If you enjoyed Prince of Solana, be sure to check out book two in the Royals of Solana series, Jewel of Solana. Check out the first chapter of Jewel of Solana below!

 

 

Jewel of Solana

 

 

 

 

 

MUD SQUISHED BETWEEN ALANNA’S TOES with every step. She slipped on the damp vegetation, scrambling up the hill in short-heeled sandals. Towering palm trees and banana leaves were the only things covering her escape from the semi-automatic rounds echoing behind her. The darkness of night was nothing to the spotlights around the Royal Palace, the only home she’d ever known. Now infested with a plague of mercenary soldiers.

Under normal circumstances, she could’ve traversed this hill a dozen times before breaking a sweat. Instead, her lungs refused to inflate, cinched by a rubber band of fear. Gunshots ripped through the breeze, rapid-fire like her racing heartbeat. Alanna ducked, but pushed forward through the underbrush, grappling at the bushes with her hands.

Fear wasn’t in her father’s vocabulary, and certainly not in his repertoire of royal facial expressions. Kings didn’t feel fear, let alone show it. Tonight, with wide eyes and pale skin, he’d drawn her against his chest. Then ordered her to run, his final words tinged with regret. And goodbye.

Don’t look back.

Now everything in her world had fragmented.

Alanna’s knee hit the ground, mud soaking her champagne-colored linen pants. Dirt filled under her nails as she struggled to push herself up. She clutched at her collar, steadied by the smooth edges of the precious stones wrapped around her neck. The heavy reminder of her responsibility to get off the island.

“Te veré pronto, I’ll see you again, te veré pronto,” she chanted, her chest heaving and sweat dripping down her lower back. The humidity was as overpowering as the mixed scents of lily and hibiscus blossoms that grew wild all over the island. But it was the crashing waves on the beach on the other side of the hill that kept pulling her forward. The constant call to the salty-sweet water, her place of peace and ultimate salvation.

Go, go, go.

She pressed on, her closest friend and sailing companion living over the next rise. Rona and her father could get her away from Solana, this tiny island country snuggled in the South Pacific. Take her anywhere, away from the madmen now destroying everything she knew.

Twenty years old, and this was the first time in her life she didn’t have at least two royal guardsmen at her side, covering her every waking moment. The thought was almost as terrifying as the massacre she’d just escaped. Pierre and Mario had ducked her through the palace hallways dodging open-fire and ignoring the dead bodies around them. Solely focused on their one charge: to save the princess. They’d only had time to reach the royal vault in the basement to retrieve the crowning jewel of the South Pacific: Luna de Azul, the massive necklace of ammephire stones. More valuable than diamonds, ammephires were only found on Solana.

As they reached the head of the staircase, Pierre took a bullet in the back. She could still see his stunned eyes staring back at her. When she tried to scream, Mario covered her mouth and dragged her the rest of the way to the hidden tunnel through the kitchen pantry that led to the outer gardens. Most of the darkened tunnel was a blur, the terror-induced adrenaline blocking her mental capabilities. When Mario helped her climb up to the gardens, he stayed behind to cover their escape and urged her on without him. She’d been alone ever since. Alone and numb.

At the top of the hill she drew in a ragged breath, and dared to look back at the palace. Men in black camouflage surged over the expansive grounds, easily identifiable in the bright spotlights surrounding the pool and gardens. All looking for her. A giant fireball exploded in the air by the entrance of the Royal Square, lighting up the sky. Boats and yachts were set ablaze in the marina, orange fire and smoky plumes choking the normally picturesque view of the starry Pacific.

Alanna covered her mouth, stifling the scream that wanted out. All her family, including her nephew, had been sleeping when the first explosions rattled the walls. Little Alejandro must have been so scared. She’d urged him to come with her, but he refused to leave his mother’s side. She could only imagine the horror for an eleven-year-old still afraid of the dark. Before Alanna could reach him, the guards pulled her out of the room. A rocket careened from somewhere by the marina, and obliterated the royal guardsmen outpost by the gates.

“Te veré pronto,” she whispered again through tears as gunfire and screams filled the air. Racing down the hill, she went into autopilot and eventually found herself knocking on the back door of Rona’s house. In the glass, her reflection resembled little of a princess. Face streaked with mud and tears. Her blouse and pants caked in dirt and sweat.

A man with a trimmed goatee and a full head of gray hair greeted her in the window. Señor Valera. Rona’s father had the most welcoming eyes she’d ever seen. The man had taught her to sail and scuba dive, and helped her discover a love for the sea beyond a pretty view from the balcony. The only commoner her father had trusted with his daughter’s life outside the palace, though she didn’t think of him as a commoner.

Señor Valera opened the sliding glass door and hurried her inside. “Your Highness, how did you escape?” He ushered her to the back room. Law dictated she be addressed by her title, but this man was like her uncle.

