Chapter 3 - THE PRICE OF A PRINCE
By noon, Althea had become a country hunting for a four-year-old boy.
Photographs of Alexander appeared on every television station.
His brown hair.
His serious gray-blue eyes.
The tiny gap between his front teeth.
The blue sweater he had been wearing when Captain Moreau led him from the command center.
We did not announce that the missing child was the Crown Prince.
We didn’t need to.
Everyone knew his face.
Every road checkpoint doubled.
Harbor patrols searched yachts.
Military helicopters swept forests outside the capital.
Thermal imaging teams scanned abandoned estates.
And beneath the palace, I stood before a digital map covered in red points while my husband sat under armed guard ten feet behind me.
I had objected to Julian being brought into the command center.
Amelia had objected harder.
But the tribunal had temporarily authorized it after Julian claimed he possessed information connected to Duke Ashbourne’s network.
Not immunity.
Not freedom.
Access.
Limited, monitored access.
Julian looked around the facility like a man touring the ruins of his own arrogance.
“You had all this beneath the palace?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Longer than you’ve been Crown Prince.”
He looked toward the analysts.
“They knew who you were?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody told me?”
I finally faced him.
“That is generally how classified intelligence works.”
His mouth tightened.
Three years earlier I would have softened the sentence.
Not anymore.
Amelia approached with a tablet.
“The blood from the transport is not Alexander’s.”
My knees weakened so suddenly that I gripped the console.
“Whose?”
“Captain Moreau’s. Likely transferred from his coat during the abduction.”
I closed my eyes.
One second.
That was all I allowed myself.
“Good.”
“Also, traffic cameras recovered the medical transport entering Saint Orson Bridge but never leaving the eastern side.”
“A transfer vehicle?”
“Likely underneath.”
Julian stood.
“Ashbourne maintains an old emergency tunnel near the river.”
Every head turned.
I stared at him.
“What tunnel?”
“It was built during the Second Continental War. It connected the palace supply route to the old customs warehouses.”
Amelia’s expression hardened.
“That route was sealed in 1978.”
Julian shook his head.
“Officially.”
“You knew it remained operational?”
“My father showed it to me when I was sixteen.”
“Why?”
“In case the royal family ever needed evacuation.”
I stepped closer.
“Who else knows?”
“Eleanor. Maybe Serrano. Ashbourne definitely.”
“Victoria?”
“I don’t know.”
Amelia issued instructions to two analysts.
A map appeared.
Underground architecture unfolded beneath the capital.
The tunnel ran from Saint Orson Bridge toward three riverfront warehouses.
One had been demolished.
One belonged to the Ministry of Culture.
The third was privately owned.
ASHBOURNE MARITIME HOLDINGS.
Of course.
“Teams?” I asked.
“Seven minutes out.”
“No sirens.”
“Already ordered.”
Julian moved toward the screen.
A guard blocked him.
He stopped.
“Evelyn.”
“What?”
“If Ashbourne took Alexander, he won’t keep him there.”
“I know.”
“He’ll use the warehouse to move him to the river.”
“I know.”
“There’s an old diplomatic dock beneath it.”
I looked at Amelia.
Her fingers moved across her tablet.
“No registered dock.”
Julian gave a humorless laugh.
“That’s the point.”
I hated needing him.
But hating useful information did not make it less useful.
“Get harbor command on the line.”
Amelia nodded.
My headset crackled.
“Director, tribunal judge requesting immediate contact.”
“Not now.”
“It concerns Queen Eleanor.”
I looked toward the security feed.
Eleanor sat in a private chamber upstairs with two constitutional officers.
Calm.
Immaculate.
Still wearing the sapphire necklace.
“Put it through.”
Justice Helena Ward appeared on the monitor.
“Director Vale.”
“Justice.”
“Queen Eleanor has offered cooperation in exchange for conditional immunity.”
Julian shot to his feet.
“She what?”
I ignored him.
“What kind of cooperation?”
“She claims knowledge of Duke Ashbourne’s contingency plans.”
Of course she did.
“How much immunity?”
“Protection from prosecution related to the medical conspiracy, provided she had no role in the abduction.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“Mother never waits for the ship to sink before stealing the lifeboat.”
I looked at him.
“You learned from someone.”
His smile disappeared.
Justice Ward continued.
“The tribunal requires your operational recommendation.”
My answer should have been immediate.
Eleanor had authorized medical abuse against me.
She had participated in an effort to steal my child.
She had publicly humiliated me for years.
Every part of me wanted to let the law crush her.
But Alexander was missing.
“Give her provisional protection.”
Julian stared at me.
Amelia did too.
“Conditional on actionable information leading directly to Alexander.”
Justice Ward nodded.
“I’ll prepare the instrument.”
The screen went dark.
Julian walked toward me until the guard stopped him.
