Claimed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 3 (12 page)

“Hasan Omir has graciously agreed to meet us at the beach to tour the local events. There are currently teaching clinics and windsurfing expositions which Nicki, we’ll need you to video and upload later today. You’ll be watched, I’m certain, but the man remembers you and appears completely comfortable with your work with a camera.” Stefan slanted her a glance. “He asked if you would be doing any surfing demonstrations.”

She shrugged. “I could, if that’s helpful. Or if we need a distraction.”

It would certainly be that. His gaze raked over her, remembering her tousled in the sheets hours before. His vantage point of her back had revealed more scars—scars he was sure she would have been happy to explain had he asked. A scrape on her shoulder that had turned into a fine web-like tracing of white, a bruise along her triceps, probably picked up clambering into the yacht yesterday after their snorkeling adventure.

Somehow, rather than detract from his fascination with her, they made her more irresistible. Nicki was so breathlessly, vitally alive—and he couldn’t wait to get her back in bed again.

Ruthlessly, he forced his mind back to the conversation at hand.

“The men we dropped at the park have reported no word of Ari, though their search is only beginning. We’ll need to move quickly—the chances of us finding anything are low, but we’ll be noticed if we stay too long.”

“A disoriented homeless man,” Nicki said, squinting at the quaint seaside town. “He’d have been noticed here. If he’s not in that park, you have to try the countryside near the ruins. They’re pretty amazing. Ephesus, old churches…” She grimaced. “Never mind, those are tourist meccas. Once again, he’d be seen.”

“Not all of Alaçati’s ruins are picturesque, though,” Stefan said. “We’ll be focusing on anything that is out of the public eye. If Ari somehow scrabbled together a living, perhaps injured, perhaps mentally unstable, he would be holed up there, not in the middle of a horde of tourists.”

She turned toward the low mountains ringing the seaside village. There were squat buildings in the distance, their features virtually identical. “It’s too much,” she said.

Stefan shrugged. “It’s a start. The scavenger dealer didn’t merely provide direction, he provided contacts.” He turned to the men to his right, switching to Garronois as he relayed additional orders. To Nicki, he said. “If anyone knows of a mentally unstable stranger in Alaçati—we’ll find him.”

His men departed. The yacht was moving at a slower pace, and they soon docked near the city amid a cluster of workers processing the bustling tourism crowd. It took them another hour to weave their way through the town of cobblestoned streets, charming villas and shops, but they finally reached the main bay of Alaçati.

A light breeze was blowing, and Nicki lifted her head to the sky, appearing to let the sun warm her face. “This place truly deserves all the accolades it gets from the windsurfing community,” she said. “It’s literally the perfect place to learn. The water is super clear and shallow, and there’s a constant stiff breeze—breeze, not gale force wind. The city is darling—I barely got out to do any sightseeing last year, but the year before I hiked all over, and everyone knows that tourism is their primary industry here. So they actually welcome visitors, unlike a lot of places.”

Stefan eyed her. “Spoken like a true entitled American.”

“Hey, Americans have lots of places we can spend our money. All we ask is to not get crap for it when we do. Sure, some of us can be obnoxious, but most of us mean well.”

He lifted his brows at her unexpected vehemence. Nicki had probably endured her share of rebuke for her behavior, no matter how well-intentioned. Perhaps that explained her sensitivity. Perhaps it was something else. He wanted to find out more about her, but his exploration would have to be later.

As they stood on the boardwalk, Nicki stiffened. “That’s our man. Hasan Omir, the local secretary or whatever of the Turkish tourism ministry. That group runs everything in Alaçati they can—which is a lot,” she said. “He’s kind of an officious prick, but he’s efficient.”

Stefan braced himself as the Turkish official and his entourage of well-dressed attendants reached them. “Welcome!” the man said, eyeing Nicki briefly before turning to Stefan with unexpected cheer, given Nicki’s warning. “Your royal family is most gracious.”

Beside him, Nicki blinked, but Stefan responded smoothly. “We are grateful for your hospitality,” he said. “We promise not to take too much of your time.”

