Prince and Future... Dad?

by Christine Rimmer

  Instead, he boarded alone. Within an hour they were cleared for takeoff.

  It was 3:20 a.m. when they touched down in a cool, misty Gullandrian semidarkness.

  Finn was getting off the plane when Hauk Wyborn stepped up to him. “His Majesty would speak with you, Prince Danelaw. This way.”

  It was not a good sign when the king’s warrior appeared to escort a man to the king. But Finn didn’t object. His objections wouldn’t change a thing and a meeting with the king—destined, no doubt, to be unpleasant—was inevitable, in any case.

  The black car was waiting. Finn ducked into it and Hauk slid in behind him.

  Hauk spoke to the driver and they were off, rolling across the tarmac toward the road. Through the tinted windows, Finn spotted the knot of reporters not far from the gate that led to the terminal. How sad for them. Up so early on the scent of a story, and Hauk had herded him into the car before they got a chance to snap their pictures and shout the usual thoroughly intrusive questions.

  Finn turned to the giant warrior beside him. “You look well, Hauk. I’d say marriage agrees with you.”

  Hauk allowed one dip of his big golden head. “Yes. I am indeed a fortunate man.”

  Finn let his mouth twist into a wry grin. “Let me take this, er, rare opportunity to congratulate you.”

  “Thank you.”

  The warrior stared forward. Finn did the same. The car cut through the windless misty night.

  At the palace, Hauk made himself scarce once he’d escorted Finn to the king’s private audience room.

  Osrik was waiting for him, resplendent, even at four in the morning, in a fine gray pinstripe designer suit with a red tie. Medwyn stood nearby.

  “Prince Danelaw,” said the king. “Welcome.” His stern expression belied the word of greeting.

  “Your Majesty.” Finn saluted.

  “You surprise us,” said the king. “Back so abruptly. Without forewarning. And without my daughter.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Finn, because he felt some sort of response was called for, though, in fact, he had nothing at all to say.

  “What news do you have for us?”

  “Sire, none at all. It was time I came home, that’s all. Once full daylight comes, I’ll go on to Balmarran. I want to check on my sister, assure myself that she hasn’t yet managed to drive my poor grandfather mad.”

  The king, wearing an expression that was far from benign, studied Finn for several endless seconds. At last he said, “My daughter. Has she agreed to marry you, then?”

  “No, my lord. She hasn’t. She’s said no repeatedly. I’ve become quite certain that no is what she means.”

  “She won’t agree to marry you—ever?”

  “That’s right, sire.”

  “You’re sure of this?”

  “I am.”

  The king frowned. “Are you telling me, then, that the Freyasdahl signs have been proven wrong in her case?”

  “No, Your Majesty. Your daughter carries my child.”

  “And she won’t marry you. She refuses. You’re certain of this?”

  “I am.”

  The king heaved a deep sigh. “Then it’s as I told you from the first. You will have to take her.” The king paused, waiting for Finn to agree with him. Finn didn’t. The king looked at him darkly and went on. “It will be more difficult now that she’s back in America. You should have listened to me, Finn. She’d be at Balmarran now.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  The king’s frowned deepened. “Doesn’t matter? What’s this? Of course it matters.”

  “I don’t intend to take her.”

  The king stood very still. “What did you say?” His deep voice vibrated with barely leashed fury.

  “I said, sire, that she’s chosen not to marry me. She wants to stay in America and raise the child on her own. I think she’ll make a fine mother. Your wife, the queen, will make certain she has everything she needs. Liv—and my child—will thrive.”

  A rumble of rage rose from the king’s throat. “You would make of your own child a fitz.”

  Finn kept his face resolutely expressionless. “It’s America. The child will suffer little stigma there. And I refuse to claim a wife against her will.”

  There was a moment of echoing silence. The king looked at him as if he had lost his mind. And maybe he had.

  Then the king commanded, “You will go for her. You will take her. You will keep her until she’s wed you and the child is born.”

  “I am sorry, Your Majesty. But no. I will not.”

