The Royal Runaway

by Lindsay Emory

  Suddenly, Hans DeGerald pulled me off to the side for a semiprivate chat.

  Hans and I had known each other for years. In fact, he had been at the ski party where Christian and I first met. Hans wasn’t a royal or any sort of aristocrat, but his family was one of the richest in Drieden, which made him almost as acceptable as someone with a great-great-great-grandfather who had been the younger brother of a king’s illegitimate cousin.

  He started off asking about the recent work I’d been doing. I returned the favor and asked about the job he kept to maintain the appearance that he was contributing to society.

  “Hell of a hard time finding a new law firm for Father’s consulting start-up.” He must have misinterpreted my expression. “Oh, of course—I apologize for even bringing it up. You know we pulled our business from Boson Chapelle the day after the wedding. I mean, the, um . . .”

  “It’s fine,” I said abruptly, but Hans still felt he had something to apologize for.

  “You know our loyalty is to the Crown. The DeGeralds and the House of Laurent have a relationship that goes back centuries. In fact, as soon as I knew what Christian was about, I told Father we needed to speak with him. His behavior was not appropriate.”

  The back of my neck tensed. “You spoke to Christian after the wedding?”

  Hans was appalled. “Good God, no. I told you our loyalty is to you. We cut him off immediately. And that firm of his.”

  “When did you speak to him, then?”

  He was so transparent. Caution crept back over his face. “You’re better off without him,” he said with perfect urbane neutrality.

  “What was Christian ‘about,’ Hans?”

  “Look,” he ducked his head and said in a confidential tone, “it doesn’t matter to anyone what arrangement you two worked out, but to carry on with another woman during his engagement showed that he lacked a certain . . . discretion that anyone would require in their corporate lawyer.”

  “Christian was cheating on me,” I said evenly, though my heart was jumping into my throat. But Hans misunderstood my calm tone.

  “I know you’re a woman of the world, but it still doesn’t excuse the way he conducted himself. And to run off with her? Instead of marrying you?” Hans shook his head. “But that’s what you get with a Scot, I suppose.”

  “Did you know her name?” I asked, still surprisingly cool about it.

  “No.” Hans took a sip of his drink. “I never could see the caller ID when he took her calls. But he wasn’t exactly subtle about what was going on,” he finished with a grimace. Hans really was a loyal friend.

  “Let me guess—the same phone he used with me?”

  He thought about it. “I guess so. It probably wouldn’t do to use his firm cell phone.”

  I briefly closed my eyes, remembering Nick’s lecture about cell phones. He had been right. People had noticed our so-called secret phones; they’d just chosen to pretend they hadn’t so as to give us privacy.

  Although I had managed to stay composed, thanks to many years of training, the revelation that Christian had cheated on me shocked me to my core. There had been a lot of speculation in the magazines and online about the causes of our breakup. Some had even gossiped that I had been the one cheating and suggested that Christian had gotten fed up with my infidelities and left the country in disgust.

  Many of the nights on Perpetua, when I had gone over every possible reason for Christian’s desertion, I had, of course, considered a third party. What woman wouldn’t? But when no grainy photos had appeared of Christian with his bimbo, I suppose I’d dismissed it. No one was looking harder for that angle than hundreds of reporters, who scoured all of our local haunts. And if they hadn’t found any evidence of another woman, I’d thought she probably didn’t exist.

  While Hans took my hand and kissed it, murmuring about his sincere feelings, I realized that while this confirmation of Christian’s infidelity was yet another blow to my increasingly fragile princess ego, it was also something that Nick and I had been searching for: a clue.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” I told him, intending to go find Nick to tell him what I had learned. But again, Hans assigned another meaning to my words, and he clamped my fingers tight and pulled me closer, my hand through his arm.

  “I cannot let you leave upset. Theodora, we’ve known each other too well for too long. I insist you stay and enjoy yourself. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

  The last part was definitely true. And Hans was right—we had known each other for years. In fact . . . I examined the other gentlemen that some aide on Gran’s staff had diligently researched before adding them to the guest list. There were many faces I knew quite well. Several, actually, who had been in Christian’s circle.

  Maybe someone else would drop some information about Christian. What he’d been up to. Where he was. Most important, who this other woman was. If we could find her, we’d find him, surely. All I had to do was work the crowd like a good princess.

  With a keen eye for pedigree and social connections, I quickly homed in on my prey: Jonas DeKregg, a distant relative on my mother’s side. Five minutes later, I’d determined that Jonas hadn’t known Christian as well as I’d thought. Next up, Alexander of Bayern. I remembered he had studied law—perhaps he had known the Boson Chapelle crew.

  I circulated like that for the rest of the evening, flirting, inquiring, letting every eligible bachelor there believe that he might have a chance with a princess.

  Finally, I had to take a break. Stepping out into the barely lit corridor on the east side of the ballroom, I took some deep breaths and started to piece together what I had heard.

  “I thought you didn’t need a husband.”

  The voice jolted me out of the thoughts that had consumed me since Hans mentioned Christian’s side piece. I turned and was surprised to see Pierre Anders—the man I had wanted to speak with all night long.

