Latvala Royals
Darkest Hours
Danielle Bourdon
Wildbloom Press
Copyright © 2018 by Danielle Bourdon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
Characters and places within are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or deceased are coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Danielle Bourdon
For the fans
Thank you for coming along on this journey
Prologue
Late March
* * *
We have survived an unsurvivable winter. That is not to say there were no casualties of Mother Nature’s wrath: the early estimates are fully one fifth of Latvala’s citizens will not live to see the first green of spring.
One fifth.
I cannot wrap my head around those kinds of numbers. Although I have insisted time and again over the course of the last few weeks that perhaps the numbers are off, my gut tells me the military’s count is closer to the truth than not.
So when I say ‘we’ have survived, I mean Latvala as a whole. There are enough of us left to maintain our nation. We planned as well as we could in advance, stockpiling food and firewood to last the season. It was a countrywide effort, with our troops helping the hinterland citizens prepare for the worst.
Sometimes the forecasters get it right. This season they did.
Winter hit early. It hit hard.
Despite our plans and efforts, the temperatures were more brutal than we’ve ever seen and the snows deeper. Power was out for more than two months and has only recently been restored.
The cold is responsible for most of the deaths. Those without enough firewood, those who did not ration as we warned, will have had no way to beat back the double digit, sub-zero nights.
Latvala is not alone in its misery.
The entire Baltic coastline has fallen victim to winter. Deaths have mounted in every country bordering ours and even some across the Baltic Sea.
We are not fully rid of the snows yet, but at least the ice has started to crack, so to speak. There is light at the end of the tunnel. We are able to move about easier than before and have begun to deliver supplies to those who need them most.
With this initial thawing, a new threat has emerged. One that might be more dangerous by far than the season just past. It could be argued that Russia is even taking advantage of the weather to push its agenda forward.
Word has come in from Somero and Imatra that foreign troops have been spotted near the border with Russia. These are rumors coming in from hinterland citizens and are unconfirmed so far by the respective militaries. I have sent a delegation to our own border now that the roads are almost travel-worthy.
I am still hopeful that there are mistakes in the reporting and that there is no buildup along our borders. However, the drumbeats of war have been prominent the past few years between global powers, and we are hearing through word of mouth that conflict is closer than it has ever been.
Latvala, along with its bordering nations and allies, will have to be more diligent than ever if the rumors are true.
For now, we continue to dig out and hope for the best.
* * *
Sander, King of Latvala
Perseverance and perspective until victory.
* * *
- Lincoln Diaz-Balart
Chapter 1
May
* * *
Sander stood on the balcony of the master suite at Kallaster Castle, basking in the glow of a rising sun. He sipped from a mug of hot coffee while the temperature began to climb toward the mid-forties. By three or four in the afternoon, the high was supposed to reach the low fifties, which would feel like a tropical climate compared to the wicked winter just past. He intended to enjoy the minimal heat to the fullest.
A pair of warm hands landed on his back, traveling with familiar ease over old and new scars alike. The shiver that raced down his spine had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with his wife’s knowing touch.
“I don’t know how you do it. It’s still too cold out here for no shirt,” Chey said. She sounded amused rather than judgmental.
Sander smiled against the rim of his mug. He knew without looking that she would be wrapped up in a luxurious head-to-toe robe. “It’s invigorating. You should try it sometime.”
She scoffed. “Oh, sure. I can see the headlines now. Queen goes topless on balcony! The scandal would never end.”
“There’s no one here to see but me and the wide open sea.”
“There is always someone somewhere,” she countered. “I’ve seen grainy photos of celebrities or other royalty taken from like ten miles away.”
He laughed outright at her exaggeration. “I don’t see any boats on the water right now. You’re safe.”
The ocean stretching away from the cliffside on which Kallaster sat was indeed devoid of vessels of any kind. Their particular suite was the most private in the entire castle, facing the ocean at a specific, advantageous angle.
Chey’s head appeared around his shoulder.
He stared down into her sparkling blue eyes, body shaking with mirth. His brows jumped toward his hairline when she reached for the belt of the fluffy pink robe.
Well, then. Things were about to get interesting.
The belt slithered loose. He watched, riveted on the way her hands slowly grasped the edges of the terry cloth. She wrenched the material apart like a stripper on stage might, exposing—an ancient Snoopy sleep shirt. The thing covered her from throat to calf.
