A
Royal
Legacy
Danielle Bourdon
Published by Wildbloom Press
Copyright © 2014
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
For my mom, Kathy Sleigh
who loved and believed in the Royals
from the beginning
Only the dead have seen the
end of war. --Plato
Chapter One
“Chey, we have a problem. Sander's gone.”
“Did you look in the grotto?” Chey, unalarmed at the news her husband couldn't be found, didn't look up from her paperwork.
“Yes. We've looked everywhere.”
“The children's rooms?”
“Everywhere. He's not on the island, or en route to the mainland, and he's not at the family seat. Security has sent out an alert.” The maid fidgeted with her cell phone as if expecting a call any second.
Setting the pen atop the papers, Chey leaned back in her seat. Logs crackled in the large stone fireplace, chasing an unseasonable chill from the room. Her office, a converted chamber in the master suite, provided a place of peace and quiet to do all the work required of a queen. To keep the distractions to a minimum, only a desk, her chair, three bookcases and a chaise lounge decorated the space. No televisions or laptops ever breached the archway entrance.
“Did anyone check the beach?” Chey knew Sander sometimes jogged the shoreline of the island as a way to unwind from the stress and responsibility of being the king of Latvala.
“Yes. Even the other homes close to the castle. His friends. The stables. Someone also went to his father's old hunting cabin in the woods on the mainland. He's gone.” The dark haired maid, standing in as Chey's personal assistant while her regular assistant Hanna was out on maternity leave, looked unsure what to do next.
Reaching across the desk for her cell phone, Chey dialed Sander's line. It rang three times and finally went to voicemail. “Sander, call me when you get this. There's a fuss up here because no one can find you.” After ending the call, Chey tucked the phone into her pocket and asked, “Have Mattias and Gunnar been notified?” Chey expected so, considering Mattias was first in line to the throne, Gunnar second.
“Oh yes. More than an hour ago.”
“And this is the first I've heard of it? Why don't you tell me how security knew Sander was missing. For that matter—where is his personal detail?” Chey folded her hands across her lap. After years of marriage to the king, and all they had endured together, Chey knew better than to panic.
Yet.
“He had a meeting—an informal meeting—scheduled for four-thirty this morning. When he didn't show, security began a casual search. It expanded from there. His detail says they never saw him leave the castle. A more through search is underway—the basements, outbuildings, towers.”
Places Sander didn't usually go.
Chey glanced at the clock. 6:35 a.m. She recalled Sander getting up before the crack of dawn, kissing her goodbye, and murmuring something about seeing her later. Beyond that, the details were fuzzy. Sander might conduct crazy morning hours, but she liked to sleep in until five o'clock, at least.
“Thank you, Sarah. Would you ask the sitters to mind the kids?” She rose from her seat.
Sarah inclined her head. “Yes, your hig—Chey.”
Chey smiled to put the standin assistant at ease. She knew it wasn't easy for the staff to call her and Sander by their first names. Chey couldn't abide all the formality, at least in their home environment, and had put the word out to the employees to go by given names unless they were in the public eye or in the presence of visiting dignitaries.
After Sarah departed, Chey abandoned her office and headed through the master suite. Along the way, she glanced out the tall windows that lined one entire wall. Rising behind a bank of clouds, sunlight streaked toward the sky, creating a fan pattern that turned the very edge of the clouds pink. The photographer in her wanted to snatch up her camera and sit on the balcony for the next hour, capturing picture after picture of the glorious view. She had thousands of similar photos from waiting on the balcony for the sun to rise. The only place better to snap shots was one of the castle towers.
Tightening the belt on her salmon colored, crushed velvet robe (she loved working in her pajamas on early mornings like this), Chey entered Sander's side of the walk in closet and made a beeline for the cubicles holding all his boots and shoes. Surely, she thought to herself, he hadn't done what she was starting to suspect he had done.
If so, she would skin him alive. Slowly.
The bottom row of cubes held Sander's rugged boots, the pairs he wore for riding, working around the castle, and hiking around the cliffs of the island. He had different ones for different tasks, and it was only because she'd known him as long as she had that she recognized exactly which pair was missing. The pair that shouldn't be missing at all.
“Sander Darrion Ahtissari, I'm going to throttle you to the moon,” Chey said. Fishing out her phone, she exited Sander's closet and entered her own.
“Hello?” a masculine voice said before the first ring was done.
“Mattias, it's Chey. Are you on the mainland?” Chey pulled a pair of jeans from a hanger. If anyone could help her do what she needed to do, it was Sander's brother, Mattias.
“Yes. I'm looking for Sander. Did he turn up?”
“Not yet. But I think I know where he is. Can you have Leander meet me downstairs and arrange a helicopter to fly me to the mainland?” Chey could have arranged the flight herself, but didn't want to waste time arguing with security and advisors about Sander's whereabouts. Mattias could get everything done with no questions asked.
“Where is he?”
“Somewhere.”
“That's helpful,” Mattias said, a note of amusement replacing his earlier concern.
