The Princess in Peril

Candice's P.O.V.

The phone message was like a threat in the dark van, and I shuddered with the words "bring the princess this night" and Mantovani, though the desert heat, grabbed it, and grew black with anger as he scanned encrypted messages, and found them plotting my abduction--roads, dates, even a picture of me at the villa garden--and the intrigue was going on, and I found the sheriff had eyes on the prize, and he may even have them with us at the moment. We galloped back to the cabin, where the tires kicked sand, and the voice of the Mantovani was deep, possessive, protective, and he said, "They will not touch you; I will die first, and I bent over him and kissed his knuckles as a seal on the promise. Mom greeted us with a face that was pasty with concern, and Sanna came behind her, with a slung arm, but with watching eyes, and when we crowded inside the door the shadow of the war was lengthening with each word of revelation.

That afternoon we strengthened the cabin, boarded up windows, set up tripwires, the family going as a unit, Mom giving out ammo with steady hands, Conti working with explosives despite his agony, Sanna organizing reinforcements, and I had a sense of love common to all, the bond of survival making us indestructible. Mantovani took me aside at a moment of pause and down to the bedroom where we had slept together last night, and, as he kissed me, with the urgency of need, and his hands wandering, caressing my lips, whispering, If they come to claim you, fight like hell; you are my queen, not some princess to steal, and I kissed him back, and burning like frenzied fire our bodies became a frenzied desperate contact that had us gasping with passion, a reminder to men that life went on despite death.

It grew dark at night, and then the cabin grew silent, and the watches were laid aside, and I sat with Mom on the porch as the stars were rising, and her hand in mine and stories of my childhood were being told, and her voice was gentle, and the excitement of what the sheriff had planned forgotten a moment in the warmness of her voice, saying, I never wanted you to be like this, but as I see you now, strong and loved, I am thankful that we are what we are. Conti walked in, with his bandaged shoulder, and made a joke or two to lighten the atmosphere, but Mantovani was ever on guard within, and pacing like a caged wolf, his love to me was a palpable presence in its presence.

It grew dark, the quietness of the war was a deception, and by the very hour of the night, as the bells struck twelve, we could feel the shade in the trees--men on the move--and bells ringing and guns firing out of the windows, and we leaped forth and opened fire. I also fired with Mantovani and we were like clockwork, as we fired, and he took up my protection when a grenade came near and kicking it aside, with a scream, "Stay down! stay down! with bullets chattering round us. Their assailants were implacable, paid mercenaries by the sheriff, their equipment professional, their faces concealed and the intrigue was as old as revenge itself when one of them was captured and even as he confessed under the knife of Conti, it was revenge and not the conquest of power.

We maintained the position, our hearts were on fire, and desperate, and Mom even fired, that hit one of the attackers, and her yell of triumph that has mingled with her scream of terror, and, as the battle died, a shot, which has hit Mantovani on the arm, blood streaming, and he stumbles, dragging me in, Go! Protect the others!" But before I could make a case, a hood was thrown over my head at the back, and, by the powerful arms, I was lifted into the air and night, the sheriff men got hold of me, and Mantovani gave a roar, and they dragged me.