When I say subdue, I mean making him unconscious and leaving Leander to bind his hands and feet. We try not to kill anyone during these missions unless there is no other way. I do not want to become that which I hunt. The authorities will arrest the assassin and, if all goes well, will obtain the name of the original perpetrator—a member of the young prince’s inner circle, unfortunately—and lock the assassin away for life. The young prince will live on, but much more aware that things are not always as they seem. The member of his inner circle who made the mistake of talking to too many people about his plans, hence our involvement, will also likely wind up behind bars, a threat no longer.
We left soon after, giving the prince no time to question us or engage us in conversation. It’s a good bet he recognized Mattias and me, but that can’t be helped. We’re fairly certain the young man won’t give us away after the favor we did him.
If only Viia had been as loose-lipped as the perpetrator who’d planned to have the young prince assassinated. We would have learned of her treachery sooner and been able to stop her before the close calls suffered by Chey.
Speaking of Chey, I’ll have to consider what she might think of these forays of mine if things get more serious between us. I won’t stop the missions, although I’m aware they could be a bone of contention due to the inherent danger we put ourselves in.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Sander
* * *
Discord
My arrival home has been fraught with tension. The king and queen have demanded my attendance again, this time at a formal (yet off the books) meeting. I’m tempted not to go. What will they do, fire me? My father has hinted that if I push him, he will absolutely throw me off the throne.
I don’t believe him.
I’m the strongest heir he has, and he knows it.
Mattias would make a fine king, but he lacks the connection to the people I have. Not only that, I’m the most popular heir among my siblings. The citizens of Latvala want me as their next king and no other. My father knows that, too. For all Aksel’s threats, he cannot so easily replace me.
I’ll go to their meeting, but it’s time things changed. It’s time my father hears from me that his threats are useless and that I’m tired of having my title thrown in my face.
I will be king. There is nothing Aksel can do to stop it.
Sander
Chapter Eight
Monte Carlo
After the tumultuous meeting with my father and mother, I decided a break was in order. I need to be away from the castle, away from them, away from their machinations. I found Chey in the kitchens and told her we were leaving, or I should say I asked her if she wanted to go. Little did she know I’d already made the arrangements.
She agreed. I could tell she was a little perturbed at my absence the last few days, but I’m not at liberty to tell her where I was or why. This is my life. Sometimes I’m gone. I did tell her that my parents are using my right to the throne to try and force me into marrying Valentina Novak, a detail that did not go over well. I admit that I was a little happy to see the indignation flare in Chey’s eyes and hear the abrupt discord in her voice. She doesn’t like the idea of me being promised to Valentina any more than I would like to hear that she was promised to some strange man.
We flew to Monte Carlo and spent an enjoyable afternoon in the casino at our hotel. I could tell by the look on Chey’s face that she was stunned by the entirety of it: the private jet, the suite, my elaborate gifts waiting for her on the master bed, the amount of money we spent gambling. Most women I’m familiar with would have asked for the presidential penthouse, more diamonds, and certainly more gambling money. Chey is a breath of fresh air for me that way. I see everything new through her eyes. She’s unpretentious, yet carries herself with elegance and grace.
Of course we received an invitation to attend a gala taking place in Monte Carlo at the same time as our visit. It would have been perceived as rude not to attend this particular event, so we went.
Who did we run into there but Valentina Novak.
It was an awkward meeting between Chey and Valentina, but Chey presented herself regally and didn’t make a big scene. I cannot say the same for Valentina, who decided to tell me in front of Chey that Mother had directed her to the event, and that our families had formally agreed on a wedding. It took all of my self-control not to call my mother right then and outright disown her.
My patience for her and my father’s meddling grows thinner by the day.
In the middle of my dance with Chey, Valentina interrupted for a turn. She did so in front of the entirety of our peers, leaving me little choice but to accept. I can just imagine the rumors if I’d publicly shunned the spoiled princess. I wanted to, though, and Valentina is lucky I didn’t.
Minutes later I spotted Chey dancing with a strange man, and it did uncomfortable things to my insides. Maybe it was the way she laughed, so carefree, or the snug way the man held her body to his. I have never experienced a possessive streak like I did when the man eventually led Chey toward the balcony doors, and broke away from Valentina regardless of the scandal. Something didn’t feel right. Chey was acting too playful, too uninhibited for me to ignore it.
By the time I got onto the balcony, the man and Chey were pressed into a niche, locked in a kiss.
I wasted no time prying him off and sending my fist into his face.
The man insinuated that Chey had come onto him at the first opportunity after she saw me dancing with Valentina. He suggested that Chey was only out for the same things Valentina was out for, which I didn’t believe, and that she would accept a royal, any royal, whether it was me or someone else. I know Chey better than that. Before I could put the screws to the man, security arrived with news of a breach at the gala. In the chaos, I told the guards to get Chey to safety and let my own detail whisk me from the hotel back to The Trident, where we were staying.