“You’re giving her immunity?”
“I’m buying information.”
“She helped drug you.”
“Yes.”
“She helped me prepare custody.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re protecting her.”
“If she can help bring my son home, she can walk out of this palace wearing every sapphire in the royal vault.”
His face changed.
I stepped closer.
“That is the difference between us, Julian.”
“What?”
“You always cared more about winning than Alexander.”
“That is not true.”
“You were willing to traumatize his mother in order to possess him.”
“I thought you would take him away.”
“So you decided to destroy me first.”
“I panicked.”
“For nine months?”
He looked away.
I let him.
There are excuses too pathetic to deserve interruption.
The secure door opened.
Queen Eleanor entered.
No handcuffs.
Two officers behind her.
She looked at Julian.
He looked at her.
Something ancient passed between them.
Mother and son.
Monarch and heir.
Co-conspirators discovering loyalty had expiration dates.
“You betrayed me quickly,” Julian said.
Eleanor removed one glove.
“I taught you never to confuse sentiment with survival.”
“You’re giving them Ashbourne?”
“I’m giving them Alexander.”
I stepped forward.
“Where is he?”
Her eyes came to mine.
For the first time in three years, there was no contempt in them.
Only calculation.
“Edmund Ashbourne planned for three possible failures.”
“Explain.”
“If Parliament blocked the accession, he intended to trigger a financial crisis.”
Amelia nodded.
“We already interrupted the market operation.”
“If the military refused Julian’s authority, Ashbourne intended to use the port agreement to force foreign recognition.”
“Also interrupted.”
Eleanor’s jaw tightened.
“And if everything collapsed publicly…”
She paused.
“What?”
“He would take Alexander.”
Julian whispered, “Why?”
Eleanor looked at her son as if he had asked why water was wet.
“Because a child is easier to control than a king.”
The room became silent.
My heart hammered.
“A regency,” Amelia said.
Eleanor nodded.
“Ashbourne never needed Julian permanently. He needed royal legitimacy long enough to transfer strategic control. If Julian became politically toxic, Alexander became more useful.”
Julian stared at his mother.
“You knew this?”
“I suspected.”
“You let me work with him.”
“You wanted Victoria.”
“You encouraged it.”
“I encouraged an alliance.”
“You knew he might replace me with my son?”
Eleanor’s expression did not change.
“I believed you would be competent enough not to allow that contingency to become necessary.”
Something inside Julian broke.
I saw it happen.
Not the collapse of a king.
The collapse of a son who had finally discovered his mother’s love was another negotiated instrument.
I should have enjoyed it.
I didn’t.
Pain becomes less satisfying once you understand how often it simply reproduces itself.
“Where would Ashbourne take Alexander?” I asked.
Eleanor looked at the map.
“Not abroad immediately.”
“Why?”
“Too dangerous.”
“Then where?”
“There is an estate north of Valenne.”
Amelia searched.
“Name?”
“It won’t be registered under Ashbourne.”
“Whose?”
Eleanor hesitated.
That made me afraid.
“Eleanor.”
She looked at me.
“The House of Verdan.”
Julian swore.
Amelia’s head snapped up.
Even I knew the name.
Verdan was not Althean.
It belonged to the neighboring Kingdom of Merevia.
The same foreign state connected to the sovereign fund financing Ashbourne’s shell corporations.
“This is foreign involvement,” I said.
“Yes.”
“How deep?”
Eleanor’s silence answered before she did.
“Very.”
Julian stepped forward.
“What did you do?”
She ignored him.
I moved closer.
“What did you promise Merevia?”
“I promised nothing.”
“What did Ashbourne promise?”
“The eastern shipping corridor.”
“That was in the port agreement.”
“And access to military logistics.”
Amelia whispered a curse.
I stared at Eleanor.
“You knew.”
“I learned three weeks ago.”
“And said nothing.”
“I intended to correct it after the coronation.”
I laughed once.
“After your son became king through a conspiracy?”
Her face tightened.
“I intended to protect this family.”
“No. You intended to protect the institution that made you important.”
For the first time, I saw anger.
Good.
Anger meant I had reached the truth.
An analyst called from across the room.
“Director!”
We turned.
“River surveillance just picked up movement beneath Ashbourne Maritime.”
The screen changed.
Infrared footage.
A boat emerged from darkness beneath the warehouse.
Long.
Black.
Fast.
Three figures visible.
Then a fourth.
Small.
My body stopped functioning.
Alexander.
Even from that distance, I knew the shape of his head.
The blue sweater.
I walked toward the screen without breathing.
“Track it.”
“We are.”
“Interception?”
“Harbor patrol is six minutes away.”
“Too long.”
Julian pointed to the map.
“They’re heading north.”
“Toward Valenne?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor whispered, “The Verdan estate.”