Sander threw his head back and laughed. It felt good to laugh after so many months of agony and heartache. Sometimes one needed a reminder that life was for the living despite hardship and strife.
“And here I thought I was about to see nothing but skin.” He sighed melodramatically.
“You saw nothing but skin last night,” she reminded him cheekily before closing the robe and retying the belt.
“That was last night. Today is a new day.”
“You’re a glutton.”
“When you say it like that it sounds like praise.”
She laughed and swatted his shoulder. “You’re shameless. I’ll tell you what. If you come back inside, I’ll make it worth your while.”
Sander followed Chey with his gaze. She wagged her brows and flirted with her eyes. He lifted the mug to his lips and had another scalding sip before following her from the balcony to the warmer climate of their suite.
Just as he set the mug distractedly on a nearby desk, someone knocked on the bedroom door. The sense of urgency in the rapid knockknockknock evaporated Sander’s genial mood.
Chey’s e
xpression shifted from playful to sober and serious.
Their respite from trouble and turmoil had been blessedly brief.
He crossed the room and swung open the door.
Leander, his best friend and closest confidant, stood in the hallway with a wary look on his face. Whatever news he’d come to deliver, it wouldn’t be good.
Sander braced himself and stepped into the hall. “What is it?”
“We just got word that there’s been an incursion on Imatra’s border. Apparently a small contingent of Imatran soldiers was murdered at their post overnight.”
“Russians?” Sander asked. The Russians were the obvious choice given the logistics of the raid.
“That’s who it appears to be. I mean, I’m not sure who else it could be given that it happened right on the border. But whoever attacked the troops didn’t leave a calling card behind. Just dead bodies.”
“Has the news reached the media?”
“Not yet. Soon, though. I thought you’d want a heads-up before that,” Leander said. “I’m sure you’ll want to put our own men on alert at the border, just in case Imatra is the first of many attacks.”
“Go ahead and do that for me. Pass the word to one of the generals that we need to heighten our awareness. I’ll put in a call to Aleksi and see if he needs us for anything.”
“Will do.” Leander departed without another word.
Sander studied Leander until the man disappeared from view. The news hadn’t been good at all. Border attacks were what the smaller coastal nations had been afraid of since the uptick in tension between larger countries. And with the recent devastation winter had wreaked on the region, most militaries were thinly dispersed aiding citizens who still needed help. His included.
Aleksi, Imatra’s sitting king, was a smart ruler with a good heart. Sander felt a particular need to offer aid after the recent discovery that Imatra and Latvala’s rulers were related by blood.
Sander reentered the master suite and closed the door.
Contacting Aleksi was a call he wanted to make in private.
After Sander stepped into the hall, Chey got to work. She changed swiftly from her robe into a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved sweater, and lace-up hiking boots. With so much physical labor having been needed the past winter, she’d grown used to wearing clothes she could get dirty in. Heels and business suits weren’t suitable for mucking around snow-soaked terrain or the muddy earth the melting snow left behind. She’d spent many hours helping both outside and inside Kallaster over the winter, from ferrying firewood indoors to spending hours in the kitchens with the other women, preparing rations of food or cycling through storage so they didn’t go through supplies too quickly. All winters were rough in Latvala and she’d grown accustomed to getting through with little trouble. The bigger storms that hit every couple decades were the ones that challenged even the most prepared among society.
Once the roads had cleared enough to travel, she’d gone to the mainland with Sander to help the citizens there. Some weeks she still went; the disaster had spread its wings far and wide and people required aid to survive. The number of dead had been a shocking blow. Not just in Latvala but many other affected countries. Media worldwide had reported on the devastating storms and loss of life.
With the end of winter had come whispers of war. Global powers had been jockeying for position for years and, much to her dismay, it appeared a large-scale confrontation was imminent. The bits and pieces of conversation she heard from the hall seemed to confirm trouble was brewing.
By the time she exited the bathroom, Sander was pacing the far end of the suite with a phone to his ear. She spent a moment to indulge in the bare skin of his broad back and the ripple of muscle beneath his scarred flesh. He was in supreme condition for his age with only minor telltale signs of advancing years. A few wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes and mouth, and the barest hint of white touched the temples of his shoulder-length blond hair. If anything, Chey thought he resembled a battle-hardened warrior in the prime of his life.
She knew she was biased and didn’t care.
Sander ended the call and met her gaze across the room.
