Chapter 33 — The Princess Fights Back
Amara had been kidnapped twice.
She had no intention of allowing a third attempt to end the same way.
The men holding her believed they had captured a frightened princess whose only value was the ransom her father might pay.
That was their first mistake.
Their second was leaving her conscious.
Amara sat against the warehouse wall with her wrists tied behind her back and watched everything.
Five men inside.
At least two outside.
One door facing the road.
A smaller door near the rear.
Two windows.
Three horses.
One loaded wagon.
And one guard who had been drinking steadily for the last hour.
Amara lowered her eyes whenever anyone looked toward her.
Let them believe she was frightened.
It was useful.
The leader entered shortly before sunset.
“Your father has received our message.”
Amara looked up.
“And?”
“He will pay.”
“You sound very confident.”
“He crossed an ocean looking for you.”
“That part is true.”
“Then he'll pay to get you back.”
Amara smiled.
The man frowned.
“What?”
“I was imagining the conversation you will have with him.”
“There won't be a conversation.”
“Oh, there will.”
Her calmness irritated him.
“You think soldiers are coming?”
“I know soldiers are coming.”
“We'll be gone before they find this place.”
Amara leaned back against the wall.
“You kidnapped the daughter of a king surrounded by royal ships and hundreds of soldiers.”
The man stepped closer.
“You're trying to frighten me.”
“No. I'm trying to understand you.”
“Understand what?”
“How someone survives this long while making decisions this stupid.”
The drunken guard laughed.
His leader turned angrily.
Amara noticed the distraction.
Good.
The more angry they became, the less carefully they watched her.
For nearly an hour, she had been working at the rope around her wrists.
A broken piece of metal protruded from the wooden wall behind her. Each time the guards looked away, she rubbed the rope against its sharp edge.
Slowly, the fibers weakened.
Amara kept talking.
She asked about the ransom.
She asked where they intended to go.
She insulted their plan.
She complained that the warehouse smelled terrible.
By the time darkness began filling the windows, every man in the building was thoroughly tired of listening to her.
Exactly as she intended.
“You talk too much,” one guard said.
“I have been told.”
“Be quiet.”
“No.”
He stared at her.
Amara almost smiled.
That word had caused considerable trouble since she met Alexander.
She remained fond of it.
The guard walked away.
Behind her back, another strand of rope broke.
Almost free.
Outside, a horse suddenly whinnied.
One of the men went to the window.
Amara watched him.
Another guard moved toward the front door.
Something was happening.
Perhaps Alexander.
Perhaps Kellan.
Perhaps her father's soldiers.
Or perhaps nothing.
It did not matter.
Amara was done waiting.
She pulled hard.
The damaged rope snapped.
Her hands came free.
For several seconds she remained exactly where she was.
Nobody noticed.
She quietly untied her ankles.
Then she stood.
The drunken guard turned.
His eyes widened.
“How—”
Amara grabbed the wooden stool beside her and swung it into his legs.
He crashed to the floor.
The second man rushed toward her.
She threw the stool.
He blocked it, but the impact gave Amara enough time to move.
She grabbed a heavy metal pitcher from the table and struck his hand.
His pistol fell.
Amara kicked it across the floor.
“Get her!”
The warehouse exploded into movement.
Amara ran toward the rear door.
A man blocked her path.
He expected her to stop.
She accelerated.
At the last moment, Amara grabbed a sack from the floor and threw it into his face.
He stumbled.
She drove her shoulder into him and slipped past.
Another hand caught the back of her dress.
The fabric tore.
Amara turned and struck the man across the face with the metal pitcher.
He released her immediately.
“Princess!” someone shouted.
Amara reached the rear door.
Locked.
Of course.
She grabbed the wooden bar and pulled.
Nothing.
Behind her, the leader was approaching.
“You're going to regret this.”
Amara turned.
“No. You are.”
He lunged.
She moved aside.
His shoulder struck the door.
Amara brought the wooden bar down across his back.
He collapsed to one knee.
She hit the lock.
Once.
Twice.
The wood split.
Then gunfire sounded outside.
Everyone froze.
Amara smiled.
“That's probably my family.”
The front doors burst open.
Royal soldiers entered.
The kidnappers panicked.
One surrendered immediately.
Another ran toward the rear.
A third reached for Amara.
That was his final mistake.
She drove her knee into him and pushed him directly into two soldiers coming through the broken doorway.
Kellan appeared behind them.
He saw his sister standing with torn clothing, loose hair, and a wooden bar in her hands.
For a moment he simply stared.
“Amara?”
“What took you so long?”
Kellan looked at the unconscious man beside her.
“Did you do that?”
“One of them.”
“How many?”
“I stopped counting.”
Despite the situation, Kellan laughed.
Then Alexander entered.
His face changed the instant he saw her.
He crossed the warehouse quickly.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He looked around at the men on the floor.
Then at the wooden bar in her hands.
“What happened?”
“I became impatient.”
Alexander stared at her.
Kellan laughed again.
“Your princess apparently began the rescue without us.”
Amara handed Alexander the bar.
“You were late.”
“We located you in less than six hours.”
“Unacceptable.”
Alexander almost smiled.
Then he pulled her into his arms.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
The kidnappers who could still stand were placed under guard.
Amara identified the leader.
“That one knows more than he's saying.”
The man glared at her.
“You'll regret this.”
Alexander stepped toward him.
Amara stopped Alexander with one hand.
“No.”
She approached the prisoner herself.
“You still don't understand.”
The man said nothing.
“You thought my father made me dangerous because he is a king. Then you thought Alexander made me dangerous because he is a soldier.”
She looked at the broken ropes on the floor.
“You should have been more worried about me.”
The guards led him away.
Alexander watched her.
“I believe I'm beginning to understand why your brother worries constantly.”
“My brother worries because he enjoys it.”
Kellan heard her.
“I am standing right here.”
“I know.”
Outside, King Adisa waited with the second group of soldiers.
The moment Amara appeared, he hurried toward her.
His relief lasted until he saw her torn dress.
“Who did that?”
“Father.”
“Which man?”
“They're alive.”
“That was not my question.”
Amara kissed his cheek.
“They're prisoners. Keep them that way.”
Adisa looked at Alexander.
Alexander raised both hands.
“I have learned not to argue with her immediately after a kidnapping.”
“A useful lesson,” Kellan said.
Amara glared at both of them.
The King began laughing.
It was partly relief and partly disbelief.
His daughter was safe.
Again.
Later that night, Alexander found Amara alone on the deck of the flagship.
He stood beside her.
“You frightened me.”
Amara's expression softened.
“I was frightened too.”
It was the first time she had admitted it.
Alexander took her hand.
“But I couldn't sit there waiting,” she said. “Not again. The first time they took me, I kept hoping someone would come. This time I needed to know I could fight for myself.”
“You did.”
“I was not particularly elegant.”
“I saw three injured men.”
“Four.”
Alexander looked at her.
Amara smiled.
“Four?”
“The drunken one fell behind the table.”
Alexander laughed.
Then he kissed her forehead.
“Remind me never to kidnap you.”
“Excellent policy.”
He put his arm around her.
Amara rested against him.
She had been born a princess.
She had been made a prisoner.
She had been sold, threatened, hunted, and taken from everything familiar.
But none of those things defined her anymore.
She was not a helpless woman waiting for a captain, a brother, or a king to save her.
Princess Amara could fight for herself.
And her kidnappers had discovered that rather painfully.