BURNING LOVE

81

steely glint flickered in Katiandra's eyes as she stepped into the chauffeured car. The familiar comfort of the leather interior did little to soothe the turmoil within her. With a resolute rap on the partition separating her from the driver, she issued her command.

"Airport," she stated, her voice leaving no room for argument. The woman behind the wheel, simply nodded, understanding ingrained through years of loyal service.

Katiandra wasted no time. Reaching for her communicator, she dialed the first number. It was a direct line – a privilege reserved for the highest ranks – and within seconds, a familiar voice crackled through the speaker.

"Commander," she began, her voice firm with a hint of urgency, "I'm on my way to the airport. I need you to secure all documents from my office safe. My personal computer as well. Have them delivered to me immediately."

"Consider it done, Your Majesty," came the prompt reply.

With a curt end to the call, Katiandra exhaled a shaky breath. Her next move was to the private jet, a symbol of her former life but now a lifeline to her future. Punching in another number, she spoke into the communicator.

"Prepare the jet for immediate departure. I'm on my way."

A beat of silence followed, a silent question hanging in the air. But before the man on the other end could voice his hesitation, a voice – older, wiser – took over.

"We will have it ready, Your Majesty," Captain Charlyse assured, his voice a soothing balm.

Katiandra offered a silent word of thanks, the relief momentarily washing over her as she cut the line. In the airport control room, captain Charlyse turned to his subordinate eoth a furey the man, recoiled in his desk. Before the man could stammer out a protest about permissions, he cut him off.

"Permissions? You wanted tell her you wi ask for permission?" he scoffed, a hint of her former fire visible in his eyes. "To whom? Her son, perhaps, who was crowned hours ago?"

The young subordinate swallowed his gaze down understandably where this was going but it was too late.

"A ceremony doesn't grant him the authority to make such decisions right away. He wouldn't be half the king his father was, anyway. Of the want out to see her daughter Whateverthst suit her is none of our business. Understood?"

Turning to the driver, a woman named Anya, his copilot, he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "As the former King's wife, she still hold a certain amount of power, wouldn't you agree moron. More than you and me realize, aside of being a wife she is a powerful woman. Do not try so hard with idiotic behaviour jeopardise your own life"

Understanding the man they all respected, his two colleagues simply nodded, eyes filled with a mixture of fear and understanding. They started talking with all that was involved in making the jet ready until a crackle from the communicator interrupted the moment.

"Katjumper 107, ready for takeoff," announced the pilot's voice that made sure all was good down .

"Acknowledged," Captain replied, a flicker of concentration replacing all agitation.

Forty minutes later, Katiandra pulled up to the sleek private jet, its polished surface glinting in the afternoon sun. Raphaelli, ever efficient, had already ensured her belongings were onboard. As Katiandra opened the car door, Raphaelli stepped near, holding a briefcase.

"Everything's inside, Your Majesty," he confirmed, his voice laced with a touch of concern.

"Excellent," Katiandra replied, a hint of a ghost smile gracing her lips. Prepared to turn and board the plane, she paused, her gaze locking onto Raphaelli's.