60. Kristina

60

KRISTINA

I stood there staring as the news ticker crawled across the bottom of the screen. I read about how my American lover had corrupted me and how we’d had the King shot so that I could steal the throne.

It got worse. I’d faked the attempts on my own life to throw off suspicion. And I was in league with Garmania: I’d been holding back our brave military, preventing them from saving us. My plan was to surrender the entire country, allowing Garmania to sweep in and rule, in return for wealth and a life overseas. Fortunately, General Novak and the military had discovered my plan and overthrown me, but I’d escaped the palace. Troops were now searching the city for me.

My eyes flicked to the soldiers I’d been hurrying towards. They were less than ten feet away, their backs still turned. I darted into an alley and stood there panting in fear, my back pressed to a wall. How is this happening? How can anyone believe this?

Then I remembered Aleksander and his close ties to the media. He’d known all of the news chiefs for years and he had the head of our military to back up his story. Why wouldn’t they believe him?

And the public believed it, too. When I dared to peek around the alley, the news screens were showing interviews with furious, tearful citizens. How could she do this, they were asking. How could she betray us? The story had broken just an hour ago: Aleksander must have called the media as soon as Garrett threw us off the dam. But already, the internet was flooded with hateful comments, calls for my death and images of Garrett and me with cruel captions. He was being portrayed as an American spy who’d seduced me and corrupted me and I was the airhead princess who’d sold out her entire country so that she could run away and be with him. Tears were running down my cheeks. No! It wasn’t anything like that! I’d resisted him for so long because I put my country first!

How do they even know we’re together? Then I groaned. Aleksander. Sebastian was right: he knew everything that happened in the palace. Of course he’d noticed the way we looked at each other. He’d probably figured it out days ago.

I wanted to throw up. The whole army was searching for me. If they found me, I’d have no chance to explain my side. If they didn’t shoot me on sight, they’d take me to General Novak and he’d execute me for treason. And the public would let him. They hated me.

I hadn’t just lost the throne. I’d lost my people.

And Garrett—my chest contracted with fear. I’d left him lying by the river. If soldiers found him, they’d shoot him as a traitor!

I raced back to the riverbank. He was still lying there, but his breathing was weaker and, like me, he was getting colder and colder, his wet clothes drawing all the heat from his body. What am I going to do?! He needed a hospital, but I couldn’t go to one, not now we’d been branded traitors. I looked around desperately. Being on the run was Garrett’s department. Think! What would he do?

He’d get us off the grid. Hide out somewhere.

I heard footsteps approaching: the sound of heavy boots. I grabbed Garrett’s shoulders and heaved—

He didn’t move. I was too small and he was too big.

The footsteps had almost reached us. I hooked my hands under Garrett’s arms, gritted my teeth and pulled… and managed to drag him into an alley.

A sign on a green wooden door said Jarrow & Son, Electrical Repairs. There was a window next to it that had been left ajar. Much too small for Garrett, but I could maybe squeeze through.

I heard the soldiers reach the riverbank and start to move down it. As they passed the alley, they’d see us.

I pried open the window as much as it would go and slipped a shoulder through, then jumped up and squeezed .

The soldiers were almost at the alley. Desperation gave me strength and I slithered through, picking up a few new scrapes and bruises. I raced around to the door, unlocked it and hauled Garrett inside, then shut the door and sat there in the darkness with him, holding my breath.

The sound of boots reached the alley…and co ntinued on.

I looked around. It was a workshop, with shelves of TVs, toasters and hair dryers awaiting repairs. It was barely any warmer inside than out, but at least we were out of the wind.

I turned on a lamp. When I got my first look at the back of Garrett’s head, I nearly threw up. His hair was matted with blood and some of it was scorched from the gun going off so close to him. But when I felt around, the wound was more of a furrow than a hole. The bullet had grazed him: it hadn’t gone in. There might still be hope.

He was still bleeding and I couldn’t find anything to use as bandages. Why couldn’t I have found a doctor’s surgery, or a vet’s? I eventually found a pack of sponges in the kitchen and used one of them as gauze, then wrapped duct tape around his head to hold it in place and seal the wound. That at least stopped the bleeding, but I still couldn’t wake him up.

I couldn’t figure out how to get the heating on. I stripped off our wet clothes and used the tiny hand towel in the restroom to dry us as best I could. Then I rolled Garrett onto his side and cuddled into his chest so that my body heat would help to keep him warm.

I was alone again, just like during the war. Then, at least I’d still been a princess. I’d been on the side of good and known my country was searching for me. Now, I was nothing. I was a traitor on the run, hated by my people. Aleksander and General Novak were running the country and, in a few hours, the war would start and millions of people would die. I’d lost everything.

Exhaustion swept over me. With my tears wetting Garrett’s chest, I slept.