by V Vee
“I don’t know anything myself, Leyah. Prince Algerone rushed from the bedroom, making sure the children were brought to our room before he did.” She shook her head. “Apparently the prince’s tires were shot out in an attempt to kill him. The engine was smoking and would have caught fire had the night patrol not saw the vehicle. Two other guards were found in the grass, beaten and shot to death. The palace is on high alert as they seek the culprit or culprits.”
They’d reached the nursery by this point and Leyah helped Princess Valerie into a rocking chair, and went to get one of the twins, Eckha, which she brought over to the princess so that she could be breastfed. Her mind was swirling with the information that had just been revealed to her. Prince Alastair had just been involved in an assassination attempt. Had it been Danorian? Shooting out Prince Alastair’s tires and causing a fatal car accident had definitely not been a part of their plans. If it had been, why would she need to be hired on as the nanny to Prince Algerone and Princess Valerie’s daughters? No. Something else was going on here. Or, and this was more distressing to think of, Danorian had gone rogue and was taking matters into his own hands. Either way, Leyah would need to talk to her former guard and see what he knew about tonight’s events.
She hadn’t realized that she was merely standing in the middle of the room staring at nothing, while Princess Valerie continued talking to her, until the older woman called out to her. She blinked and focused back on her. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, my mind was wandering in concern for His Highness, what did you say?”
Princess Valerie smiled at her knowingly. “It was the same for me, as well.”
Leyah frowned at the other woman. “I’m sorry?”
Princess Valerie chuckled. “The first time I met Prince Algerone. Oh, let’s just dispense with formalities shall we? I’m American. I hate all of these titles if I don’t have to use them.” She rolled her eyes. “The first time I met Algerone, it was in Spain, at the running of the bulls.”
Leyah’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Princess Valerie laughed heartily. “Yes, I know, quite scandalous isn’t it? I know the papers have written a completely different narrative, saying that we met at one of my gallery showings in Spain, and that he was enchanted not only by my art but by me that he bought most of my art and convinced his friends to buy a lot of it as well, and while that did happen, we’d already met, and had drinks together by that point. As a matter of fact, I’d tried to get him to come back up to my hotel room already.”
Leyah walked over and took baby Eckha from Princess Valerie after she was burped, placing the sleepy baby back in her crib. She walked over to Eliava’s crib and picked up the alert newborn and carried her over to her mother. She admired the fact that Princess Valerie was unashamed of her body, not bothering to hide herself as she fed her daughters. Breastfeeding was a natural part of life. In Waldakan mothers breastfed all over the place, in the palace, in restaurants, in parks, wherever and whenever their children needed it. Leyah had heard there were people who objected to it, she was glad that the princess did not seem to be one of them.
“I did not know that,” she said, contributing to the conversation.
“Hmm, yes,” Princess Valerie murmured, stroking a hand over the back of her daughter’s head. “I was completely enchanted with him when I first saw him. I mean, he was so not my type. I mean, I’m usually attracted to Jesse Williams, Shemar Moore, Taye Diggs, and Idris Elba types.”
Leyah frowned at Princess Valerie and shrugged. While the names sounded somewhat familiar—she assumed they were celebrities—she didn’t have much time to indulge in television and movies. She was too busy leading her people. The little amount of free time she did have she devoted to reading, gardening, cooking, or spending with some of the children of her country. She didn’t even have as much time as she would have liked to simply ride her horses just for fun.
