The King Takes A Bride (Royals Book 4)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  Paavo took a long drink, set his glass down, and rose from his seat. Half turning to the archway, he raised his voice. “Bring it in, please.”

  Several minutes later, staff members carried in a large easel with a giant painting, picture, or some other drawing covered with a white sheet. The men set the easel within easy viewing distance of the guests and retreated, leaving the sheet in place.

  Chey wondered what was going on. Had Paavo ordered a painting done? If so, of who? She glanced at Sander. He wore a bored expression that was likely a ruse for something more keen.

  “This will come as a surprise to everyone, but I'd like you to keep an open mind,” Paavo said. “I'd like you to stop for several minutes and simply consider the implications, the idea, of what I'm about to present.”

  The more Paavo prepared them for what was to come, the more uncomfortable it made Chey. Whatever was under the sheet, she decided, would be something of monumental importance.

  “For crying out loud, show us already,” Gunnar said with clear irritation.

  Paavo caught the edge of the sheet in his fingers and flipped it up and over what turned out to be an elaborate drawing.

  At first, Chey didn't know what she was looking at. A map, certainly. Of Latvala, since the name was printed clearly at the top. Red lines marked what she thought were counties or territories. It didn't explain, however, why a sudden furor erupted around the table.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Sander said with an iron edge to his voice.

  “No. Absolutely not, Paavo. What are you thinking?” Mattias's question overlapped Sander's.

  “It cannot be allowed.” Gunnar, along with the other brothers, stood from his seat. He flattened his hands on the table, leaning forward while he glanced from the map to Paavo.

  “Just think about it for a moment. You're acting on instinct instead of seeing the bigger picture here,” Paavo said. He stood next to the drawing, proud of his accomplishment.

  Bemused, Chey looked from the map to Sander. On his feet, he towered above everyone else at the table. In one sentence, he cut through Chey's confusion.

  “We are not dividing Latvala into different regions, with different leaders, to satisfy your need to rule.”

  . . .

  Not dividing Latvala into different regions. Chey stared at the map as the implications became clear. The red lines separating Latvala into five distinct parts must be the 'new' territories Paavo envisioned breaking the country into. A name had been scripted into each section. Barkava. Galena. Kaimera. Magari. Solvandi.

  Now it made more sense. Chey didn't know enough about ruling a country to understand what benefit dividing it up would have, barring giving each son a part to control. She couldn't decide if she thought it would make Latvala stronger or weaker.

  Sander, Mattias and Gunnar, by their reactions, obviously thought the latter.

  “Not only would you divide the country, but the people,” Mattias said. “It is out of the question.”

  “Surely you can see where I'm going with this, Gunnar? Hm? Would you not like your own territory to command?” Paavo asked, pinning Gunnar with a direct, challenging gaze.

  Gunnar shook his head, a shank of blonde hair falling across his brow. “I agree with Dare and Mattias. Dividing the country is a bad idea, Paavo.”

  “It's not happening and that's final,” Sander added. He set a hand on the back of Chey's chair as if he expected her to rise.

  Before she could, Paavo approached the table and braced his hands on the surface. He met each of his brother's eyes, his own glittering with determination.

  “Do not think to leave quite yet. This discussion is not over--”

  “Yes, yes it is.” Sander cut Paavo off.

  “I beg to differ, Dare. You have yet to see what else I have that proves my idea is the right one.”

  “And what would that be?” Sander asked.

  “A petition. In just three days it has collected five thousand signatures. Five thousand, Dare. Are you listening? This is not something you can ignore.” Paavo straightened, turned toward the easel, and plucked an envelope out from behind the drawing. He withdrew a small packet of papers and laid it on the table in Sander's direction.

  “I don't care if you have twenty thousand signatures, Paavo. We are not dividing this country into pieces.” Sander didn't so much as glance at the packet.

  Chey remained in her seat but on edge, ready to stand at a moments notice from Sander. She jumped in surprise when Paavo slammed his palms down on the table.

