Peter’s. And she would never turn her back on her son.
“I never meantto hurt you.” His voice had dropped to a
rumbling whisper, swollen with regret.
Monica fought back angry tears. When they spilled over in spite
of her efforts, she swiped them away, and stepped past Thad toward Deadhorse.
“You failed at that, too.”
* * *
Thad let Monica walk away.
She was right. In spite of all his sacrifices, in spite of his
exile, he’dfailed the one woman he cared about most in all the world.
He’d failed the son he’d never met.
Somehow, he had to make things right again, but he didn’t know
how. He’d done the best he could do, made every sacrifice he knew how to make,
and things had only gotten worse. It seemed Octavian was going to get his way,
no matter what he did. But he would do everything in hispower to keep his
country safe from this madman.
And he would give Monica back her son or die trying.
Dragging his exhausted feet forward, he caught up to her and
handed her his phone. “Here. Call your folks. Let them know what’s up.”
“Octavian said—”
“He said not to contact the authorities. Your parents already
said they were going to call the police. That willonly upset Octavian more. Try
to explain what’s up as best you can, and ask them to keep the authorities out
of it. Peter’s already out of police jurisdiction.”
Monica blew out a long breath and took the phone.
He listened with half an ear as Monica struggled to assure her
parents that she knew who had Peter, and she was going to get him back.
“I don’t know. It’squite complicated,” she explained, over and
again.
“Yes,” she admitted finally. “It does have to do with Lydia, actually. Pray for the kingdom of Lydia,
will you? I don’t think we’re going to get Peter back until the trouble in Lydia
is resolved.” She let out a very long sigh just as a plane cut through the fog,
landing on the Deadhorse strip between them and the outposttown. “Please, I
have to go now. Just pray, okay?”
She closed the call and looked up at him with fear in her
eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her.
“Liar.”
Since there was nothing he could say to convince her otherwise,
Thad didn’t argue. They hurried toward the aircraft and climbed aboard the plane
in silence, settling into the bench seat that tookup most of the tiny cabin.
Monica scooted as far from him as she could get.
The pilot looked back at them, but said nothing before taking
to the sky again.
Wherever they were headed, Thad figured it couldn’t be too far
away. The man hadn’t even bothered to refuel.
From what Thad could tell by reading the plane’s instruments
over the pilot’s shoulders, they neverleft the Arctic Circle. Somewhere between
Alaska and Russia they put down on an expanse of land that jutted upward like a
rotten tooth in the middle of the steel-blue sea.
Thad reached out his hand to help Monica disembark, but she
turned her back to him and hopped out on her own. He stepped down beside her and
looked around. In the middle of the gray crags of rocks, anexpansive sea of
concrete stretched toward a bunkerlike dwelling, its cement sides as bleak as
the sea and the dismal sky and the metallic scent of the air.
“Dear God, keep Peter safe,” Monica prayed in a whisper.
Thad had hurled enough unanswered prayers heavenward to know
better than to bother with something as futile as prayer. But at the same time,
he hated tothink of his young son being held on this gloomy rock. At best, he
hoped the young boy had fallen asleep after a full day of play. After all, the
hour was well past midnight, though the perpetual light of the Arctic summer
illumined even the nighttime sky with its twilit, green-tinged glow.
Armed guards approached them, their uniforms the same gray as
the concrete, therocks and the thin fog of the air they breathed.
“This way.” One of them spoke in a voice devoid of emotion, and
Thad stepped forward, tempted to reach
“I never meantto hurt you.” His voice had dropped to a
rumbling whisper, swollen with regret.
Monica fought back angry tears. When they spilled over in spite
of her efforts, she swiped them away, and stepped past Thad toward Deadhorse.
“You failed at that, too.”
* * *
Thad let Monica walk away.
She was right. In spite of all his sacrifices, in spite of his
exile, he’dfailed the one woman he cared about most in all the world.
He’d failed the son he’d never met.
Somehow, he had to make things right again, but he didn’t know
how. He’d done the best he could do, made every sacrifice he knew how to make,
and things had only gotten worse. It seemed Octavian was going to get his way,
no matter what he did. But he would do everything in hispower to keep his
country safe from this madman.
And he would give Monica back her son or die trying.
Dragging his exhausted feet forward, he caught up to her and
handed her his phone. “Here. Call your folks. Let them know what’s up.”
“Octavian said—”
“He said not to contact the authorities. Your parents already
said they were going to call the police. That willonly upset Octavian more. Try
to explain what’s up as best you can, and ask them to keep the authorities out
of it. Peter’s already out of police jurisdiction.”
Monica blew out a long breath and took the phone.
He listened with half an ear as Monica struggled to assure her
parents that she knew who had Peter, and she was going to get him back.
“I don’t know. It’squite complicated,” she explained, over and
again.
“Yes,” she admitted finally. “It does have to do with Lydia, actually. Pray for the kingdom of Lydia,
will you? I don’t think we’re going to get Peter back until the trouble in Lydia
is resolved.” She let out a very long sigh just as a plane cut through the fog,
landing on the Deadhorse strip between them and the outposttown. “Please, I
have to go now. Just pray, okay?”
She closed the call and looked up at him with fear in her
eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her.
“Liar.”
Since there was nothing he could say to convince her otherwise,
Thad didn’t argue. They hurried toward the aircraft and climbed aboard the plane
in silence, settling into the bench seat that tookup most of the tiny cabin.
Monica scooted as far from him as she could get.
The pilot looked back at them, but said nothing before taking
to the sky again.
Wherever they were headed, Thad figured it couldn’t be too far
away. The man hadn’t even bothered to refuel.
From what Thad could tell by reading the plane’s instruments
over the pilot’s shoulders, they neverleft the Arctic Circle. Somewhere between
Alaska and Russia they put down on an expanse of land that jutted upward like a
rotten tooth in the middle of the steel-blue sea.
Thad reached out his hand to help Monica disembark, but she
turned her back to him and hopped out on her own. He stepped down beside her and
looked around. In the middle of the gray crags of rocks, anexpansive sea of
concrete stretched toward a bunkerlike dwelling, its cement sides as bleak as
the sea and the dismal sky and the metallic scent of the air.
“Dear God, keep Peter safe,” Monica prayed in a whisper.
Thad had hurled enough unanswered prayers heavenward to know
better than to bother with something as futile as prayer. But at the same time,
he hated tothink of his young son being held on this gloomy rock. At best, he
hoped the young boy had fallen asleep after a full day of play. After all, the
hour was well past midnight, though the perpetual light of the Arctic summer
illumined even the nighttime sky with its twilit, green-tinged glow.
Armed guards approached them, their uniforms the same gray as
the concrete, therocks and the thin fog of the air they breathed.
“This way.” One of them spoke in a voice devoid of emotion, and
Thad stepped forward, tempted to reach
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