She heard the lock click and then rattle as it was thrown to the side. Every muscle in her body tensed in preparation for the lid to open. Sweat beaded her forehead and trickled down her neck as her dread increased.
She braced her hands on either side as the lid slowly started to open. Her legs arched and she prepared to lash out.
Then Merrick’s head appeared over the side, and all the tension left her body in one fell swoop. She sagged against the bottom like a limp washing rag.
“It’s safe now,” he said, extending a hand to help pull her out.
As her head cleared the top of the crate, she looked out to see chaos around her. The entire cargo hold looked like a war had been waged. In the far corner, three surly looking men sat bound together. The captain and several members of his crew stood to the side holding pistols on the captured men.
“What happened?” she demanded as she stepped over the side of the crate. Merrick held his arms out and lowered her to the floor beside him.
“These men came aboard posing as inspectors. Never mind that we haven’t such in England,” he said dryly. “Their accents are as deplorable as their manners.”
“They are Leaudorian?” she asked, her eyes growing wide. Not waiting for an answer, she rushed forward. She stood above the tied up men and stared down at them with all the royal bearing she could muster. “Who are you?”
They grunted at her in response.
“Well, you obviously know who I am,” she said in a steely voice. She turned and walked a few steps away then turned back to them in a casual stance. “And you also must know that when I return to Leaudor, I become queen.”
A flicker of fear shone in the eyes of the man in front before he looked down.
“And you must also know what we do with traitors in Leaudor.” Her voice was icy now and conveyed all the hatred she felt for the people who had murdered her family.
“You won’t ever be queen,” one of the other men spat.
She fixed him with a glacial stare. “Yes, I will. And when I am queen, you three will rot in Laugerfeld.”
Two of them paled at the mention of the much feared prison. Most preferred death to a sentence there, and it was reserved only for the most heinous of criminals in Leaudor. Indeed in the past one hundred years, it had housed only twenty-five persons.
“Can you lock them away, Captain?” she asked, walking calmly over to where he stood. “Perhaps if they later decide to speak to their queen, she might consider a lesser sentence.”
With a haughty flip of her head, she nodded to Merrick to assist her from the cargo hold. He obeyed without question, an astonished look on his face.
A few minutes later, they were topside, and she uncurled her fingers from the tight fists she had formed. She rubbed her hands over her arms to warm herself then blew on her hands. Anger still simmered beneath her surface, and she fought to relax her clenched jaw. No one. Absolutely no one would keep her from her goal. She would lie cold in her grave before she allowed Montagne a clear path to the throne.
Coward. Couldn’t even face her himself. Had inept henchmen to do his dirty work for him.
She let out a deep calming breath and moved to the side rail of the ship. In the distance, she could make out the faint outline of Dover as they put more distance between them and England. And brought her one step closer to going home and fulfilling her destiny.
She could feel Merrick’s gaze on her, probing and assessing. His scrutiny made her uncomfortable so she turned to face him. “Is something amiss?”
The perplexed look on his face faded rapidly away, and he closed the distance between them. “No, not at all.” He paused a moment and cocked his head sideways at her.
She arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
“Well, I suppose I was a bit taken aback back there. That is, I don’t suppose until now that I truly saw you as the future Queen of Leaudor…Your Highness.”
Discomfort plagued her at his words. He sounded so stiff, so formal now. Not at all like the man who had endured so much with her in the past several days.
“Can you not look beyond who I will become and concentrate on who I am?” she asked in a near pleading voice.
“In a few days, my familiarity will not only be unseemly, but disrespectful,” he said stiffly. “I just cannot credit that you will be queen. Not the woman…”
His voice trailed off into nothing, and he compressed his lips together as if regretting what he was about to say.
“Not the woman what?” she prompted softly.
He glanced back up at her, his eyes barely discernible in the soft glow of the lanterns bobbing back and forth as the crew passed above and below deck.
