with her brother and killed him? Were the rumors true? Was she even now in the same boat her brother had been in?
Just as terror began to choke her and waves of sorrow wash over her, Kirk poked his head into the dark cabin. The sinking sun outlined his broad shoulders. “You can come out now if you keep your head down.”
“Okay.” Her voice wobbled, but she held back her tears and stood. At the very least she wanted to see where they were and where Kirk was taking her.
She’d kicked off her high-heeled shoes and now followed him barefoot onto the deck, the hem of her long gown brushing against her toes. The little boat dipped among the gentle waves, and Stasi had to focus on keeping her legs steady.
The first stars twinkled in the eastern sky, so much brighter out at sea than they ever were in the city. The red light of the setting sun spilled like blood across the western sky, coloring the sea, and Stasi tried not to read it as an omen of her family’s fate.
Shuffling forward to stand near Kirk at the prow, she tried to evaluate their position, but between the darkening sky and her tear-blurred vision she could hardly see anything. In the dark of the boat’s cabin, the horror of what she’d seen on the streets of Sardis had seemed so far away, like a scene from a movie, like something she could walk away from when the lights came on.
But out here on the deck, with the same balmy breeze that had warmed her when the first blast had struck the motorcade, the reality didn’t seem so distant, the bloodred waters painting too vivid an image of what may have happened. Her stomach lurched with the rocking of the boat.
“You’re holding together well,” Kirk observed.
Stasi tried to nod, but a spasm of loss and terror clenched at her stomach. Was her family gone? Were they dead? All of them? As the boat rocked up and then down, Stasi leaned over the side, losing what was left of her lunch into the sea.
A moaning sob escaped her lips.
“It’s all right.” Kirk grabbed a towel from somewhere.
Stasi wanted to correct him, to assure him that nothing was right, or ever would be again, but all she could do was grab the low rail that edged the side of the boat, gagging and heaving nothing from her empty stomach.
“You’ll be all right.” He dabbed the corners of her mouth with the towel before she leaned forward and retched dry air toward the salt sea.
She shook her head and gasped for breath. Couldn’t he see? “I’m not.” She gripped her stomach as it threatened to lurch again. “Not all right. Nothing is all right.” She panted, trying to catch her breath and settle her shuddering stomach.
“Shh.” Kirk’s head bent suddenly close as he soothed her. “Deep breaths. Don’t gulp air. You’ll only make it worse.”
She shoved him away and took a step back. “How can I make it worse?” Her voice rose as she looked up at him. “How can I possibly make it worse?”
But rather than give her the space she desired, he stepped closer this time, his voice low, his hazel eyes flicking to the skyline and back to her. “Keep your voice down. If you get caught, I guarantee things will get worse in a hurry.”
Fear shot through her sorrow, deflating it somewhat. “Caught?”
A patient look settled across his features as he worked with the sails. “The rebels behind the attack this evening.” He spoke so quietly, she found she had to step closer just to hear him. “You don’t think they’ll be content to just scare you off, do you? That wasn’t a demonstration by an unhappy fringe group, in case you were wondering. No, that was a coordinated attempt, and I fear they may have the military on their side.”
His words were in plain English, the official language of Lydia, yet she couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. As Kirk untied the line that held a sail, Anastasia followed him. “The explosions?” She ducked as he swung a jib around past her, then stepped closer again as he used it to catch the breeze. “You think the military attacked the royal motorcade?”
Kirk remained silent as he tied a complicated knot that held the rope taut.
“My father is the head of the military.” She tried to sort out what had happened, as though it was a game of hide-and-seek like they’d played as children, and if she could just solve the riddle, her family would reappear. “You said you’d heard rumors. An uprising?” She followed him back as he unlocked the rudder, aligning the small boat with their altered course. “Kirk—talk to me. What do you know?”
“Nothing for certain.” He took the steps down to the cabin and ducked out of sight.
Infuriating. The silent man would yield no more answers today than he had six years before when she’d asked him about her brother. She followed him below, but rather than answer her question, he stepped past her and went back on deck, still busy sailing the boat.
“Kirk!” She followed him back into the open air.
“Shh!” This time his face bent so close to hers their foreheads nearly touched. “I told you to keep your voice down.”
Stasi glanced around at the open sea. Yes, there were boats in the area, but they were far enough away and none of them seemed to be paying them any extra attention, and it was unlikely they’d be able to hear her unless they were listening closely.
But what if they were listening closely?
Chastened, she gripped her stomach before it could spasm again. “Kirk, please.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn’t care. “I don’t understand what happened. My family—” She gulped a breath, her words cutting in and out in a high squeak of emotion. “I don’t know what happened to my family. I don’t know where we’re going or who’s after me.” Tears flowed freely at the thought of her family members being injured or killed. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.”
“You can trust me. Have I ever hurt you before?”
“You took my brother away.”
“I didn’t take him away. He left. I simply kept my promise not to tell anyone where he went.”
“So Thaddeus is alive?”
“He was last I checked.”
Stasi nodded, though Kirk’s words did little to reassure her. She’d never understood why her brother would go away and not give them any proof of his survival. Another sorrowful spasm racked her stomach, and she moaned.
“Here.” Kirk extended a silver-wrapped piece of gum toward her. “Peppermint. To settle your stomach.”
“Thank you.” Stasi doubted the little stick of gum could overcome the unsettling effects of all she’d witnessed, but she appreciated his gesture. She popped the gum into her mouth, thinking if Thaddeus really was alive, she wasn’t completely alone.
Kirk altered the course of the boat again, weaving them in between small islands. “You can trust me. I didn’t betray your brother, not even during his murder trial. And I won’t betray you.”
“What does that mean?” She held his arm, a thick, strong one, feeling his muscles flex as he worked the ropes of