I expected Chey to show up at our room within the hour. But she never arrived. Two of the guards returned several hours later—while I was on the phone trying to get Chey’s location—and informed me that Chey had decided it was ‘all too much.’ That she had demanded to be taken back to the States, out of danger. They told me that she said she was sorry, that she couldn’t do this any longer.
It’s not the Chey I know. I don’t understand her decision, although I suppose I’m looking at it from my point of view, rather than hers. I know my lifestyle is a lot for a person to take in, to adjust to. Especially someone not familiar with how things work. There are security breaches all the time, unfortunately, and danger lurks around every corner. There’s always someone who wants us dead or has designs on Latvala’s hierarchy. It’s the same with all royalty, to a degree. You have your disgruntled citizens or foreigners with an ax to grind, there’s no getting away from it.
Maybe she really did decide enough was enough.
I still have my doubts, and plan to wait and see if she calls within the next week or two after she’s had a chance to think about things. I’ve never forced myself on any woman, and won’t start now, but I do expect to come away with more answers than I currently have.
In the meantime, I’ve got parents to contend with. They have a lot to answer for with this false engagement agreement between Latvala and Weithan Isle.
Sander
* * *
The War
This is out of control. The king and queen have promised my hand to Valentina through official channels and they’re threatening to go public with a wedding date. The last several days have been a war zone here at the family seat, with me and them going around and around, getting nowhere fast. First it was my mother trying every tactic known to man, from wheedling to cajoling to outright threats. Then Aksel came in later to back her up, making it seem as if I have no other choice. I either fall in line, he says, or he’ll make an announcement of a different kind.
Such as that I’m removed from the line of successi
on and Mattias will take the throne instead when it’s time.
I dare him. The public fallout will be greater than he ever expects. I predict that the people of our country will gather en masse to protest, not realizing why I’ve been ripped from my rightful place as heir. Of course, Father won’t tell the public why they’re removing me, won’t admit their strong-arm tactics with Valentina. Only that they must accept Mattias one day as king.
It will backfire in the worst way.
I’m headed to their private parlor for another round of discussions. It’s the last thing I want to be doing. I’m not sure how much longer this can go on without a serious explosion. One of us is going to blow our top.
It’s close. I can feel it. It’ll make these initial meetings seem like child’s play if and when it comes to that.
I just hope it doesn’t.
I haven’t heard from Chey yet. I’ve been so busy with this other nonsense that I haven’t had time to consider my next move. If there is one. The fact that she hasn’t reached out at all might mean she’s serious about being done with Latvala and me.
My mood is too poor to make any kind of solid judgment on it yet. Even if she has washed her hands of our relationship, I still intend to get answers.
I just don’t know when.
Sander
Chapter Nine
The Docks
My departure from the castle early this morning was precipitated by a confrontation between me and my father. It was just the two of us exchanging heated words before the sun came up, and I decided to end the debate by walking out. Aksel was furious, and I don’t care.
I spent several hours unloading cargo from one of the fishermen’s boats before taking a walk along the street, greeting other fishermen and their wives on my way to having coffee and something to eat. I dislike that my foul mood hovered over me like a black cloud, tainting my usual joy mingling with the citizens of Latvala. I faked a congenial air, I think, right up until something made me pause to look over my shoulder. Instinct, a scent on the wind, I’m not sure what compelled me to glance back.
There stood Chey, looking anxious and nervous.
It was so good to see her that I almost threw caution to the wind and snatched her up off the ground. But people were around, and I still wasn’t sure what she was doing there. Or what she wanted. I was a little wary. A friend of Chey’s stepped in to introduce herself, mentioning they’d travelled together to Latvala, then made herself scarce so Chey and I could talk.
Our conversation never got past the awkward initial exchange before an explosion shattered the morning. Instinct dictated I protect Chey, and she wound up beneath me on the street. Nothing mattered in that moment but shielding her from another explosion or flying debris. Screams and wails of pain from injured fishermen demanded I get up and move, however, so I got Chey to her feet when I thought the immediate danger had passed. Although I told her to go inside one of the shops where it was safe, she (of course) disobeyed and ran after me to the docks.
God, what a mess it was.
One boat had crashed into another, pushing it up onto the docks. There were people trapped, people on fire, people in the water. I put flames out on one man and ran to another, losing track of Chey in the process.
The next thing I know, I see men leaning down over a shattered part of the dock toward the water, hauling a woman up from the gaping hole. I went over to add another pair of hands, and glimpsed Chey clinging precariously to a piece of wood below, partly submerged in the sea. She had sacrificed herself to save the other woman, and she was having trouble getting a foothold. The water is frigid this time of year, so I knew time wasn’t on our side. I shouted for someone to grab my clothes and went down on my stomach, leaning over as far as I could.
