She smiles. “Mom wouldn’t have dug a well to hide the key.”
Very slowly, I begin to sweep the metal detector over the uneven ground inside the cavity, listening for any changes in its steady hum. Suddenly, it emits a beep.
Charlie and I trade looks, hope surging through me.
It’s probably nothing, like before.
I try to dampen my excitement as I use both my trowel and my hand to dig the spot where the detector pinged. My gloved fingertips brush against something hard. Its surface is flat and smooth… I pull the object out of the dirt. It’s a small grime-covered box made of stainless steel.
My heart pounding in my chest, I open it, revealing an antique key.
I’ll be damned!I glance at Charlie for confirmation, not daring to believe my eyes.
She takes the key and examines it. “I think it’s the one I saw in Mom’s hands.”
Although remarkably like the other four keys that our royals have recovered so far, this one is slightly bigger and more ornate. On its bow, two artfully crafted hands, their fingers gracefully curved, come together to create a cuplike shape. The minutely etched details of the hands, from the creases in the fingers to the fingernails speak to the artisan’s mastery of his craft. Nestled securely between the hands is a stylized octagonal gemstone, its facets implied by small crosses and notches.
It’s the sigil tattoo on my left arm.
This is it, the fifth Montevor key.
A sense of accomplishment washes over me. “We did it, Charlie! We found it.”
“We must document this moment!”
Joy dancing in her eyes, she sets the key against the wall, pulls out her phone and snaps a series of pics. Then she photographs it on the ground, against the sky, against the vines.
I let her. She’s having a blast, celebrating, and immortalizing her achievement, while posing no risk to the principality. Even if one or more of her pics get out and somehow fall into Kurt’s hands, what harm can they do? None whatsoever.
Hell, he can have them all, as long as we have the key!
Charlie hands me the key. Reverently, I feel its weight in my hand.
“You can caress it later,” she says. “Now hold it up and turn it around slowly.”
I do as she instructs, and she snaps a few more pics of the key, while commenting on the beauty of the craftsmanship.
Despite the thrill and the gravity of the moment, I’m reminded of how Stella photographed my tats when we were trying to figure out which of them was the “mark.” She took way too many pictures, some of them so long and wide I wondered whether my tattoo was the real subject of her photographic binge or my person.
When Charlie is done, I put the key back in its box and stick the box in the zipper pocket of my hiking pants. After that, I send a coded message to Adam from my burner phone, requesting a helicopter and an extraction team. And then, we pack up our gear and retrace our steps through the park, which is now radiant with sunshine and alive with visitors.
The moment we reach the spot by the river where we’d landed, I know something is wrong. A twig snaps behind me. My eyes dart toward a patch of trees as a dozen armed men in camouflage erupt from their hiding places. They encircle us in an instant, thrusting their guns toward our chests. It’s an ambush!
I spot Kurt Ozzi grinning with satisfaction from behind his men, reveling in his victory. He has every reason to be happy. His efforts finally paid off. He saw through our security measures and decoy strategies, circumvented them, and outmaneuvered us. He got to the key before it could be sequestered away from him.
All that happened while I, Sir Darrel Vlovsky, the fifth key seeker, was in charge.
DARREL
Moving lightning fast, I draw my pistol and train it on one of Kurt’s mercenaries. I have enough bullets to make a fight out of it. But I don’t pull the trigger. I wouldn’t have hesitated if it was only me. I would’ve fought them until my second to last bullet or until my death—whichever came first. If I’d managed to come out alive with that last bullet in the chamber, it would’ve been for me. At least, I would’ve died an honorable death.
But Charlie is beside me. She’ll go down with me if I choose to fight.
“Drop the gun!” Kurt’s men shout as they close in.
Charlie doesn’t deserve to die just because I’d rather die than be held captive again.
My fingers curl open, and the gun drops to the grass below.