  “I don’t,” I said, trying to cover my surprise at seeing him.

  “Then why are you flirting with every eligible bachelor in the country?”

  I bristled at that. “Is it a crime for a woman to have a nice evening?”

  Anders tutted. “No, of course not.”

  “I’m surprised you notice such small details as my whereabouts, being the leader of a major political party and all.”

  “I’m a leader because I notice small details.”

  His matter-of-fact tone struck me as significant. “You and my grandmother are alike in that way, I think.”

  Anders cocked his head. “I must respectfully disagree. Your grandmother is not interested in the details.”

  I wasn’t used to people pointing out Gran’s presumed failings to my face. She was the Queen, after all, and while no one believed in her infallibility anymore, it really wasn’t polite to criticize her in the presence of another royal.

  “Her Majesty is deeply involved in this country.”

  Immediately, I saw that I had made a mistake. It was an almost imperceptible change in the politician, but his eyes lit, his mouth twitched. I had walked into a trap, but hell if I knew what it was, and Anders didn’t seem inclined to share that with me.

  I thought quickly, remembering why I had wanted to speak with Anders again, and I was suddenly desperate to change the topic. “I enjoyed our conversation at the opera,” I said.

  “Really?” Anders looked amused.

  “I do admire your work in this country.”

  “You do.”

  It was a strange, vague response, but I was being sincere. “Yes. I hope to have as great an impact on Drieden’s future as you have.”

  Now a true smile broke over the man’s face. “You do realize that I mean to abolish the monarchy.”

  “I know you have scheduled a vote.”

  “A vote that will pass.”

  He was smug. I hated smugness. For all my family’s faults, good manners had been drilled into us from the cradle. Manners that did not abide smugness.

 
; “Once Parliament abolishes the monarchy,” he continued, “I’m afraid there will be no role in Drieden for an unemployed princess.”

  Well. That was how it was going to be, then.

  “You seem awfully sure of your abilities to win a war you’ve been losing for thirty years,” I pointed out.

  That barb didn’t de-smug him. It only sharpened his grin. “I have new weapons that strengthen my case.”

  Weapons. The word was harsh and reminded me of the pool of blood at Tomas Claytere’s country home. “Driedeners will never support a violent rebellion.”

  Anders’s white brows lifted. “Who said anything about a violent rebellion? In the twenty-first century, it is far more likely that people will discover the truth for themselves. Information is out there, everywhere, being uncovered every day by both patriots and rebels. Surely even you watch the news. Read the internet.” His lips twitched. “All it takes is one determined hacker and the House of Laurent will crumble under the weight of its tyranny.”

  I laughed coldly. “Hackers? That’s what your strategy is? That something like the Cayman papers will suddenly reveal a reason to abolish the monarchy? I’ve gone over the Cayman papers, Mr. Anders. You won’t bring down the House of Laurent with those.”

  Anders’s smile melted, replaced with an expression of fury that seemed demonic on his genteel, elderly face. “You’ve spoken with him, then.”

  “Who?”

  “You tell him I expect delivery or there will be hell to pay.”

  “Who is ‘him’?”

  “Tell Aurelia that I know all about her schemes. And soon everyone in the country will, too.”

  “But you said you’d spoken to Christian—”

  I was interrupted by a rough hand on my arm and a “Your Highness” spoken in Driedish but spiked with a Scottish accent. Anders looked quickly at my bodyguard and his features went smooth again. I tried pulling away from Nick, but his grip was unyielding.

  “Party’s over, Princess.”

  twenty-eight

  AS SOON AS THE DOOR to my apartments closed, we both let loose.

  “How dare you!” I clenched my fists, angry beyond belief that Nick had escorted me out of the function before I had gotten more information about Christian from Anders.

  “What did you think you were doing back there?” he demanded, looking at me like I was the crazy one.

  “I was doing what you couldn’t. That was the point of all this.”

  “Making a fool of myself with brain-dead aristocrat suitors? Yes, I’m sure that’s something I wouldn’t be doing.”

  I blinked two, three times. “That’s what you’re mad about?”

  “I’m mad about all of it, Princess.”

  “Your Highness.” Tamar’s voice came from my bedroom door, the sound of it equivalent to someone throwing Nick and me into the Comtesse River in January.

  Still, Nick drew his weapon faster than I’d ever seen. The fact that Tamar did not reciprocate was more chilling than if she had.

  I moved to step forward, but Nick stepped in front of me. “Don’t move,” he growled. I didn’t know whether he was talking to Tamar or to me.

  Unlike me, she was unfazed and held her hand up. Something was between her fingers. It wasn’t a gun. It was much smaller.

  “I found this in your room.”

  It was a small black disc.

  “He needs to be removed from the palace, Your Highness.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” An ominous click came from Nick’s gun.

  “I told you he couldn’t be trusted,” she said, not taking her eyes off me. “Your rooms are scanned regularly for listening devices. This wasn’t here before he came.”

  “She already knows it’s not mine,” Nick growled.

  “Does she? How would a princess know about such things?” Tamar asked in a sly, soft voice. “Unless she’s already found your other devices and believed your lies about them, too.”