Princess Valerie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? You don’t know who they are?” She shook her head as if it were a tragedy. “Jesse Williams is on a show called Grey’s Anatomy ™, Shemar Moore used to be on Criminal Minds ™ but now he’s on this great show called S.W.A.T. ™, Taye Diggs… well, he’s been in everything. How Stella Got Her Groove Back ™, Private Practice ™, RENT ™, and it’s the same with Idris Elba, he’s a really big movie star and really sexy. The biggest thing is, these are all black men. Various shades, and Jesse and Shemar are biracial, like my children, and Taye and Idris are dark, but, I have always been attracted to black men. Yet, right there, in Spain, there was this white man, with blue eyes, skin tanned, but still pale, and I was hooked, you know?” She laughed and bit her bottom lip as if remembering a pleasurable experience. Leyah was fascinated. She’d heard her parents talk about their own love story and had always been enchanted by it. Mwassaa and Izem had seen each other and instantly fallen in love with each other, only to find out that they were betrothed to be married to other people. They’d fought their parents’ wishes and had wed in secret, much to the horror and embarrassment of their respective families. However, it had all worked out for the best. Mwassaa had turned out to be the queen the people of Waldakan had needed, and Izem had never been happier.
“Algerone had been a bad boy before meeting me, and he completely reformed himself after our first official date,” Princess Valerie looked amused by her statement. She looked at Leyah, trapping her with her gaze. “In any case, I know that look, and the distraction that takes place when one meets a Smythe prince. It’s happened to both of my best friends, and it appears to have snared you as well.” She rose carefully from the rocking chair, holding Eliava with one arm, and waving off Leyah with the other hand, when the younger girl rushed over to help. She placed Eliava in her crib, gently patting the tiny girl’s stomach until she settled into sleep, then adjusted her clothing until she was presentable and turned to look at Leyah.
“A bit of advice?” She asked Leyah.
Leyah swallowed, dread filling her stomach. She wasn’t sure she wanted it, but at the same time, a part of her felt as if she needed it. She nodded.
“Don’t try and fight it. If you’re connected to a Smythe man, and he’s decided that you belong to him, as I suspected my brother-in-law has when it comes to you, running will get you nowhere. They enjoy the chase.”
Chapter Seven
A lastair opened his eyes with a groan. He squinted his eyes against the burn of the overhead lights shining on his face and tried to lift his hand to wipe away the moisture that had formed in them. Where the hell was he? His mind swirled as he tried to place where he was and what had happened. His brain felt as if someone were pounding on it, and after a moment he stopped trying to figure things out. It was only then that the beeping of a hospital monitor sounded in his ears, and he became aware of the needles in the back of one hand, and the other in the crook of his elbow.
Why was he in the hospital?
“Well, well, look who decided to wake up from his nap,” a deep voice came from his right.
Alastair turned his head and grimaced at the sight of his youngest brother sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on Alastair’s bed, a Maxim ™ magazine on his lap, arms folded behind his head. He groaned at the younger man, dressed as he was in a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers on his feet. Why was it that Alfie could present the image of the respectable royal when it suited him, and at other times he looked like a slob?
“Get your fucking feet off my bed,” Alastair groused out in a voice rough from not being used.
“Oh!” Alfie placed a hand on his chest. “He speaks!” He grinned at Alastair cheekily, before sobering. Alfie dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward. Gripping Alastair’s hand in his hand, he fixed him with a sincere and concerned look. “I’m glad you are okay, bruthrar,” he stated solemnly. “It was a close call.”
Alastair frowned as he tried to remember what had happened, when he was met with nothing but painful darkness and a buzzing in his ears, he simply shook his head.
“I don’t remember anything, but if it put me in the hospital, I must agree.”
Alfie’s lips turned down and he scowled. “You don’t remember anything that happened?”
Alastair shook his head. “The last thing I remember is…” He wracked his brain and an image of Leyah, the new nanny flashed across his mind. He remembered talking to her and needing to do a scene at the club to deal with the lust, impatience, and stress swarming through his blood. But had he gone? And if he had, had something happened there? Was it a bad scene?
“I remember Leyah,” he said softly, in an almost absentminded tone.
Alfie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “The nanny?”
Alastair nodded, wincing when pain throbbed in his head. “Iak.”
“Hmm, interesting. What do you remember about her exactly?”
