“I think you’re right. There’s a whole wing up here we haven’t checked, but if we don’t head down now, we’ll be late.” Eliana took the lead toward the stairs. Elias fell in at her flank.
On the second level, the one his mother and Erick should have already searched, he noted an uptick in security. There were four or five more men guarding the hallways and stairs than usual. The men had gathered small lanterns to sit near the walls for better visibility.
“Think Mom and Erick set that up?” Elias asked Eliana.
“I don’t know. It’s unusual, though.”
“We shouldn’t pass by without an answer.” He deviated from their course to approach two of the guards. When he was within earshot, he said, “Who ordered the extra security?”
“Prince Elias,” the guards greeted in unison. They bowed their heads. The guard on the left answered first. He was a young man in his early twenties with a thick head of brownish-blond hair. “Your mother and brother requested extra hands on deck.”
“Have any of you seen Princess Emily?”
“No, Prince Elias,” the men answered.
Elias rejoined Eliana at the head of the stairs. “Mom must have felt like she could trust them.”
“Either that or she’s trying to divide up the guards. Separate the bigger groups into smaller ones. Easier to manage or something,” Eliana replied.
“Could be.” Elias looked ahead as they approached the main floor. Bodies milled around the foyer, as if unsure what to do or where to go. Someone had found candles and oil lanterns to set up at intervals.
Rather than engage the group, Elias cut away for one of the hallways. He ignored several calls of his name for the moment, intent on reaching the office.
“I’m really not happy that we haven’t found her,” Eliana said.
“Let’s hope she’s with them,” he said, just before entering his father’s office. His light flashed across his mother and Erick, both standing next to Sander’s desk. A lantern cast a soft glow over the entire room.
“Did you find her?” Chey asked.
“No. And apparently neither did you.” Elias, like Eliana, was not happy at that turn of events. Emily should have been looking for them as urgently as they were looking for her. The fact that they hadn’t found her anywhere disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. He turned off his flashlight and tucked it into a slot on his shoulder holster.
“No one that we asked had seen her either,” Erick said. He thrust a hand through his hair and cursed beneath his breath.
“Most of the regular staff is still asleep. It’s probably better to leave it that way for now,” Chey said. “I called for a meeting with the councilmen and the advisors in a half an hour.”
“We saw some of them in the foyer, talking,” Elias replied. “We’re going to have to tell them that Pop’s plane took a hit, but at the same time, I’m afraid if we do, it might trigger some kind of reaction from whoever in the castle is playing for the other side.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t tell them about that yet, then,” Chey said. “When we meet with Kirkley, we can give him orders directly. Just bypass the council and advisors altogether.”
Elias considered it. If they neglected to give the plane details, the councilmen and advisors would be furious later at being kept out of the loop. They would complain that they could not make sound judgments without all the pertinent information—which was true to a point. But if they did mention his father’s situation, it might give whoever worked against them incentive to act out.
“We’ll withhold that information for now,” Elias said. “We’ll tell them that we’re mobilizing a bigger deployment for the outer villages and that we’re acting under the assumption we’re being invaded. Instead of the two thousand troops I ordered earlier, we’ll up it to four. Several advisors will rebel against that, but it’s better to distract them for now until we have answers.”
“Let’s face it. There isn’t anything the councilmen and advisors can decide that we can’t figure out for ourselves right now,” Eliana said. She was the least fond of the group as a whole than anyone else.
“A true statement,” Elias said. “But we also want to avoid a total mutiny if they think they’ve been completely cut out. It’s a fine line to walk.”
“This is an unprecedented situation, though. Despite everything else that’s ever happened—at least since I’ve been in Latvala—I can’t recall a time when the entire councilmen and advisor apparatus have all been suspect. Not just them but the guards as well,” Chey said. “In the past, too many guards and those closest to us were compromised, so I don’t think our caution here is misplaced.”
“I agree,” Elias said.
“I checked the phones again. Still no reception.” Eliana put her phone away with a small sound of disgust.
Elias understood her frustration well. Not knowing what had happened to their father’s plane was grating on everyone’s nerves and fears.
“I’m pretty sure we can count on the power and communications being out for the duration,” Elias said. “Let’s find Emily first thing after the meeting, then figure out the rest.”
“We can head to the conference room early. The councilmen and advisors will follow us in,” Chey said.
“Let’s go.” Elias was ready to get the meeting over with and continue the search for his sister.
The longer she was missing, the more suspicious it seemed.
Chey stood to the side of the conference room as the impromptu meeting got under way. The lanterns that had been brought in for the occasion threw a golden glow over the gathering, which added a distinctly medieval feel to the proceedings.
Erick and Eliana flanked her, watching in silence.
Elias got down to business with crisp authority, informing the advisors and councilmen of his intent to add to the troops already deployed to the hinterlands. He met resistance immediately, and not only over the troops.
Several councilmen demanded to know why he and his siblings were armed to the teeth when they had guards for that. One of the advisors—Alvar, Chey noted—brusquely informed Elias that just because the power had gone out did not mean the world was coming to an end.
