King and Kingdom (Royals Book 2)

by Danielle Bourdon

  “You make a good point.” Chey knew Wynn was right. It was nerve wracking, however, to take matters into her own hands and chase down a Prince of all things in a foreign country she'd only visited once. Maybe what she was really afraid of was that Sander would tell her to her face that he didn't want anything to do with her. That they were finished. It would break her heart.

  At least she would know.

  The flight to Latvala went without mishap. It was long and arduous, with two stop overs and plane changes. Wynn was, as ever, great company. Upbeat and enthusiastic, she insisted on taking pictures with Chey in front of terminals and iconic signs as they passed from one country to another. The closer they got to Latvala, the more Chey felt like it was coming home.

  Landing in Kalev that evening, Chey was both excited and nervous. After waiting an hour to get their luggage, the girls departed the terminal and took a taxi to one of the hotels near the shore. It wasn't the same one she'd walked through with Mattias once upon a time, but a smaller, quaint business a block from the waterfront.

  Their rooms were on the highest floor—the fifth—overlooking the ocean. At night, the water glistened like black diamonds. Lights from other city buildings stretched off to their right, offering a pretty vista in the darkness.

  “I can't wait to see this place during the day. It's almost impossible to think you're dating the man who will one day be King of all this.” Wynn widened her eyes at Chey as the reality of it hit home for her.

  “Dated. I dated the man...” Chey corrected. She had the sense of the surreal just like Wynn did, and she'd lived it for two weeks.

  Wynn waved her off. Like Chey, she'd chosen to travel for comfort: jeans, oversized sweater and lightweight coat in case they hit cold weather. “It's just a temporary break. All epic couples have some kind of separation, then there's a romantic get-back-together thing that makes all the old hearts swoon when you tell the story at Christmas or around a campfire.”

  “And you're always telling me I'm the one who's dramatic,” Chey said with a wry glance at Wynn.

  The girl lifted her shoulders with a helpless grin then changed the subject without warning. “By the way, how are we going to get close to this heir to the throne, anyway? We never talked about that.”

  That very question had been on Chey's mind since before getting on the plane. She looked out the window again, then paced through the room and slouched down on the sofa. “I'm not exactly sure yet. It won't work to take a taxi up to the gates. They'll stop us before we get there and just turn us away. He'll never even know I was here.”

  Wynn perched on the arm of a plush chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Bird-like, silky hair bobbing around the slender column of her throat, she appeared to give it great thought.

  “Does he do public appearances? I'm sure the Royals would advertise that to draw a crowd, right?” Wynn asked.

  “I'm sure they all do. Mattias and I went out that one day and he took pictures with a lot of people, but it wasn't announced beforehand. Then again, it wasn't a planned outing like you're talking.” Chey considered it. “That would be a good place to at least try and get his attention if we knew when he was going out, and if we could get close enough to begin with.”

  “We're here for seven days. We have to make something happen in that time,” Wynn reminded her. “That's a lot of 'ifs' and not a lot of real options. What else? Could we draw him out somehow? What would they do if a citizen specifically asked for their presence at some birth or baby naming ceremony or something?”

  “I have no idea if he would show up to something like that, and how would we get the news to him anyway?” Chey eyed Wynn.

  “Make an announcement in the newspaper. I will dress up and buy a fake babydoll, wrap it in a blanket so you can't tell from a casual glance, and then we wait like snakes in the grass for him to show up. That's when you pounce.”

  Chey couldn't help but laugh. “You come up with the most outrageous things.”

  “You forget that you've had your share of outrageous ideas in our time, Chey. You're just on the other side of the fence this time.” Wynn cracked a smile at Chey then grew thoughtful again.

  Chey couldn't deny it. She'd been the master planner in some pretty hair raising schemes in their time. A glimmer of memory struck her just then.

  “You know, Sander told me once that he takes little forays into the towns without his security detail sometimes. Just goes out among the people. I'm not sure if he meant this town, in particular, or a smaller one nearby,” Chey said.

