The Royal Bodyguard

by Lindsay Emory

  Hugh Konnor. Oh, how you slay me.

  I closed my eyes tightly and let it all sink in. And when I opened them, I knew what I needed to do.

  To protect my family. “Karl von Falkenburg simply invited me to dinner.” When Thea’s brow lifted in surprise, I said, “You can confirm with him if he’s talking again. I’m not really sure why Christian showed up. Maybe he wanted to kidnap Karl. He’s certainly worth more.”

  I continued with the lies. “Anyway, he cornered me on the balcony, and I’m very lucky I had my pepper spray on me.” I wished I could see Hugh’s face, thank him somehow for ensuring that I was always protected. “Christian’s been a sick bastard who gets off with toying with this family and I, for one, am glad it’s come to a mostly peaceable end.” I sent an apologetic look to Nick. “Sorry about the bastard bit. I’m sure your mother was a lady.”

  “She had me, didn’t she?” The ends of Nick’s lips flicked up and I had the distinct impression that he could see right through me.

  But that was impossible. No one had all the pieces to the puzzle except me. And therefore, I was the only one who could find the solution.

  “Has Christian said anything? Did he indicate that anyone else was responsible?” I let my eyes fall on Sybil. “For the medical records?”

  She shook her head.

  Thea cleared her throat and said, “No. He’s being treated by the physicians, but he’s acting like he took a vow of silence. He hasn’t said a word.” Her face was drawn, and I realized how difficult this must be for her, dealing with the man who she thought she’d have children with and then had traumatized her in so many ways.

  I wouldn’t let my sister get hurt again.

  “Well, then. I’m sure you all have very important things to finish up with law enforcement.” I turned to Sybil. “Can I steal a moment of your time? I have a recent astrology question that I need answered and we haven’t had a consultation in so long.”

  Sybil kept her face disinterested and nodded like she couldn’t care less.

  “Thea? Is this all right?” I asked, and my sister nodded wearily. “Please get some sleep soon.” I kissed her cheek and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We need you healthy.”

  Then I marched from the room with Sybil right behind me. I’m sure it looked very purposeful but, as soon as I left, I realized that I didn’t know where we could go next.

  Sybil must have noticed my hesitation because she pointed down the hall to a door that led to a boiler room.

  “Really?” I asked after the door closed behind us. I gestured at the steam pipes and tanks and valves. “Here?”

  “It’s probably the safest room in the whole complex,” she noted wryly. “Too much noise and interference for anyone to hear anything.”

  Interesting. I’d file that away for the next time I arranged a covert conversation. “I need a new secure email,” I said, going straight into the business portion of our meeting. “Preferably something that can’t be hacked into. Do you have any recommendations?”

  She immediately named a provider. “It’s the best. Even government officials with access to top-secret channels use them.” Her lips twitched. “Unofficially.”

  “Great. When I get my new address, I’ll need you to send me everything the hackers have got on me.” When I saw the approval in her eyes, I knew I was on the right track. “And then, I’m going to give you the password.”

  Which earned me an immediate frown. “Whatever for?”

  “There will be a draft email saved. If something ever happens to me or a member of my family, I need you to send it.”

  Sybil’s sophisticated, calm air dropped. “What are you getting into, Caroline?”

  “I’m taking care of my family,” I said simply.

  Chapter Forty-One

  As soon we stepped out of the boiler room I felt it. Something had happened.

  It felt like lightning had struck, like the walls would burn you if you touched them.

  Sobs echoed from an office down the corridor.

  I started running toward them.

  Then a man shot out of a door. Unlike all the other times he’d sneaked up on me, this time something deep down in my bones had told me he’d be there.

  Waiting for me.

  “What…?” Before I could finish the question—whatever I was going to ask, I wasn’t even sure myself—he answered me.

  Because he knew.

  “His Highness.”

  “Oh.” My head spun, my knees went soft. But before I could fall, Hugh’s strong arm was wrapped around my waist.

  “Thea?” I asked.

  “On her way.”

  I shook my head. “She’s not supposed to leave. Gran said…”

  “Thea said.”

  Oh. Of course. What Thea said—whatever she said now—would be obeyed. Now that she was truly the heir to the throne. The next Queen of Drieden. Who would argue with her?

  “What do you want—”

  I cut him off. “Upstairs.”

  It wasn’t what he had expected, I could tell. But his arm slipped from my waist. His fingers twined in mine and we walked up the winding maze of corridors and stairs toward the Queen’s residence. Together.

  I walked in without knocking, something I had never done before. The parlor was already full of Big Gran’s closest staff. Her ladies-in-waiting, her butler, her secretaries. They parted like the Red Sea for me and the path to her inner sanctum was clear. Harald was by the door, stalwart and ferocious. “Is anyone in there?” I asked him softly.

  “No, Your Highness.”

  I didn’t correct him on my title. Protocol didn’t matter today—but it never had.

  “What did she say to you?”

  Harald flinched slightly. “Leave.”

  Well. That was a positive sign.

