Page 36 of Dalla’s Royal Guards (Second Chance #3)

Twenty-Four

“What were you and Lissa so focused on at breakfast?” Nasser asked as he guided Dalla around a woven basket stand at the edge of the open-air market.

“The changes in weapons since black powder was invented. Though dying by the blade is no less excruciating,” Dalla said, pausing for a moment to finger a beautiful basket as she thought about it before she shook her head. “Honestly, all the ways I have died have been painful.”

Musad, who was trailing a few paces behind them with a satchel of dried figs and preserved lemons slung over his shoulder, grunted with displeasure. “That… doesn’t sound like a very good morning conversation.”

“And talking about returning to fight in Kashir is better?” she retorted, reaching out to snag a candied date from the sample platter a vendor held out.

She popped the treat into her mouth to keep from making another caustic retort.

Closing her eyes as the delicious flavors burst in her mouth, she gave the vendor a pleased grin.

“These are delicious! Can we get a bag of these?”

Nasser chuckled at her pleading expression. “We’re going to need a bigger car to get home if she keeps this up,” he teased before looking at the delighted vendor. “We’d like a bag of these, please.”

“With pleasure, sires,” the vendor replied with a huge smile.

“The market hasn’t changed much. Well, except that it is cleaner, has more items, the road is paved instead of dirt, mud, or rocky, and you pay with a flat card instead of coins,” she mused, glancing around with delight at all the colorfully dressed residents and tourists.

“Okay, I take it back. It has changed a lot.”

“I can see you here, back then, enchanting the merchants as much as you have enchanted Musad and myself,” Nasser said, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips. The tender press of his mouth on her knuckles was as natural now as breathing.

“Would you like to see the ruins of the original fort that was here?” Musad asked.

“It’s still here? It wasn’t in great shape even when it was first built. I swear the carpenters were all drunk,” she exclaimed.

Nasser chuckled as he and Musad guided her through the market. He gazed around them as they walked, listening as Musad and Dalla discussed what the fort and life had been like back then.

They left the vibrant buzz of the market behind as they made their way along a tree-lined footpath that wound through the cliffs.

The air grew saltier, the sound of the sea nearer.

The remnants of the old fort loomed ahead—crumbling walls overtaken by wild vines but still solid in places, its bones refusing to vanish.

He felt something off, though. A strange tingling sensation swept over him.

He couldn’t pinpoint a cause for the feeling, but Musad caught his gaze and gave him a curt nod.

His brother felt something as well. While he didn’t want to cut short their day, Dalla’s safety was paramount to anything else.

He slowed just enough to fall behind them so he could call Donovan, who had a team following them.

“Do you see anything?” he asked.

“Nothing. Do you see anything?” Donovan replied.

“No, but—” he released a frustrated breath. “Keep your eyes open. We are going to take her back to the palace after we visit the fort. Have a vehicle ready for us.”

“I’ll have the team do another sweep, and I’ll be there to pick you up,” Donovan said.

He hung up the phone, and Dalla turned and lifted her hand to him. He picked up his pace and gave her a reassuring smile when she looked at him with a worried expression.

“Is everything alright?” she murmured.

“Everything is fine. So, tell me about this group of pirates that thought to whisk you away,” he teased.

Dalla paused as they neared the arched entrance, her hand brushing the worn stone. “It’s changed… but—” she murmured. “I have many good memories here.”

Nasser watched a gamut of expressions cross Dalla’s face as they entered the fort. He would never get tired of watching her. She reminisced about each room as they climbed up to the parapet of the fort where they could look out over the vibrant sapphire waters of the Mediterranean.

He kept Dalla distracted with questions while Musad scanned the surrounding ruins silhouetted against the vivid sky. He hoped that Musad could find whatever had put them on edge.

“Hard to believe I actually stayed here. Everything is much easier now. No mud, no stink of sweaty bodies that haven’t been washed in months or longer, and thank the Gods for your plumbing.

I assure you the market and this fort did not smell as fresh as it does today,” she laughed with a shake of her head.

“I think we’ve spoiled her,” Musad said in a teasing drawl. “Three days of markets, sunshine, and shameless affection, and all she can think about is our modern plumbing.”

“You have to admit that it is a marvelous place to?—”

Nasser twisted her around and covered her lips with his before she could finish her sentence.