  Wynn's gaze narrowed with interest. “Really. It's still risky to count on that for the next seven days. Maybe he'll be too busy or upset with what happened to leave the castle. It's a shot though, one we shouldn't turn down.”

  “That's what I was thinking. Then I wouldn't have to deal with the guards and someone trying to get me away from him before we can talk.”

  “We should get a map from the lobby and find out if there are smaller towns that are more convenient that he might visit. This one is pretty big. I'd be surprised if he went out too much around here and risked getting Prince-napped or whatever. Word would spread fast.”

  Chey's shoulders shook with a laugh. Prince-napped. Wynn just didn't know Sander very well. They would have to be wily nappers to simply make off with the Prince. Overall, however, the sentiment made sense.

  “Let's go down and grab a map. While we're looking, we can still think of other ideas.” Chey got up off the couch.

  Wynn slid off the arm of the chair. “We'll figure it out. One way or another, we will run into Sander Ahtissari while we're here.”

  Chey hoped Wynn was right.

  . . .

  The hotel boasted a quaint restaurant on the lowest level adjacent to the souvenir shop. After purchasing several maps, local newspapers and two tabloids, or 'rags' as Urmas had once called them, the girls settled into a quiet booth surrounded with a high back that gave them a modicum of privacy on three sides. Made to resemble an alpine ski lodge, the restaurant had little skiers on wires traveling overhead from one 'snowbank' to another. A miniature village of shoppes and houses in alpine style lined the walls high overhead, with the utensils all done in heavy metal resembling pewter. Authentic music spilled out of unseen speakers, low enough to be pleasing in the background without drowning out comfortable conversation.

  They ordered chicken and herbs, baked new potatoes and the house soup that came in a big pot with a ladle for their use. Crusty slices of bread arrived on wooden platters with the knife sticking out of the rest of the uncut loaf.

  In her element, Wynn drank beer from a tall stein and laid the maps out over the parts of the table that didn't have food draped across it.

  “Okay, so this is Kalev—it's a decent sized town, too,” Wynn said. “But there are two little villages between Kalev and the castle, which is over here.” She made gestures on the map after wiping her fingers on a napkin.

  “Yes. I never visited those while I was here the last time. But I probably saw them from the air when we flew over.” Chey recalled a few smaller settlements close to the shore mid-flight. “It makes sense that he might stick to smaller, less busy towns.”

  “It does. There is also another one up past the castle in the other direction. It's a bit farther though. Probably forty miles or something, if I had to guess.” Wynn tried to measure distance with guesses instead of using the grid on the map.

  Chey scooped a spoonful of soup into her mouth and leaned forward to get a look at the village further up the coast. She thought it looked like a good bet, too. “There are too many. We can't get to them all in one trip. I mean we can, but how many hours are we going to sit around, hoping he'll walk by the pastry shop we're sitting in? That's not quite as bad as looking for a needle in a haystack, but kind of.”

  “I say until we have a better idea, or until we hear that the family is going to be at some function where the public has access, then we hit one town a day, starting really early
in the morning.” Wynn grabbed up one of the tabloids and brought it closer. “Let's see here. This is a lot of stuff about foreign celebrities mixed with the Royals but nothing really jumps out. Most of it's hearsay or wild accusation. Listen to this: Does Prince Gunnar's wife have a twin? Look-alike spotted in Kalev. Except the picture they have here is from the back, and blurry. How in the world can they see anything?”

  Chey scoffed. “Typical. Nothing about the Royals having a parade or something like that?”

  “Maybe in the newspapers. Not these things.” Wynn tossed the tabloid onto the seat beside her and reached for one of the newspapers instead. “Let's see. There's a Festival coming up but it's three weeks away and it doesn't say, so far anyway, that the Royals are going. Did Sander ever say anything about it?”