  I reached for the door and turned the old, worn handle. I swore I heard multiple gasps in the room behind me. Such things weren’t done. But what was Aurelia going to do to me? Throw me out of the castle?

  I took a deep breath and headed into the dragon’s lair.

  Her Majesty Queen Aurelia sat on a chair next to the window, looking out on the great courtyard below. Soon enough, there would be a crowd gathered at the gates, there would be a wall ten feet high of flowers and offerings. Wreaths would be laid, photos of Prince Albert would be affixed to the black iron fence. And none of the mourners would really know that their Queen sat here, watching all of them, silently grieving with them.

  I could tell that she had heard the door open because her shoulders drew back. She wouldn’t want just anyone to see her sad. It simply wasn’t in her DNA.

  “It’s me, Gran,” I said, so she might feel like she could relax.

  She did not.

  I pulled up a chair to the window anyway, and sat. Until she told me to leave, I would stay.

  We stayed like that for however long it took for the news channels to report the death of His Royal Highness Prince Albert of Drieden. It could have been minutes or hours. Time was sticky and slow there in my grandmother’s private rooms, catching each of us in our own web of memories and regrets.

  Finally, the first news truck showed up. Then the second, right as a group of Driedish women collected, their arms wrapped around each other.

  My father had not been the most charismatic of princes. The most exciting thing he’d ever done was marry my mother, which surely led to him swearing off excitement for the rest of his life. He never liked fast horses or speeding cars, but he enjoyed fishing, reading, a good game of chess and an exceptional glass of whiskey. And he was a dutiful, if absent-minded, father.

  “It’s all changed,” Gran said suddenly. “The family has changed, just like that.”

  “No, it hasn’t.” I was surprised at how confident I sounded, given all the upheaval the House of Laure
nt had experienced in the past year. “Not unless we let it change.”

  That was all that was said for the hour that I stayed by my grandmother’s side as she silently processed the death of her eldest son.

  An hour later, just as the bells chimed, there was a knock on the door. Harald entered, followed by Dr. Lao. Harald cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, the palace surgeon has arrived.”

  Dr. Lao waited with his head lowered until Gran stood and acknowledged him. In very official language he formally informed his sovereign of the death of her son. There would be certificates and seals and letters to Parliament and back again, all to certify that the next king was dead.

  Long live the Queen.

  Briefly, I wondered if Father’s death changed any of Gran’s plans for abdication after her Jubilee, but they probably didn’t. Gran wasn’t the type of Queen to change course. At least there wouldn’t be any awkward explanations about why my father had been skipped over.

  He was dead. What my father wanted didn’t matter anymore.

  After the formalities were over, Gran nodded at me. “Please see Dr. Lao out.”

  And that was that. Whether my grandmother and I would ever have a close, healthy relationship, I didn’t know. Maybe this would open the door to family Christmas at her estate in Kasselta. Maybe I’d never be allowed in the palace again.

  So I needed to make the most of this opportunity. “Dr. Lao,” I said, “could I speak with you for just a few moments? In private?”

  I directed him to a nearby sitting room, which he seemed to recognize. The thought gave me pause. How many times had he come upstairs to speak with Gran on medical issues?

  But that wasn’t what I asked him. No, I had an altogether different question. “Would it be possible?” I finished.

  Dr. Lao nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  “Good. Let me know when it’s done.”

  The next few days were a haze of tears and family and details. So many details went into a royal funeral.

  So. Many. Details.

  If there was ever a time that I was tempted to beg off my responsibilities because of the whole—I was disowned from the family—uncomfortable truth, this was it. At the same time, however, it was my father’s funeral.

  Thankfully, there was a whole palace staff that stood ready for such occasions, and I learned that the palace made funeral plans for each royal family member whenever they turned twenty-five, so that was a warm, fuzzy feeling. /sarcasm font/

  Henry briefly returned to his base, which was probably exactly what he needed. He seemed to be dealing with our father’s death in a different way than the rest of us.

  Felice withdrew to the château at Dréuvar, which seemed to be the practical choice for all concerned. While our parents’ divorce had been explosive and dramatic, I knew they had loved each other, in their own way, from afar all these years. Maybe knowing the other was out there, living their life exactly as they wished, was all they ever wanted.

  In the breaks between consultations and cuddling sessions with Thea and Sophie, I thought of my own lost love. Hugh Konnor had, predictably, slipped out of sight…as long as I stayed within the palace walls. I noticed his presence whenever I ventured out of doors, to the shops or back to the hotel where I was keeping a room, for my own sanity.

  Maybe Hugh and I would live the rest of our lives like my parents. Happy enough to know that the other was safe and sound and alive.

  The idea left me hollow and fidgety.

  Go.

  The word had been whispering at me again, flicking around my ears like a pesky mosquito. I wasn’t sure if it was the specter of another public funeral or the weight of the choices that I still had to make, or both, but I knew my temporary reprieve was fast running out.

