Page 3 of Stolen Princess

“Wait! Give us the tiara.”

“Now?” I feign incredulity. “We’ll meet up at the second point.”

“Fuck that. Give it to us. You’ll run out.”

“What? Me?” I point at my chest, not the least bit hurt by their accusation, but let them think I’m a good guy. The sirens are getting louder, and I’m out of time for acting. “Fine. Here!” I reach into my pocket and pull out the tiara. The stones catch in the sun, particularly the giant emerald, and their eyes gleam with triumph. “I hope this shows my love and loyalty.” I toss it at them and run. I don’t stick around to make sure they catch it or get away.

Frankly, I don’t care. If they get caught, it’s easier for me.

Tomorrow we’re supposed to meet up at a warehouse outside of Carona. Tonight, the three of us were going to split up.

Except tomorrow I won’t meet them at the warehouse, and if they get caught and try to drop me to the police or special investigators, they won’t get far. They think my name is Rhys Stephan—like anyone actually has that last name.

So cliché, but Rhys Stephan is infamous.

A wanted jewel thief throughout the EU. A master in his field, never having been caught after over a dozen successful heists. No one knows my real name or exactly what I look like, including Lars and Sven. I always wear some form of disguise with associates. Every police render of me is different and inaccurate.

And fingerprints? I give them none.

I have prosthetics on, same as my face.

I don’t run. This time, I move along the edge between the marsh and the woods, heading in the direction of Messalina and away from Italy. I don’t know how long I walk for, but I’m drenched in sweat, and my high has completely waned, leaving me hungry, thirsty, and utterly spent.

The room I rented for the night is in the opposite direction from here. I pull out my phone, and it shows me I’m in the middle of nowhere, an endless forest of trees and tall grass, along with the marsh that has transitioned into a small river.

I pool my hands under the running water and splash it all over my face and hair before I cup some and take a drink. I pull off my janitor outfit back into a T-shirt and shorts and give myself a brisk rinse, the water cold and refreshing. I don’t dare pull out the necklace. It’s in the trap pocket of my janitor trousers, and that’s where it’ll stay until I can get somewhere safe.

I’ll think about that later, and since it looks like this is where I’ll be camping for the night, I need to find a safe spot. Standing, I peer around, shading my eyes from the intrusive sun, but in doing so, I catch the faintest hint of something in the distance, locked behind a solid wall of thick brush and towering trees.

I squint and rush to the nearest tree, then climb up a few branches until I get a better look-see.

Son of a bitch, it’s a building. Not one that’s marked on my GPS. It’s ancient-looking and likely abandoned, so that’s probably why. It’s not as though someone lives out here in the middle of nowhere. But that’s what makes it all the more perfect for me.

I climb down, traverse the river, and set out into a jog, anxious to get inside out of the sun and openness. The bushes are thicker and more difficult to manage than I anticipated they’d be, all overgrown with sharp vines woven through them. It takes the better part of an hour to work my way through, but once I do, I find myself gaping at the good-sized cottage with a three-story-high tower on one side.

The grounds around the cottage are well-maintained and include three large gardens of vegetables and herbs. My stomach rumbles, begging me to go there first, but my curiosity has its way with me, and I prowl in a crouch to the edge of the first floor toward one of the windows. Slowly, I lift, and when I get a look inside, I inadvertently gasp, sending a flash of fog across the windowpane.

“What in the bloody fuck is all this?” slips past my lips just as a sharp, shooting pain blasts through the back of my skull, and everything goes black.

2

GENEVIEVE

“So, Mother, as you know, in five days it’s my birthday,” I say aloud as I wash the conditioner from my hair. “I was thinking, now that I’m turning twenty-three, I could, um…”

Fuck. I’m already nervous, and she’s not even here yet. There’s no way she’s going to say yes. She didn’t when I turned eighteen or any year after. Ugh.

“I’m keeping you safe, Genevieve. You’re only alive because of me. What if I hadn’t found you that night?” I mock.

Ugh! Yes, she’s keeping me alive, but this isn’t exactly living. She doesn’t understand that I’m not some meek, helpless little girl. If she can make it out there with all the violence and evil everywhere you look, so can I.

Besides, why would someone want to kidnap me again?

I’m an adult. Kidnapping implies a child. Can the world really be that bad?

I finish with my hair, wash my body, shave my legs, and get out of the shower. Gerald slinks into the bathroom as I’m wrapping a towel around myself, managing to scare the crap out of me. I jump and skitter back a step, my hand going to my chest over my racing heart. He gives me a curious look as if to question, who else would it be, and yeah, I guess he has a point.

Gerald isn’t actually my cat because my mother is allergic, or so she claims. He’s feral and lives in the forest, coming and going as he pleases, but he visits a few times a week and eases some of my loneliness. Six days a week, it’s just me. And occasionally Gerald. I count seconds. I count minutes. I dream about a world I’m not sure I’ll ever touch.