  “I don't remember. He might have. Or maybe it was Mattias.” Chey frowned, scanning her memory. She'd had a lot of little conversations with them both. A Festival sounded familiar. Then again, it might have come up in passing and wasn't on the Royal's radar to attend.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?” Wynn asked three ladies who'd stopped to stare not far from their booth.

  Drawn out of her reverie, Chey glanced outward. The women, of middle age and dressed warmly in coats and scarves, whispered among each other. One deigned to wave, almost as if she was nervous. Unsure who they were waving at, Chey looked side to side. The booth blocked the view of any other guests.

  One of the women bowed her head and finally, they moved on toward the door.

  “What was that about?” Wynn said, slim brows drawn into a frown.

  “I have no idea. Do I have something on my face?” Chey turned toward Wynn.

  “No. Nothing that isn't usually there.” Wynn brushed at the angles of Chey's cheeks and whisked fingertips across her chin, like there might be crumbs.

  “Weird.” Chey put it down to a case of mistaken identity.

  Ten minutes later, as the girls were deciding on dessert, it happened again. This time a couple, man and wife, both passed their booth with smiles and nods of their heads. As if they knew Wynn and Chey personally.

  “Okay, are people here always this friendly?” Wynn asked.

  “They have seemed pretty friendly during the times I've been out with Mattias and Sander. But not quite this friendly. We could be anyone, but they act like they know us.” Puzzled, Chey declined dessert in the end and started gathering up their maps and papers.

  “They could just be welcoming strangers. We stick out like sore thumbs, most likely.” Wynn insisted on paying for dinner. After signing the check, she grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth.

  Chey did likewise. Just as she got to her feet, a pair of younger women rushed up. One burbled out the native language, which Chey didn't understand, and stood right next to her while the other snapped a picture.

  “You look like a deer caught in the headlights,” Wynn pointed out casually to Chey.

  “Thank you!” The girls knew enough English to express their gratitude and hurried away.

  Chey stared after them, maps and papers tucked under her arm. “They must think I'm a celebrity or something. Who do I look like?”

  “Lucille Ball. You know when her eyes get all crazy and wild?”

  Chey laughed and smacked Wynn with a folded paper. “I so do not look like that. Ever.”

  In the lobby, the girls were treated to a few more stares. Someone else snapped pictures.

  “I should have asked them who they think you are,” Wynn said as they got into the elevator.

  “I'm not sure I want to know.” Secure in the carriage, Chey leaned against the rail.

  “It could be amusing.”

  “I'm sure it would be amusing for you.” Chey stifled a smile at Wynn.

  “Of course.” Wynn brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off the shoulder of her sweater. “Are we going out tonight? Hit up any of the local gathering spots to see if he shows?”

  “I think we should probably get some sleep. The jet lag will hit you hard in another four or five hours, and you can't believe how early daylight comes. The days get shorter and shorter as winter sets in.” Chey could do with a good night's rest herself. All this was taking more of a toll on her than she wanted to admit. She suspected Wynn knew, and that's why the girl kept the conversation light-hearted and distracted Chey at every turn.

  Back in their room, they tossed down the maps and papers and prepared to turn in early.

  Morning would be here before they knew it.

  . . .

  Renting a car turned out to be more convenient for the girls, and cheaper in the long run, than hiring a taxi. The proprietor gave them a good deal for the week and signed both girls up for temporary driving permits after thoroughly checking their licenses from the states. The policy dictated that drivers owning licenses longer than five years could apply to drive in Latvala as long as they took a crash course in rules and regulations. There wasn't too much to learn, all told, and considering both girls were seasoned drivers, everything made sense and was easy to memorize. The real test would come on the road and reading the maps so they didn't get lost.

  Wynn insisted on taking the wheel first. They departed the rental shop at a snail's pace while Wynn got used to the tiny car and the lay of the street. The weather was overcast and cold, but no snow lingered on the pavement.

  For that, Chey was thankful. All they needed was to deal with ice or other bad driving conditions.