Alastair glared at his brother. “I remember talking to her and needing a sce—a release. But I’m not sure if I went to get it.”
Alfie smirked. “Oh yeah, you did. You were actually on your way home from your ‘club’ when someone shot out your tires and made you crash on the castle property.”
Alastair turned his head toward his brother and narrowed his eyes. “Someone shot out my tires?”
Alfie nodded. “And killed Kraigston and Morton.”
Two of the palace’s perimeter guards. Damn. Kraigston’s wife was expecting their fourth child, and Morton and his partner, Bernard, were in the process of adopting their second child. Alastair shook his head. Such senseless loss, and all because they worked at the castle. Because someone wanted to kill Alastair? Or was it any member of the royal family?
“Has security been increased?” he asked.
Alfie opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Algerone who strode into the room, followed by their father King Callum.
“Yes, it has been, and that’s not something you need to worry about right now. You should focus on getting better,” Algerone stated firmly.
Alastair wanted to tell his brother where he could shove his concern and suggestion that Alastair rest and focus on getting better, but he was prevented from doing so by his father placing a hand on his shoulder. Alastair looked up at the older man, noticing for the first time the amount of gray hair his father had. King Callum was more salt than pepper at this point, and it hit Alastair then exactly how old his father was, and how close the man could possibly be to the end of his own life.
“Algerone is right, Alastair,” King Callum said. He looked intently at Alastair, pointing at him. “You will let your brothers handle this, and you will take the time to recover so you can return to work, yourself.” He sighed, and Alastair noted the bags underneath his father’s eyes, and the way his blue eyes had darkened with concern and barely banked anger. The Smythe temper, Alastair smiled internally, extremely familiar with the way the men in his family barely held on to their emotions when pressed. Algerone definitely had a better handle on it than the rest of them, and Alastair wondered if that had something to do with his wife and their seven children.
“Augustus is investigating the scene now, and Andreas has returned from his trip to lend a hand. Algerone and Alfie will handle different avenues in their own way. You will rest, recover, then come and oversee things as you always have done. Am I understood?”
Alastair nodded, swallowing the lump of emotion that threatened to spill down his cheeks. His father patted his shoulder, rose to his considerable six-foot-two height, and turned to leave the room. He stopped in front of the door and looked back at Alastair.
“I am really glad you are okay, my son. You worried your mother,” he stated gruffly, mentioning Queen Araminta, whom Alastair was sure was both beside her with worry, but also livid at the very concept of one of her sons being hurt.
“Thank you, Kothrar,” Alastair responded, acutely aware that the man speaking was not the king, but was, in fact, his father.
King Callum inclined his head in Alastair’s direction, then turned and stepped out of the room. Alastair sat with his brothers in silence. He didn’t know what to say. A part of him wanted to interrogate them about everything that had occurred. Wanted to ask questions about the incident, and yet, another part wanted to take a moment to really bask in the care his father had just shown for him.
“Whoa. Didn’t know the old man had it in him,” Alfie replied after a few quiet minutes.
So much for basking, Alastair thought to himself, rolling his eyes. He turned to Alfie to say… something, only to be brought up short by movement in the doorway. Turning his head, he saw Leyah standing there with a bouquet of tulips, looking hesitant and unsure. He gave her a small smile and waved her in.
“Leyah—Mis Meer—thank you for coming,” he said. He was enchanted by the sight of her skin showing redness beneath the skin from her blush. Fascinating, and beautiful, he thought to himself.
“It was no problem, Mexoria Źeylήia. I heard about your accident, and Her Highness, Princess Valerie wanted me to come and check on you. I saw the flowers and thought they might brighten your room,” Leyah said, her eyes moving around the room, not looking Alastair in his eyes fully.
Alastair barely withheld the growl that threatened when he realized that Leyah would not look at him. Was she afraid of his brothers saying something to her, or the possibility of her losing her job after only one day—how long had he been in the hospital anyway? —if she looked at him? Or was it that she was uncomfortable seeing him in the hospital? In a position of vulnerability? A position of weakness?