I can still feel the panic I experienced when, for a few seconds there, I wasn’t sure I could reach her. I knew then that I would have jumped into the water if I’d had to, would have done whatever it took to save her. We managed to clasp hands and I pulled her onto the docks. She went off on a stretcher at my insistence, and I turned back to the disaster at hand. There were more people in trouble, more people who needed help. I spent countless hours freeing trapped fishermen, women, children. By the time I came up for air, the entire area was crawling with people, media, military. My security detail rushed me away to be seen by a doctor, and from there I flew back to the castle. I’m not sure where Chey went in the madness, and I didn’t have time to hunt her down. There was a catastrophe to deal with, speeches to prepare, and other plans involving the fallen. Besides that, if I had gone searching it would have led the media right to her and that was something I want to avoid.
Duty and country come first.
Sander
* * *
Gone
The first thing presented to me this morning—before coffee, before breakfast—was a stack of tabloids with Chey’s picture splashed across the front. I should have known the media would discover she’d returned. The date was two days ago, before the dock explosion. I really wish someone had seen the pictures sooner and warned me. I won’t bother repeating the drivel written about her in the headlines. Suffice to say it’s insulting and offensive and needlessly inflammatory. Mother and Father have said nothing about it, though I didn’t really give them a chance to. We left early, my brothers and I, and flew down to the village to honor the dead. After the speeches, as I was walking in the crowd and shaking hands, Chey appeared between bodies and pressed a note into my hand. It read:
Sander.
Things aren’t what they seem. We desperately need to talk. Your sister has threatened to have me arrested if I don’t leave Latvala and has banned me from ever returning. Please listen to me. I know you sent me to Seattle, and maybe I deserved a cold shoulder for allowing that man to maneuver me outside when I felt so woozy from the wine. But I don’t deserve not to be heard. He drugged me. I’m sure of it. Something is going on. If I can’t contact you today, please think on what I’ve said and find me in Seattle. Give us the chance you fought so hard for. I love you.
Chey.
I’m not certain which pisses me off more. That my sister threatened to have Chey arrested or that Chey thinks she was drugged at the gala. And what’s this about a ban? Natalia is playing with fire. My sister is the very last person to be throwing her meager weight around.
I told Chey to meet me inside the café after I was done with the crowd, but she wasn’t there when I showed up a little while later. I searched for her to no avail. I guess she changed her mind, or got cold feet and fled. It’s odd that she would risk showing herself in public after my sister’s threat unless she meant to follow through with a meeting.
Her confession of love seems genuine and has added another layer of complexity to the situation. I’m uncertain if I’m in love with her yet, but I can feel myself falling. I’m driven to find her and figure out what the hell is going on. I want to shield and protect her. That means something.
Before I could do anything else, however, Mother summoned me back to the family seat. I arrived to discover that an announcement of marriage between Valentina and I had been placed in the papers, and the media were all running it as their lead story. Mother tried to force it down my throat, as she has for years, although she’s taken a step that now cannot easily be undone. And she knows it.
I’m beside myself with fury.
This is not over. Not by half.
– S
Chapter Ten
Aftermath
* * *
This past week has tested my patience, my resolve, my willpower. I have been tempted to strip my sister of her phone, friends, outside contacts, and lock her in her bedroom. Alone, with no stimulation, no alcohol. Natalia needs an intervention, and I’m the one to give it to her. We wound up in a heated argument when I confronted her about Chey and the arrest, and discovered Natalia was absolutely serious about her threats. She had a highball glass in hand, as usual, and I told her she would greatly regret it if
she threw it at me as she had Chey. She didn’t, a fortunate move on her part. She did sneer and taunt me, not a surprise by any means. My temper slipped a little and I informed her that if she ever threatened Chey again, I would drag her down to the dungeon myself and introduce her to the cold reality of tough love. I guess my tone convinced her, because she suddenly stood straighter and slapped her glass down on a table before stalking out of the room. She said nothing more, no taunting, no threats.
* * *
As for Mother and Father, it has been a nightmare of gargantuan proportions. Father has once more threatened to give the throne to Mattias if I don’t marry Valentina, although he was less aggressive this time, more calculating. If I didn’t know better, I would think he had something up his sleeve. I told the both of them that I’d think about it, because somewhere in the middle of the ongoing threats, I realized I needed to buy myself some time. There’s a way out of all this, but I need space and privacy to plan. I fed Mother and Father a begrudging, annoyed act that they both seemed to buy. I wanted them to believe that the threat of taking my throne had finally made me reconsider my actions, and it has, just not in the way they’re expecting.
* * *
While everyone is distracted, I’m going to use an upcoming trip to the States to see Chey. I need to find her, talk to her. I need answers and to reassure myself that she’s all right.
* * *
Sander
* * *
Surveillance
* * *
The king has put me under heavy surveillance. I’ve noticed an extra man or two added to my usual security detail when I travel, and there have been shadows following me inside the castle. At this point, I have to assume Aksel has had my phone tapped and is intercepting all outgoing communication.
Memoirs of a King Page 3