  “Not everyone in this country loves you. Thousands of Latvala citizens are willing to come forth in support of my idea, and this is only a fraction of the population that has been made aware of the circumstances.” Paavo, vehement in his ideals, stared Sander down.

  In an even tone, Sander said, “The people have spoken loud and clear. Whether you like it or not, they were who put me back on the throne. I know it stings, but you need to get over yourself little brother. As King, I will not allow this country to be parceled out between us. Aksel suggesting you leapfrog Mattias for the throne has gone to your head.” Sander set a gentle hand on Chey's elbow.

  She stood from the seat, taking her cue.

  “And if you have no choice?” Paavo asked.

  “I'm not sure what you mean by that. My command is law.”

  “Not if I take this petition to the council and inform them I think I can get hundreds of thousands more signatures. The people—the ones you neglected in the back country—deserve to be heard. Of course the cities were swamped with your supporters, Dare. What about all the protesters living too far to make the drive on a whim? They have a right to add their voice to the decision, which they were denied when the council caved too easily.” Paavo cocked his chin up a notch, sure in his self righteous indignation.

  Sander laughed. A mocking, condescending sort of laugh that Chey knew didn't bode well for Paavo.

  “You have much to learn in the ways of politics, Paavo. The council knows, as I and Mattias do, along with your younger brother Gunnar, that to divide this country is to bring about its demise. The very breath of a second that certain ears hear of our fractured society, they will swoop in with their military, their money, their promises and yank Latvala right out from beneath us. Your ideas are not only foolish, they're dangerous. Possibly even treasonous.”

  “To you! You're the one sitting on the throne. A throne that does not belong to you, as so many of our people point out when we speak. There is a contingent of citizens who feel you have no more right to the title of King than Urmas does. You just haven't heard from them yet. But you will.” Paavo stalked back to the drawing, using an index finger to stab at different regions. “Because I intend to take this to the media and then we'll see which brother is right.”

  Sander dropped Chey's elbow and closed in on Paavo, predatory and narrow eyed, dwarfing his brother by several inches and sheer muscle mass. He got right in Paavo's face.

  “Take this to the media, Paavo, and I will treat it as an act of treason. The council will follow suit. Trust me when I say that it won't only be my actions that make sure this inane plan does not come to fruition. Is this what you've been so busy with the last few days, while the rest of us do our duty to the Crown Prince? Hm? How very unruler like of you, Paavo. Neglecting dignitaries, neglecting your job.” Sander, using Paavo's choice word against him, didn't back down an inch.

  “The truth sits ill with you, does it not?” Paavo whispered. “You know as well as everyone here that you all but stole your title.”

  “I had no idea you've been harboring quite this level of angst. How long have you been plotting? Since Aksel promised you something that never belonged to you to begin with, or after, when you lay awake at night, imagining yourself as King?”

  “Mattias doesn't have the stomach for the job, as you put it. We all know he doesn't have the guts to rule this country like it needs to be ruled,” Paavo said.

  “That's a pretty bra
zen statement coming from a man who has to go behind people's backs to get anything done. It's greasy, Paavo, unworthy of a Prince,” Sander said, disgust lacing the words.

  “Sometimes we have to get our hands dirty. Don't make me start bringing up all the times you've gotten your hands dirty, Dare.” Paavo inched back. Sander stepped forward, as if refusing to give Paavo even that much room to breathe.

  “With this action, you've just proven Mattias is more of a man than you'll ever be. Fit to lead, fit for the throne. How does it feel to know your father chose you only as a last resort? Aksel knew Mattias was, and always will be, in league with me. You were his desperate choice, the only recourse.”

  Paavo finally took a step back, giving way to Sander's overbearing presence. Pushing off Sander's chest with one hand, he retreated all the way to the easel and his map. “That's the way you see it so you can sleep at night, Dare. To help convince yourself that you belong in the role of King. Whatever it takes, right?” Paavo smeared the side of his hand over his mouth, green eyes fixated on Sander.

