being able to watch Mario was tempting.
Mario led me up to the top of the bleachers to sit beside Genesis. She seemed friendly and vivacious. I liked her on the spot.
Off to my left, a row of drummers in red and gold uniforms stepped up their beat.
“Hooray, the parade’s starting,” Serafina shouted. She bounced up and down on her seat.
“Sit still, Serafina,” Chiara said. “You’re making the board jiggle for each of us here.”
The music began with a stately rhythm, reminiscent of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. The king and queen, sitting in a horse-drawn carriage, rode out past the gatehouse and filled in the space between the marching drummers and the rest of the band, also dressed in red and gold uniforms. The majorettes had short red and gold vests and gold skirts. They twirled batons with red and gold lights flashing at the ends.
The first float had a huge chocolate croissant with a baker dribbling white frosting on top while the baker’s assistant tried to take a bite from the end each time the drummers hit a beat. Then the baker would turn and wave a huge flyswatter at the nibbler’s rear. As soon as the baker turned to put more frosting on the croissant, his helper would bend to take a bite, and the baker would turn to swat him. Finally, the helper broke off a piece and ran around the end. The baker chased him with the crowd chanting, “Get him, get him.”
Another band marched behind the float, and behind them walked a group of men, teenagers, and a few women, bearing signs saying, “Royalty is so Yesterday” and “Hello, Democracy, Farewell Monarchy.” Cries of “Go away” and “Yeah” filled the air as supporters of different persuasion yelled, trying to be louder than the opposition.
One of the men looked familiar. Could he be the one I saw talking to Gino after the last game? Why did they have to come and spoil the parade?
I turned to look at the princes above me. Nico was scowling. Dante had his hands clenched into fists. Rafe pulled Genesis closer. “I hope none of them come near us,” I said.
When Ernesto and the two security guards moved to stand between us and the activists, my heart beat faster. \Were we in danger?
From the courtyard of the palace, two mounted guards spurred their horses and rode out. They sandwiched the carriage between them. More guards rushed from the palace. They dragged the protesters away. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
A pretty blonde stepped out from the crowd of watchers beside the bleachers, waving and smiling at Mario. Another woman pulled her back. He must have hundreds of admirers.
Mario held his phone to his ear. “Armando, Armando. Pick up.” Finally, his brother must have answered because Mario was telling him what was happening. “Is there something else that can be done to protect the royals from these activists?”
I wished that too. Until now, I hadn’t realized the protesters were much of a problem.
“You think that would help?” Mario asked. He listened for a moment. “Okay, I’ll get right on it first thing tomorrow.” He paused and listened. “No, I’m not going to start right now. I don’t want to rush into it. And yes, I’ll ask him.”
I wanted to ask what that was all about, but figured I’d better wait until we were alone.
Finally, the parade resumed, minus the activists. A man hurried along the side of them and approached us. A palace guard stopped him. “What is your business with the royals?”
“I need to speak to Prince Mario. He knows me.”
“Gino, I thought you’d be at practice,” Mario said, as the guard backed away and let him pass.
“Don’t you remember?” Gino said. “We always take off when there are parades. Coach says it’s good for the city’s morale to see us at public functions. Look, I need your help.”
Mario stepped down from the bleacher seat. “What do you need?”
“My brother, Vito Campo, has just been arrested. I need your influence to get him out of jail.”
“But I thought he’d been exiled. How did he get back into Monterra?”
I remembered seeing Gino and Vito together after the game Stephanie and I attended.
“It’s a long story, but will you help him?” Gino asked.
“Does he have a lawyer? He probably needs that kind of help more than anything I can do.”
“Would you just visit him in jail and hear his side of the story?”
“All right, I will, but I’m not sure what I could do.”
Gino put an arm on Mario’s shoulder. “Maybe you could say something to the king and get his sentence reduced.”
“I promised Kelly I’d get another invitation to tea at the palace. She wants to see the place.”
“But after that, will you go see him?” Gino asked. “It would mean a lot to me.”