“Who was that?” she asked as she gathered the length of her hair back into a messy knot. The way Sander looked her over from head to toe threatened to reignite the sparks they’d doused when the knock came at the door.
“Aleksi. I offered help in case he needs it,” Sander said. He pushed his phone into the front pocket of his buckskin pants.
“What does he need aid for?” Chey asked. She wanted more details than the incomplete snatches of overheard discussion. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she’d first thought.
“Leander came with information that a small group of Aleksi’s men were attacked and killed at the border between Imatra and Russia. So I wanted to extend our help to Aleksi should he need it.”
Chey immediately knew that the escalation troubled Sander, and for good reason. It troubled her, too.
“Russians?” she asked.
“We don’t know yet. Aleksi has a team investigating the scene. As soon as information comes in, he said he’d call back.”
“What does this mean for Somero, Latvala, and the rest?”
“It means we need to be more vigilant. I’ve put the troops on the border on high alert. For now we’ll continue rebuilding and getting our country back on its feet. It’s important to go on living.” Sander pulled a faded olive-colored henley from a dresser drawer and tossed it on the unmade bed. He found socks and military boots to put on his feet. His fingers made quick work of the laces.
“Is there anything different you want me to do?”
“Yes. Stand right where you are for a second.” He fished around his nightstand a moment.
Chey frowned as she watched him hunt. “What are you looking for? I might know where it is.”
“It’s okay, I’ve got it. Thanks.” He closed the drawer and approached.
Chey couldn’t tell if he’d found what he’d been looking for or not. He managed to surprise her when he cruised right up and planted a kiss on her mouth. The heat of his body was as pleasant as the bare skin she couldn’t resist touching. She traced a lazy path across his chest to one of his shoulders, where she hooked her hand as if she needed the support.
“That was worth waiting for,” she whispered.
“Many things are worth waiting for. You, for instance. You’ll never know how glad I am that I was patient during our ‘courtship’ and pursued you despite all the obstacles against us.”
She smiled, not expecting the compliment. “Me, too, Sander. We’ve had a great life together.”
“I wasn’t kidding when I said we have to keep on living. If we waited for the right opportunity to do things, the opportunity might never come. Our courtship is proof of that. It’s the reason I’m doing this now instead of later, because later isn’t guaranteed,” he said, and gracefully sank to a knee. As if by magic, a ring appeared between his fingers. A beautiful anniversary piece styled with aquamarines and diamonds. He placed it at the tip of her left ring finger, which already had a ring on it.
Chey frowned, at first unsure what he was doing. Her mouth opened but no words came out.
“I want you to marry me. Again. I want to renew our vows in the same church with only our closest loved ones in attendance. Will you?”
Sander on a knee was a devastating sight. Bare-chested, with his hair loose around his whiskered face, he resembled a knight from centuries past. His blue eyes glittered with determination. She stammered through a wordless series of noises before she found her vocabulary again. “Of course I’ll marry you, Sander Darrion Ahtissari. You’re the love of my life.”
“And you’re mine, Chey. You’ve made me a better man and I can’t imagine my days without you.”
She laughed, breathlessly happy, and removed her wedding ring so he could slide the anniversary band on first. Once he’d done so, she pushed her ring back into place. “It’s beauti
ful. It looks old.”
As he rose to his feet, he scooped her up effortlessly into his arms. “That’s because it was my grandmother’s. I’ve saved it all these years for the right occasion, and this is definitely the right occasion.”
Chey wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled into his face. “I don’t know what to say. You make me so happy.”
“Just keep being you. That’s all I need.”
She kissed him like tomorrow would never come. A thing of hot breath and sweet pressure. “When do you want to renew our vows? Does this mean I get to have another honeymoon?”
He laughed. “How about next week?”
“Next week? What if Aleksi needs you?”
“Like I said, Chey, we can’t stop living. We’ll work around whatever comes our way.”
“Then yes. Next week. I expect flowers and a cake, though, even if it’s a small ceremony.” She kissed him and absorbed the gust of air when he laughed.
“You just want to do that thing where you smash the cake in my face, don’t you?” he said, grinning.
“Who, me? Never. I would never do a thing like that.” She laughed when he twirled her around.
“Yes, you would, Mrs. Ahtissari.”
“You do realize it might be, like, a homemade carrot cake or something? We’re still low on supplies.” She didn’t care.
Mirth glinted in his gaze. “And your flowers might be wildflowers from the nearest field.”
Latvala Royals: Darkest Hours Page 1