  Chey, riveted by the scene, glanced at Mattias. Although she didn't know him as well as Paavo probably did, she thought he would make an excellent King. She'd seen his loyal streak, the intense pride in his country. He was just quieter about it, less flashy or showy. Mattias, along with Gunnar, regarded Paavo and Sander with carefully schooled features.

  Sander, steely eyed and obviously displeased, returned to Chey. He touched the small of her back with his hand. “You're blinded by your own greed, Paavo. I'm done pandering to your ridiculous whim. We won't be staying after all. Gunnar, are you--”

  “Oh, come on, Dare. You can't cut and run. Not now, just when things are getting interesting,” Paavo said, braver now that his brother wasn't literally breathing down his neck.

  “It never was interesting,” Sander countered. “Only tiring. I have better things to do than sit and listen to ideas that have no merit.”

  The tension in the dining hall escalated until a tingle broke out over Chey's skin beneath the material of her clothes.

  Krislin and Aurora, on their feet with uneasy expressions, glanced between brothers.

  Chey hoped Mattias, Gunnar and Krislin took their leave of Paavo's holding as well. Maybe then he would get the message.

  “You'll listen when the council backs my position. And trust me, Dare, when they see how many signatures I can get—they will. No one can say I didn't try and do this fairly, openly.” Paavo lifted his hands as if defending his own actions.

  Gunnar guided Krislin closer to Sander and Chey. Mattias stood halfway to the arch leading out of the dining hall, apparently only waiting for Sander.

  On his way out, guiding Chey with one hand, Sander paused to say, “No. What they will say instead is how divisive you are, how unreasonable, and how lucky we all are that you were not born first.”

  . . .

  Midnight struck the grandfather clock in the formal sitting room upstairs on the level reserved for the royal family. Chey sat near a roaring fire in velveteen lounge wear that allowed her waistline some breathing room.

  Everyone else had changed as well into something more comfortable for the informal conversation about to take place. Instead of board rooms and stuffy council members, this meeting was an extension of the one started in Paavo's dining hall sans irritants. The brothers, along with Krislin, had flown back to the main family seat to discuss the situation despite the late hour.

  Mattias reclined on a sofa with a drink between his hands, staring at Sander pacing near a window. Gunnar and Krislin had chosen to take up space together on a love seat adjacent to everyone else.

  “He isn't going to back down,” Mattias said, initiating the conversation.

  “No, he won't,” Sander agreed. “The question is, what do we do about it? I have the ear of several generals and some of the council members, but not all. There is every reason to suspect Paavo has been talking to more than just some of the citizens in the back country.”

  “Gunnar and I have our own resources. If we combine them, all of us, that will give an advantage over Paavo.” Mattias swirled the drink in his hand before taking a swallow.

  “Yes, though I'm not convinced that will be enough. This cannot get out to the public,” Sander said. He had a tumbler of scotch. Lifting it, he pulled a long drink down. Hissing between his teeth, he continued pacing.

  “What of the five thousand or so people he has already approached? Won't word spread?” Gunnar asked. He passed a hand through the blonde length of his hair.

  “Not that fast. I doubt any one of them will take it to the media.” Sander sounded sure. “But the media will run with a story that Paavo brings them.”

  “It will be a nightmare,” Mattias predicted.

  “Mm.” Sander hummed a note of agreement. “We're just stabilizing things after Aksel and now this. I dread to think what the public will do at the idea of the country being split into so many parts. And did you see that he had five regions?”

  Mattias snorted.

  Chey said, “He was going to give Natalia one, wasn't he?”

  “That was his plan. Natalia. It's laughable.” Sander shook his head, as if the very idea of his sister in charge of a region was too much to be believed.

  Chey thought so, too. Natalia made a poor Princess, in her eyes, much less ruler of her own little territory. “Has the country ever been divided like that before?”

