Princess in Peril. Rachelle McCalla

could not fail. His father didn’t just work for Sanctuary International, he was its president. And he’d be retiring in another year. Everyone expected Nicolas Grenaldo to appoint one of his two sons to be president after him.

      And that was just the trouble. Although Levi had spent four years in the Lydian army before going on to law school, he didn’t have any battle experience. He’d studied international law, thinking at the time it would give him the best possible background for leading an organization that helped people throughout the world. Too late he’d realized no amount of studying would earn him the respect and admiration of his peers within Sanctuary.

      His little brother, Joe, however, had spent six years in the United States Marine Corps, followed by several successful and high-profile operations with Sanctuary. Joe had saved the lives of dozens of missionaries, political figures and refugees over the years.

      Levi had saved no one. As the older brother, he should have been the natural choice to follow in his father’s footsteps. But as of right now, Joe was everyone’s favorite. Joe was a hero. Levi desperately needed this mission to go well if he wanted his father to see him as anything other than a scholar. And for that to happen, he’d have to have Isabelle’s cooperation.

      The darkness was so complete it made his eyes hurt. Levi had almost begun to wonder if he’d missed the stairs when a gap in the wall left him grasping into the open air.

      He stopped.

      Isabelle snapped her light on just long enough to display a twisting set of stone stairs that curled upward and out of sight. Then she let the light die again before stepping forward onto the first stair.

      “Wait,” Levi whispered, tugging her back. “We need to discuss our next step.”

      As he pulled her back, she brushed near him, and this time, with her standing one step higher on the stone stairs, he felt her lose hair brush past his cheek and smelled her flowery fragrance, so different from the dank catacombs. He swallowed, refusing to allow himself to think about how close she was to him.

      Levi had always known Isabelle was a beautiful woman, but he was in her life for a short time only, to fulfill a specific mission. He would behave with absolute decorum. She was, after all, a princess. And he’d been briefed privately by her father about the horrors of her failed engagement. Sympathy and respect stifled his otherwise-strong sense of attraction toward her.

      She must have realized how close she’d gotten to him in the darkness because he felt her back away. He doubted she felt anything near the kind of attraction he did, but then, she’d already said she didn’t trust him. Perhaps it was best that way.

      “What is your plan?” Isabelle asked.

      He could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek and realized she hadn’t backed too far away from him after all. Still holding her arm with one hand, he analyzed their options.

      “We don’t know if the insurgents are aware of the catacombs or of the opening below the cathedral. I would assume not, but—” He hesitated.

      “I would assume nothing, under the circumstances.”

      Levi agreed. “We’ll make our way up the stairs in silence. I’ve never been through this way so I don’t know what we’ll find at the end.”

      “Is it even passable?”

      “Yes. Your father wouldn’t have allowed it to be marked as an exit if it wasn’t passable. But because we don’t know if it’s a sealed door or if your light will show—”

      “I’ll keep my light off.”

      “Good. Given the possibility of danger ahead, we can’t risk giving away our presence.”

      “Extreme caution.” Isabelle concurred, and he could feel her head nod in the darkness.

      Levi was acutely aware of the slight movement. She’d slowly allowed herself to lean closer to him. Did she realize how close to one another they now stood in the dark chamber? He tried not to think about his proximity to the princess.

      The pressing danger provided excellent distraction. “We’ll proceed with extreme caution,” he echoed. “If at any point we encounter any person or anything that seems out of the ordinary, we’ll halt and assess the situation. If danger is apparent, we’ll retreat back the way we came.”

      “And if we cannot retreat into the catacombs?” The princess tipped her head forward as she spoke, and Levi felt the softness of her hair come to rest near his jaw.

      Levi didn’t feel he ought to push her away, yet the floral perfume she wore teased his nostrils. “Then God help us.”

      Isabelle pulled back from him.

      The cold air of her absence cleared his mind. He realized how his words must have sounded and rushed to explain. “We don’t know the size of the forces the insurgents have attacked with. If they take the cathedral and block our passage to the catacombs, then it would mean they’ve completely overwhelmed your father’s government, in which case I don’t know how we could possibly get you out of the country alive.”

      “Out of the country?” Isabelle backed farther away from him this time. “You said my father didn’t want me leaving the country, that it would send the wrong message to the insurgents.”

      “That was before the attack,” Levi corrected her. “You can’t expect to stay—”

      “I will not leave!”

      Levi’s hand flew out to cover her mouth. “Shh,” he hushed her, aware of how loudly her voice had echoed. She squirmed away from him. He hadn’t intended to clamp his hand over her royal mouth, but he couldn’t risk letting her voice give away their location when they didn’t know who might hear.

      Cautiously he removed his hand.

      Isabelle whispered angrily. “You said my father wished to avoid any sign of weakness—”

      “They think you’re dead.” He tried to reach for her shoulder to pull her back so he could reason with her, but she batted him away. “Princess Isabelle.” He spoke her name with caution.

      “The Royal House of Lydia is not dead. We live and we reign.”

      Levi was reminded by the emotion in her words that she’d been raised with a profound sense of duty toward her people, an obligation of leadership that had been deeply ingrained since birth. It wasn’t in her to run away when her government was challenged. How could he make her understand that she had to do just that?

      “Yes.” He spoke in the most soothing voice he could muster. “Yes, Lydia is ruled by your family, by the Royal House of Lydia.”

      “I am not dead,” she choked.

      He realized she was weeping. He didn’t blame her one bit. “You’re not dead,” he repeated, trying to think of what he could possibly say that wouldn’t make her more upset. What was there to say? It was likely the rest of her family had been killed. She had surely guessed that much already. As soon as the insurgent forces realized she had escaped, they’d come looking for her. But he couldn’t tell her that—not now—so he tried to reassure her as best he could.

      “You’re not dead, Princess. You’re alive, and I will do everything in my power to keep you alive. But right now we don’t know what the situation is out there. If the insurgents have taken control of the city—”

      “No!” Isabelle moved to push past him again. “No, they cannot take the city.” She turned as though she was going to stomp right up the stairs and demand to have rule returned to her.

      “Isabelle.” He pulled her back against him and this time held her tight so she couldn’t do anything rash. He pressed his mouth near her ear as he had in the car and spoke calmly but forcefully. “The insurgents want you dead. As long as they think they have already killed you, they won’t come looking for you. If they learn you’re really alive, they’ll hunt