King and Kingdom (28 page)

Recalling a few short cuts and back halls in the castle, Chey made a hasty decision.

Why wait here, when she could listen to the confrontation in person? She would have no trouble staying out of sight with everyone's focus on the impending implosion between Sander and Aksel.

Hurrying to the door, she opened it, looked out into the hall, and left the room when she saw the coast was clear.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chey heard the shouting long before she reached the shadowy alcove at the end of the narrow corridor leading into the back of the great hall. She recognized Sander's voice, and Aksel's, and even Paavo's. Ducking behind the seven foot high potted plant covering half the hidden spot, she pressed close to the wall, obscured by the fronds and gloom. Around the corner, in the immense room, the men raged at each other.

It was only then that she realized the shouting match was in the Latvalan tongue.

Damn.

Sometimes, however, English was spoken as much as the other, so she remained, desperate to catch snippets of conversation. Obviously, Aksel was furious with Sander for outing Valentina in such a blunt manner. The woman's fate would race around the country, then to other countries, and onto international magazines that would slander her up one side and down the other.

Chey wished she could feel sorry for the woman who was supposed to be so cunningly sly and sharp. Valentina should have known better than to crow about her triumph in a crowd of people. She should have thought twice before attempting to pass off the child she carried as someone else's. With a sudden turn, Aksel switched to English, his anger such that his words clipped out one on top of the other.

“No! The damage is done! You have no idea what hell you have just unleashed on the Princess, or her people, or even your
own
people! You would deny your own child simply to--”

“That is not my child!” Sander raged. “You believe her lies over your own son? She carries another man's seed and has used your own gullibility against you. Would you have a stranger from another land take the throne, change all we have worked for, bled for? I will not have it!”

“This is about payback. This...this is incredibly selfish and beneath you. Over a girl! A foreigner who would have wrecked you for this country you seem so bent on protecting. Enough!” Aksel raised his voice to be heard over Sander.

Chey covered a gasp with her fingertips. The King was referring to her.
She
was the foreigner he mentioned.

“What you should have done,” Sander said, lowering his voice to a menacing growl. “Was be there for me. Supported me, supported her.”

“What I should have done was killed her when I had the chance,” the King snarled. The sound of his boots cracked over the stone floor as if he'd taken to pacing.

Chey's stomach tightened. Aksel's intentions for her had never been good, and she wondered if the King would secretly send someone after her, just to make sure Sander could not reconnect now that Valentina was out of the way. Or, conversely, to teach Sander a lesson. The King had hinted at it down in the dungeon.

No wonder Sander has been so bent on bringing her home with him that day.

Silence stretched through the great room. Chey hated that she couldn't see what the men were doing. She dared not leave the niche to peek around the corner, however. Anyone might see.

“Here is what will happen now,” Sander said, a tight edge to his voice. “If you do not back down, call off your dogs, I
will
out you to our people the same way I outed Valentina. They will know you conspired with her, against your own son, all for whatever cheap agenda you plotted between you. I don't care what political achievements you thought this would bring you, or the country, but I'm saying right now that Latvala doesn't need it. We're self sufficient, we have good allies and prosperous citizens. To begin engaging in the skirmishes in nearby countries will only bring heartache and harm to our borders. Until it is absolutely necessary, this country won't be lending military support to anyone else. And
when
I take a wife, she will be one of my own choosing, whom I believe will be an asset rather than someone hell bent on bringing change at the cost of our bloodline.”

“I could have you arrested for treason--” Aksel didn't get his entire threat out before Sander cut him off.

“But you won't. Because I've set up a system. If I go to jail, or am suddenly arrested, the tapes will be released to the public via an alternate route. All you have to do is turn your back on this whole thing,” Sander said. “Pretend you knew nothing about Valentina's duplicity to the public, I don't care. Perpetrate your lies. Rule your Kingdom as you have been. I will keep the information private and we will all continue on our path until I ascend the throne you have just officially promised me.”

Chey exhaled a quiet breath. Sander was putting everything on the line. As he'd said he would. In her defense, in his own defense, and in a bid to protect the public from the likes of scheming Valentina. Minutes later, when Aksel replied, he sounded almost
too
agreeable to Chey's ears.

“If this is the only way, so be it. I have misjudged you, Sander. I knew you had the capacity to be ruthless, but I never dreamed I would see the day you unleashed it on your own family. Mark my words: I will be watching. Waiting. The very second you screw up, I will invoke my right to strip you of the power to ascend in my wake. Mattias, prepare yourself. I never thought I would live to say this, but it appears the second in line may yet be King.” Aksel's boots thudded over the stone floor with a crack of finality.

Chey wondered at the switch from giving Paavo the official title back to Mattias. Perhaps the King, in his desperation, decided to fall back on the more apparent heir. Paavo had been a good choice under the former circumstances; Mattias must be the best under these.

She heard the group disperse. The Queen, who had been weirdly silent, began murmuring urgently though Chey could not make out her words. The scuff of boot falls came closer, approaching the narrow corridor harboring the spot Chey hid in. She hunkered deeper into the shadow, fearful they were Aksel's men who could somehow see around corners and into the darkness, and knew she'd been hiding there, listening.

The guards walked right by. Neither checked the alcove, nor so much as glanced her way. Chey saw they were Sander's men anyway, not Aksel's. Releasing a pent up breath, she waited until no more sounds came from the great hall before slipping away from her hidey hole. She wanted to get back up to Sander's suite lest he find her missing from the other room, as well as his, and thought his father had found her.

