by Mia Taylor
“A double short espresso,” he told the barista, as he leaned across the table to stare at the men.
They get paid to look important. When I get my hands on the budget, theirs is going to be the first to go. Screw security. What do vampires need security for anyway except show?
“Four sixty-six,” the bright-eyed girl behind the counter announced and Vivier produced his card and she swiped it.
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head.
“Pardon me, Prince Vivier, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”
Vivier and the other customers in line chuckled.
“Uh oh,” Vivier laughed, winking at the patrons. “That doesn’t sound good, does it?”
“Nein, Your Highness but…” She trailed off, looking humiliated, and Vivier gave her a patient smile, even though he was feeling slightly annoyed.
“Try it again,” he told her, shaking his head. She was only a girl and he didn’t want to embarrass her.
Papp can learn a lot from me. Not humiliating people in public for one. Maybe I’ll give him lessons one day.
Pink touched her cheeks and she attempted the card for the third and then fourth time.
“Try this one,” Vivier sighed, tossing her another plastic card which she took gratefully.
He turned to shrug charmingly at the people behind him.
His expression read “kids, right?”
The cashier was scarlet with embarrassment.
“I am sorry, my prince. This is also not working.”
Vivier was beginning to lose his sense of humor.
“Well, obviously there is something wrong with your machine,” he snapped. “Try someone else’s card.”
He gestured at the next person in line, a man who shuffled forward obligingly.
Hans and Felix finally noticed that there was an issue inside the shop and stepped inside the doors, their mirrored sunglasses fixated in his direction, but Vivier ignored them, watching in fascination as the man behind him in line easily paid for his purchase without issue.
What the hell?
“It’s not the machine,” the barista murmured. “But don’t worry, Your Highness, the coffee is free for you. No need to worry. I’m sure it is just a banking error.”
She nodded at the man on the espresso machine, who immediately began fixing the drink, his head down with embarrassment.
Vivier was suddenly aware of every set of eyes on him, watching for his reaction as the reality of what had happened settled.
There was nothing wrong with the machine or with his bank cards. It wasn’t even a problem at the bank.
He knew, with no uncertainty then, that the king had cut off his finances.
Chapter Four
The Queen Has Thoughts
“Emile, he is going to break if you continue on this path.”
The king turned his head slightly to indicate he had heard his wife’s words but he didn’t look up from his laptop.
Isadora stared at him in the mirror as she unfastened her pearls from around her smooth, white neck, waiting for a response.
“Emile, are you listening to me?” she snapped with impatience. “You can’t keep treating him this way. He isn’t a child.”
“Isa, you know I can’t help but hear you, liebling. Your voice is always in my head, being my voice of reason.”
The queen scowled at his flippant tone, noting that he did not raise his eyes still, his reading glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose.
“Maybe you should listen to the voices in your head for once,” she retorted sharply. “Especially when they’re more rational than the one you use aloud.”
To her mounting irritation, he smiled.
“Maybe, dear wife, you should have a little faith in my parenting skills.”
“Yes, Emile, because they have served us both so well thus far. Our son seems to be thriving under your cruel guidance.”
His smile faded and he finally stared up at her, his brown eyes glowing with anger.
“I have done my best for that boy since the moment he was born,” the king growled. “I wasn’t expecting him any more than you were, but I did my best to make way for him in the life we created with such care. To suggest that I have failed as a father—”
“I’m not suggesting you’ve failed, Emile. If anything, we are both to blame for how spoiled and entitled he has become. There is still time to ensure he becomes the ruler he is meant to be.”
“That is what I am trying to do, Isa. Why are you questioning my methods now?”
“Because he is going to… to… to…” Isadora searched for the proper word but it did not immediately spring to her lips. She frowned as she tried to verbalize what her main concern was in the matter.
“To finally see what responsibility and leadership are all about?” Emile chuckled, still unperturbed by his wife’s concerns. “Lick a few wounds and move forward for the better? Sadly, I had to do that once too, and look at me. I’m better off for it, aren’t I?”
Isadora wished she shared her husband’s confidence but she did not. She had seen Vivier’s face when he had returned from his brief trip to town. She was sure she’d never seen him more furious.
Despite trying to sneak away undetected, the queen had asked the staff to notify her at once when Vivier finally left the palace.
She knew that her meeting with him that morning was an exercise in futility but she told Emile she wanted to try before he made a final decision to make Vivier’s life miserable.
So headstrong, the both of them. The apple really doesn’t fall that far from the tree. One day, they will recognize that one of them will have to cave if they ever wish to have a good relationship. This is no way to rule a country. How can they expect to be respected when they cannot keep the peace inside their own household?
Isadora was smart enough to know that any debate on the subject would produce no results on either side, so over the years, she had learned to hold her tongue, but it was growing heavy in her mouth.
When Vivier had stormed back into the palace that morning, his face depicting the anger and helplessness he was feeling, Isadora had swallowed her motherly instinct to run to him.