  There’s an expression—feeling like the rug was pulled out from under one’s feet. Right there, at that moment, I had that sudden, strange feeling. A quick drop, an irreversible change in altitude, in perspective, one that shifted everything.

  My brain flashed back to when Nick had found those other two devices . . . He had known exactly where they were. Had that been a trick? A simple sleight of hand? I had never questioned it before.

  I circled around until I faced him—not in front of his gun; I wasn’t being that stupid this time. When he saw me, something subtly switched between us. I had questions, and I could see from his eyes that I wasn’t going to like his answers.

  At that moment, I didn’t care at all for my safety. Which is why I held my hand out and told Tamar to give me the bug.

  After she did, she murmured that she would call the palace guard. “No,” I said with a sharpness that caused her head to jerk.

  “But Ma’am . . .”

  “You’re dismissed, Tamar.”

  I didn’t thank her as I usually did when she left the room. I wasn’t feeling especially grateful for anything as I turned and faced Nick again with the bug.

  “Explain this,” I ordered him.

  “Destroy it first.”

  “Who’s listening to us?”

  With a scowl, he snatched it from my fingers, held it against the wall, and smashed it with the butt of his gun. Black plastic crumbled down the wall, now marred with a jagged six-inch hole in its hundred-year-old plaster.

  As if in slow motion, and with the freakish control of an exotic martial arts master, he turned and stared at me. “You cannot believe her.” His voice was a Scottish splice of barbed wire.

  “What else am I supposed to believe?” My throat hurt. “No one else has been in here since you searched the room.”

  He snorted. “No one else? Your staff? Your maids? Lucy—”

  I cut that off immediately. “Don’t you dare speak of Lucy.”

  “You spend a lot of time telling people what not to do.”

  “When it’s appropriate, yes.”

  “Facts aren’t appropriate to you, Princess,” he sneered.

  “Facts?” I cried. “Let’s talk facts, please. Give me some facts, some reason to believe that you weren’t the one who planted all those bugs—here, at Ceillis House, at Claytere’s house. Some reason to believe you at all!”

  “What about her? Do you also demand facts to believe her?” He threw a hand to indicate the door where Tamar had just left.

  I felt overwhelmed. There was no black and white anymore. No hard evidence. Only my instincts and intuition. Of course I was going to cling to any semblance of fact that I could.

  “She has been with me for years. I have no reason to doubt her,” I said, as much to calm myself as to explain to Nick.

  “No? How about the fact that she shot at you at the museum?” Nick’s voice had gone low and deadly. “Why is that not a problem for you when all I’ve ever done is save your bloody life?”

  “My life never needed saving before you came along!”

  “Your life has been in danger since your wedding day.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “You just didn’t notice because they were keeping you on that bloody island. Afraid of what would happen if they let you off.”

  “Who is this ‘they’ you speak of?”

  He gave me a pointed look, as if it were so obvious. But I wasn’t letting him get away with innuendo and open-ended answers anymore.

  “Just tell me: Who put the bug in my room?”

  His jaw clenched. “Someone in the palace.”

  “You’re in the palace; was it you?”

  “Once again, you’re back in la-la land.”

  “Don’t patronize me. Stick to the facts. Explain them to me.”

  I was reaching for anything, anything at all that would sound true.

  Nick rubbed his forehead. “You keep asking the impossible. I can’t explain why criminals do the things they do.”

&nbs
p; “You and I made a deal on the boat. That we were going to tell each other the truth. I’ve upheld my end. I’ve brought you here, shared everything. I’ve done what I needed to do to find Christian. And you can’t even tell me one fact!”

  “Ask me something I know the answer to!” he yelled, not even bothering to use sarcasm as a defense.

  “How did you know I’d be there that night? At the bar?”

  That stunned him into silence.

  “It wasn’t a coincidence, was it?” My accusation made my voice shake. “We didn’t just happen to run into each other at a random dive bar in the theater district.”

  He opened his mouth to respond but stopped when I spoke again. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t planned.” I wouldn’t believe it, anyway. Not now.

  “What do you want to hear, Princess?” Nick’s voice was hoarse when he finally answered. “That I’d seen your face for months, paired with my useless brother in magazines, on every television? That I’d wondered what the hell kind of woman would take him on for a husband when it seemed like she had everything on the planet? That maybe when I looked across that bar and saw you for the first time, I couldn’t help myself from talking to you, even though you were the last person in this damned country I needed to get involved with?”

  “Why did you talk to me?” I half-whispered, partially hypnotized by what he was describing.

  “Because maybe you were the one responsible for my brother’s disappearance.”

  It took me a second to realize what he had just said. What he was accusing me of.

  Me.

  “You were the last person to see him. You had motive, opportunity, a security force to help you cover it up.”

  Rug Pulled.

  The world was flipped upside down.

  I saw what he saw. And he was right. It could look like I was involved in Christian’s disappearance.

  It could look like Nick had been sent to investigate me.

  From somewhere deep down, I summoned the strength to say, “You have no right to speak to me this way.”

  “You wanted to talk facts.”

  My face burned as though I’d just been slapped. “Get out.” I turned on my heel and marched toward my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I realized that what Nick had observed his first day in the palace had been right.