Elias explained that until he had more answers, the current atmosphere would stand. Although the extra troop deployment would be troublesome to maneuver, he insisted that they move forward with plans, and that no one need question him again about his decision to arm himself.
The usual suspects, the councilmen and advisors who always fought Sander on everything, proceeded to protest just about every decision Elias announced. Chey made a mental note of each and every face, and the level of their protest. It would not be as easy to detect any traitors in the ranks as she’d hoped.
But there were traitors somewhere, she was sure of it. All the clues pointed to a coup.
Halfway through the meeting, an urgent knock came at the door.
“Enter,” Elias called.
Kirkley stepped in wearing a dire expression. The commander was in his early thirties with short brown hair and a lean, tall build. Shadowing the doorway were perhaps ten men, guards he must have felt certain were loyal to Sander.
Chey knew that Kirkley wouldn’t interrupt unless he had bad news indeed. Her stomach churned with anxiety and distress.
“Yes?” Elias asked, tension making his posture rigid.
“Your Highness, someone has delivered a note.” Kirkley walked to Elias and extended a folded piece of paper.
“Who do you mean by someone?” Elias asked.
“One of the cleaning staff was awakened by a knock on her door,” Kirkley explained as he handed off the note. “She found this addressed to you and brought it straight down.”
“I want the woman pulled aside for questioning.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Elias unfolded the paper and read.
Chey knew before Elias said anything what the note contained. Instinct had kicked in the moment Kirkley had knocked on the door.
She felt sick inside, but was already bracing herself for the difficult hours to come.
Elias’s lips thinned. He refolded the note and glanced at the table full of councilmen. “My sister, Princess Emily, has been taken hostage and is being held somewhere within the castle. If I do not immediately relinquish control of Latvala’s throne and my ability to command the military, she will be executed.”
Chapter 11
It was the darkest hour of Chey’s life.
Sander in a plane crash, Emily held hostage, and Elias put in an impossible position. To save his sister, he had to give up control of the country.
Inconceivable. Chey could not fathom it.
Yet she also could not fathom knowing that her daughter’s life dangled by the whim of madmen who would do exactly as they said if their demands were not met.
A collective gasp of shock circulated through the room.
Chey snapped her attention to the reactions of the councilmen and advisors, desperate to find a hint of guilt or conspiracy among them.
Erick and Eliana, who stood at her side, remained eerily silent.
Chey was thankful for that, at least. The last thing she needed was for her children to wind up in a shouting match.
“Kirkley, have the councilmen and the advisors wait outside with your men until I give the word otherwise. None of them are to leave your sight,” Elias said. He folded the note and pushed it into his pocket.
The room exploded into mild chaos at Elias’s order. Councilmen and advisors alike protested being separated from any meeting Elias might have with his immediate family.
Not all the men protested, however. Chey saw that Torsten and several others abided by Elias’s command without a hint of anger or frustration. Torsten was one of the advisors Elias had put his trust in and, if Chey had to guess, was loyal to the Ahtissari family.
Alvar, Risto, and others were not so forthcoming. They exited the room but did so complaining to anyone who would listen.
Once the door shut, Elias faced his family. “I have no intention of giving up control over Latvala. Should we acquiesce to the demands, I think we’ll all be killed. So this is my plan. I’m going to bring the councilmen and advisors back inside in a few minutes, and I’ll tell them up front that I know someone or several someones have turned on us. It’s possible that a few others have seen or heard something suspicious and will choose our side over the coup. If we can figure out who it is, and who he’s got working for him in the castle, we might be able to find Emily before something happens to her.”
“I’d guess they have her in the dungeons,” Erick said. “We searched a good portion of the castle and didn’t find her.”
“That would be my guess, too,” Eliana added. “Not nearly as much foot traffic down there as there is up here.”
Chey considered Elias’s decision and the situation as a whole. She knew Elias was right. The moment he gave up, the new leader—whoever that might be—would have the entire family assassinated.
“How long do you think we can hold them off?” Chey asked. She drew her children closer so their voices wouldn’t carry.
“Before we risk something happening to Emily? Probably not long. No more than an hour or two,” Elias said.
“There’s another way out of this conference room. What if two of you went into the dungeons to find Emily? If we could get her back and capture the men who have her, we could regain control of the situation and force the men to tell us who hired them, thus exposing the traitor.”
She watched Elias, Erick, and Eliana exchange glances.
“I can hold them off for as long as possible. Or as long as we feel is safe,” Chey added. “And I think you should tell Kirkley to watch the councilmen and advisors. See if they interact with staff or other guards. Keep track of who comes and goes. Word of mouth is the only way to get messages through with the power out.”
Elias broke away from the group and went to the door. He summoned Kirkley and spoke briefly before returning. “I did exactly that. It’s a good idea, Mom. And I also think we might have a slim chance of finding Emily before time runs out. Erick, Eliana?”
