by S. E. Rose
“Fuck,” he says. “I dropped my phone.”
I reach for the phone on the desk and hand him the receiver.
“It’s Cub. There’s been gunfire. … Yes, south woods by the stream. Straight out from the stables. … I can’t imagine it’s a hunter this time of year. … Yes. Well, get someone down there now. My phone is out there. I’ll need that as well. … You can tell Pete that we are packing up and heading home.”
My mouth drops open at his last statement. Home. We’re heading to the Royal Palace, the exact place Jack didn’t want us to go.
“But…” I trail off as Christian glares at me. Yes, I was just advocating that we do exactly this, but that was before we were just shot at.
“No buts. We are going home. You just said we need to do something. Well, we’re going to. Do not fight me on this. You will not win,” he says from behind clenched teeth. His stare penetrates me, and I don’t say another word as I follow him into the Summer Palace. Why do I feel like we’re going into the lion’s den?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Christian
Anger is an understatement. Fury is a better description of how I feel. Vince and Cain have called in backup and security are now combing the forest. They won’t find anything. I know that. They know that. But they now have a job to do and that is to make sure no one is out there with a firearm, ready to kill the future king.
My bags are packed in record time and are now being loaded into a waiting car. I’ve been on the phone with Pete, Jack, Auggie, Anna, and my father in the span of thirty minutes. They all have their own concerns and ideas about what just happened. Jack and Anna want me to stay put. Pete says to come home. Auggie says to go visit a friend’s estate. My father wants to leave his meeting and take me to his friend’s lake house. But right now, all I know is that we aren’t safe here and that means we’re leaving.
Tessa comes up to me and pulls me into one of her giant hugs. “Oh, my sweet, sweet boy. I’m so glad you are OK. I packed you both a dinner to take with you.”
“Thank you, Tessa. For everything. Are you sure you won’t come with us? It’s not safe here,” I say to her as she releases me. I immediately miss her comforting arms. Tessa is one of the few constants in my life. I don’t get to see her nearly as often as I’d like to, and leaving her right now pains me more than I’d ever admit. I know she’s worried. I’ve already beefed up our security here after she refused to leave twenty minutes ago as my things were being packed.
“No, child. I’m not leaving my home. No one cares much about a little old lady who bakes cookies in the kitchen. I’ll be fine. You take good care of my girl, OK?” she commands as she looks up toward the second floor. I swear if I didn’t know better, I’d bet that Tessa is still attempting to play matchmaker between Mia and me.
Mia comes down the steps, a bag slung over her shoulder. Staff carrying her one suitcase. I’ll give it to her, my future queen travels light.
“What?” she asks as she joins me at the front door.
“Nothing. I’ve arranged for added security. Jack is sending more men to the Royal Palace. They will meet us there. Pete has sent an additional car of security to drive us back. Can you follow orders, or should I be worried that you’ll run off into the woods again?” I ask. I’m out of line and I know it, but I’m pissed off and part of my irrational anger is at Mia. If she hadn’t picked a stupid fight with me and run off into the woods, none of this would be happening. But now, everything has changed.
“Yes, I can follow orders,” she answers in a clipped voice. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Mia appears as furious about all of this as I am. Her dark eyes bore into me, and I’m momentarily caught off guard by how fucking hot she looks when she’s angry.
“Sir, the car is ready,” a footman says as he opens the door for us. I break my gaze with Mia and head to the SUV parked outside. There are three of them and we are put in the first one. Mia doesn’t look my way as we drive through the winding countryside roads toward the city. It only takes us thirty minutes, but the ride feels longer with the silence between us.
I watch Mia out of the corner of my eye as Cain opens the door for her. She doesn’t look back at me but instead walks straight inside. Cain’s eyes follow her and then look back at me. I don’t say a word as I exit the vehicle and make my way to my apartment. Before Mia left, we never fought. Our staff doesn’t know what to make of it. And quite frankly, neither do I.
There’s a noticeable increase in security at the palace and I take note of that as I walk through the hallways and climb the back stairs.
I walk past the staff that are already unpacking my suitcase and head to the veranda. My apartment has an entire terrace, and it overlooks the city. I never tire of the view. I sit back against the wall where I can’t be seen. I can hear the honking of car horns, sirens, and the normal hustle and bustle of the city streets, yet it’s all muted by the trees and walls surrounding the fortress that I call home.
“Your Highness,” Pete’s voice calls out from the door before he steps out next to me.
“Pete, any word on who fired the shots?” I ask, standing as I walk toward him.
He looks around us. “I’d prefer you stay inside.”
I nod and follow him into my private study. Closing the door, I turn back to him and motion for him to take a seat. Once seated, I wait for him to speak.
“We found shell casings. It was a high-powered rifle. That was no hunting accident,” he states, confirming my fears.
“I want everyone home, now,” I command, my voice steady and even, but my mind racing.
“I understand. I agree. I’m working on it. Your father is in meetings with the president of France until later today. I’m having his secretary clear his schedule and ready the plane to leave tonight. Your sister and Logan are secured at the palace in Montelandia. I advise that they stay there. Your brother and Kate have been informed. He wants to speak with you before deciding whether to return here.”