“I’ll do it later,” Mario said. He turned to Ernesto. “Would you please make arrangements?”
Ernesto nodded, pulled out his phone, and dialed. Standing off to one side, he talked, but his head kept turning as he surveyed the people around.
Another float rolled by, sponsored by Monterra News. Reporter Danielle Dawson from the newspaper office waved as it rolled by.
If The Dallas Morning News didn’t take my article about the pyramids, I’d send it to her.
After the parade was over, the guards escorted us across the avenue and inside the fence around the palace grounds. Mario led me to the gatehouse and introduced me to one of the guards. “I’ve arranged for you to have afternoon tea at the palace,” Mario said. Would you like a guided tour?”
“Oh, yes. I’d love it.”
At the massive front door of the palace, Mario spoke to Ernesto. “We’ll be perfectly safe in the palace. Feel free to take a break now.” He left, but a palace guard followed us inside.
As the guard led us through the palace, I peeked into a green drawing room, a blue drawing room, and a white drawing room, each furnished with accents echoing the walls. “How many rooms are in this palace?
“Over eight hundred, including the bathrooms,” Mario said. “My father counted them once. He much prefers the house he designed. I’m sure you saw most of its nice features, like Jacuzzis in all the bathrooms and ceiling fans in every room. We also have air conditioning, but usually the fans are enough.”
I nodded. I wasn’t about to tell him the atmosphere at his parent’s house chilled me. In the palace, everything was grand, from the marble tiles to the lush carpets and brocaded draperies. Tapestries and large paintings with ornately carved gold frames hung on the walls. I couldn’t see myself feeling at home here. We walked through the palace gallery with pictures of all their ancestors. A tapestry of a family tree in a flower-filled meadow embroidered with their names hung in the center of the room.
The grand ballroom was the fanciest of all. Flowers, leaves, and vines all decorated with gold leaf adorned the walls. Three giant chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lighting up the frescos of cupids and flowers decorating the molding circling the top of the walls.
We passed the kitchen. Smells of cinnamon and ginger permeated the air. They must be baking more scones. The butler led us to the throne room, which was almost as large. The thrones, covered in purple velvet, trimmed with gold braid, sat on a dais with three steps. Huge tapestries, one of a battle scene, one of the palace, and one depicting the garden, hung on marble walls.
Finally, the guard opened two large doors to reveal a dining room with high ceilings. Silver silhouettes of knights jousting decorated the ivory wallpaper. Two sparkling chandeliers lit each end of an enormous dark walnut table inlaid with a ring of lighter wood.
The three couples, the two young princesses, and Serafina, stood around the table. The king, being pushed in his wheelchair and Queen Aria with braids wound around her head in a coronet, entered from another doorway.
Nico had his arm around Kat.
Mario whispered to me. “They still act like honeymooners.”
Yellow roses surrounded by the delicate baby’s breath comprised each of the two elaborate centerpieces sitting about three feet apart. Placemats of cream-colored lace sat on the table.
Mario’s arm slid around my waist. I liked the way he acted, showing I was his girlfriend.
The king nodded, and the queen smiled, welcoming me, Mario, his cousins, and their guests. “Please have a seat,” the queen said.
A servant set a large silver tray with a matching teapot, sugar bowl, and cream pitcher. A china plate held lemon slices.
A butler set down a plate of cinnamon rolls with white icing. They looked yummy.
Queen Aria wore a silk dress with wide flowing sleeves, and her nails were painted a pale pink with cream trim on the ends. She poured a cup of tea and passed it. “Please do not wait to sip your tea. It may take a while to serve everyone. Nico, will you please pass the rolls and chicken salad sandwiches.”
After I received my steaming teacup on a china saucer, I sipped it, but did not touch my sticky bun other than to set it on the plate in front of me. I wanted to pick it up and take a bite, but since there were forks by each plate, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I didn’t want to embarrass myself with poor table manners.