The boat disappeared beneath another bridge.
Amelia looked at me.
“We have an aircraft ready.”
“I’m going.”
“No.”
I stared at her.
“Excuse me?”
“You are the Continuity Director during a constitutional emergency.”
“My son is on that boat.”
“And Ashbourne knows exactly how to make you act emotionally.”
“I am going.”
“Evelyn—”
“I said I’m going.”
Julian stood.
“So am I.”
“No.”
“He’s my son.”
“No.”
“I know the estate.”
“You can draw a map.”
“I know Ashbourne.”
“So do half our intelligence files.”
“I know Victoria.”
I turned toward her.
Victoria sat in an interrogation room upstairs.
“Why does that matter?”
Julian looked at me.
“Because if Edmund took Alexander, Victoria knows how he thinks.”
“Victoria claims she knew nothing.”
“She lies.”
“Obviously.”
“No.”
Julian shook his head.
“You don’t understand. Victoria lies when she’s scared, but she gets arrogant when she thinks she has leverage.”
“And?”
“She has been quiet for forty minutes.”
Amelia understood first.
“She’s waiting.”
Julian nodded.
“For what?”
“For her father to contact her.”
We went upstairs.
Victoria sat alone at a polished table.
Her crimson coronation dress looked absurd in the gray interview room.
She smiled when I entered.
“There she is.”
I sat opposite her.
“Where is Alexander?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your father has him.”
She blinked.
Once.
There.
“You didn’t know,” I said.
She recovered quickly.
“Know what?”
“Your father took Alexander.”
Her face remained still.
But her fingers tightened beneath the table.
“He wouldn’t.”
Julian entered behind me.
Victoria looked at him.
For the first time, real fear appeared.
“Julian?”
“He took my son.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew about contingencies.”
“Political contingencies.”
“He intends to replace me with Alexander.”
Victoria stared at him.
Then laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the alternative was panic.
“That’s insane.”
“Your father negotiated with Merevia.”
“He negotiates with everyone.”
“He promised them military logistics.”
Her face changed.
There.
I leaned forward.
“Victoria.”
She looked at me.
“Your father does not intend for you to be queen.”
“Shut up.”
“He used you to control Julian.”
“Shut up.”
“He used Julian to get Alexander.”
“You don’t know my father.”
“No.”
I lowered my voice.
“But you do.”
Her eyes filled.
Not with tears.
With fury.
“He promised me.”
Julian looked away.
Victoria stared at him.
“You promised me too.”
Nobody answered.
Then something buzzed.
Every guard reached for a weapon.
Victoria looked down.
The sound came from her dress.
A tiny device had been sewn into the inner lining.
Amelia removed it.
A secure communicator.
One incoming message.
NO NAMES.
ONE VEHICLE.
VICTORIA ALONE.
NORTH GATE.
13:20.
BRING ACCESS KEY.
Victoria went white.
“What access key?” I asked.
She said nothing.
“Victoria.”
Her lips parted.
“My father gave me a key three months ago.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is it?”
She stared at the table.
Then whispered—
“In the sapphire case.”
“What sapphire case?”
“The coronation gift Julian gave me.”
Julian closed his eyes.
Of course.
Every betrayal in this palace came wrapped in jewels.
Amelia left to retrieve it.
I studied Victoria.
“Your father wants you because he needs that key.”
“I won’t help you.”
“He kidnapped a four-year-old child.”
“He’s my father.”
“And Alexander is innocent.”
She looked at me.
For the first time since I had known her, Duchess Victoria Ashbourne looked young.
Not elegant.
Not cruel.
Not triumphant.
Just a daughter discovering that the father who promised her a throne had used her as a key carrier.
“What happens to me if I help?” she asked.
“The tribunal decides.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s all you get.”
She laughed weakly.
“You really are nothing like Julian described you.”
“What did he say?”
“That you were soft.”
I looked toward the mirrored glass behind which my husband undoubtedly stood.
“He confused kindness with weakness.”
Victoria’s eyes dropped.
“So did I.”
Amelia returned with a velvet box.
Inside sat an enormous sapphire pendant.
She scanned it.
“Electronic core.”
She rotated the stone.
A hidden mechanism clicked.
A black biometric token slid out.
Amelia stared at the code.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“This is not a door key.”
“What is it?”
“Military encryption.”
Eleanor, standing in the observation room, appeared behind the glass.
Her face went white.
I turned.
“What does it access?”
Amelia swallowed.
“The northern defense network.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Eleanor entered.
“Ashbourne doesn’t want Alexander for a regency.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Her voice was almost inaudible.
“He wants to trigger a military confrontation.”
Julian looked at his mother.
“With Merevia?”
“No.”
She faced me.
“With us.”
May you like
And suddenly the kidnapping of my son was no longer only about a throne.
It was about a country.