I run a hand over my face. My brother can be the most frustrating person on the planet. I guarantee he wants to have an extended vacation in the Riviera.
“I’ll call him,” I state.
Pete’s phone buzzes. He groans.
“What?”
“Mia just went for a walk. She told my security detail to fuck off,” Pete states.
He goes to stand, clearly heading out to deal with Mia. I rise and put a hand up. “Stop. I will take care of Mia.”
“Christian, I don’t like the idea of you out there. Susanna, August, you, and your father all need to be particularly cautious right now,” he says.
“I will get her,” I say again, my tone telling him to back the fuck off.
“Cain will go with you,” Pete says as I leave.
I grumble the entire way down the corridor and the stairs. I can hear Cain walking behind me, but I don’t acknowledge him. Having guards around me nearly twenty-four seven has taught me the art of pretending they aren’t there. They tend to blend into the background like paintings. I’m aware of their presence but not of them.
I take the back door out past the garages and find Mia where I thought I would. She’s sitting in the rose garden at my mother’s grave. She loves the roses. It’s where she always goes to think.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” I say angrily as I approach her. I grab her arm and haul her up off the stone bench.
Her eyes are wide as she looks at me as though I’ve gone mad. “W-what?” she stammers.
“Mia, you can’t be out here. Have you lost your mind? We were just shot at not two hours ago. It’s not safe to be outdoors.”
Her eyes survey the garden. “Christian, we are surrounded by a literal wall of stone, bushes, and security guards. There are no buildings that tower over us. Where the hell could someone shoot me from?”
“Don’t test me. I am ordering you to stay inside,” I say as my voice booms in the small confines of the garden walls.
“Oh,
you’re ‘ordering’ me. That’s rich,” she replies.
Fuck my life. Here we go again. “Yes, I am.”
“You’re my boss, my lover, my friend, but you are not in control of me. I control where I go!” she yells.
“Not on this property! On this property, I make the decisions about everything you do!” I scream as I lose my temper.
Her eyes widen. I immediately regret those words. I don’t mean them, not literally anyhow. But it’s too late. The damage is done. She pulls her arm free of my hand and runs back to the palace. Leaving me alone aside from Cain who is hovering a few yards away.
I look at my mother’s grave, willing her to give me strength before I head back inside. I need to cool off and then go apologize to Mia. I shouldn’t have yelled at her. I love her and I need her with me. I just hope I can convince her of my feelings for her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mia
I’m greeted by Pete as I approach the side door of the palace. He’s standing by the same unmarked SUV that brought us here.
“Miss Edgewater?”
Stopping, I turn to him, wondering if he’s learned anything about the shots fired at the Summer Palace.
“Yes?”
He shifts his weight a little, which I find awkward because normally, nothing gets under Pete’s skin. He’s one of the most stoic people I’ve ever met.
“I’ve been contacted by King Ivan’s security detail. He’s at Princess Lara’s estate and wishes to meet with you. The property has been secured and I have a car waiting, that is, if you want to meet him.”
I feel the air leave my lungs. Do I want to meet my grandfather? That question is a loaded one. Part of me screams yes and another part says no.
“Mia? We need to leave now if you want to meet him,” Pete says as he looks toward the car.
I glance back at the palace and then toward the garden. Should I tell Christian? Fuck it. I’ll be back soon. And honestly, I need some time away from him.
“OK,” I answer as Pete opens the car door for me.
Pete leans on the car door. “I had staff pack you an overnight bag just in case you decide to stay the night and visit more. Otherwise, I’ll have a car bring you back later tonight.”
I nod and thank him, although I find it odd he would go to such lengths to make sure I had an overnight bag. Deciding not to overthink that, I buckle my seat belt.
“Oh, you’ll let Christian know?” I ask as he goes to shut the door.
He nods and the door shuts. A security guard that I don’t know drives me to the house. I haven’t been here in a long time. King Michael’s sister, Lara, and her former husband, Hans, owned it. Hans betrayed the family two years ago and tried to have them killed. He was killed in the process, and now Lara is with Logan’s uncle, Sten. I’m not sure why Lara has kept the house and I’m even more confused as to why she’d let King Ivan stay there. Wouldn’t Christian know if King Ivan was visiting Norddale?
By the time we reach the large manor house with its stone façade and imposing seascape behind it, I’m more confused than I was when I got in the vehicle. Dark clouds drift in off the gray sea as the wind picks up and the sun seemingly melts away in the sky. The air feels charged as the guard opens my door and directs me inside. A housekeeper who I am unfamiliar with lets me into the parlor.
A man stands at the back of the room which has giant French doors leading out to a small garden beyond. I can tell he’s old by the way his back is hunched over and by the fancy cane that one of his hands rests upon. The top of the cane resembles a snake and something about it unsettles me. King Ivan looks older than the photographs I’ve seen online. His white hair is cut short, and he wears trousers and a collared shirt beneath a green sweater.
He turns as I approach.
“Mia,” he states as his old brown eyes look me up and down.
“Your Highness,” I reply, curtsying as I had been taught when applying for my job with Christian.