Serafina pulled off a piece and stuck it in her mouth. I watched the queen, but she made no attempt to correct her. Chiara also broke off a piece but speared it with a fork. I decided to do the same.
The sticky bun was delicious, and I ate it all as well as a couple of the small sandwich squares. Mario did the same. The others were talking about the parade, but I was afraid to say much.
Most of the royals had finished their tea and buns when Mario rose. “I have someone I promised to visit. Would you please excuse Kelly and me?”
I wanted to lick the bit of frosting on my fingers but resisted. Quickly, I wiped them on my napkin and rose. I bowed. “Thank you very much for the refreshments. You have a lovely palace.” Now, I wondered, should I go first or let Mario lead?
He took my hand and led me from the room. He spoke briefly to a servant.
“Bye,” called Princess Serafina.
I turned and gave a little wave. “Bye, everyone. It was lovely meeting y’all.” As I left I wondered if I should have said something different, but I wouldn’t be able to remember all their names.
Mario led me across plush carpets through several halls. Some had polished wood paneling and others had wallpapers decorated with designs embellished with gold leaf. I wondered how long it would take to dust all the rooms. The gold leaves looked so fragile. Did they even dare dust them? Maybe they used a feather duster.
Outside, Mario’s Ferrari stood waiting for us. Ernesto got out from behind the wheel and held open the door for me. I got in, and Mario walked around to slide in the driver’s seat. Ernesto climbed in back, and Mario started the car. I was glad to see him drive sedately out of the courtyard and down the avenue in front of the gatehouse.
Even though the parade was over, throngs of people lingered. A couple of young women waved at Mario, and one even walked up to hand him a white carnation. He took it and smiled but kept driving on slowly as people moved to get out of the way.
From there we rode through an affluent section of Imperia with verdant expanses of lawn surrounding mansions, including an occasional modern one with angles and lots of glass. We passed more modest homes and then some smaller houses, some in need of paint.
Ernesto pointed ahead. “The king wanted the prisons to be as far as possible from the palace in case someone escaped.”
Eight-foot fences with spear points on top were lined with holly bushes. At the end of the lawn, concrete walls without windows rose two stories high.
After parking outside, Mario walked with Ernesto and me to the narrow doorway.
Inside, the lobby, the leather couches and chairs looked nice enough, but a granite counter with only one gate spread out four feet in front of the wall behind it.
A gray-haired clerk looked down her glasses at us. “Whom do you wish to visit?”
“Vito Campo.”
The clerk frowned. “He’s extremely dangerous, an enemy of the country. Only his family is allowed to visit him.”
Mario stepped closer to the woman. “But his brother, Gino, has asked me to visit him and listen to his side of the story.”
“Please have a seat. I will have to verify that.”
Mario did not move. “Do you know who I am?”
“Are you’re that football star they call Prince.”
“I am Prince Mario Fiorelli. King Dominic is my uncle.”
“Oh. I still need to verify your identity, get permission from his family, and determine if the prisoner indeed wants to see you.”
Mario, Ernesto, and I sat on the leather couch and chairs. The clerk busied herself making phone calls. Finally, she held up the phone. “Sir, please speak to the man in charge of security for the palace. He needs to identify you.”
Mario took the phone. “Hello.”
He listened. “Yes, it’s me, damn it. Armando, tell the prison clerk who I am. And yes, I’ll meet with you later.” He handed the phone to the clerk.
She listened, then hung her head. “Sorry, Your Highness. It isn’t as if you spend a lot of time in Monterra. I only see you on TV in your football uniform.”
“Now may I see Vito Campo?”
The clerk held up a finger. “Wait one moment please, Your Highness.”
She talked for a few minutes on the phone, then hung up. “If you have any weapons, you must hand them over first.”
Ernesto frowned. “I’m not handing over my gun. The prince’s safety depends on my being armed.”
Holding open the gate, she motioned for us to follow her. She led us through a door behind the counter to the doorway to a room with two wood chairs and a glass partition.