“Mario and Pierre,” she huffed. “But they…” Something caught her throat. “Wait—how did you know?”

“We heard the explosions, and I received a call on the satellite phone from the Head Royal Guardsman.”

“Why would they call you?”

He motioned her to the master bedroom.

“Dios mio! Are you hurt?” Rona dropped the small suitcase and rushed over, careless of the mud and sweat as she threw her arms around Alanna. Rona was the closest thing she had to a sister. They looked alike in many ways. Both tiny, slender, with a shared love of the sea. They’d relied on each other when their mothers both passed around the same time. Alanna’s mother, the queen, from pancreatic cancer, and Rona’s mother from an infected cut she received on the coral reef while scuba diving.

“I’m okay,” she said.

“Rona, niñita, get some spare clothes for Alanna. Quickly!” Señor Valera ordered, not bothering to hide his panic.

Rona dashed out of the room while her father moved to the closet. He pulled up several floorboards and opened a safe concealed underneath. Alanna’s mouth dropped open when he pulled out a large stash of cash, a cell phone, and several passports.

“I’m your contingency plan, Your Highness. We have to get you off the island, now.”

“But I don’t—”

“Forgive my interruption, but you must listen. Protocol is to get you to a secure U.S. consulate off island. This is your decoy passport, not listed on any royal guardsmen file. Your name is now Perina Alanna Kalani. Get used to it. At least until it’s safe to come back.”

She took the passport, opening it to a photo from an informal portrait sitting last year. How did they get this?

“This is an untraceable burner phone,” he continued without giving her a chance to ask questions. “It’s a GSM, but you have to be on land for it to work. It’s useless at sea.”

Rona rushed back into the room, a stack of clothes in her arms. She dropped a flat sandal and tripped over it.

“Para! Just stop!” Alanna ordered. “Who are these people? What do they want?” Tears built in her eyes.

Señor Valera set the bag of cash on the bed and held both her shoulders. “This is the Manila Cartel, without a doubt. The political war your father and the United States DEA have waged with the Lozanos over the last ten years has hit their drug distribution hard. They want Solana for its strategic position in the South Pacific, for the marina and airport. The largest one between Manila and Australia that is the least protected.”

“But what about all the meetings Father had with the U.S. Ambassador? The United Nations? Can’t they intervene?”

“I have no doubt that they will, but politics moves very slowly. We must keep you safe until then.”

The moisture behind her eyes dissipated instantly. “You mean keep me in the dark.”

“Your father and brother have done a tremendous service to the rest of the Pacific by fighting the Lozano family. But they knew it was dangerous and wanted to keep you safe.”

Alanna had seen the brutality of these men firsthand. After only one glimpse into the gruesome side of humanity, she never wished to see it again.

“How do you know all this?”

Señor Valera’s jaw tightened and his gaze turned apologetic. “Your father keeps me in the loop, despite my retirement.”

“Retirement?”

“Royal Guard. Medical discharge fifteen years ago.”

Alanna’s knees shook. He’s one of my father’s men?

She’d treasured the times she escaped to Rona’s house to go sailing, believing the few moments of peace from her security detail resulted from her father’s trust.

She’d been able to breathe out on the water, independence a gift she’d relished. And the Royal Guard had been watching over her the whole time…like she was still a child. Her chest tightened at the lie. Betrayed—by both family and friend.

He gently squeezed her shoulder. “I was ordered not to say anything. For your protection, su Alteza.”

“For your protection, Your Highness.” Fat load of good it’s done now. Alanna moved to the bed and snatched the first blouse and pants her fingers touched. She retreated to the master bathroom and closed the door.

Ignoring Rona and her father’s muddled voices, Alanna crouched in the corner and sobbed into her knees. Royalty wasn’t supposed to show their feelings, or any sign of weakness, especially not tears. Her father had relentlessly pushed that lesson on both of her brothers. But now there was no one here to scold her for it. So she cried harder, until her nose dripped and her head pounded.

Finally, she stood and wiped her eyes. After peeling off the mud-covered clothes, she scrubbed her face with a towel and changed into Rona’s borrowed outfit. The two girls were the same size, thank God, and the comfortable yet functional cotton shirt hugged her small chest without restriction.

She kicked off the destroyed sandals and washed her feet in the bathtub. Wetting a towel and scrubbing her face, she clasped the extravagant necklace around her neck, buttoning the blouse’s collar to conceal it from view. With a last glance in the mirror at her splotchy face, she swallowed hard at the bulk of jewels and their meaning. Reminding her of the family she left behind. Not just her father, but the Crown Prince Tulio, and his wife and son.

Please, God, let them be safe. Let them have made it out.