  Liv’s phone rang in the deepest part of the night.

  She bolted upright in bed and cried out, “Finn!” before she came fully awake and remembered he was gone and she was getting over him.

  She grabbed the receiver on the third ring and barked into it, “What?”

  A crackle of static, then Brit’s voice. “Don’t tell me I woke you.”

  “It’s two in the morning here, did you know that?”

  “Well, yes. I admit, I did. But I’ve been…developing my sources around here.”

  Liv wasn’t getting it. “Your sources?”

  “All right, I’ll be crass. My spies. I have spies of my own now. Believe me, around here I need them—and Elli’s here.”

  “With you?”

  “Uh-huh. I’ll put her on in a minute.”

  “Okay. Good—spies? You have spies?”

  “You got it.”

  “So, you have news for me, is that it? From these spies of yours?”

  “Yes. And Elli confirms it.”

  “Confirms what?”

  “That father’s had Finn Danelaw thrown into Tarngalla.”

  Tarngalla. Liv couldn’t believe it. “You’re not serious.”

  “Oh, but I am.”

  Liv recalled her first sight of the stone fortress about ten miles north of Lysgard, on a treeless stretch of land. The edifice itself had looked impenetrable, its forbidding aspect made more so by the high electrified fence surrounding it, coils of cruel barbed wire on top.

  Finn had been with her that day. “Watch your step,” he’d warned. “Do murder and get caught, perpetrate a dastardly crime against the state—and Tarngalla awaits. Parents of naughty children have invoked its specter for centuries now. ‘Keep up like that, young man, and it’s Tarngalla for you…”’

  Liv was suddenly wide-awake. “Father threw Finn in prison?”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  “But why?”

  “We don’t know yet.”

  “We?”

  “Me. Elli—we’re trying to find out.”

  “Did you ask Father?”

  “It was only early this morning that it happened, from what we’ve been able to piece together. Dad has been unavailable since then.”

  “I’ll bet,” Liv muttered.

  Brit said, “Elli and I got together on it. We decided we ought to let you in on the situation.”

  “I can’t believe it. Finn in prison. Are you sure?”

  “I heard it from more than one source before I tried to get in to see Dad. Elli heard about it from Hauk—she’ll explain that in a minute. Anyway, she and I have been talking. We figured you’d be interested—given the reports that you two are in love, engaged and getting married any minute.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read in The World Tattler.”

  “But he was there, right? Staying with Mom, hanging around with you on a daily basis?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I—” Brit cut herself off. “Okay, okay…” Her voice had grown slightly fainter, as if she’d stopped speaking into the mouthpiece. She must be talking to Elli. Then she spoke into the receiver again. “Hold on.”

  “Liv?” Suddenly it was Elli’s voice in her ear. “Are you okay? Brit says…there’s a baby.”

  Liv’s throat felt tight. Maybe it was the pregnancy. She’d be a walking waterworks if she didn’t watch herself. “I’m fine. And yes, I�
��m pregnant. Barely.”

  “Oh, Livvy…” It was all there in Elli’s voice. Joy. Anxiousness. Just a hint of envy—after all, Elli was supposed to be the first one to get pregnant.

  “Ell?”

  “Um?

  “How are you?”

  “Wonderful. Truly. The happiest woman alive.” Even over the phone, her joy in her new life with Hauk came across.

  “I’m glad for you.”

  “Thank you—and about Finn.” Elli’s voice was all business again. “Let me tell you what I know. Hauk was sent to meet him at the airport with orders to escort him to Father’s private chambers. Evidently it didn’t go well. Hauk was summoned again, along with two guards that time, to take Finn to Tarngalla.”

  “But why?”

  “Livvy, we don’t know. Not for certain.”

  “What do you know?”

  “That Finn displeased the king. Greatly. And I think…” The sentence trailed off in the middle.

  Liv prompted, “What? Tell me.”

  “Well, it has to be about you. Hauk met Finn at the plane. Why would father summon him like that, at three in the morning, if not to grill him about you and the baby and you two getting married? Which reminds me…” Elli hesitated, delicately.