The look in his smoldering green eyes had spoken volumes to his sentiments about the situation, but to her surprise, her son had cast a glare in her direction before taking the stairs into the west wing and disappearing from her line of sight without a word.
Now he will reconsider the opportunity he has been granted. He will come to his senses once he has calmed down.
But as the afternoon passed and evening came and went, there was no sign of Vivier and Emile did not mention their son.
It’s so easy for him to forget about unpleasantness. Why can’t I be the same way?
“I should call him down for supper,” Isadora said, turning to Jacques, who immediately rose to do her bidding, but Emile held up his hand.
“If he wants to sit about brooding, let him,” her husband said. “I refuse to chase him anymore. This is becoming tedious and ridiculous. Sooner or later, he’s going to need money for something and he’ll come calling. I’m not worried about it.”
Jacques slowly reclaimed his seat, shooting Isadora a worried look.
“Emile, who would you have him marry in such a short time?” she asked, trying to sound conversational, but there was a heaviness in her tone which she hoped he didn’t pick up on.
“Maybe one of the dozens whom he has run around with over the years,” the king spat back, gazing at his wife in disbelief. “I don’t care whom he marries at this point. Why are you being so contrary? Did we not discuss this before I made the announcement? Why are you acting like you’re as shocked as Vivier?”
“We did,” Isadora assured him quickly, not wanting to rouse his temper. “But I have given it some thought and I feel the deadline we have given him is unreasonable. After all, if he hasn’t made a romantic connection to anyone yet, it is unlikely he will turn to one of them now.”
“That is not my concern, but if you are asking my opinion, I believe Katarina Muchav would make him a fine match. She has the proper bloodline and she seems to adore him, although there is no accounting for some taste. Some women truly are gluttons for punishment.”
Some men too, Isadora thought grimly, but she didn’t say so aloud. Isadora opened her mouth to respond but Jacques lapsed into a choking fit, distracting them both.
“Good Gotte, man. Are you all right?” the king demanded as the staff rushed to the advisor’s side.
Jacques waved them away but Isadora could see what had caused his reaction; there was no chance Vivier would entertain a union with the Honorable Katarina Muchav.
Anyone who knew Vivier could see the contempt he had for the empty-headed blonde.
But he doesn’t know Vivier, not the way a father should know his son. And he never really will, now, will he?
After all, how many more centuries would one need to make an effort? Surely Isadora’s own efforts had been useless in bringing the two males she cared for most together.
The thoughts weighed heavily in her gut as the evening progressed but she did not know how to get her husband to listen to reason. Throughout dinner, she managed to keep from broaching the subject but it still sat forefront in her mind.
Staring at herself in the reflection as they readied themselves to retire, she wondered if she was simply fighting a losing battle on both ends.
My involvement won’t help matters in the least. Perhaps it is time that I stepped back and allowed the pieces to fall where they will. I’ve been playing referee for too many years and it’s becoming tiresome.
Isadora’s fear was that once the dust did settle, all would be much too late to rectify any damage which was already done between father and son.
It is my place to interfere, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I be trying to reconnect them?
It occurred to Isadora then that father and son had never really been connected in the first place.
Dressed only in her silk slip, her sleek black hair brushed stylishly away from her attractive face, she joined Emile in bed.
“I have a bad feeling,” she told her husband bluntly. He did not respond, poring over the reports on the screen before him as if he hadn’t heard her announcement.
She cleared her throat and started again.
“Emile, there must be an easier way to make Vivier see—”
The king’s head whipped upward and he scowled slightly through his reading glasses, his eyes flashing with indignation.
“Isadora, I am exhausted discussing this ridiculous topic. Vivier has nothing to complain about. He has the world in the palm of his hand and refuses to see that. Short of sending him to Siberia for hard labor, I am not left with much of a choice, am I?”
Suddenly, the helplessness which she had seen in her son’s eyes earlier filled her own heart.
Again, she was consumed by the sense that there was nothing she could do and the realization only filled her with more despair.
There is little I can do in this situation except sit back and hope for the best.
“Fine,” she said curtly, abruptly turning her back to her husband so that he knew she was angered. “Good night.”
Emile didn’t reply with more than a grunt and the queen fell off into a restless sleep.
She was plagued with very bad dreams that night and she tossed and turned fitfully as if she were traveling aboard the boat in her subconscious.
In the nightmare, she was journeying on the open seas, the waters rough as a storm ravaged the deck.
People were running amok, screaming hysterically as they tried to control the vessel against the unforgiving waves, but the ride only grew rougher.
Barely able to see, Isadora looked up and saw Vivier, balancing on the edge of the ship, acting like court jester in the middle of a performance.
He leapt from one foot to another, laughing merrily and clapping his hands as he nearly lost his footing several times.
“Vivier!” she screamed. “Vivier get down from there! Please!”
But he either did not hear or chose to ignore her desperate cries, his actions growing bolder.
