Page 3 of Dalla’s Royal Guards (Second Chance #3)

One

Island Kingdom of Narva

Present Day:

Crown Prince Sheik Nasser Al-Rashid was leaning over the topographic satellite map of the small, desert kingdom of Kashir along the Mediterranean coast when the door to his office opened, and his brother, Musad, their father, Hari, and his brother-in-law, Mario Marchand, entered.

Straightening, he silently greeted each man with a brief nod of his head.

“How is Lissa?” he asked. He urgently needed to know the condition of his and Musad’s younger sister, but he kept his voice steady against the tensions in the room.

“Weak, but resting. Her fever has broken. Have you… Have you heard anything new?” Mario hesitantly inquired. The exhaustion in his voice was no surprise after such an ordeal, just as the desperation that kept him high-strung and unable to rest himself was no surprise.

Mario and Lissa had barely escaped with their lives from Mario’s kingdom, Kashir, after a coup led by the country’s Prime Minister, Hannibal Crosse, and General Victor Hellman, Kashir’s recently installed Joint Chief of the Military.

During their escape, the couple’s four-year-old daughter, Cianna, and her nursemaid had been separated from them during a heavy firefight. Lissa had been critically wounded, and Mario had been forced to leave their child behind to save Lissa’s life.

Nasser reached out and gave Mario’s arm a squeeze before replying. “Yes. Cianna’s nursemaid sent word through her nephew—they were safe, for now,” he reassured.

“Where?” Mario demanded.

Musad stepped up and rested his hand on Mario’s shoulder. A wild, dangerous light flickered in Mario’s eyes. Nasser and Musad recognized it from their younger days.

“Let us focus on returning Cianna to you and Lissa. You must focus on Lissa,” Musad said.

“Musad is right, Mario. You are the true ruler. Neither Hannibal nor Victor Hellman expected the rebellion sweeping the nation. Hannibal might have disbanded your Parliament, but they are losing control of Kashir. The outside forces they’ve brought in are no match for those that are fighting for their country,” Hari added.

“If they find Nanna and Cianna—” Mario began.

“Nanna’s nephew assured us that they are safe. We will meet him tomorrow night. Musad and I will go in, rescue them, and get them out. I have some of our best men going on this mission,” Nasser promised.

“If anyone—” Mario paused and shook his head.

Nasser nodded. “Hannibal Crosse and Victor Hellman have a lot to answer for. They attacked the Princess of Narva. They should’ve known we wouldn’t stand for it.”

“They know that if they hold my daughter hostage, I will do anything they want. I would resign my position as ruler of Kashir. I would give them access to the Vasbin complex. I’d do it without a second thought if it meant keeping Cianna and Lissa safe,” Mario declared in a low, tortured voice.

“That will not be necessary. You focus on Lissa. Leave Cianna to us. I swear on our lives that we will bring her home safe,” Musad vowed.

Mario nodded. “I know. Once she is… I want Hannibal and Victor’s heads.”

Hari chuckled. It wasn’t a sound of amusement, but one of menacing agreement.

Nasser didn’t miss the calculating expression in his father’s eyes.

His father was a shrewd politician and a compassionate ruler.

Hari Al-Rashid was also a warrior, born from centuries of rulers before him that had protected the large island kingdom in the Mediterranean off the coast of Kashir.

Nasser and Musad were warriors. Preserving the nation’s heart required risk—it always had.

The experience of battle and first-hand risk was an integral part of ruling Narva, and had been from the beginning; because the further removed from his people’s suffering a ruler was, the crueler he or she could became.

It was an odd juxtaposition with the modern age.

Narva’s high cliffs, protected ports, and history made it one of the most popular spots for the rich and famous.

It was also an international financial center known for its vast wealth—wealth built over a thousand years of pirating.

The polish of the present and the intrigue of the past came together into something unique. Daring adventure was in their blood.

“We will retrieve Cianna and then retake Kashir,” Nasser agreed, certainty ringing from his voice.

Over the next four hours, the four men worked out the finer details of the mission.

Ancient maps, held over from Narva’s past rulers, gave them entry to nearly all the countries on each side of the Mediterranean. They pored over the route, comparing satellite intel with hidden passages only locals knew. Nasser would take into the city where Nanna was hiding with Cianna.