“Nonsense. We will show you what Alaçati has done to transform itself into this beautiful resort city you see.” The pomposity of his words was earnestly delivered, and he swept his arms wide. “Perhaps one day your capital city can rival us, eh? But you will not be blessed with our winds and our sea. For that, others must always come to Alaçati.”

“As you say,” Stefan said, and Nicki’s eyes rounded with understanding. King Jasen had not simply called to put in a good word for their visit, he’d sent money as well. Money in the form of a donation directly into the coffers of this pompous official, under the pretext of him providing Stefan with information about Turkish tourism practices. Not exactly in keeping with the way things were done under the current administration, Stefan was sure, but it would get the job done.

And if they were lucky, it would buy them the time they needed to learn something about the fallen crown prince.

Chapter Ten

Nicki finished her video feed and swung back to regard Stefan and Omir, their heads together as they talked beneath a shaded portico right off the beach. They’d been at it for hours, after the official tour of the surf schools and requisite oohing and ahhing of all the people taking part in the sport.

She wasn’t going to lie, she wished she could be out there too. Surfing always beat taking videos of other people having fun.

But, as good as she was at the activity side of the equation, it didn’t pay the bills. Her work as a blogger did—and that only barely. Stefan’s sneering commentary on her “profession” wasn’t that far off the mark. The low pay for this job was only worth it because of the adventure. But in another five, ten years, who knew what her interest would be in trekking around the world?

She smiled wryly, turning again to stroll along the boardwalk. Granted, trekking around the world in a luxury yacht wouldn’t be a hardship. But she wasn’t Emmaline, and she certainly wasn’t Lauren. Both of her friends ending up entangled with handsome men connected to the royal family made sense. Nicki’s life didn’t work that way, though. She was the utility player of the team—the girl you wanted with you in the foxhole, but not necessarily the one you’d race across enemy lines to save. More likely, you were convinced she’d figure out how to save herself in the end.

And Nicki had no problem with that, not really. She was used to pulling her own weight, but also used to having no one else rely on her. With her heart possibly a time bomb, it was safer that way all around.

Stefan was relying on her, sure. But so far, this “mission” had proven more than manageable. Especially with him stretched out over her body.

“Oh—sorry,” she said as she drifted into a table of laughing tourists. She righted her direction as she scanned the mountains surrounding Alaçati. They were as picturesque as the city, and she might as well get images of them too, while she had her equipment.

She set up her camera and spoke into the mic, doing a slow sweep of the city in long view. In her finder she picked out the remarkable diversity of homes—from abandoned hulks to adorable cottages to freshly painted townhomes. As she panned, she thought of Ari, stumbling ashore in one of the region’s vast parks. Where had he gone from there? If it had been her, what would she have done? He had food, water, and he’d made it to a mainland. Even if he’d been disoriented, he would have wanted to find home. Would he have trusted the first people he met?

She grimaced. Probably. Ari had grown up inside a loving family, with all the advantages of belonging to the royal ruling class. He would have an innate trust of others. And if he was already concussed, injured…

Her heart sank as she fixed on the cheerful homes high above the city, then swung the camera out to the beach again filled with laughing, happy windsurfers.

There was simply no way he was alive.

“Nicki.” Stefan’s voice cut across her gloomy thoughts and she jerked her head back from the camera, surprised to see him so close.

“Oh, sorry—I didn’t hear you come up.”

“Clearly,” he said, with a twist of his lips. “You were fixated on the homes overlooking the bay. Did you find anything interesting there?”

“No, not really.” She lifted one shoulder. “Unless you count amazing places I’ll never live.”

His brows lifted, and he shifted his gaze upward as well. “Too close together,” he said, with a certainty that surprised her. “And too far from the water.”

“Ha! Do not tell me you’re house hunting.”

It was his turn to shrug, but his expression grew thoughtful for a moment as he stared at the homes. Then it cleared as he glanced back at her. “Do you have enough footage for your posts?”

“I have enough for a week’s worth.” She peered down the beach. “Where’s Omir?”

“Attending to other business. We’ll be dining with him tonight at his hotel—both of us. I told him we would be honored.”

She grinned. “I’m sure you did.”