. . .

On her way back to the suite, Chey wondered, not for the first time, what her future would be like in Latvala. She was in love with Sander, no doubt about it, and unless she missed her guess, he was well on the way to being in love with her, too.

Would they be allowed by the council to take things further? Once this current turmoil passed, would Aksel and Helina turn the other cheek and say nothing when Sander publicly brought her back into his life?

Once upon a time, Chey thought she couldn't handle the strain and tension surrounding Royalty. The subterfuge, secrets and deception were difficult to deal with, never mind the blatant danger.

Now, there was no way she would willingly leave Sander's side. Even if it meant years of strife dealing with his family, or always having to look over her shoulder. She would find a way to have happiness amidst the ranks. Perhaps she would have to make her own ways to protect herself, obtain knowledge that would keep the hounds at bay.

Now you sound just like them, planning and plotting.
Chey pressed her lips together when the thought made itself known. Yes, she did sound like Natalia or Helina. What other choice did she have? This was her life she was talking about, and they obviously had no compunction about taking it. Ending it.

Chey would not roll over and die so easily.

Opening the door to Sander's suite, she stepped inside and closed it behind her.

“I was just about to send a search party,” Sander said. “Where were you?”

Chey whirled, surprised he had beat her up here. Sander stood next to Mattias; both men had drinks in their hands.

“Mattias,” she said in greeting, stepping away from the door. Lifting her chin, she decided to be up front with Sander. “I couldn't help it. I wanted to know what was happening, so I crept down that one back hallway and listened around the corner in the great hall.”

Sander snorted. He looked her over, head to toe, dark amusement gleaming in his eyes. “So you
are
an eavesdropper after all.”

Mattias laughed regardless of the tense situation and took a drink. “Chey,” he finally said. “Did you glean anything useful?”

She walked across the room, closing the distance, relieved neither one seemed angry about her breech in protocol. A girl had to do what she had to do.

“Yes. Do you think the King will back down, now? Will he relent, go back to ruling like you suggested, Sander, and let this drop?” Chey, momentarily overwhelmed at the picture the two Royals made in their military finery, stopped next to a divan and leaned her hip against it. She had that creeping sensation of being out of her element again and attempted to ignore it. Anyone would feel the same, she argued with herself, faced with such a sight. Both Princes wore a mantle of impenetrable intensity that betrayed their attempt at neutral banter.

Sander glanced down into his glass. Gave it a swirl. “All we can do is wait and see. Time will tell what his motives are, or will be.”

“Sander has the upper hand for now,” Mattias added. He finished off what was in his tumbler and slid it to a side table.

“Won't this cause a lot of dissension in your family? I mean—you just threatened your father with blackmail. I guess I don't understand. I thought you all worked together, that everyone was on the same page,” she said, needing clarification.

“There has been dissension for a long time, Chey. This is the way of it. If it doesn't come from within, it comes from without. The King overstepped, put the people of Latvala in jeopardy. He might be our father, but neither Sander nor I will stand back and be a witness or a party to someone not an Ahtissari taking the throne,” Mattias said. He slid his hands into the pockets of his uniform trousers.

“He drew the line in the sand, Chey, not us. I would not turn my back on my own heir simply because I wasn't in love with its mother. He chose to be blind about it, chose to believe Valentina. He'll have time to rethink his situation. His time as ruler nears an end. The next generation is ready to ascend. What kind of leaders would we be if we didn't step up when it mattered?” Sander finished off his drink and slid the glass down next to Mattias's.

Glancing between them, Chey considered their replies. “I guess. It just seems so drastic. He's your father--”

“Yes, our father. A King. But he's not infallible, Chey. When I take the throne, and if the time comes that I make a poor decision that might put the country in jeopardy, I expect Mattias to rise to the occasion and set things straight. It's how it goes. Sometimes the power goes to their head,” Sander said, muttering the last.

Chey wondered if, someday, the power would go to Sander's head. He was so centered, so self-efficient. She couldn't picture him making such an obviously wrong decision.

“I see. I'm glad it appears to have all gone your way for now. How long until the full effect of the fallout shows up?” she asked.

“Could be tomorrow, could be several days,” Sander said. “We'll keep a low profile here for the next few weeks, see how it shakes out. I won't feel comfortable bringing you out into the open until some of the media frenzy dies down.”

“Yes, it's better to keep a lid on it for now,” Mattias agreed, glancing between Sander and Chey.

“I don't mind. My things should be arriving from Seattle soon anyway. Organizing all that will keep me busy.”

“That and the holidays are coming. I would have preferred to take you somewhere—skiing in the Alps perhaps—but again, I don't trust other people to keep their mouths shut this close to a scandal. We'll celebrate here.” Sander reached up to begin undoing the buttons of his jacket.

“Here is fine. Here is more than fine,” Chey said, stepping forward to help Sander with the buttons. Her fingers were deft on the metal, sliding them through their respective holes. She glanced up to see his eyes. Sander stared down at her, a pensive, thoughtful look on his face.

“While you two make plans, I'm going to head back to the castle, keep an eye on things,” Mattias said. He strolled for the door.

“See you later, Mattias,” Chey said.

The door opened and closed with a quiet click.

“Are you all right?” Chey asked Sander. She peeled the uniform jacket from his broad shoulders and hung it off the back of a nearby chair for now. It left him in a pull over shirt of white that he tugged off after, revealing a swath of golden skin.