“When I first had my plan, that wasn’t part of it,” I said, rubbing my temples, a nervous habit I'd picked up in the past few hours it seemed. Even angry and saddened, Jordan was extraordinarily beautiful, her insightful gaze still sending warm tendrils to my heart, each one of them aching because I knew what I was giving up. “That came later, from the Spaniard. I think it was a part of the price he used to set up the deal for the Quran.”
“So he wanted the book, you wanted the throne, and Felix was the price,” Jordan said, only a hint of anger in her voice. Instead, there was great sadness. “I'm not going to ask you why you wanted to do it. From knowing you, I think I know why. But why are you showing such a sudden change of heart?”
I wiped at my eyes, trying to blink away the tears. “Because I saw something today that broke my heart. I saw and still see the pain in your eyes, and I listened to my mother say she wished she'd never given birth to me. When I heard that, I realized that the crown, the scars on my back, they're nothing. What I have dreamed of my entire life was acceptance and respect, and what I realized today was that I already had both, right in front of me. I had you and Charani, and in thinking back, yes, I had Felix too. Yet I was too blinded by the hurt in my past to see it.”
Jordan considered my words for a second, then nodded. “I believe you, but just know that you aren’t forgiven. That’s going to take more from you.”
I nodded, tears falling from my eyes. “Jordan, I know that it might be impossible for me to ever redeem myself in your eyes. But if there is even a chance, I’ll do whatever it takes. I love you.”
Jordan blinked, then looked up at the ceiling, taking a shuddering breath. Finally, she looked at me, her own eyes shimmering with tears. “I love you too. I can't help it, which is why this hurts so damn much right now.”
She wiped at her face, then took a deep breath before standing up. “Enough of that, though. I wanted you to know that your bed is waiting, and you should get to it. You need your rest if you are going to devote your energy in the direction it should be.”
“And you?” I asked, desperate hope in my heart. Jordan saw what I was asking, and she shook her head. “I should have guessed.”
“I will sleep on the couch tonight,” she said. “But when we get to Albania, I’m going to need a bed.”
“Albania? Why there?” I asked.
Jordan cocked her head as if it was a dumb question. “It’s where your tribe is. They’re angry with you, but in talking with Syeira and Charani, they volunteered to help. If we’re to rescue Felix, then we need backup.”
Chapter 38
Jordan
I couldn’t help but think that, considering the situation I was in, I should have been angrier, or at least less impressed by the situation I found myself in. Instead, I was blown away on an almost daily basis by the beauty of the farm outside Durres, Albania that was the seat of the Hardy family. Situated with a breathtaking view over the Adriatic sea, I woke up every morning to find myself in a Mediterranean paradise. White, rustic walls enclosed an old home that within it held a sense of nobility and refined charm that I had never experienced before. Dark gray flagstones lined the floor of the kitchen, where a real brick oven let Syeira and Charani cook to their heart's content. The seven bedrooms were Spartan in nature, most of them except for the master suites having a simple twin sized mattress, but were amazingly comfortable with breezy linens that let every whisper of the ocean air caress your body.
With only two days before we started our infiltration of the Ukraine, I was down to my last day of training before taking a final day to mentally prepare myself. If I didn’t want to be completely useless, I had to get in better shape. It was a Tuesday, and if things went right, Felix would be back in my arms by that Saturday at the latest.
Getting out of my narrow, single bed, I pulled on the dark fatigue pants and vest that I had come to know like a second skin. Overall, it wasn't all that different than some of the stuff I'd put on from time to time, although the rock scene tended to depend on clothing that was more skin-tight. Still, after the weeks of training from sunup to past sundown, I was as comfortable in these as I was in anything else.
The day started out with a thick oatmeal from Charani and Syeira, who’d appointed themselves the caretakers of our little band of rescuers. The tribe had delivered a dozen men, all young and in their primes, with Francois ostensibly to lead — though he was watched closely. Francois’s plan was bold, it was dramatic, and it was exactly from the Hardy playbook.