“I agree. I’ll go,” Erick said.
“I also agree and I’m willing to go, too,” Eliana replied.
“You can all three go if need be,” Chey said. “I’m armed and I can hold them off by myself.”
“I don’t want any of us to be alone. Look what happened to Emily,” Elias said.
“Technically, I have Kirkley and his team, too. Tell him to guard the conference room door until we give him word otherwise.”
Elias seemed to consider it.
“You might need both Erick and Eliana down in the dungeons,” Chey said to Elias. “We don’t know how many people are involved in all this.”
In truth, Chey hated to send her kids down there into the unknown. But to save lives, risks had to be taken.
“We’ll do it that way. Erick and Eliana, you’re with me.” Elias cut away to have another word with Kirkley before herding his siblings toward the secret panel in the conference room.
“Be careful,” Chey said. “I want you to all come back alive.”
Chapter 12
Sander jerked into consciousness with a sharp cough. Every breath burned and his eyes stung when he opened them. A heavy weight sat on his chest, pinning his spine to something hard and unforgiving. He tried to move and wound up in a coughing fit that rattled his lungs.
Everything hurt. His head, back, arms. He realized he couldn’t feel his legs.
A thick cloud of smoke swirled above his face, obliterating everything beyond.
Plane crash.
The jet had gone down.
Sander cursed and pushed harder at the thing pinning him down. It was one of the plush leather seats that had torn loose upon impact.
The crack of flames and increasing heat put urgency into his motions. Fire blazed somewhere beyond the veil of smoke.
“Mattias!” he shouted. Another coughing fit struck. He twisted his body, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain, and managed to roll the seat off his chest. Afterward, he was able to move his legs.
“Leander! Mattias!” He groaned as he rolled over and pulled himself up. He couldn’t see a damned thing.
“Mattias!” He fumbled his way through the wreckage, unsure where he was in the jet or where the others might be. The heat from the fire grew in intensity, but he didn’t want to leave the fuselage until he knew where the other men were. Had they even survived?
His right foot sank into something soft.
He glanced down, barely able to detect the open cavity of someone’s chest.
His boot was lodged in a man’s remains.
Sander staggered to the left, yanking his boot free of the body. He went to his knees, heedless of the flames, and shoved aside a piece of debris to uncover the victim’s face.
Please don’t let it be my brother.
“Mattias!” Sander choked on the name, bile rising in the back of his throat.
The mangled face that stared up at him belonged to one of the guards.
Sander’s relief was short lived.
The lick and lap of flames drove him away from the body. There was no time to try and pull the guard free or they would both burn. He felt his way through the cabin, searching for an opening.
“Mattias!” He choked on smoke as he battled his way past more toppled seats. His search for bodies or survivors ended when he suddenly stepped onto nothing but air and pitched forward toward the ground. He landed hard, grunting at the impact. Something sharp pierced his side below his ribs, beneath the edge of the tactical vest—a sliver of metal or some other shard of fuselage. A brisk wind curled smoke away from his body, allowing him to see the field of wreckage for the first time.
The jet had broken into several parts. He’d just stumbled out of the tail end, which had suffered unimaginable damage.
Without thinking, he reached around and yanked out the sliver of metal from his side. He
shouted in pain and pinned a hand against the wound. Blood oozed through his fingers but not at a life-threatening pace.
“Leander! Mattias!” He scrambled to his feet, relieved that his limbs seemed to be in decent working order. Nothing felt broken or shattered, though several deep lacerations made themselves known as he staggered through the charred pieces of wreckage, looking for bodies.
The front of the jet had cracked into two different sections. Smoke billowed from each. In between the front half and back half lay a minefield of sharp metal, burning rubber, torn seats, and other pieces he could not identify. Through it all, he searched for his brother and best friend.
He found another guard lying half burned on the ground.
No sign of Mattias, Leander, or Jeremiah anywhere.
He called out again and again as he stumbled through the rubble. Pops and cracks erupted from different sections of the jet.
The longer he was on his feet, the more he began to feel the effects of the crash. His chest ached and it hurt to breathe. Nothing short of death or unconsciousness would halt his search, however, and he continued to navigate the debris field with growing desperation.
An exposed foot jutting out from beneath a piece of wing drew Sander forward. He shoved against the fragment, clenching his teeth at the lancing pain in his side.
The piece of wing flipped over.
Sander stared into Leander’s still face, heart in his throat.
“Leander!” He reached down with two shaky fingers to feel for a pulse. Part of Leander’s scalp had been sliced off, as if by a tomahawk. Cuts, bruises, and burns littered his body, his clothing charred or torn in too many places to count.
No pulse.
“Leander!” Sander dropped to his knees and placed one hand over the other on Leander’s chest. He only realized one of his pinky fingers sat at an odd angle when he started compressions. It didn’t matter. His only concern was to bring Leander back. Under the night sky, which had begun to turn pewter with the onset of twilight, Sander fought to save Leander’s life.
Latvala Royals: Darkest Hours Page 7