Suddenly, he turned to her, a mocking smile on his face.
“Why do you look so panicked, Mamm?” he called out to her, his eyes burning through the chaos. “You wanted me gone and now I am.”
With that, he turned and dove into the black, endless ocean.
Isadora’s own screams woke her.
Glancing at her husband, she realized that she had not cried aloud but she was sopping in sweat and she tossed the comforter aside, sliding toward the edge of the bed to find her slippers. Her heart was still racing in her chest, the feeling of her heart pumping too much blood causing her nausea. Her pulse wasn’t meant to beat at that speed and it made her dizzy.
It was only a nightmare, she told herself reassuringly, locating her robe from the dressing room and stealing away in the dark. Emile didn’t stir from his spot. Vivier is fine, you will see.
But she was a mother first, her queen and wife status second to that. No matter how old she grew or how old her immortal son became, she would always love and care for Vivier above all else. She had no doubt the dream had been warning her about something.
He is angry, yes, she reasoned. But he is not depressed. He would not hurt himself. He’s far too vain for that… isn’t he?
No amount of logic stopped her from entering the dim hallway where her guards jumped, apparently startled by the untimely departure.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” one of the guards demanded, seeming shocked to see her there.
“Yes,” she whispered, continuing down the hall. “I need to see my son.”
They did not question her further, one staying at her side as the other maintained his post on the king, but Isadora could sense the look exchanged between them.
Across the east wing Isadora seemed to fly, pushing through the doors to the west wing.
She pounded on the doors, eyeing the empty hallway.
His detail is not here, she noted, her heart beginning to pound dangerously in her chest. He is not here.
That fact in itself meant nothing, but coupled with the nightmare, Isadora knew there was much more to what was going on than her son simply disappearing for a late-night rendezvous.
Isadora didn’t wait to knock again, instead throwing open the white double doors and peeling through her son’s quarters, but it was quickly obvious her suspicions were true.
“Call everyone. I want to know if he is in the palace,” Isadora barked at her detail. The guard nodded and immediately took to his radio as Isadora stepped back into the hallway.
“Call Hans and Felix,” she ordered. “Call anyone you have to.”
“Your Highness, I’m happy to oblige, but if I may, this is certainly not the first time Prince Vivier has not spent the night in the palace, as I am sure you are aware,” the burly man offered politely, clearly wanting to alleviate the stricken expression from the queen’s face.
“I know,” she murmured. “But something is different this time.”
Klaus did not reply but radioed out again, following Isadora as she made her way down the stairs and out the front door.
The night was heavy with humidity, but the queen was unaware of the way her hair was beginning to curl wildly as she stood beneath the stars.
“Please, Your Highness, stay inside. I can look about the park and courtyard for—”
Klaus’ words were interrupted by static on his radio as a voice piped through.
“Radio 1, this is radio 3. Please copy.”
“Copy,” Klaus replied, slowing his gait slightly, but when he realized the queen continued toward the garage, he upped his gait.
“Klaus, it is Felix. We don’t know where the prince has gone,” the voice confessed, his tone rushed. “Hans is patrolling the city, searching for his vehicle, but he slipped detail by descending the balcony an
d slipping through Le Jardin.”
Isadora heard the words and she felt as if her heart simply stopped beating. She flipped on the interior lights of the garage and saw the Lamborghini was missing.
He slipped security and took the Huracan.
It could mean several things, of course, and rationally, Isadora considered them all.
In his ire, he wanted to be away from the palace for one. It would be reasonable to expect Vivier to put distance between them for a time, until everyone had cooler heads.
He could simply be off visiting one his many friends or lovers. It would not be the first time he had shaken his tail and he would do that to make a statement.
Yet as Isadora stood in the cool garage and stared at the spot where the cherry red vehicle had sat, she could not shake the dream from her head.
“I need your cell phone,” she mumbled at Klaus, who continued to speak with Felix through transmissions.
Instantly he produced the device and Isadora dialed her son’s number with trembling hands.
The call went directly to voicemail, exacerbating the queen’s panic.
She could not recall a time when Vivier had turned his cell phone off.
“My queen, should we call the authorities to keep a look out?” Klaus said as she turned away, but Isadora shook her head.
“No, Klaus. Thank you.”
Slowly, she turned away, returning the carport to darkness.
“I am certain that he is fine,” the guard told her confidently.
But Isadora was not certain, not in the least, and as she ascended the stairs toward the east part of the palace, she stood over her husband, staring at him for a long moment.
He seemed to sense her standing there, his eyes blinking open.
“Isa! What is the matter?” he demanded, sitting up quickly and glancing about in worry. “Has something happened?”
“Vivier,” she told him so flatly that panic covered the king’s face also. The king’s eyes bugged in fear.
“What happened to him?” he demanded, jumping from the bed, his face pale even in the near darkness. “Was there an accident?”
Isadora shook her dark head and sighed heavily.