Gino stood talking on the telephone to the man behind the glass partition. He was the man I’d seen talking with Gino after the game I’d watched. A prison guard stood on duty five feet away.
Gino pounded on the counter in front of him. “No, Vito. That’s too much. I don’t want you to do anything like that for me. Now just forget it. I need to win the owner’s favor by my own actions.” He looked over at us. “My teammate is here to listen to your side of the story. Maybe he can get your sentence reduced.”
The clerk barred our way. “No more than two visitors at a time.”
Gino stuck a package of cigarettes through the small opening under the partition. “Here’s what I brought you.” He hung up the phone. “I was just leaving.” We backed up to let him leave the room. “I’ll see you at practice,” he said to Mario and walked away. Outside the doorway, he turned to face us. “Why don’t I meet all of you this evening at Italianni’s. After all that French food we ate in Paris, I’d really enjoy some good Italian spaghetti.”
Ernesto hung back. “I’ll wait out here in case you need me for protection.”
The clerk frowned. “You won’t need protection. Our guards are tough and well trained.”
Mario pulled two chairs up to the glass partition and beckoned to me. I sat beside him on the hard wood chair. Mario picked up the phone. “Hello, Vito. Tell me your story and why I should help you.”
I couldn’t hear what he said, but he was gesturing wildly with his hands.
Mario held up a finger. “Wait a minute. You want me to get you loose, so you can reconnect with that activist group?”
Vito nodded. “We have a right to be heard.” He said it so loudly I could hear him.
Mario shook his head. “I haven’t heard any words of regret for kidnapping the princesses as well as my brother’s girlfriend. We don’t need your kind in Monterra.”
“You’re prejudiced against my family,” he shouted.
“I am not.” Mario slammed his hand down on the counter near the opening. “Gino is my teammate and my best friend. I’m sorry for you, but you deserve to be exiled, and the sooner the better for Monterra’s sake.”
As he hung up the phone, Vito stuck his hand under the opening and grabbed Mario’s fingers. “Don’t you hang up on me. Even if I get deported, I can find you wherever your team is playing.”
Chapter Ten
I gasped as the guard on the other side of the partition grasped Vito’s shoulders to pull him back, but Vito held tight onto Mario’s fingers. Ernesto hurried in and helped Mario pry Vito’s fingers loose.
Mario’s fingers had turned red from the pressure. He shook his arm and hand. “We need to leave, Kelly.”
As we left the doorway, Ernesto said, “I’ll need to stay closer to you from now on, and so will my counterpart when I’m not on duty.”
This new threat against Mario made me anxious. Ernesto would do his best to protect Mario, but he couldn’t be with Mario 24/7. What if the relief bodyguard wasn’t as alert as Ernesto and got overpowered? Or what if I got kidnapped to lure Mario to danger? Maybe I should cut my vacation short.
Once we were in the car, Mario said, “We’re meeting with my brother, Prince Armando, and Prince Dante at his club. It’s called Dante’s Inferno.”
After passing by the gatehouse, Mario relinquished his car to an attendant, who drove it away to park it. Mario led us around the castle to an outside entrance with stairs leading down.
Inside, the lighting was dim, although the bottles above the bar were well lit. His cousin, Prince Dante, strolled out from behind the bar. “As you can see, the tables are arranged in nine semi-circular rows, simulating the nine circles of hell. In the epic poem, this place is named after, each of the concentric circles closer to the center represent a deeper category of sin. Here, they represent stronger categories of drink.”
Mario nodded. “And if you want straight whiskey or Long Island Tea, which is much stronger than it sounds, you sit at the tables making the smaller circle near the corner.”
I gestured to the outer ring nearest us. “And this row is for teetotalers?”
Prince Dante laughed. “Occasionally, Princesses Chiara and Serafina come here, or someone brings a minor, but they only get soft drinks.”
Prince Armando waved an arm around the area. “You said you wanted to help make the palace safer from the activists. Why not build a safe room you can access from here? This part of the palace sits near the edge of a cliff. You could blast into the rock and carve out a safe place to hold the royals and perhaps most of the staff.”
