King and Kingdom (13 page)

Wynn picked up the remote and turned the television off. She looked at Chey. “Do you think he'll find you?”

It was the first they'd spoken of Sander since the crash. Helpless, Chey lifted a shoulder. “I don't know.”

“I can tell you one thing. It's easy to see why you fell for him. He seems like a really great guy, Heir and Prince aside.”

“Yes, he's great. Considerate, thoughtful, boisterous—listen to me. I sound smitten.” Chey smiled at her own praise and looked down into her mug.

“You sound like you're in love with him to me,” Wynn pointed out. Like Chey, she rarely minced words.

“I guess I am.” Chey didn't bother to deny it. Exactly when she'd known, she couldn't be sure. She just knew that she was, and that she wanted a fair shot at making things work between them. Even if she was filled with dread at having to deal with his family, and what being involved with Sander meant for the long term.

He was worth it.

“I bet you first thing in the morning, he shows up here with a huge bouquet of roses and sets everything straight.” Wynn matched Chey's smile, then tilted her head back against the couch.

“That's probably asking a little too much, too soon. But we can hope.” Chey felt as tired as Wynn suddenly looked.

“I'll hope for you on my way to bed. I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Wynn closed her eyes.

Chey laughed and set her mug aside. “Same here. Let's go get some rest. I have a feeling we're going to need it.”

. . .

“Look at this, Chey. The news on TV says that
members of the Royal family plan to show solidarity with the families of the victims of Vogeva by attending an honorarium today at noon.
The only reason I can read that is because they have the ticker tape in English below the news anchor again,” Wynn said, standing in front of the television in her Betty Boop pajamas.

Three hours after the alarm went off, Chey and Wynn were still in their nightwear, plotting what they were going to do for the day. In her trusty velveteen pajamas with the candy canes emblazoned over the pants, Chey walked her fresh mug of coffee closer to the TV. Order in breakfast had been taken care of, as well as checking the roads to see if they were clear of snow.

The plows had been busy; every street they could see from their hotel window was scraped down to the asphalt.

Chey's heart hammered in her chest when flashes of Sander's face came and went on the screen. The news station had chosen to show the ones of his soot streaked jaw and clothes from the accident yesterday, reminding viewers once again that their Prince cared deeply for his people.

“Did it say Sander specifically would be there?” Chey asked.

“No, just members of the Royal family. But you'd think, since he was a part of it, that he would show up.” Wynn glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. “Since we got up so early, we still have three and a half hours to decide if we want to drive to Vogeva.”

Chey opened her mouth to reply but a trio of hard knocks on their hotel door stopped her cold. Remembering Wynn's prediction that Sander would show up with flowers and apologies, she snapped a look across the room, eyes wide.

Could it really be him?

“Oh my God, I told you!” Wynn set down her mug and darted past Chey, apparently forgetting they were still in their nightclothes. She didn't hesitate to unlatch the chain and swing the door wide. “Hi--”

Natalia gave Wynn a thorough looking over before brushing past with a snort of derision. Coiffed, dressed to immaculate perfection, the youngest Royal's nostrils flared when she got a look at the cozy hotel room and the dark haired woman staring like a deer in the headlights. Natalia raked Chey with a cold, mocking glance. Two members of her security detail entered behind her, while three more remained in the hallway.

“I didn't believe the reports that you had actually dared to return on your own merit,” Natalia said, peeling her gloves from her hands in a way that suggested she wouldn't be touching anything. Not in
this
room.

Chey, recovering her wits, took another sip of her coffee and twisted to set the mug on the little table at the end of the couch. She couldn't have felt more exposed, or ridiculous, if she'd been stark naked.

“Then I suggest you get new intel,” Chey said with a healthy dose of sarcasm. She was in no mood to deal with Natalia.

Natalia met her eyes, then perused the candy cane Pjs with a telling look of disgust. “Listen, I'll make this brief. You were war--”

“Excuse me,” Wynn said, interrupting. She stalked across the room toward Chey and Natalia as if she wasn't wearing Betty Boop's face on her chest. “Who the hell are you again?”

Chey bit her tongue. Why make it easier for Natalia? Except Natalia didn't give Wynn the time of day. She picked up right where she'd left off before the intrusion.

“You were warned, were you not, to stay away? Is it not enough, then, that my brother
sent
you home after he discovered you're just as conniving as I've always said you were? Hm?” Natalia arched a sleek brow in question.

Wynn gasped when she realized who was standing in front of her.

Chey, gripped with a sudden devilish tongue, leaned in ever so subtly. She sniffed in Natalia's direction. “Pardon? I'm used to you blathering drunkenly, so I'm not quite sure I understood what you said.”

Natalia's expression shifted, growing impossibly colder. Her eyes caressed Chey's face in the same way a butcher might a chicken right before he wrung its neck.

“You're to leave Latvala immediately. Heroics aside, the Royal family finds you a threat and has ordered your departure.
Today.
Here are the tickets for a three-thirty flight this afternoon. Make sure you're on it,” Natalia said, delivering the news with obvious relish. One of her guards stepped forward and extended a classy envelope with the Royal seal on the front.

Chey glanced at the envelope and felt her heart sink into her stomach. Natalia—perhaps the whole Royal family—wasn't playing around. They meant business. Had Sander been a part of this decision, too? Just because he'd saved her didn't mean he forgave her. The few second hesitation gave Natalia another opening.

“If you decline the tickets, we'll be forced to arrest you. Now. It's your choice,” Natalia said.

Left with little else to do, Chey plucked the envelope out of the guard's hand.

