Rebel Prince

JET lag--maybe he could blame it on that. Or maybe on the general state of simmering anger he'd been in since he'd been told life as he knew it was over and he was to submit meekly to living his brother's life instead. That might have thrown his aim off. Whatever. He'd missed the shot and he'd hit the young woman by mistake. And that was when everything began to spin out of control. Prince Sebastian wasn't used to missing a shot--he had an arm like a rocket launcher and had once even been urged to join his country's Olympic water-polo team. He'd never injured anyone with a shot before--except other players in the generally rough play of the game he loved. But he seemed to have the reverse Midas curse these days--everything he touched went bad. For a fraction of a heart-stopping second, he was afraid he'd killed her. Pacio, one of the young footmen who'd been playing the game of water polo with him, said as much, swimming over to the side of the indoor castle pool behind him. "She looks like she's dead.Muerta," he added for good measure. "She's not dead," Sebastian corrected sharply, though his nerves were still jumping from that momentary fear. Vaulting out of the pool, he kicked the still-bouncing water-polo ball out of the way and crouched over her, shaking away the water that dripped from his sleek body. "Is she breathing?" Pacio asked with interest, climbing out of the pool as well. "Wow. She went down just like a rag doll." Sebastian didn't bother answering. She seemed to be unconscious. Not a good sign. "Hello," he tried, touching her shoulder. "Are you all right?" There was no response. He put two fingers to the pulse at her neck, glad to find it strong, then noted her chest move. She was breathing, but she looked so pale and vulnerable lying there in her cutoff jeans and sleeveless jersey top. He wanted to gather her up and get her off the cold floor. But he probably shouldn't move her. Had she hit her head on the tile? Maybe she was in shock. Snagging a large towel someone had hung on the railing, he draped it over her and bit back frustration. Why the hell wasn't she moving? And why the hell couldn't he remember more of his decade-old life-saving classes? It was obviously time to recruit someone who knew what he was doing. "Go get the doctor," he ordered as two others who'd been in the pool with them came up, shivering and dripping water everywhere. "You mean Will?" Pacio asked hesitantly. Sebastian looked up at the three young men who were staring at him blankly. "Of course I mean Will. Get him. Now." The three of them looked surprised, but they jerked into action, hurrying off. He felt a fleeting sense of satisfaction that he'd managed to conjure up a tone of command. That was something he was going to have to do often and better if he was really going to end up as the king of Meridia--if this really wasn't just a bad dream he was going to wake up from and laugh at. Meridia--the crazy little country that knew him as Sebastian Edwardo Valenza Constantine MarchandDumontier, prince of Meridia and second son of King Donatello and Queen Marguerite, both deceased. And now that his older brother Julius had abdicated the throne, Sebastian was crown prince and heir apparent. If he actually let them do this to him. He looked down at the young woman he'd decked and swore softly, his heart doing a quick stutter. Shehadto be okay. If she was seriously injured... "I'm not dead," she murmured suddenly, though her eyes didn't open. His heart lurched in relief. She could talk.Thank God, he said silently, but aloud he was less reverential. "Then why are you pretending?" he asked, not really keeping the exasperation from his voice. "I'm not pretending," she said drowsily. "I'm resting." Sitting back on his heels, he stared at her. "Strange place for a sudden nap," heMorgan, Raye is the author of 'Rebel Prince', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373039128 and ISBN 0373039123.