Remembering all the servants I’d seen, I said, “It would have to be huge.”
Prince Armando opened a briefcase, pulled out a large blueprint and spread it out. “Here are the original plans of the lower level of the palace.” He held out a manila folder. “Since that’s pretty large, I made you a smaller copy in in black and white for you to sketch your design. I shrunk it to fit on a regular piece of paper with the scale inscribed at the bottom.”
Mario took the folder with the folded blue paper and the white copy. “Great idea. I’ll look it over after dinner tonight. Would you please ask your staff to bring my car around?”
Prince Dante spoke on the phone, then showed us the way to the elevator and led us through a series of back halls to the foyer. We stepped outside and waved goodbye.
The Ferrari was waiting with an attendant holding the door open. I slid inside, hoping Mario would let me watch while he sketched plans for the safe room. It would be interesting to see him at work on his alternate occupation. Ernesto climbed into the back seat.
At Italianni’s, Gino was waiting for us. We ordered their Spaghetti ala Bolognese. “What’s different about this?” I asked.
The waiter said, “The meat sauce originated in Bologna, Italy. Our version has garlic, salt, pepper, bay leaves, thyme, oregano, cinnamon, and nutmeg with diced tomatoes.”
While we waited, Mario laid his paper copy of the lower castle floor on the table and sketched out a plan for a safe room next to Dante’s Inferno bar.
The Spaghetti ala Bolognese and crusty rolls were delicious, and the Chianti was full bodied. Even Mario said it was good and ordered a second bottle.
Halfway through dinner, Gino asked for another bottle. I’d had enough, so Mario and Gino finished it off, with Mario drinking the lion’s share. After we’d finished the main course, Mario excused himself to visit the men’s room. Gino rose with Mario’s paper copy. “I need better light to see this by. He strolled over to the bar.
The waiter came by and asked about dessert. Ernesto suggested he bring us all spumoni.
After Mario returned, Gino came back to the table. “I got a good look at those plans. With your background, you ought to do a great job of designing the safe room and overseeing its building. He slid the paper copy inside Mario’s folder.
The waiter brought the spumoni. He said it was made with pistachio and vanilla ice cream, chopped cherries, almonds, brandy, and almond extract. I loved it. Gino asked for a second bowl, which the waiter brought. Gino offered to pay the bill, but Mario insisted. “I can afford it better than you. Not only does being vice-captain pay a little more, but I also have a trust to draw upon.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, I couldn’t accuse him of bragging.
As we walked out into the cooler night air, Mario again spread his jacket over my shoulders. I appreciated his thoughtfulness, but noticed he was a bit unsteady. When Ernesto offered to drive, Mario let him. Ernesto drove by the team’s practice field and dropped Gino off at the door of the team quarters.
I was tired but didn’t want the evening to end. Nevertheless, after Ernesto parked the Ferrari in front of my hotel. Mario told him to wait and walked me to my room. At the door, he kissed me thoroughly and then cradled my face in his hands. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m tired, but I hate leaving you. Will you invite me in to talk for a little while?”
I smiled. “Only, if it’s just talking you want.”
He smoothed his hand down my arm. “Well, that’s not all I’d like, but I don’t expect anything more.”
I unlocked the door, and he followed me in. “Would you like some coffee? I can make some with this machine in the room.”
Mario shook his head. “I don’t care for any now.”
We sat in the lounge chairs and looked at each other. I didn’t know what to say, and then I remembered my mother’s advice to get a date to talk about himself and his interests. “Mario, what was it like to spend your teen years at Ajax Academy?” I smiled, already feeling more at ease with him. “You said you and Gino both went to the academy. Did your father force you to leave to go to the university?”
He reached over and clasped my hand in his. “That was part of it. The coach said I had a natural ability for football and practiced well, but he didn’t think I could improve any more. He suggested there were other young men who deserved a chance, and that I should either play for a minor team or attend college.”