He waves a hand at me. “No need for formalities, child. You are a princess after all, and more importantly, you are my granddaughter.”
The use of the word “granddaughter” has me freezing in my motion to stand back upright.
“Please, have a seat,” King Ivan states, ignoring my pause in movement. He motions to two large wingback chairs facing the garden.
Slowly, I stand and walk over to the closest one. I perch on the edge of it and survey him as he sits down. His weathered face remains neutral, his eyes unreadable. He leans the cane against the side of the chair.
“Well, we meet at last,” he starts.
I nod. “I…only recently learned about you.”
“So I’ve been told. How are your parents? My son is not an easy person to get ahold of.”
“I…he’s fine. I mean, they are fine. I don’t speak with them often. I stay pretty busy at my job,” I explain. It’s a white lie, but I feel unsure if I can speak openly with him.
“Oh? You work for Prince Christian, isn’t that so?”
“Yes.” I press my lips together. I know it’s not typical for a princess to work. I wonder if he thinks it’s beneath me. I haven’t felt this self-conscious in ages, not since middle school.
“And do you enjoy your work?”
Shrugging, I pick at an invisible piece of dirt on my trousers. “It’s been a good experience for me. I’ve learned quite a bit.”
“I imagine you have.”
I take in the room. It’s white and large. Brass-framed mirrors hang above two different fireplaces. There’s a baby grand piano in one corner and a set of sofas in front of one fireplace and several chairs in front of the other. And in the far corner, two smaller chairs sit on either side of a chess table. The pieces look expensive as though they’re made of a precious stone.
“Do you play?” King Ivan asks as he nods at the table.
“A little,” I state. It’s been ages since I played. Dad and I played often when I was growing up, but I’ve only played on a few occasions with Christian in recent years.
“How about we have a drink and play a game?” he suggests. “I could use some entertainment around here.”
I give him a small smile. “Sure.”
We sit in chairs that I’m sure cost a small fortune in front of a table that’s well over one hundred years old. The chessboard is comprised of two different tones of wood inlaid into a third type of wood. And the entire thing is trimmed by a two-toned wood pattern resembling sunflowers. It’s exquisite, so much so that I’m almost afraid to touch the table to play. The pieces are carved of stones that glisten like gems under the chandelier light overhead.
We begin to play, each of us taking turns after giving thought to the move. My grandfather asks me questions, the type one would ask as polite conversation at a dinner party. What are my favorite places to visit? What was my degree in? Had I been to the opera house in Norddale? What was my favorite fictional story?
I answer him while waiting for a moment that seems right. I have so many questions for him.
“Checkmate,” I say as I move my queen. When I said I didn’t play recently, it was true. But what I didn’t divulge is that I’ve been playing since I was four years old. Dad would set up a game every week. And we’d play it through the entire week. One little move at a time, allowing me hours to contemplate my next move and the move after that. I never entered a competition or played in any competition, but I could have.
King Ivan sits back in his chair. “You are a worthy opponent.”
Shrugging, I knock over his king. We stare at each other for a long moment. There’s little doubt in my mind that we are related. Even with his age, I can see physical traits in him that are also mine. His third finger on his left hand bends slightly to the right, just like mine. The curve of his earlobe is just like mine. Even the straight bridge of his nose is the same as mine.
“Why did you want to meet me? I mean, why now?” I ask, breaking the silence between us.
“Curios
ity of an old man, I suppose.”
“You were never curious before?” I question as I fold my hands in my lap.
He crosses his legs and places his hands in his lap, mirroring my pose. I can’t help but wonder if our natural sitting positions are also genetic.
“I was.” He pauses and tilts his head. I know he’s thinking about how he wants to answer the question because he’s done that over a dozen times during the chess game as he contemplated his next move. “I won’t beat around the bush. I’m sick, Mia. I have limited time left and that changes a person. I want to get my affairs in order. I need to finish the things I started. And meeting you was high on my list of priorities. I’d like to speak with your father, too, if I could find him. It appears he and your mother have taken a trip.” He raises an eyebrow as if to say “checkmate.” He knows that I know their whereabouts.
“I’m sorry that you are ill.” My answer isn’t the one he wants. I can see it in his eyes, but I won’t tell him where they are. It’s not my place to say. If he’s contacted my father and Dad has refused to see him, then he must have a good reason for his decision and it’s not my place to step into his business, especially not with his father.
“Tell me what you know of our family,” he says after a beat. I feel a little like he’s prying, but the question is a valid one.
Clearing my throat, I decide what to say. “I know you are my biological grandfather. I know my father tried to keep us hidden away. I know you loved my grandmother.”
“I think you can do better than that,” he prompts.
“Gilbert’s not your son, is he?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as if to say, “Two can play at this game.”
His lips quiver as he tries to hide the smirk threatening to emerge on his face. “Ah, I see your knowledge is greater than you let on.”
I raise my eyebrow again, signaling to him that I’m waiting for his response.
“I never loved Agatha. She was a means to an end. So was Gilbert as was Jasper.” He knocks a pawn over on the table. “Pawns, if you will.”