“Well, thank you in any case, Leyah,” Alastair replied, intentionally using her first name in an effort to get her to look at him. It seemed to work, because her eyes flew to his face and she tightened her lips, even as her eyes flashed a warning to him.
Alastair merely smiled at her innocently.
“If Mexoria Źeylήiaes will excuse me? I must return to the palace and my duties,” she curtsied, and Alastair observed the way her jaw clenched as if she hated the action.
Did she have an issue with the monarchial system? Did she have a problem with curtsying? Or maybe it was a physical thing? Were her knees bad and curtsying was painful for her?
“She is hot,” Alfie mused.
Alastair turned to glare at his brother. “What about Laeticia?” he asked.
Alfie shrugged, though his face grew somber and distant. “We’re apparently just friends. At least according to her.”
Algerone scoffed. “The Smythe men don’t do friendship with women we’ve decided are ours. If you’re accepting her declaration that you two are simply friends, then you didn’t really want, nor claim, her in the first place.”
Alastair was startled when Alfie leapt up from his chair, sending the piece of furniture to fly back and hit the wall. Alfie pointed at Algerone. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I want her. I will have her. I’m just giving her space. You know all about that right? You gave your wife space for fourteen years.”
“Watch it you little—”
Alastair clapped his hands down on the metal bedrails, the sound echoing loudly in the room. Once both of his brothers were facing him, he pointed at them. “You’re both right.” He held up his hand and shook his head when Alfie started to speak. “No, Al is right, if you’d made the full extent of your intentions known to her, there’s no way that Miss Church would have simply called you two friends. She would have either accepted or she would tell you no and you would have backed away from her in rejection. And you…” he pointed at Algerone. “I think perhaps you should wait until you have a few years of living openly with your wife and children before you go around dispensing advice, don’t you?” He waited for both of his brothers to nod before he nodded back in satisfaction.
“Now, apparently someone tried to kill me. Let’s talk about that.”
Chapter Eight
L eyah rushed out of the private hospital where Prince Alastair was recovering from his attack and into the town car waiting for her. She’d been a l
ittle surprised when, after a day of the prince not recovering from his injuries, Princess Valerie had asked her to go to the hospital with some “get-well” flowers. Leyah had protested, stating that she was not family, and was in fact, just the nanny, but Princess Valerie wouldn’t hear anything about it. She was adamant that Leyah be the one to deliver them. So, after some deliberation, Leyah had agreed to go. She’d been amazed when she’d stepped into the room and found Prince Alastair’s unwavering gaze resting on her. But, what had shocked her even more than that was the guilt that had curdled in her belly. While neither she, nor Danorian—according to him—had authorized an attack on the prince on palace grounds, they were both certain that it could be attributed to someone within The Rebellion.
Leyah didn’t understand it, however. Her orders and decree had been stated plainly and firmly. While she was in attendance at the palace with Danorian, there were to be no attacks on the lives of the royals. It was something she’d been unbending over. There would be suspicion raised if the attacks on the royals started, or increased, only moments after she’d been hired. Danorian had agreed, as had the rest of her advisors and her people. Before leaving Waldakan she’d had every household sign a statement that they would not engage in any acts of violence against the people or the royals of Malvidence while she was living in the palace.
Leyah didn’t exactly believe in unsanctioned acts of violence anyway. It was definitely a strange stance to take, considering she was the ruler of a people hellbent on revenge against a nation that had stolen from them. Unfortunately, while her parents had believed in returning the people of Waldakan to their rightful home, her father had wanted to do so through legal means. Which meant finding and exposing the corruption the Smythe family had indulged in for centuries. It also meant finding the right allies and either conquering portions of land controlled by Malvidence through negotiations, or through blackmail, or using those same allies to engage in covert ops and discovering legal (or illegal) ways of stealing back the land that was once stolen from them.