“He's in an enormous amount of trouble, that's all I'll say.” Chey knew better than to spill secrets and sensitive information over these phone lines.
“Trouble of the wife kind? Or trouble of the bodily injury kind?”
“Of the wife kind. I hope not the other.” She tugged on a pair of favorite, well worn jeans and a long sleeved sweater of white over a thinner shirt beneath. At this late stage of fall, Chey had learned the weather could turn on a dime. One day it might be seventy-two—the next, seventeen. Once, before she'd become accustomed to Latvala's unpredictable winters, she'd been caught on the mainland in a short sleeved shirt when, in the span of three hours, the temperature had dropped and a snowstorm hit. These days, she prepared for the unknown every time she left the castle.
“Why don't you let me come with you,” Mattias said.
“Because your security team will want to go and that'll compromise things. If I take Leander, he constitutes enough security for me and no one will ask too many questions.” She added socks and knee high boots of black to her attire. Tugging a scarf from a peg on the wall, she wrapped the warm wool around her throat.
“If you even think for a second there could be trouble where ever you're going, then call me back. I'll arrange everything else.”
“I will, I promise. Thanks, Mattias.” Chey hung up and dialed Sander's number again while she crossed to the door. A distant sound caught her attention, a muted chime-thump-chime. She paused halfway across the suite to listen harder, frowning. Had Sander left a radio on? If so, why hadn't she heard it before now? Following the noise, which abruptly ended as she entered the hall, she quirked her lips and stopped just outside Sander's office.
Pivot
ing into his sanctuary—this bedroom office allowed him to work in private, the larger, upstairs office used when he had personal meetings with his advisors—she skirted two plush chairs in soft brown leather and drew a bead on the large mahogany desk. Examining his desktop phone, she discovered the alarm function was off. So it hadn't been the alarm bleating music, but something else instead.
On impulse, she dialed Sander's number.
In front of her, muffled by a thick layer of wood, the music came again. This time, she recognized the melody Sander had assigned to her on his cell phone, an upbeat, sexy song from a current and very popular band.
Opening the long rectangular drawer directly in front of his vacant chair, the music blared crystal clear, unimpeded by barriers. The screen on Sander's cell phone read 'Chey', indicating her incoming call. He'd intentionally left the cell behind, which was both smart and dangerous; anyone might be able to track Sander's whereabouts by GPS and plan a kidnapping. Or worse, an attack. He'd stripped the ability of those people to track him, and at the same time, stripped her ability to make contact.
Pocketing his phone as well as her own, she closed the drawer with a little more force than she meant to. A heavy thud echoed through the office.
There was no doubt any longer; she knew where her errant husband had gone. A place he should not be, a place that was every bit as dangerous as walking through a minefield for the simple fact that one never knew precisely when and where disaster might strike.
Exiting the suite, she paused in the hallway, her mood sinking like the Titanic, and glanced toward her children's bedrooms. It was too early to disturb their sleep. If Elias, her oldest son and the heir to the throne, caught wind of what she was doing, then he would beg and demand and badger her to come along. He was turning out to be as stubborn as his father and as determined as his mother.
Deciding against checking in, which she did religiously every morning, Chey headed to the stairs. In the privacy of her own thoughts, she hoped Sander's brazen foray into the world had gone unnoticed by those who wished him harm.
*
Kallaster Castle, with its medieval architecture, stone walls and surrounding ramparts, bustled with activity. Guards stood at attention in strategic locations and others walked the extensive halls, always and ever on alert for trouble. Maids, assistants, castle staff and a plethora of official advisors buzzed through the lower floors like bees, intent on one mission or another. This was every day life at the main seat of the king.
Even after all these years, Chey never tired of the castle's charm. She was as enamored of the high beams arching over the ceiling, the ancient paintings depicting the Ahtissari lineage, and the antiques unique to the castle itself as she'd been the first day she'd arrived. Old flags, armor and weaponry decorated specific walls from different periods of history, giving hints to the country's bloody past. Every now and then she got chills knowing that her children had inherited a legacy that withstood time.
“Excuse me, your Highness,” a masculine voice said just as Chey stepped off the last stair.
She knew who that voice belonged to. Urmas, liaison between Sander and his advisors, wouldn't be put off from whatever mission he was on until he got what he wanted. A tall man with salt and pepper hair, distinguished features and a penchant for sternness, he held a file folder in his hands and an expectant look on his face.
“Yes, Mister Urmas?” Chey said. He was one employee that would never think of addressing her by her given name, no matter how many times she asked. Urmas existed in a high state of propriety under any and all circumstances. Chey supposed there was something to be said for consistency.
“Did you have an appointment that I don't know about?” He tilted his head with clear curiosity.
“Yes, I do, and when I leave here, you still won't know about it.” Chey turned to cross the immense foyer. Her boots echoed off the stone, bouncing around the high domed ceiling.
“Your Highness--”
“Pardon me, Mister Urmas, but I have urgent business.” Chey walked through the doors that two guards politely opened and descended the broad set of shallow stairs toward a waiting Hummer. Urmas would just have to wonder where she was going. With Sander's absence causing a stir, she expected Urmas to try and have her followed.