  Liv made a growling sound. “Oh, go ahead. Ask me.”

  “Are you marrying him?”

  “No.”

  “But why not?”

  “Ell, you are such a complete romantic. He lives there. I live here. Until he found out I was pregnant, we both knew we’d never see each other again. He’s not ready for marriage. I’m not ready for marriage. We did a stupid thing and now there’s a baby on the way and a baby on the way is not reason enough for two people with nothing in common who would otherwise have just walked away from each other to decide they have to spend their lives together. Enough said?”

  “Do you love him?”

  Liv cast her gaze ceilingward. “I knew you’d ask that.”

  “Love changes everything.”

  “I’m sure, for you, it has.”

  “You haven’t answered my question. Do you love him?”

  Did she? And did love even matter in this case? She shook her head. “It’s not the issue.”

  “Oh, Livvy. Love is always the issue.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  “And there is the baby.”

  Liv had her ducks in a row on that one. “Women have babies on their own all time now. And in my situation, with plenty of money and Mom and Hilda and Granny and the aunts just longing to help out in any way they can? Come on. You know that baby is going to be fine.”

  Elli heaved a big sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.”

  “So then, the only one who has to suffer is Finn.”

  Liv scowled. “The implication being that he’s in Tarngalla because of me.”

  “What other reason can there be? Finn followed you to America to get you to marry him. He failed. So he comes home and he pays the price.”

  “Oh, puh-leese. I refuse to marry Finn and he gets thrown in jail. Where’s the sense in that?”

  “Sense has exactly zip to do with it. This is Gullandria. And in Gullandria, if a man doesn’t marry the woman who carries his child, there’s bound to be Hel to pay—they may spell it differently, but hell is Hel, you know? Eternal fire or blasted towers of ice, it’s big Trouble. Capital T.”

  “What it is, is barbaric. Unbelievable. Totally unacceptable.”

  “Call it whatever you want. The bottom line is, Finn’s in prison. And you’re not.”

  Liv didn’t like the sound of that. “Wait a minute. Was that some kind of accusation?”

  “Of course not. Just a statement of fact, and hold on, Brit wants to say something now.”

  Brit came on the line. “So you’re getting the picture?”

  “All too clearly.”

  “When are you coming?”

  “This could royally mess up my internship, you know? First, there was Elli’s wedding. I really couldn’t afford taking time off for that. It’s only a three-month job, after all. If I want the units, I have to—”

  “When?”

  “I keep asking myself, how can this be happening? How did I get myself into this crazy, impossible, ridiculous—”

  “Livvy.”

  Liv muttered a very bad word.

  “When are you coming?”

  “Damn it. As soon as I can find a flight.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liv did have a number where she could supposedly reach her father. He’d given it to her and Brit when he’d had their travel arrangements set up before Elli’s wedding. She could have called him and asked him to send one of those royal jets of his to get her. He’d have it ready and waiting for her at Executive Airport in no time. But she couldn’t bring herself to speak with him—at least not until she was face-to-face with the man and could deliver the head-on dressing-down he deserved.

  So she went online and, for an outrageous price, got a flight out of San Francisco leaving that afternoon at five, nonstop to Heathrow. From there, she’d board a smaller, commuter-type plane for Gullandria.

  She packed her bags. By then, it was almost four in the morning. Hours to go until she could do much else and she was far too keyed up to sleep. She paced the floor and tried to read and channel-surfed, all the while thinking of Finn, aching for him, hoping he was all right, and mentally rehearsing all the scathing things she’d say to her father.

  At eight o’clock, she called the Attorney General’s Office and explained that a family emergency had called her away again. No, she didn’t know for how long. She sincerely hoped it would only be a few days.

  That grim job accomplished, she threw her bags in her car, locked up and went to tell her mother that she was leaving—again.

  When Liv burst in the back door, Ingrid and Hildy were sitting in the breakfast nook, having their morning coffee together as they’d done for all the years that Liv could remember.

