It got harder to move forward the closer we got. Two years of shame and guilt heaved me back. Just get in the pickup and go!

But if I did that, she was dead.

I lifted a boot that felt like it weighed a million pounds. Took a hesitant step towards him. But I couldn’t take another. There was so much on that craggy face: shock and sadness and hope and pity. I don’t want your pity.

And then I didn’t need to walk any further because he took two big steps forward and crushed me in a hug. Being hugged by my dad is like being grappled by a bear, big and warm and strong and you ain’t getting out of it. I took a deep, shaky sigh, closed my eyes and relaxed into it. And for a moment, at least, everything was okay.

When he finally decided to let me go, I looked towards the car. The Princess quickly jumped out, followed by everyone else. “This is Princess Kristina of Lakovia,” I told him. “And her maid and her guards. We need your help.”

Dad looked me in the eye just once to check I wasn’t yanking his chain. I gave him a solemn nod.

“Well, I’ll be,” muttered dad. And then he turned to the Princess and, despite being a Jarhead, ground-pounding hayseed himself, he whipped off his hat and did a very good approximation of a bow.

* * *

Dad still ran the place with the same military discipline and attention to detail he had when I was a kid. Probably what had kept him going since mom died. He got the others settled in the living room and then took me into the hallway so we could talk.

“Always figured you’d show up one day with a girl,” he said. “Never figured it’d be a princess.”

“It’s not like that.” I felt my neck go hot. “I’m just protecting her until I can get her home.” And I filled him in on everything: the plane, the highway, the motel, Silvas Lukin and his special ops team. “I’m way out of my depth here. This is some sort of conspiracy. I’m just a grunt.”

“Grunts are the ones who win the war,” said Dad. “Always have been.” He took me over to the gun locker, unlocked it and swung the doors wide. “How much trouble you figure we’re in?”

I gazed at the wide array of guns and then took out an assault rifle, just like the one I’d used in the marines.

Dad stared at me. “That much, huh?” He took a pump-action shotgun for himself.

“We’ve got another problem,” I said, and told him about the traitor in our group. “I think it’s Jakov. His folks are from Garmania.”

Dad gave me a look. “I didn’t raise you to think bad of someone on account of where they’re from.”

“I know. But it’s the only explanation that makes sense. Can you help me watch him?”

“He can take tonight’s guard shift with me. You can go with the one with the stick up his ass... Emerik.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Ever since this started, I’d been trying to do this on my own. Having someone to share the burden with felt amazing. But my stomach still knotted when I thought about the danger I was putting him in. “We need to be careful. These guys are trained killers. They came all the way to America to kill her.”

“Well….” Dad racked the slide on his shotgun. “They come to Texas, they’re going to find out they made a mistake.”

I had to smile at that. I laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for bringing this to your door.”

He scowled at me. “Son, if I’d heard you’d had this kind of problem and you hadn’t stopped in here, I’da whupped your ass.” He looked at me for a long time. “Sure is good to see you.”

And suddenly all the tension between us was back. I wanted to explain why I’d been away so long. I wanted him to know I hadn’t abandoned him. I just hadn’t been able to face him, after getting discharged. I’d felt like a damn failure. And then the flashbacks, and being unable to hold down a job. How could I explain all that? He’d managed a whole career in the marines without ever suffering PTSD or anything like it.

After dinner. I’d talk to him after dinner. For now, I just nodded. “You too, dad.”

* * *

Dinner was steak the way it should be, a slab that fell thick and heavy to your plate, charred lines crispy and tangy on the outside, the meat juicy, pink and full of flavor on the inside. Nestled up against a mountain of creamy mashed potatoes and the whole thing drowned in rich gravy. The Princess’s eyes widened as her plate was set before her, but she proceeded to devour the whole thing. “Don’t they feed you, where you come from?” asked Dad.

“Not like this! It’s amazing, thank you!” She looked at me. “You may have to roll me home.” It was strange, hearing the smooth glass of her accent in the farmhouse I’d grown up in, where everything is rough-edged and functional. It didn’t fit... and yet, in some ways, it felt right at home.

My dad chatted with the Princess as easily as if she was some long-lost daughter, telling her about the ranch and what I was like growing up. It was relaxed and...you know, warm, like any family meal. But it made the Princess grin and her eyes go bright with wonder...almost as if she didn’t have that warmth, back in Lakovia.

Since Dad and I had cooked, the Princess insisted on washing up, despite our protests. She roped Jakov, Emerik and Caroline in to help and they formed a production line. Dad and I leaned against the door frame and peeked in.