“To maintain the illusion that we’re here on holiday, I’ve also booked us into a private hotel. If you’ll pack your bag when we get back to the yacht, we’ll have it transferred later today.”

“Oh—of course,” Nicki said. They turned and walked back up the boardwalk, and when Stefan suggested they stop at a beachside café for lunch, she accepted, blinking in surprise as he rattled off an order in Turkish as they were led to a tiny table. He lifted her camera equipment from her shoulder and slid it over his chair before settling in.

Something about this…felt a little off, Nicki realized suddenly. Her heart kicked up with an ominous flutter. Had she done something inappropriate? Slipped up in some way?

“What’s wrong?” Stefan’s gaze pinned her to her chair, and she offered him a weak smile.

“Too long out in the sun, I suspect.”

“I should have broken away sooner,” he said as a waiter deposited water and bread and dates on the table. “Eat, please. Our orders will be here shortly.”

She didn’t argue with him. She was hungry, to be sure, and her skin was running hot and cold.
No, no, no.
This was not the time for her to be weak. She needed to take better care of herself, or all of this would be pointless.

“I’ve heard from the guards,” Stefan said, interrupting her self-recriminations. “They report that despite what the scavenger dealer reported, there are far fewer squatters in the park than we’d hoped. The ones they’d found were cagey enough to stay out of sight, for the most part, until it became clear that the men were offering money. That isn’t reassuring as to the veracity of their tales, but there was some information.”

Nicki perked up. “There was?”

“Not specific, but interesting.” Stefan nodded. “These men had not heard of Ari, nor had they seen anyone matching his description. But when the talk turned to homeless wanderers and drunkards, they all said the same thing. Those people were locked up, kept out of the public eye. Alaçati thrived on tourism and on putting a good face up for the well-heeled aristos of the big cities. They would suffer no drunks on their watch.”

She made a face. “I guess I can see their point, but what do they do with them? Shoot them at dawn?”

“They put them to work in some sort of local mental asylum.”

She almost dropped her fork. “They what? No way.”

“The locals spoke of it with certainty, and also with fear. Apparently, the threat was real enough to them. We have not been able to get any corroboration from external sources, however. Not yet.”

Nicki frowned, considering the quaint city around them. “I can’t imagine this place having a mental asylum.”

“It doesn’t, not officially.” Stefan sat back in his chair, rolling his glass in his hands. “But there are several facilities that could be used in that role—abandoned warehouses, industrial buildings. The particular warehouse the squatters were warned to stay away from was on the southern range,” he gestured, and Nicki turned in that direction. She couldn’t make out anything on the ridge with the midday haze. “It’s next to a recently excavated ruin of an old temple that’s started to cause some buzz for the city, but isn’t open to the public yet. It will be soon, by all accounts. The squatters are hoping the site’s opening might force the Alaçati police to come up with a different policy on drunkards, not simply a different holding cell.”

“And you think Ari could be in this—in an asylum?”

“I don’t think anything at this point. But if he was clearly disoriented and homeless, he’d fit the description of the men they were rounding up. And if they have them working for free, essentially, Ari was tall and strong. He’d be a good candidate if he didn’t know any better. If he thought he was some kind of criminal, he would do the time. That was how he was brought up.”

Nicki tilted her head. “How well did you know him?”

“Ari?” Stefan’s lips twisted. “In some ways, not well, for all that we’ve been forced together for these past several years. My father and King Jasen were brothers. The king and queen took me in when my parents died—though not as an adopted son, by my request. More as a lodger, for lack of a better word. Nevertheless, they ensured my schooling was top notch, and when I showed an interest in politics, they moved me into Cyril’s domain. He’s mentored me since I was fourteen.”

Nicki stared at him. “I—” she managed. “I didn’t know your parents had died. I thought you…” she waved a hand, clearly at a loss. “I didn’t know.”

He frowned. “There was no reason for you to know. It was a long time ago. I was eight. They were on a yacht not too dissimilar to the royal vessel, and got caught in a storm.”

“And you’re still willing to sail?” she protested. “You didn’t even blink at taking a yacht here.”