Princess in Peril. Rachelle McCalla
he let go of the ladder, and Isabelle heard the scraping sound of his shoes against the floor of the tunnel. “Little did your great-grandfather know, he was right—just a century off.”
Isabelle wished she could see his face, but the utter darkness hid everything. So much had happened so quickly, she wasn’t sure she entirely understood what Levi was talking about. “The catacombs run beneath the city of Sardis.” She recalled from history lessons. “Charlemagne built them in the ninth century when he used Lydia as an outpost in his attempt to further his kingdom and the spread of Christianity toward the east.”
In a patient-sounding voice, Levi continued the story. “Lydia has always been a Christian nation, so they supported Charlemagne’s efforts.”
“Even though he was eventually thwarted.” Isabelle wasn’t sure how large a space they occupied, but from the way their voices carried, she judged it to be at least a few meters wide, with a ceiling well above their heads. Tentatively she stepped away from Levi, half expecting to feel cold stone against her back. She felt nothing. With a shiver, she took a step back toward him, unwilling to lose her only human contact in the vast darkness.
“Stay near me.” He cautioned her abruptly. “We need to get moving.”
Isabelle gulped a breath of the cool underground air. She had to think. Too much about this situation wasn’t right, and just because the man knew about the catacombs, that didn’t mean she ought to trust him. After all, there was surely little coincidence between the timing of his appointment and the attack on the royal motorcade. For all she knew he was in on the ambush and had brought her into the tunnel to finish her off or hand her over to a political enemy.
But how could she sort out what to do when she couldn’t even see?
Levi tugged on her arm.
“Hold on.” Isabelle pulled her cell phone from her purse and flicked it open, illuminating the screen, its miniscule light startling in the utter darkness of the tunnel, casting their faces and the rock walls around them in an eerie greenish glow.
“Thank you. That helps.” Levi offered her a slight smile.
To Isabelle, his angled lips looked sinister in the flickering light. “You should take your sunglasses off.”
As she watched his face, his jaw tightened under his close-cropped beard. He seemed reluctant to remove the mirrored shades, which, together with the facial hair, hid his face almost completely. At his hesitation, Isabelle realized she’d never seen him without the sunglasses on, not even indoors. For a moment, she wondered why.
Then he slowly peeled back the lenses and she knew the answer.
Not everyone in Lydia had brown eyes, but the majority of the people did. The country was located west of Macedonia, where the heel of the boot of Italy split the Adriatic and Ionian seas. Most native Lydians, like the people of Greece and the rest of the Mediterranean region, had olive complexions, dark hair and dark brown eyes.
As Levi pulled off his sunglasses, she saw that his eyes were blue.
She couldn’t suppress her startled gasp. If Levi wasn’t Lydian, how had he come to work for the royal bodyguard? The law required every member of the Lydian military to be a citizen—and no one could serve as a royal bodyguard without first serving at least four years in the military. By what deception had Levi tricked her father into hiring him? And what was he planning to do with her?
She realized he still had hold of her arm, and she wished there was some way she could pull away and nonchalantly put some distance between them. But Levi remained close to her in their small circle of light. Fear found its way into her voice. “The royal bodyguard draws its team from the elite of the Lydian military forces. Only citizens of Lydia can join the military.”
“I am a citizen of Lydia.”
“How is that possible?”
“My mother is Lydian. My father is American.”
Isabelle felt her eyes narrow. Was he baiting her? Her father, King Philip of Lydia, had married an American—her mother, Queen Elaine. But it was a rare combination, and she found it doubly suspicious that she and Levi had something so unique in common. “Who do you work for?”
“The Lydian government.” Impatience flickered in his blue eyes. “We should get moving.”
“I don’t trust you.”
His expression relaxed slightly. “I sensed that. If you will agree to keep moving, I will explain a bit more of who I am and what I know of this afternoon’s attack.”
Isabelle’s mouth opened slightly as she weighed her answer. Should she move farther into the darkness with this stranger? Every warning bell inside her clamored against it. Yet really, what choice did she have? Surely only danger waited above them. “Where are we going? What about my family? They were up there in the motorcade—”
“We can’t do anything to help them now. You have a responsibility as a member of the royal family not to endanger yourself, correct?”
“Yes.” Isabelle felt her shoulders droop with resignation. How many times had her parents reminded her of that fact? Every time she left the country—every time she’d ever tried to do anything on her own. Even her humanitarian work overseas was often hampered by her royal obligation to her own safety.
“Then you can’t go back up. We can only go forward.” He looked down at the dim light from her cell phone. “We should save the battery. Close that—we can walk in darkness.”
A protest rose to Isabelle’s lips, but she doubted it would do her any good to voice her fears. Levi was right about the light. There was nothing more for it to illumine—just the stone walls of the catacomb, and they could feel their way along those well enough. Surely the light would become more urgently necessary in the future. He was wise to advise her not to waste it.
She snapped the phone shut and the light went out, leaving them in total darkness again. “Explain, then. Who are you? And what just happened up there?”
Levi cupped her elbow with one hand. In the total silence of the tunnel she could hear his other hand skimming along the wall as they moved cautiously down the cobbled floor. The blue-eyed bodyguard began his story.
“My father works for a Christian organization called Sanctuary International. Their primary mission is to help religious refugees find asylum. Thirty-five years ago, when he was working in the Balkan region, he formed close ties with your father. Lydia is one of the few countries in the region where religious freedom is zealously defended, and your father proved to be an invaluable ally.
“During that time, my father and mother met and were married, but they returned to the United States before I was born. I received dual Lydian-U.S. citizenship through my parents, and though I was raised in the United States, I often spent summers visiting my grandparents in Lydia.”
Levi paused. “The wall curves away,” he murmured, “and I suspect it forks.”
Before he finished speaking Isabelle had her phone out, and its tiny light illuminated the two branching tunnels gaping open in endless darkness. The bodyguard glanced between them before nodding. “This way.” He didn’t hesitate to step forward down the right-hand branch.
“Why this way?”
“After two more turns we will be below the Sardis Cathedral. It should be safe to exit there.”
“How do you know the catacombs so well?” Isabelle closed her phone reluctantly, still suspicious of his motives in spite of his story.
“I’ve been studying them for the past six days.”
“Why?”
Levi seemed to struggle with how to answer her. Once again, Isabelle’s suspicions were raised. Was he really who he said he was? Did the history he told her really happen, or was he simply making it up to placate her until the rest of his nefarious plans could be accomplished?
His