“You've made your point, Natalia. Now get out,” Chey said. She couldn't find it in her to even pretend diplomacy.

Natalia breathed a little laugh, clearly relishing Chey's reaction. “You're hereby banned from ever entering Latvala again, by the way. If you attempt to pass through customs, you'll be arrested as a terrorist and indefinitely jailed.”

Wynn gasped again.

Natalia smirked, pivoted on a heel, and stalked from the room. Her guards followed, closing the door in her wake.

Chey stood there as if a freight train had just run her over. Breathless with shock, she couldn't make her legs move, couldn't look at the tickets or even glance at Wynn. The reality of the situation kept hammering at Chey's insides.
Banned. Forever.
There would be no reconciliation, no tentative talks between her and Sander to fix things. And once she left, she could never return.

The iron thumb of the ruling Monarchy had her trapped between a rock and a hard place.

Wynn stepped in front of her, mouth agape. She clasped Chey's biceps with both hands and just...stared.
Did that just happen?
said her expression.

Chey met Wynn's eyes. She nodded, not needing Wynn to ask the question aloud.

She glanced down at the envelope in her hands and opened it. Of course, the outer leather was high quality, the Royal seal stamped in silver. Natalia had spared no expense to drive her point home.
They were Royalty, Chey was not. She wasn't welcome here.
The tickets inside, printed in two languages, backed up Natalia's threats. There were two, one for Chey, one for Wynn. Someone had been snooping in the hotel's database. Three-thirty was the scheduled departure time, which meant they needed to be at the airport at least an hour early.

Chey wondered if security there would call someone if she didn't check in before her flight. Would they go so far to arrest her at the hotel?

“What's that look?” Wynn asked, still holding onto Chey's arms.

Chey closed the envelope and smoothed her thumb over the seal on the front. She glanced up. Met Wynn's eyes. She said, “Feel like going for a drive?”

Chapter Nine

“Now
this
is what I'm talking about. Right here. Not allowing that little wench to kick you when you're down. We'll show her a thing or two about American tenacity. Yeah?” Wynn rubbed her hands while the little blue car warmed up. She exhaled, breath pluming white against the windshield. Then she glanced sideways at Chey.

“American tenacity is likely going to get me arrested. We'll probably hit ice between here and Vogeva. Even though the road's been plowed,” Chey said, studying the map in her lap. Natalia could kiss the snowy bottom of her boots. She wasn't giving up now.

“Don't worry about the ice. I can handle it. Seriously, though, if her men see you when we get to Vogeva, you get out of the car and run, okay? I'll lead them away, hopefully give you a head start.” Wynn turned the heat up another notch. Parked in the hotel's garage, the windshield was already clear, the tires dry.

“I don't want you to end up in jail, Wynn. I wouldn't put it past her,” Chey said. It wasn't worth Wynn being imprisoned because of Chey's willful plan to put herself in Sander's path regardless of Natalia's threats.

“Don't worry about me. Daddy's a lawyer, or have you forgotten? He'll spring me—and you—free if we get into trouble.”

“That's
if
they let you near a phone.” Chey didn't trust that Natalia would follow any International rules.

“We'll be fine. You'll catch up to Sander, explain it all, and you two will get back together.” Wynn ground the gear into reverse and backed out of the parking spot.

Just as Chey thought, there were slick patches on the road despite the salt and recent plowing. Wynn slid the car to the first stoplight, Chey's arms braced against the door and dash in case they went right through against the red. Thankfully, the little car came to a stop. Chey and Wynn glanced at each other at the same time.

It was going to be a long drive to Vogeva.

Three turns later, Wynn hunched up against the rather large wheel, she suddenly veered the car into a right turn. The wheels skidded, the back end swinging out into the oncoming lane.

“Wynn!” Chey clenched her teeth, prepared for impact. They missed another car by inches.

“I think we're being tailed,” Wynn said, giving the car gas. She shifted from first to second, glancing left-right-left for a place to pull in.

“What?” Chey twisted around to look out the oval shaped back window. She saw three cars, only one of them a sedan that might or might not have belonged to a security detail. “How can you be sure?”

“Because that black car is still behind us. It started back at the hotel.”

“Since when did you go all Mission Impossible?”

“The second some Royal wench showed up at our hotel door, threatening to turn you into a terrorist,” Wynn said, tone dry. She eased the little car around a corner, then into someone's single car garage with the door still up.

“Wynn, what are you--”

“Just wait.” Wynn watched the rear view mirror.

“Sure. They won't get us for terrorism, they'll get us for trespassing on private property.” Chey watched out the window. A few moments later, the sedan rolled by, doing at least thirty miles an hour.

“Think they saw us?” Wynn asked.

“I don't know. They're out of sight and I can't tell if they stopped.”

“We'll give it another five minutes, then we'll back out and go on.”

Five minutes felt like an hour to Chey. Any moment, she expected to see the sedan back up and stop outside the garage. Either that, or several silhouettes darken the garage doorway.

Nothing happened. The sedan didn't return, and no men approached.

Wynn backed the car out of the garage, sliding into the street before she could get the car to stop. Putting it in first, she went the other direction, taking several back roads to reach the main artery that would ferry them to Vogeva.

Finally, they were on their way. The bigger streets were clearer than the smaller, less driven ones, and once Wynn reached the two lane highway, she had an easier time controlling the car. Sitting forward, tense and on alert, Wynn drove them toward their destination.

While Wynn concentrated, Chey thought ahead to their plan. To what she would say to Sander if she could get close enough to speak. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a handwritten note she'd penned before leaving the hotel room.