Danae had been the perfect princess and would have been the perfect queen, the perfect bride and the perfect wife. Serena would be none of those things. Her formal training was untried and she hadn’t been blessed with the grace and elegance her sister had had.
Serena had much to do, much to plan, yet she was spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about the stranger who had saved her life. No one could give her his name. Witnesses who had seen him save her life provided varying accounts of the incident. He had been described as brown-haired and blond, tall and short, overweight and slender.
Someone recalled seeing him speaking to President DeSante, but when questioned, that loathsome man had claimed to know nothing about Serena’s protector. Serena knew how to tell when DeSante was lying: his mouth was moving.
Serena wouldn’t give up looking for the man with the kind eyes. Though her country didn’t have the resources to launch a national manhunt, especially for a man who was a hero, Serena had a few private investigators searching for him. The birthday guest list was being reviewed to see if someone could discover his identity. Whoever brought her information would be handsomely rewarded.
Serena wondered about the man with the gentle, compassionate eyes. Could he have been from Icarus? From Rizari? That would explain why no one seemed to know him. He had been granted entrance to her father’s birthday, meaning he was either invited or had attended as someone’s guest.
Her emotions were volatile, grief amplifying every feeling, and Serena tried not to become frustrated with her inability to find him.
Serena heard tires spinning on gravel. Looking out her second-story window, she saw her uncle Santino driving to her beach house, his off-road vehicle kicking up dirt. Her guards stopped him for a moment and then waved him through. After parking in front of her house, he climbed out of his car, limping as he walked. Though he had a cane, he hated using it, believing it made him appear weak. Uncle Santino had a scar that intersected his right eye and as a child, Serena had called him a pirate. The scar was a result of a tragic boating accident that had killed his wife soon after they were married.
Serena set down her paintbrush. She met her uncle on the wraparound porch, holding up her hands. “I would hug you, but I need to wash up first.”
“Painting again?” he asked.
“Yes.” Art calmed her and the past two weeks had given her many reasons to need serenity.
Iliana poked her head out on to the porch, her long red hair swinging around her shoulder. “Why don’t I prepare tea for everyone?” Iliana was her cousin on her mother’s side and officially Serena’s personal secretary. But their relationship went far deeper than boss and subordinate.
Serena and her uncle had met several times since the massacre. Sometimes they spoke about her father and sister, sometimes about the kingdom and sometimes about nothing of importance.
Santino sat at the kitchen table. With the curtain open, Serena counted four guards at the back of her house. With her being a potential target for yet unknown reasons, her security team wasn’t taking chances.
“When are you meeting with King Samuel?” her uncle asked.
King Samuel had been her sister’s boyfriend and according to Danae, he had been smitten with her. How could Serena put her heart into a relationship that should have been her sister’s? It felt twisted. “He wants to meet tomorrow evening for a dinner party.”
It was her understanding that others would be in attendance, which should make it less awkward in some ways, more stressful in others. Serena would need to behave and speak in a certain manner. Her every action would be scrutinized and criticized. The media would pick apart her clothing, hairstyle and how she accessorized. Serena dreaded it and promised herself she wouldn’t read their articles, which would undoubtedly accent her every inadequacy and include a snarky review of her love life or lack thereof.
“You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?” her uncle asked.
“Not really.” Thoughts of her sister and father kept her awake and on particularly bad nights, she lay in her bed and waited for morning to come.
Nightmares about the night her family had died, nightmares about the mother she hadn’t had in years and nightmares about her future haunted the little sleep she did have.
“Still thinking about the man who saved your life?” her uncle asked.
Sometimes. Often. “Now and then.” Why was she so obsessed with someone she had met once, for no more than a few minutes? If he wanted to be found, he would be.
What if there was a compelling reason he wanted to remain anonymous to her? He might fear the media response. He might not enjoy the idea of his rescue story being printed in the papers. It was another reason she had to keep her search quiet.
“Let it go, Serena. You don’t know what you saw. You’ll go crazy if you let this consume you,” her uncle said.
He had urged her to forget everything she could about that night. Serena wasn’t in any hurry to relive it, although occasionally brief flashes from that night interrupted her thoughts. “I know someone saved me.”
“And then disappeared. He could have been working with the assassins.”
“Yet he chose to kill one of them to save me?” It didn’t make sense. Unless her instincts were totally skewed, her protector wasn’t involved in the plot to kill her father.
“Please let this go, Serena. You will only be hurt again. I can’t stand to see you in more pain. You have enough grief to manage without adding to it. This fixation with him is unhealthy.”
Maybe she was thinking about her protector because it was easier and far more pleasant to think about him than to think about her father’s and sister’s deaths or how much she missed them. Though she had not lived in the castle and had been happy to have some independence, knowing she could reach out at any time was a comfort. Now, she felt alone.
Serena’s uncle wished to protect her. But he didn’t need to protect her from the man who’d saved her. Iliana returned to serve the tea and Serena changed the subject. No point in upsetting her uncle who was wrestling with his own grief over losing his older brother and his niece.
Her uncle left around nine that evening.
“You’re not giving up on finding the mystery man, are you?” Iliana asked.
“Not a chance,” Serena said.
“Why don’t you let me fly to Icarus and speak to DeSante? He knows something about everything and his spies are everywhere. Give me a few minutes alone with him and I can force the information out of him.” She lifted her knee mimicking hitting the dictator in the crotch.
Serena cracked a smile, rare for her these days. “I don’t think that’s advisable. He has big, scary guards and you’re topping out at five foot two.”
Iliana set her hands on her hips. “For you, I’d kick his butt. You know I could. I’m pretty mean when I’m angry.”
Serena loved that about her cousin. She was loyal and spunky and feared nothing. Her business phone rang and Iliana frowned and answered it, her tone professional and cool. “Princess Serena’s office. Iliana speaking. How may I help you?”
Iliana