“How did that make you feel?”
He frowned. “Men don’t talk about feelings.” His face flushed, perhaps remembering disappointment from his coach’s words. “I didn’t say much, but that sure didn’t make me feel confident in my abilities. I don’t know if my father had pressured him to say that because he wanted me to get more education or if the coach didn’t have much faith in my skill. I decided I’d go ahead and get my education. After all, Armando has his own security business and wouldn’t want to take over father’s architectural firm.”
“When did you decide to try out for the Monterra team?”
“I’d always wanted to play for them. I watched every game I could and examined their strategy. I ran five miles every day to keep in shape. When Gino tried out and made the team, I resolved I’d give it my best try. I finally made it, but I was considered a rookie for the longest time.”
“But your scoring rate kept getting better, didn’t it?”
“Eventually. Gino and I have always been rivals, but still best friends. I think he was a little put out when I was named vice-captain. We are both working hard to impress the owner so I hope he’ll consider naming one of us captain when the current one retires. And I intend for it to be me.”
He pulled out his copy of the blueprint and laid it on the desk beside the TV. He pointed to the north edge of the club. “I’ll cut a door in this wall and build a twelve by twelve room.”
I stood and studied the diagram. “That seems small to hold a group of people.”
“I could widen it, but I can’t extend it too much more without risking a crack in the wall of the cliff.”
He snapped the folder shut. “That’s enough about my work.” He settled into the lounge chair. “Tell me what you do in the library. After knowing you, I’m sure you must find something interesting about working there besides cataloging books.”
I sat down. “Remember, I’m not qualified to do that. I won’t be until I get my masters in library science.”
“You seem too lively to be stuck in a library. What draws you to work there?”
“It’s history. I learned American history and a smattering of world history in school, but I didn’t realize until I dug into a book about a French king how much politics and battles went on until France and Spain finally evolved into autonomous countries and settled the boundaries between them. After reading a novel called the Lost Queen of Egypt, I realized I didn’t know much about the people who built the pyramids. That’s why I wanted to go. Thanks again for making my visit so memorable. Now I can’t wait to write an article about Monterra and the parade today.” I could feel myself fading and couldn’t help yawning.
Mario took my hand and squeezed it. “I can see you need your rest, and I’ve kept Ernesto waiting long enough. I need to work on this floor plan for a while and then get some rest. I have to attend practice tomorrow.”
Looking at his glazed eyes, I figured he wouldn’t do much work tonight, but that was his problem.
The next day I did some shopping. Then, seeing I wasn’t too far from the palace, I decided to walk by and take another picture. It would be wise to have several to choose from when sending in my article. At least I could send a digital version, which I could resend if it got lost like the printed article I’d dropped off at The Dallas Morning News a month ago. The travel editor said she never found it, but she did print another one of my articles. I was keeping my fingers crossed she’d like the one about the great pyramid.
As I got closer to the palace grounds, black smoke was curling up into the air. A few people stood outside the fence, far from the gates. One woman pointed to the smoke. A man was talking on his phone. What was on fire? I ran down the road past the empty bleachers set up for the parade.
The smoke was coming from the guardhouse. I couldn’t see any guards around. Where the hell were they? My heart pounded. Who could I call? Mario was at practice, and I didn’t know the emergency number in Imperia.
My pulse raced. I ran closer. Where was the guard on duty at the palace door? Frantically, I waved at a guard standing just inside the open door of the palace, but he must not have seen me. “Help! The guardhouse is on fire! I yelled. He didn’t move. Was he deaf? “Help,” I yelled again.
Wondering if there was a man on duty inside the guardhouse, I ran inside the gates as close to the guardhouse as I dared. Oh, no. A guard lay in the fetal position, his head just outside the gatehouse. I screamed, “Help! Fire!”
The smoke got in my eyes. Cloth on the chair inside was burning. It smelled like burnt hair. The guard wasn’t on fire yet. Thank goodness.
