Her Royal Highness Princess Isabelle of Lydia glanced at Levi Grenaldo, her recently appointed bodyguard, expecting him to make some reassuring gesture that would indicate nothing was amiss. He didn’t look her way. In the silvery sheen of his mirrored sunglasses, Isabelle saw only the rear bumper of her brother’s limousine sitting still on the road in front of them. The seconds ticked by and they sat, unmoving, in the narrow streets of Sardis, Lydia’s capital city. Something had to be wrong. The motorcade represented the power and pageantry of the royal family and therefore never stopped until it arrived at its destination. “Why are we stopped?” Levi didn’t acknowledge her question, but instead pressed the button for the intercom and told the driver, “Get us off this street.” When the driver hesitated, Levi pressed the button again. “Now.” Much as she wanted to remain calm, Isabelle felt her fingers tighten as they gripped the edge of the leather seat. She didn’t like anything about this situation.