  “Back when Latvala was being forged, during a violent war, two different men split the territory down the middle. It only lasted a handful of years until one conquered the other and made the country whole. Technically, that doesn't even qualify considering it was split at the beginning, not later after we were established. What Paavo is proposing has never been done. Has never even been a consideration since Latvala's inception.” Sander finished his drink and walked the tumbler back to the side bar.

  Chey considered that part of Latvala's history. In her 'required' reading, she hadn't come across those specific details. “If you're sure the council will shut Paavo's idea down, then there isn't anything more for you to do, right? He'll take his idea to them, they'll deny it out of hand, and he'll be forced to let it go.”

  “That's what should happen. The majority won't go for it at all. What concerns me is if Paavo takes this public, and drives enough public interest, the council will be forced to at least listen. Paavo might do something like promise some of the members they'll get higher positions in 'his' territory or bribe them with payoffs if they'll put the idea to a vote, should they gain enough momentum,” Sander said.

  “If we've learned anything, it's that we can never count on what people should do,” Mattias added.

  “But what if it backfires on him?” Chey asked.

  “That's a good possibility. It's likely. I don't care to risk the entire future of Latvala on 'maybe' though.” Sander met Chey's eyes.

  “How does he think it'll work, anyway? That we each have our own military, or that we divide up what exists now as needed? I don't get it,” Gunnar said.

  “I don't know. It's suicide to even consider partitioning the military into five different groups. This country will destabilize so fast it'll make our heads spin,” Sander said.

  “If we sit back and do nothing, he'll press forward, thinking he's unchallenged, and take risks that he hasn't considered all the consequences of.” Mattias finished his drink, set the glass down on the small stand next to the couch, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.

  “It bothers me that he's doing this so close to the wedding. Why not wait until after—unless he's hoping this will delay it,” Chey said. The discomforting thought that Paavo was attempting to waylay the ceremony persisted. Every eye in the room suddenly swiveled her way.

  “Chey has a point,” Mattias said. “He could have waited to spring this on us—oh, oh.” Mattias stood up off the couch, locking gazes with Sander. The men spoke at the same time.

  “The guests.” Their v
oices echoed over each other.

  “Guests?” Chey asked, glancing between them. They might be able to read each other's minds, but she had no idea what the guests had to do with anything.

  “He's not waiting to press forward because he'll have a perfect audience with all the foreign dignitaries attending the ceremony. If he creates enough doubt and tension, he might find backing with someone who has real pull,” Sander explained.

  “I still don't get it. Why would a foreign dignitary back an obviously bad plan?” Chey asked. She felt like she was groping around in the dark just to understand the semantics of it all.

  “These are people we do business with. Not all of them, but a lot of them. Paavo could corner them and press his agenda, looking to divert trade and make export deals for 'his' territory. In effect gaining the backing he'll need to convince citizens his idea is a solid one,” Sander said. “It won't seem like a bad idea if Paavo spins it right. Not only that, but the vultures among the elite will sense upheaval and possibly make a move to split us apart even further.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Mattias agreed. “Paavo hasn't thought it through to that point. He believes people will follow him because he's a Prince and that title affords him some sort of immunity. It won't afford him anything but heartache if one of his backers uses Paavo's own people against him.” Mattias paced the room, hands in his pockets. He wore a disturbed frown.

  “So what do we do?” Gunnar asked.

  “I don't know yet, little brother. We know basically what Paavo's plan is. What we have to figure out is how to keep him from the dignitaries and the media.” Sander poured himself another measure of scotch.

  As much as Chey hated to, she said, “Should we put the wedding off, then? That will keep the guests home and away from here.”

  Sander frowned. He lifted the tumbler for a long drink before giving his answer. “No. You're going to start showing soon. While I don't care if you're eight months along when we marry, I know that's not what you want, and it's not a good image to project to the public considering my position.”