I tossed my purse away from the flames and kicked off my heels. I took a deep breath, grabbed his arms and pulled. Being this close felt like a hot oven. The flames came close to his foot. What if a spark caught his pants and then my clothes on fire?
I had to get him further away. I tugged what felt like a truckload of bricks across the threshold of the gatehouse. My foot slipped. I dropped one arm and braced it against the door frame. I dug my heels in and used every bit of strength I had to move him out onto the pavement.
“Help!” I yelled again. Finally, a guard rushed out from the palace. Then another one came, yelling for help. The first guard helped me get the prone guard farther away from the fire.
A man and a woman ran through the open gate. The man had his phone next to his ear. I hoped he was calling the fire department.
Thank goodness, the guard was coughing, so he must be able to breathe.
Several guards ran over with buckets of water. One dragged a hose. It wasn’t long enough, but they could fill buckets with it. They threw water on the guardhouse, refilled buckets and did it again.
The prone guard opened his eyes. “What happened?”
Another guard asked, “Have you been smoking, Giuseppe?”
He shook his head and groaned.
Finally, the fire was out. One guard stepped inside to look at the damage. “There’s a cigar butt back against the wall behind what’s left of your chair. Are you sure you weren’t smoking?”
Giuseppe glared at the other guard. “You know I don’t smoke cigars. I only smoke cigarettes, and I don’t smoke on duty.”
A fire truck raced up, pulled through the gates, and screeched to a halt. Firefighters jumped out and ran to the guardhouse.
“We got the fire out,” a guard said.
“We need to check to be sure,” a firefighter said. One went into the charred guardhouse and looked around. He stepped out and spoke to another bigger fireman. “I didn’t see any hot spots about to flame up, but it could be arson.”
The second firefighter took a step inside and bent down. Coming out, he nodded. “I agree.”
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I said, but I wasn’t. I was still shaking from the fear I wouldn’t get the guard and myself away from the flames. I rotated my shoulders, they hurt from dragging such a heavy man. Not to mention how my calves and thighs burned “Only one guard got hurt. I got here just in time to pull the him away.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “I think he’ll be okay.”
“That was brave of you. You still sound a bit upset. I hate to have you caught up in a plot to hurt the royals. Those activists are causing a lot of trouble. Were you scared?”
“I didn’t have time to be think about it. I just wanted to pull Giuseppe away from the flames.” I told him about the cigar butt and Giuseppe’s denial he was smoking it. “Do you suppose someone set that fire?”
“It could be. Looks like the activists are stepping up their activities. Maybe I should have Ernesto find a bodyguard for you.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s not like I’m somebody important.”
“But you’re really important to me. I don’t want even the slightest thing to cause you hurt.”
That made me feel good. “Do you suppose someone might try to hurt you?”
“I doubt it. I mean I’m eighth in line for the throne, and if Dante and Kat have a son, I’ll be ninth. Enough talk about that. “Is my brother, Armando, there? As head of palace security, he should be.”
“I don’t see him, but the guards put out the fire.”
“As head of security, he should be on the scene by now. I’ll call him as soon as I hang up. I had better get that safe room built soon. Do you feel up to meeting me for dinner tonight? I can work on the plans while we wait for the food to be delivered.”
“Now that’s a real romantic dinner invitation,” I said. If I stayed in Monterra a few more days, would he be too involved with work to pay any attention to me?
“Kelly, I like you a lot, and I know you’re only going to be here a short while. I want to spend as much time as I can with you, but who knows what those activists will do next? Building that safe room has to be my main priority. Stay there at the palace. I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
“You’re ordering me around instead of asking me. Again. What if I want to go back to my hotel and freshen up? I’d like to change into a pretty dress for you.”
He sighed. “How much time do you need?”
“That’s better. It’s five-thirty now. Pick me up at seven.”
“Now who’s doing the ordering? Fine. I’ll call for you at seven.”
I smiled. I hoped I could break him of that habit.