Nanna’s nephew, Manny, would meet Nasser and two members of Narva’s special forces. Once Nasser had retrieved Cianna and her nursemaid, Musad and another team would extract them.

“Do you think it is wise to go in with such a small team?” Mario inquired.

“The fewer, the better. We do not want to expose Cianna to the same gunfire that you and Lissa encountered,” Nasser said.

A knock on the door drew their attention. A plump woman with gray hair and dressed in a nurse’s uniform opened the door and looked at them with an apologetic expression before her gaze locked on Mario. Her voice was low and soothing, a balm amid tension.

“My apologies, your graces. Her ladyship is asking for you, Your Grace,” the woman said.

Mario immediately rose from his seat and turned when Nasser stood.

He nodded. “Stay with her,” he encouraged.

“Thank you,” Mario replied. “I know you will do everything you can to bring my daughter home. For that, I will always be in your debt.”

“She is family. There is no need to thank us,” Nasser asserted, his face grim with determination.

Mario released a tense sigh and bowed his head before he turned and swiftly exited the room.

“Hannibal and Victor will pay a heavy price for their greed,” Hari said, folding his arms across his chest.

Musad remained silent, and Nasser knew he was holding something back. Musad had been quieter than usual, his thoughts clearly mulling over a secret concern.

“What is it?” he inquired.

Musad met his gaze, then a guttural curse, thick with anger, filled the quiet room.

Nasser frowned, a deep crease forming between his brows, as his brother rose from his chair with a heavy thud and crossed to the bar.

The ice clinked as his brother filled a glass from the ice bucket, then poured himself a tall, fizzy seltzer water.

Musad meticulously examined the fine crystal glass, holding its cool weight in his palm, before turning to face them.

“Hannibal and Victor couldn’t have done this on their own. Our intel indicates that outside forces are not merely adding to the coup’s numbers, they are the driving force behind the takeover. For the Vasbin,” Musad said.

Hari nodded, his expression grim. “Of course.”

“For all that it has been so recently discovered in Kashir, it has replaced gold and oil as the new global market economy. The weapons made from it would be virtually indestructible,” Nasser murmured.

Musad nodded. “That as well. I seriously doubt that Hannibal and Victor can think that large. Such a resource would be wasted in their feeble hands. No… there is someone else behind this, and they will do whatever they need to do in order to keep it.”

Nasser exhaled sharply. “And with the Vasbin deposits located squarely in Kashir, whoever controls it controls the future of space exploration—and warfare.”

Musad nodded grimly. “The market for Vasbin weapons alone could bankrupt nations—or make kings.”

“You both must make sure that does not happen. Bring my granddaughter home and stop whoever is behind this,” Hari said.

The sun hadn’t risen yet the next morning when Musad made his way down the long, narrow stone staircase. Lava formed the vast caverns; pirates had carved them deeper still.

Stone steps, cold and worn, led from the warmly lit candle shop above, chiseled into the cavern wall centuries ago. Most of the store owners in Narva were descendants of those pirates. The few active entrances to the vast cavern system under Narva were carefully protected by them.

Musad wanted to check the equipment he would be taking on his part of the mission. He nodded to Donovan Ramos, who paused in what he was doing to salute him.

“Carry on,” he ordered.

Donovan nodded. The soldier was one of the six elite special forces members who were traveling with him and his brother. Donovan returned to checking the fishing trawler they would use to meet up with Manny.

Musad still wasn’t happy about his brother’s plan to separate once they reached the shore, despite the fact that it made the most sense.

If one of them was captured or in trouble, the other would be there to pull them out.

Musad was the most experienced in combat, but Nasser and Cianna…

they had a special bond. Something more than just loyalty. Something dangerous.

Musad shook his head. It wasn’t that he was detached. He could understand an emotional bond to someone else. He cared about his brother, sister, and father. Family loyalty, and loyalty to his people and country, meant a great deal to him, and he would gladly give his life in the protection of them.

No, what he didn’t understand was yielding so completely to that great and terrible thing called love .

Love—that insidious, all-consuming emotion that threatened a person’s ability to think . Nasser hadn’t understood why he should be fighting his love for others, despite knowing very well that love had nearly destroyed their father when their mother left.

Her betrayal had left a gaping hole in their family, one that their father had worked hard to fill. And yet Nasser had still woven love into his foundation. Allowed it to drive him. To make him vulnerable. To make others vulnerable.