The Princess rolled up her sleeves, filled a bowl with hot water... and then carefully read the instructions on the back of the dish soap. It hit me that she’d never washed dishes before. Not once. She’d only ever seen people do it in commercials. But she was trying. She’d been attacked, shot at, sucked out of a plane, she’d endured hundreds of miles in a pickup truck... anyone else would have curled up into a ball and cried, or flounced off to her room and treated us like servants. But she was still going and still treating us like equals. That’s what makes her a princess.

I felt that swell again in my chest, that feeling like a flag being caught by the wind. She was someone I’d follow into battle. “We can’t let anything happen to her,” I mumbled, my throat tight with emotion.

When I glanced at my dad, he was giving me the same look he’d given me back in high school, when I’d told him about Katie Wagner in my math class.

“It ain’t like that,” I told him, pulling him away from the kitchen so they wouldn’t hear us.

“The hell it ain’t. I saw the way you were looking at her. Saw the way she was looking at you.”

I flushed right down the back of my neck. “I’m not the sort of guy she should be with. She’s royalty.”

“Maybe you should trust her to judge for herself.”

“She doesn’t know enough about me to judge! If she knew—”

Dad crossed his arms and waited.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him about the desert and Baker and Felton and Martinez and Drummond. I wanted to tell him about the guilt. I wanted to tell him about the flashbacks and ask if he’d ever had anything like that. But I couldn’t. He was my dad. I wanted him to be proud of me.

So I walked away.

* * *

He’d kept my old room, hoping I’d come back. Even my damn framed football jersey was still hanging on the wall. I’d been a linebacker in high school. That whole small-town life came flooding back to me: harvest time and the state fair and trips to Gold Lake to see the rodeo. Good times. And so utterly different to what her childhood must have been like. Where do princesses go to school? Some place in Switzerland surrounded by the children of presidents and sheikhs?

We had nothing in common. Dad was wrong.

A wave of guilt hit me as soon as I thought of him. I had to talk to him. Hell, if I couldn’t tell him what happened in the desert, I at least had to tell him I loved him. But talking’s not my strong point. Tomorrow. First thing.

We’d agreed over dinner that he and Jakov would take the first watch and Emerik and me the second. I’d barely slept in three days: a few hours on the plane, then a couple of hours at the motel the night before. I changed the dressing on the wound on my leg, then flopped onto my bed and immediately fell into a troubled sleep. I woke up still feeling sand scouring my face and smelling blood on the wind.

I stumbled out into the darkened hallway. Jakov was standing right in front of the Princess’s door, so motionless that he looked like a huge granite statue. Only his eyes moved, scanning the hallway constantly. He gave me a cheerful grin when he saw me and it made my stomach knot. He still had no idea I suspected him.

My dad clapped me on the shoulder and then, as Jakov wandered off to bed, he nodded towards him and shook his head. He hadn’t seen him do anything suspicious. Was I wrong? Or was Jakov just biding his time?

Emerik arrived. His suit was as immaculate as always, his shirt gleaming in the darkness. Does he sleep in that thing? We settled in for our shift. This time, though, I couldn’t resist silently cracking open the door and checking on the Princess. She was sleeping peacefully, chestnut hair trailing down over the edge of the bed, one arm thrown up over her head.

When I turned back to Emerik, he was scowling at me. He’d been a lot less of a pain in the ass, since we’d had our run-in at the diner. But whenever he saw me looking at her, he went right back to hating me. I sighed and looked away.

Then, in the darkness, I heard, “I only want to protect her.”

I turned that over in my mind. Thought about how attached to her he must have gotten, guarding her since she was a child. I softened towards him a little more. “I’d never hurt her,” I muttered.

“That’s not what I mean.”

I felt my shoulders rise defensively. I was glad of the darkness because I could feel my damn neck going red. “Yeah, well don’t worry. I know my place.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Emerik. “I think her highness has feelings for you.”

I tried to let nothing show. But inside, I could feel my heart slamming in my chest like I was some kid in high school being told the head cheerleader was sweet on him. Even though I knew nothing could ever happen. I grunted. I was going to leave it at that, but I didn’t like the way he was babying her. She was the smartest, bravest woman I’d ever known: why did he think she needed him watching out for her? “Even if that’s true, I figure she can make her own decisions,” I muttered.

Emerik gave a frustrated sigh. “Don’t you understand? She’s a princess! Unmarried!”

“I know what she is.”

He was getting more and more worked up. “Lakovia is a deeply traditional country. A princess, until she’s married, remains….” He’d gone red. “You know….”

I just looked at him blankly.

He waved his hand at me, exasperated. “You’re treading on unbroken snow.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I had no idea what he was talking about.

And that’s when I heard her scream.