If something happened to them… Her chest heaved at the thought. Who would be responsible for Solana? Would the crown pass to her, or André? Her eldest brother had been exiled eight years ago, and now lived abroad on their mother’s enormous trust fund. Could he come back? Would he even know of the massacre on their tiny island home?

She fumbled with the keys on the burner phone, calling Andre’s cell. He had to know what happened. Maybe he was close by. She could make her way to wherever he was. But the call went straight to his voicemail.

Mierde!

She dialed again, with the same disappointing result.

“What if they followed her here?” Rona’s hushed voice caught her attention. “They could come after us.”

“Which is why we have to get on the boat right now. Head out before they catch up,” her father answered.

Panic gripped Alanna. After the top of the hill, she hadn’t looked back to see if she was followed. Rona was right. They could’ve tracked her here. Alanna had no idea how to use a gun, besides have the guts to pull the trigger. There’s no way Señor Valera, even as experienced as he was, could defend them by himself. Not with an entire mercenary army raining down on them.

Moments later, the trio rushed down the private dock under a cloudy night sky. The smoke and haze from the palace-attack drifted over the hill like a gathering storm. The unmistakable, metal stench of gunfire loomed in the air. At the end of the dock was Señor Valera’s speedboat, which no longer seemed like an odd choice for a fisherman.

Perfect for a retired royal guardsman.

Señor Valera tossed the bags onto the deck and helped the two ladies on board. Alanna’s feet were sturdy, wearing the canvas shoes Rona had given her. They were a size too large, but still comfortable enough to maneuver in around the boat. She’d go barefoot once out in the open sea.

“I’ll be just a moment.” The former Royal Guardsman ran back toward the house while Rona climbed below deck, leaving Alanna alone at the helm on deck, fingering the wheel and switches.

She’d seen what these men did to the rest of the palace staff. They’d do the same to these two if they found her with them. If they were caught at sea, they could deny everything, claim to be fishing. But only if she weren’t on board.

The thought of her guard, his widened eyes as the bullet pierced his back, made the decision easy.

No one else will get hurt because of me.

Clutching the bag Señor Valera had given her in one hand, she scratched out a note on a pad of paper by the wheel, promising to call when she was safe.

Any U.S. consulate off island was the protocol, so she’d follow it.

Alone.

She jumped out of the boat, raced down the wood planks and into the dark bushes. Dozens of private docks were scattered around the island; almost all of them had a boat of some kind, motor or sailing rig. She could man either one. All she needed was the chance.

The first three docks were empty, and fear sizzled along Alanna’s nerves. Had all these people escaped, or had the madmen captured them? Commandeered their vessels? She’d lost track of how long she’d been running and her lungs were about to give out. Still, staying with Rona was no longer an option.

She crested a small hill, and relief washed over her at the cloud of heaven floating in the middle of a deep inlet.

Jackpot!

The large yacht with running lights on, was poised to depart. A smaller boat, clearly the yacht’s tender by the matching paint job, sat at the docks with a man loading supplies in the back. She didn’t recognize the berth, but the back of the boat read: Breezy Dreams, Brisbane, Australia.

Australia will work.

Alanna crept down the hill, drawing closer to the dock, the man’s focus on loading the boat. Under the dock lights, grease marks marred his thick arms, and his cargo shorts were clearly worn, but still showcasing a nice pair of tanned legs. A moss-colored T-shirt pulled across his back as he worked, displaying thick ridges of muscle in his shoulders. Only when she was a few yards away did he look up.

The most enticing jade eyes she ever imagined fixed on her. She froze, literally mid-step, and gasped. The ten feet between them was the only thing keeping her from reaching out to touch him, to feel if he was real.

A hint of stubble lined his perfectly angular jaw line, his square chin anchoring a face that was nothing short of angelic. His chiseled cheekbones made for a smoldering look, which he’d clearly mastered. His tanned skin defied his Caucasian ancestry. If it weren’t for those glorious emerald irises beneath well-defined eyebrows, she would’ve mistaken him for a Spaniard or Filipino. His dark hair was windblown, as if he’d spent his life on the sea.

Though how could someone as young as him afford a yacht like that? Over a hundred feet long, three decks high with gold plated trim and a helipad on the back. Family money, probably. Or was he part of the staff? Grease marks—perhaps the mechanic or engineer.

“What are you doing here?” The timbre of his deep voice washed over her, her hope of getting on that ship rolling out with the tide.

He’s American?

As an engineer, he probably had no authority to bring her onto that boat. Or to steer it the hell away from Solana. But his simple question made her speechless. Or his accusatory tone.

“What do you want?” His grip on the box of supplies tightened, the challenge in his gaze reminding her of what was at stake.

And of who she was.

She straightened, pulled her shoulders back, and gave him the smile of a princess who was about to give her first command.

“I-I need a ride on that yacht. Right now.”