  As soon as Father was interred at St Julian’s Cathedral, I had to be ready. To go. To stay. Or to fight.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The funeral was beautiful. The boys’ choir was angelic, the flowers divine, the homily heavenly.

  It was fit for a would-be king, but nothing like Albert Laurent, the man, who probably would have preferred a quiet service by his favorite trout stream with a small but satisfying luncheon of roast chicken and potatoes.

  Technically, I shouldn’t have been included, but as this was the twenty-first century and no one was cruel enough to exclude me from my father’s funeral, I sat with Sophie and Henry and Felice on the third row of the cathedral while Thea and Gran sat at the front of the church.

  I never said that protocol was completely ignored.

  There was a short procession (he was only a prince, not the monarch, after all) and then a reception for politicians and VIPs in the state hall. Henry had liberally shared his flask in the limousine back to the palace so the event passed by in a blur. Of course, all of us behaved ourselves. We were professional royals and we could shake hands and murmur politely no matter how much whiskey had been consumed.

  The word had been passed around…to meet in the library after the event. Okay, it was me passing the word around. I knew Henry wanted to return to his unit as soon as possible, and Sophie had said some things about the invitations that were coming her way. Her friends wanted her in Courchevel. Or St. Bart’s.

  And then there was Thea. I was still worried about her. She had been a workhorse over the last week, but I suspected that some time with Nick on an island somewhere would do her good.

  No, I needed to get us all together one last time, before we all scattered and everything changed.

  Because change was inevitable.

  Instability was not, however.

  It was nearly evening when the four of us convened in the palace library. It was a true library, rivaling many universities in its collection of rare books and encyclopedias on Driedish history, economics and politics. It was generally a deserted spot in the palace, which is why I had picked it for this occasion.

  Sophie entered the room with a groan and promptly lay flat on a library table. “What now?” she asked dramatically.

  “Good God, please make this quick,” Henry said, pulling his flask out of his jacket pocket. I had noticed earlier that he had taken care to make sure his suit matched, a sign of his distraction.

  Thea was the one who still seemed to be holding it together, albeit with thread that was quickly unraveling. “What’s going on, Caroline?”

  I pulled four envelopes from under my arm and laid them on a table. “I asked Dr. Lao to pull these for each of us.”

  Henry cracked open one of his eyes. “What is it?”

  “They’re your blood tests. From when we all gave blood when Father was in the hospital.”

  “Isn’t this illegal?” Thea asked shrewdly.

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Under the policy between the hospital and the royal family, the blood we give is retained for family use only. It would be destroyed once Father died, but it was the property of the palace while he was alive.”

  Thea raised her eyebrows at me. “So you presumed to have each of us tested? For what?”

  “To make sure we’re not bastards,” I said. It was a joke that only Henry got. Sophie looked intrigued. Thea’s eyes went cold. “No, that’s not why,” I said hastily. “I mean, none of us really knows…but that wasn’t why.” Here was where I started telling partial truths, but it was necessary.

  “They’re testing the bones found at the Langůs battlefield, to confirm that they’re the remains of King Fredrik, our ancestor. And after what happened to my medical records, I realized that, in this century, the royal family needs to protect its own genetic information, now more than ever.”

  “This is crazy,” Sophie declared. “Do you think someone would try to say we’re not legitimate heirs, based on what some old bones look like?”

  “That’s exactly it,” Thea said, rubbing her forehead.

  “So thes
e are for each of you,” I said. “Certified genetic tests, overseen in a hospital, from samples that were kept separate from any other donations.”

  “And what do you want me to do with this?” Sophie asked, holding her envelope by the corner as if it contained something creepy and crawly.

  “Take it immediately to your vault and lock it away,” I explained patiently, reminding her of the large vault in the safe room attached to her apartment in the tower above us.

  “I’ve forgotten how to open it,” she whined.

  “I’ll show you,” Henry said, almost as if he was bored. But he had been staring at his envelope intently since I’d said what was in it.

  “Can we go now?” Sophie asked, and I replied that she could. We all needed rest, space and time away from the palace, I added.

  “Especially you,” I said to Thea after Henry and Sophie had nearly run into each other on their way out of the library, leaving just me and my older sister.

  “I don’t understand what has happened,” she said. “But I know there’s more to it than you’re telling me.”

  “Just like there’s more to what you’ve told me about what happened after Christian disappeared.”

  Thea gave her head a little shake. “That’s different. You, my sister dearest, keep secrets.”

  “We all do,” I said. “Look at Father.”

  My sister frowned. “What did he keep from us?”

  “All these years after the divorce, Mother was still his designated person to give medical consent.”

  “But Father wasn’t exactly good with those kinds of details.” Her face was drawn, thinking of the man we had buried so recently in St Julian’s Cathedral.

  I left it alone because I didn’t want to cause her more stress or grief, but I knew there was no way that Father had simply forgotten to update a form for the last decade. No, the palace had secretaries and administrators and couriers all double-checking and triple-checking such things, planning ahead for all sorts of unlikely events. Mother’s name had been left on his paperwork for a painful reason.