Another guard ushered her into the Hummer's front passenger seat. The door closed on a question from Urmas that Chey pretended not to hear.
Looking across the car, Chey smiled at the driver. “Hello, Leander. Thanks for helping out.”
Leander Morgan, brown hair tied half back from the front, dressed in warm clothes in dark colors that allowed him ease of motion, pulled the Hummer away from the steps. He smiled as he said, “Any time. I don't suppose this has anything to do with the missing King, does it?”
It was pointless to deny it. Chey needed Leander's help. Unlike Mattias, who was Sander's brother and heir to the throne should Sander die, Leander had no blood ties to the royal family. He performed dangerous missions with Sander and Mattias and had exemplary skill with weapons, making him the perfect companion for this little mission of her own. “It does. We're going to have to insist that the guards in the vehicle behind us don't get on the helicopter when we get there.”
Leander glanced in the rearview mirror as he steered the Hummer toward the towering front gate. The walls that encircled the castle stood high enough that one couldn't see the ocean or the beach on the other side. He said, “There are two cars.”
“Two? Urmas is really going all out.”
“Care to tell me where we're going?” Leander passed through the gate after a cursory check with the guards. One guard frowned and made a call on his radio, no doubt inquiring why the queen was riding alone with just one guard.
“To the mainland.”
Leander laughed. “Well, obviously, since we're taking the helicopter. But where after that? And is it the mainland of Latvala?”
“Maybe.”
Instead of growing annoyed with her like Urmas might, Leander smiled wider. “There's a reason I like you, your Highness. You're just as stubborn as Sander.”
“We're three of a kind.” Chey, Sander and Leander. She'd known Leander long enough to know that he didn't do what he didn't want to.
“Exactly. Are we going to lose the guards who will inevitably be waiting on the mainland, too?” he asked, pulling onto a winding road that led away from the castle and the shoreline. A long beach curved away from Kallaster, with trees and other thick foliage taking over where the sand ended. Pallan Island had many rocky outcroppings and minor cliffs, which made the landscape exotic and appealing. At least in Chey's eyes. She'd grown to love this land and its people.
“Yes. I'd feel better if it was just us.” Chey watched the landscape while the Hummer picked up speed. The helipad wasn't far. Another two curves and a short straightaway would deliver them to the waiting aircraft.
“Mattias tells me that Sander's detail isn't with him.”
“They're not.”
“How did he get out without someone seeing him—wait.” Leander held up a staying hand. “Sander probably knows more about this island and the castle than anyone, barring his brothers. It shouldn't have been too difficult for him to ditch the guards.”
“He's done it before. He even left his phone behind so they couldn't track him via GPS. Speaking of which, we'll have to turn ours off or leave our phones behind once we reach the mainland,” Chey said.
“Turning off the GPS doesn't mean they can't locate him if they really want to. They'll just have someone hack it remotely and boom, his cover is blown.”
Chey glanced sidelong at Leander. “It never ceases to amaze me that you all know so much about that kind of thing. How to lose security, how to move between countries almost undetected, all of it.”
Leander parked the Hummer in a space provided for vehicles near the helipad. He winked. “That's part of our charm.”
“It's part of what keeps you all alive, you mean,” Chey count
ered in a wry voice. The men had connections like that because it made their missions easier and less dangerous.
“That, too.” Leander climbed out after cutting the engine.
Chey followed. The sound of tires on pavement announced two more vehicles in the parking area. She didn't look over.
“Your Highness,” a guard said, trying to get her attention.
Chey paused at the edge of the helipad. “I won't be requiring an escort this time. Leander is all the protection I need for this trip.”
“But Your High--”
“I know and understand the protocol. Regardless, I'll be traveling with Mister Morgan for the duration.” Chey didn't explain more than that. The longer she dallied, the more chance there was that something could happen to Sander.
Leander held the door to the helicopter open.
Climbing into the back, Chey seated herself and fastened the buckle. Four other guards were talking and gesturing at the edge of the helipad. One was on a radio, probably arranging for security at the main family seat.
Except that's not where they were going.
“Destination, your Highness?” the pilot asked after Leander was seated and strapped in.
“Vogeva. Do not, and I repeat, do not announce it over the radio.” Chey felt the need to cover their destination as long as possible. Vogeva was a small fishing village up the coast from the Ahtissari family seat on the mainland. Not in another country, but their own.
Leander glanced at her with intent curiosity. His expression was open, inviting her to divulge her secrets.
Chey quirked her lips, letting Leander know she was unhappy about the entire thing without ever saying a word.
The pilot made a gesture of understanding and got the bird airborne.
It wouldn't be long now. Chey covered her ears with the headgear, then twisted her hands in her lap. She inhaled and exhaled several deep breaths to control her nerves. She'd learned the technique over the years of being queen, a way to handle the stress of her position without drawing too much attention to herself.
A Royal Legacy Page 1