  “Oh, wait. Before we head up to the other town, let's stop up here and grab today's papers and a few of those tabloids, yeah?” Wynn pulled to the curb in front of an open market with the vendor hawking fresh food and other items that might appeal to tourists.

  “I'll get it. Don't turn the car off in case it doesn't start again.” Chey didn't have a lot of faith in the little blue sardine can. She got out, leaving the passenger door open. Crossing the sidewalk, she plucked up two of the most prominent newspapers and two tabloids. Chey was less convinced they would find what they needed in the 'rags' but it never hurt to check. She couldn't afford to waste any opportunity to meet up with Sander.

  Paying the vendor in his own currency, she turned back to the car and got in. The newspapers went into the back, which wasn't quite a seat but more of a shelf where a few other personal items were stored. Coats, scarves, boots in case the weather turned.

  “All right. Off we go.” Wynn pulled away from the curb, both hands on the wheel, a car honking somewhere behind them.

  It was going to be a long ride up the coast twenty-four miles to the small town they'd decided to visit.

  Chapter Seven

  “You know, I have to say, Latvala really is a cool country.” Wynn peered at Chey above the rim of a steaming mug of coffee.

  “I know, right? I didn't have a chance to see much while I was here, but what I did see was pretty neat.” Chey, sitting in a chair with her back to the wall, met Wynn's eyes across a small table in a quaint cafe they'd found in the small town just north of Kalev. There was only one main street that ran parallel to the shore, with shops and one old hotel on both sides. People parked out front in slanted slots and hurried from one place to the next bundled up in heavy clothing. It was the sort of scene one expected to find on a postcard for tiny, perfect towns with a total population of a thousand, no more. The buildings were reminiscent of alpine villages with peaked roofs and shutters on windows.

  “Seriously. I could move to this town right here and be happy the rest of my life,” Wynn announced, twisting a look out the front windows.

  “That's saying something for a girl who swore she wouldn't ever leave Seattle for any reason,” Chey said, shuffling the newspapers in front of her from an empty seat to her left. They'd stacked their purses and coats on it when they'd arrived.

  “I know. But I kind of love how the trees back up against the shops on that side of the street,” she pointed with a finger. “Then on that side, is the ocean. Never mind the architecture here.”


  “The winters can get pretty harsh, from what I understand. Once the heavy snows set in, they last until April or something.” Chey took another sip of her coffee and glanced out the windows but it wasn't the shops she was looking at. It was the faces of the few citizens out and about. None of them so far belonged to Sander.

  “I love snow,” Wynn declared with a girlish grin.

  Chey laughed and glanced back across the table. “Yes, I know. Admire the town later, when we're 'off the clock', so to speak. Help me keep an eye out the window.”

  “I don't even know who I'm looking for,” Wynn admitted. “I need a picture of this guy.”

  Chey dug her cell phone out of her pocket. Thankfully, she had transferred a few photos of Sander that she'd taken during their canoe trip. Turning the phone around, she showed Wynn who they were looking for.

  Wynn's mouth fell open. “What? That's him? No wonder you're googly eyed over this guy.”

  “I'm not googly eyed. What does that even mean?” Amused, Chey reeled her phone back, stared at the photo with no small amount of heartache and a little flare of anger, before putting it away. “Watch out the window.”

  Wynn scooted her chair over for a better vantage, then set down her mug of coffee to pick up a tabloid. “Okay. Hottie search. I can scan the tabloid and look out the window at the same time.”

  Chey did the same. She moved one newspaper over and unfolded the one beneath, prepared to scan it from front to back for news. A black and white photo at the bottom snagged her attention. A photo she'd yet to see. She gasped.

  “What?” Wynn clued in to Chey's distress immediately.

  Instead of explain, Chey turned the paper around to let Wynn see for herself. There at the bottom was a palm sized picture of Chey and Wynn walking through the lobby of their hotel. It had to be after their dinner last evening.