  “Darling,” Ingrid exclaimed. “What’s happened? You look positively wild.”

  “I am wild.” Liv hauled out one of the kitchen chairs and dropped into it. “And I want some coffee, but it’s not good for the baby, is it?”

  “No darling, I’m afraid it isn’t.”

  “Orange juice?” Hildy offered.

  “No thanks. I think I’m going to murder my father. He’s a monster and I hate him. He’s thrown Finn into Tarngalla, did you know?”

  “No, I didn’t know.” Ingrid sipped her coffee. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  Liv glared at her mother. “How can you be so calm about it?”

  “Darling—”

  “Could you stop calling me that?”

  Ingrid blinked. “I’ve always called you that.”

  “Well, it reminds me of Finn now. And that…upsets me.”

  “Ah.” Ingrid and Hildy exchanged a look. “Sorry, sweetheart—so you’re going to Gullandria?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Well, what else can you do?”

  Liv made a growling sound. “Exactly.”

  Ingrid and Hildy shared another freighted glance. They did that all the time, carried on private conversations just by looking at each other. Sometimes—like right now—Liv found it irritating in the extreme.

  Ingrid said, “Your father is…who he is.”

  Liv threw up both hands. “You sound like Brit. Next you’ll be telling me you and he are reconciling.”

  Ingrid shook her head. “No. I’m only telling you that nothing you do or say will change Osrik Thorson. And believe me, I know whereof I speak.” She set down her cup and leaned closer, across the table. “Livvy, I lost so much. I gave up my sons to keep my daughters, to raise them here, in America, to make certain at least my girls would be safe from that place and all the scheming and dangerous maneuvering for power that goes on there. Yet what’s happened? There’s an old Norse saying…”
r />   Liv stifled a groan. “Enough with the Norse sayings.”

  Her mother repeated it anyway. “The length of my life and the day of my death were fated long ago.”

  “Meaning, specifically?”

  “What have I accomplished, by fighting my fate? My sons are dead. Perhaps they would have died anyway, but at least, for the years they lived, I would have known them.” Blue eyes glistened. Ingrid turned away, collected herself and then faced Liv once more. “And my daughters? Where are my daughters now—the daughters I meant to keep safe from all things Gullandrian? One has married a Gullandrian; one went to Gullandria for a visit and refuses to come home. And one is on her way back to Gullandria just as soon as she can finish telling me goodbye.”

  Liv put her hand over her mother’s. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Ingrid covered Liv’s hand, so it was held safe and warm—at least for that moment—between both of hers. She was smiling, a sad little smile. “There is no fighting fate. You and your sisters each have a road to travel. I might have pulled you from your paths temporarily, but now, unerringly, each of you seems to be finding her own road again.”

  Liv couldn’t help asking. She and her sisters had asked so many times and never gotten any real answer. “What happened? Why did you leave him, really? What did he do?”

  Ingrid slid her hands free of Liv’s and sat back in her chair. “Now is not the time.”

  “Mom. It’s never the time.”

  Hildy cleared her throat. Ingrid glanced toward her lifelong friend. Yet another of those speaking looks passed between them. This time, Liv felt no irritation at the silent communication. She had a clear sense that Hildy was on her side. Hildy wanted Ingrid to reveal at least a little of what had happened all those years ago, what had been so terrible that it had torn their family in two.

  Finally Ingrid faced Liv across the table. “Remember, I’ve told you I had a younger brother who died before you were born?”

  Liv nodded. “I remember. His name was Brian.”

  “Yes. Brian—we all adored him, Nanna and Kirsten and I.” They were fraternal triplets, Ingrid and her sisters, just like Ingrid’s daughters after them. “Brian was obsessed with all things Gullandrian. When he graduated from high school, he came to stay with us, with Osrik and me and our two sons, at Isenhalla. Osrik was newly crowned then. Kylan was a baby and Valbrand was just three. It was only to be a visit, a few months, in the summer. Brian was set to attend Yale….”