Free The Missing Monarch by Rachelle McCalla Page B

bullet protecting Isabelle and Anastasia from some of
Octavian’s cohorts...and the longer Philip was unconscious, the less likely it
became that he’d ever wake up.
    And the less likely it seemed that they’d be able to keep the
kingdom out of Octavian’s hands. If it hadn’t been for allthe sacrifices he’d
made already, Thad might have been inclined to give up. Octavian had his son. He
had every advantage. Thad wasn’t even sure how he was going to get away from
General Petrela, even for a moment.
    He needed a plan. A strategy. When they landed in Sardis, Thad
needed to use every moment of the precious two days Octavian had granted
him.
    But how?
    * * *
    If there was one advantage to having one’s wrists bound,
Monica figured it was that she could keep her hands folded in prayer, even if
she fell asleep.
    Exhaustion reached its greedy claws toward her, threatening to
drag her into slumber, but Monica couldn’t allow herself to nod off. She had to
keep praying. At first it was just for Peter—that God would bewith him, and
keep him safe, and unite them once again.
    But the more she prayed, the more she realized there were other
things to pray for. There was the kingdom of Lydia and the royal family.
    And ultimately, she realized she needed to pray for Thad.
Furious as she was with him, she realized he’d need God’s help if they were
going to get their son back. She’d givenup hoping for a future with Thad after
he’d left her. She’d severed every tie to the man who now sat next to her on
this plane jetting away from her son. But, she realized, Peter and Lydia
wouldn’t be free until Thad was free from whatever it was that encumbered his
faith.
    As she prayed for Thad, he cleared his throat next to her and
she opened her eyes, thinkinghe might have something he wanted to say to
her.
    But he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the
general.
    “There are some preparations I’d like to make from the air if
we’re going to be able to retrieve the scepter in a timely manner once we land.”
Thad spoke in a matter-of-fact voice, without any underlying threat, other than
that implicit in the meaningof his words.
    The general stood and faced them. Monica had both her eyes open
now and watched Marc Petrela as he considered Thad’s request. The man’s beady
brown eyes darted toward the plane’s kitchen, where the guards were, then
narrowed as he looked back at them.
    Monica wondered what he was thinking. Though they’d left
Octavian back on the island, in many ways itwas as though he was still with
them. Anything they said could be repeated back to him by the guards or recorded
by some hidden security device. For all she knew, Octavian was watching them on
a screen right now.
    “What preparations?” the general asked finally.
    “I need to talk to my brother,” Thad said evenly.
    “Why is that necessary? I cannot allow it. You would onlyplot
some way of escaping.”
    “Octavian has my son,” Thad reminded him, anger spicing his
words. “I’m not going to try to escape from you. I won’t do anything to endanger
Peter. But if we’re going to get the scepter in the next two days, I can’t waste
any more time. Let me talk to my brother.”
    The general leaned forward and lifted his eyebrows slightly. “I
canhelp you.”
    Monica felt her heart thumping hard as the seconds ticked by.
What, exactly, was Petrela offering?
    Thad seemed to consider the same question. Tense seconds ticked
by.
    “I need to talk to my brother,” Thad repeated. “If you don’t
have the authority to grant that request, then let me talk to Octavian.”
    “I have the authority.”
    “Then use it.”
    Monica watched the general’s lower jaw shift slowly from side
to side as he mulled Thad’s request. Then, to her surprise, he almost smiled as
he placed his own phone in Thad’s bound hands.
    “Call whoever you need to. I’ll be listening.”
    Thad wasted no time dialing.
    Monica listened as Thad briefly updated his