“Careful, love—there are children nearby,” he chuckled.

Dalla’s face turned a pretty pink when three teenage boys made cat-calls as they passed behind them.

“Get it, old man!” one boy laughingly encouraged.

“Hell, I wouldn’t mind getting a little of that,” another ribbed.

“Burning hot, babe!” a third complimented before he stopped and stared at her for a moment. “Hey, doesn’t she look like the girl that’s all over the internet?”

““Let’s move on. We should return to the palace,” Musad said, his steely, disapproving gaze following the teens.

“There is one spot that I would like to see before we go,” she said.

“Where is it?” Nasser asked.

“It isn’t far. I’m curious to see if an old passage has been found.

Several captains I knew used it to smuggle in barrels of liquor from the mainland so they could avoid paying the port tax,” she said, walking to the end of the parapet and down another set of uneven stone steps cut into the rock.

“The pirates call this the Fort of the Black Tide.”

“I read that was because the sea turned black with the blood of those who tried to capture the island,” he replied.

Dalla laughed and shook her head. “Few wanted to capture the island. The trade was too good, and the pirates were actually good for business, providing merchandise and spending a good portion of the coins they earned. The name came from the black flags flown by the pirate ships. They stored their spoils here. Every so often, someone would vanish, only to return with gold, wine, spices, or women.”

“Weren’t you afraid? It seems like it would have been a harsh time and place to be a woman,” Musad asked with a frown.

“I am the daughter of a Viking! We were as fierce as any pirate,” she scoffed.

“I was a warrior and recognized as one. I had earned the respect of both the King of Narva and the King of Kashir.” She paused halfway down the stone steps, looking down at a spot that had been dug out but had partially collapsed in the time since.

“I once outdrank a Crete captain in that spot. It was a tavern. Then there was Raoul. He was from Spain. He was trying to impress me. I left him sleeping in a barrel.”

“Remind me never to challenge you to a drinking contest,” Nasser chuckled.

He was about to step down beside her when the prickling on the back of his neck returned, subtle but persistent. He turned, letting his eyes scan the nearly empty ruins behind them.

A gust of wind stirred the trees, their leaves rattling like bones. Nothing else moved. He frowned when he didn’t see Donovan or any of the security team.

Musad came to stand at his shoulder. “Something wrong?”

“Maybe. I think we should go.” His unease was a knot low in his gut that refused to unravel.

“We can always come back another time,” Musad said, his gaze now sweeping the horizon.

Dalla looked between them, her posture straightening as her senses kicked in. “It’s too late,” she said softly, turning her face into the breeze. “I-I can feel it.”

Nasser reached for her hand, gripping it tight.

“What do you feel?” Musad demanded, turning toward her.

“My time is up. It can’t be changed,” she murmured, her eyes focused on a vision of the future that they couldn’t see.

She turned eyes that glittered with unshed tears to him and Musad. Her fingers tightened around his hand as an expression of grief flashed through her eyes.

Denial filled him, and he shook his head. He wouldn’t let this happen. He would let her go.

“There is no need to tempt fate.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “We won’t let you go. No matter what, Musad and I will protect you this time.”

Dalla turned haunted eyes to him. “But who will protect you and Musad?”

Debra Carr-Myers adjusted the wide brim of her floppy hat as she leaned casually against a stone ledge halfway down the outer slope of the old Narvan fort ruins.

The Mediterranean sun was brilliant, even later in the day.

Fortunately, the light cotton blouse and red capris she wore—along with the oversized sunglasses and sensible walking shoes—made her indistinguishable from the other tourists wandering the site that afternoon.

She blended in. That was the point.

She had been tailing the trio—Musad, Nasser, and the woman they called Dalla—for nearly an hour now. They moved through the ruins with an ease that hinted at familiarity, stopping at stalls, laughing softly, their body language intimate, protective.

From their chemistry, she would say they were in a polyamorous relationship. She knew that it wasn’t uncommon in Narva, where old customs still thrived.

Whatever floats their boat, she thought.

When they stopped on the parapet, she raised her phone, snapping a few shots. Dalla’s long, blonde braid glinted in the sunlight as it swayed against the back of her azure-colored blouse. A moment later, Musad leaned down to whisper something in her ear, his hand resting on the small of her back.