The King Takes A Bride (Royals Book 4) (21 page)

Wynn plopped down onto the seat, rearranging her scarf. “I don't have to! It's on its own island. That trumps the other one right off the bat. Good grief, I can't believe it.”

Chey watched Wynn stare wide-eyed out the windows as they made the short drive to the gate and through toward the entrance. The woman was a lot more enthused than Chey might have guessed she would be.

“You can come stay for the summer sometimes, if your dad will let you take vacations that long,” Chey said.

“Wouldn't that be great? We'll make plans.” Wynn brandished a girlish smile at Chey.

“Definitely. You have to be here when the baby's born, too.” Chey disembarked with Wynn in tow. Ascending the steps, she regarded Wynn's reaction.

“Of course Auntie Wynn needs to be here when the baby comes. I bet I can squeeze three weeks vacation for that by itself.” Wynn cut off talk of vacations to ooh and ahh as they entered through the front doors.

Kallaster was still new enough to Chey that she could appreciate Wynn's gasp of pleasure. The more medieval trend in Kallaster appealed to Wynn, she knew, as much as it appealed to herself. There was something whimsical about it, as if they'd stepped back in time.

Cut out arrows made of paper arranged on the stone floor with Chey and Wynn's names written on each halted Chey's advance deeper into the building. Taking a few steps forward, Chey picked a bright red arrow up and examined it. Just paper with her name on it, nothing special. It wasn't attached to the floor with tape or other adhesive, either.

Wynn clapped her hands together and bounced on her toes when she saw them. “Someone wants you to follow the arrows!”

“What's going on?” Chey glanced around at the few guards and staff members watching from their various posts. All of them were smiling as if they knew something she didn't. Instead of putting the arrow back down, Chey held it between her fingers.

“Come on, let's go!” Wynn grasped Chey's elbow and set upon the path directed by the arrows.

With Wynn at her side, Chey followed the trail up the staircases to the bedroom levels. Had Sander set something up in their suite? Something for the wedding or the baby? She couldn't figure it out. Wynn's exuberance was infectious, however, and Chey soon found herself as excited as her friend.

The arrows led them away from the master suite down another hall instead, much to Chey's bemusement. Wynn's excitement resulted in swoony noises and small squeals of delight.

Arriving at a door to one of the guest suites, Chey glanced at Wynn. “This is so bizarre. I have no idea what's going on.”

“Maybe Sander had a bedroom converted into a boudoir or something. For sultry pictures of you in lingerie.” Wynn smiled wide enough to show her teeth.

Chey snorted. “Doubtful.
Your
name was on some of those arrows, too.”

The only way to find out was to go in. So she did. Opening the door, Chey entered with Wynn all but glued to her side. A bedroom suite awaited, which wasn't a great surprise in itself. Done in pretty powder blues and creams, it had its own separate sitting area, television and gigantic bed with a canopy overhead. In keeping with the royal theme, the decorations and furniture were decadent, heavy and gilded in gold leaf.

Wynn clapped her hands over her cheeks—and cried. Fat tears spilled over her lashes and dripped off her chin.

“...what's wrong? What's the matter with you?” Chey asked, distracted by Wynn's reaction.

“She's trying to come to terms with the idea that she
lives
here, now,” Sander said from the archway to the bathroom.

Chey snapped a look across the room. Sander hadn't been standing there a moment before. “What?”

Wynn, smiling through her tears, nodded.

“Lives here? You mean she's staying here instead of at the family seat?” Chey thought she was missing something here.

Sander and Wynn laughed. It was Sander who set Chey straight. “Chey, she lives here now. In Latvala. She moved here to be closer to you. This is her room.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. Chey gasped and glanced between them, feeling as shocked as Wynn looked. Then she hugged the stuffing out of Wynn, laughing and turning delighted circles.

“That's what those secretive glances were for! I wondered! I can't believe it!” Chey, beside herself with glee, smacked a happy kiss on Wynn's wet cheek and headed straight to Sander. When she got there, she wrapped him up in a hug and kissed him, too—but on the mouth. He rumbled through it all, apparently amused.

“Yes. We've been planning for a month,” Sander said once she released him. “If you look closely, her things have been integrated throughout the room.”

Chey released him and took a better look around. Sure enough, a few framed pictures sat on dressers and childhood paraphernalia from their youth dotted nightstands and walls. It was real. Wynn wasn't going home in a week, she was staying for good.

“You both planned this for a month and I didn't know it? Wynn, how did you keep it secret? You can never keep secrets like this.” Chey checked the huge closet to find loads of Wynn's clothes already hanging up, shoes tucked neatly into cubicles.

“I wanted you to be surprised,” Wynn said. “I had no idea it would be like
this,
though!”

Emerging once more, Chey watched as Wynn sat on the edge of the bed and ran her palm over the surface of the coverlet.

“I'm definitely surprised. What did your parents say? I can't imagine your dad was too happy, was he?” Chey asked.

“They understand. Plus, it gives them a great excuse to come visit. He knew I really wanted to come and gave me his blessing,” Wynn said.

Chey bumped into Sander's side and stared up into his eyes. He wrapped an arm around her hips, a loose hold of comfort and familiarity. For a long minute, they stood just like that, maintaining eye contact. She smiled, finally, eliciting one in return from him. Kissing her forehead, Sander squeezed her and stepped away for the door.

“All right. You two don't get into too much trouble. I have a few things to do before we head out to the party tonight. We'll fly back to the mainland around six.” He paused to look back.

“We always get into trouble,” Wynn chimed in.

“We'll be ready. Formal-ish, right?” Chey asked, grinning at Wynn's retort.

“Yes. Formal-ish. I've got my eye on you two,” he said, forking two fingers to point at each of them in a playful warning. Then he was gone, striding away down the hall.

Chey exchanged a mirthful glance with Wynn at the 'warning'. “If he only knew what he was getting into,” Chey said.

“Right?” Wynn laughed.

“And by the time he does, it'll be too late.” Chey affected a mock evil laugh on her way to the bed, where she plopped down to sit next to Wynn. She felt better than she had in weeks. Things were resolving themselves, the wedding was in a few days, and now she had family here to stay.

Altered for the party, the dining hall at the family seat glittered with tiny white lights strung from the corners of the ceiling toward a center chandelier that threw low light over the polished floor. The long table had been removed, leaving space for dancing in the center; smaller tables with chairs now littered the sides of the room with plush chairs for seating.

Staring at the collection of guests—there were a few new additions that had arrived late in the afternoon—from the archway, Chey adjusted the strap on the slinky, turquoise dress she'd chosen to wear for the party. The empire waist disguised her figure, falling to just above the knee. Skinny straps arched over her shoulders, glittering with sewn in crystals that matched a small row following the plunging neckline. Even her modest heels had a few impressed into the leather strap that wrapped her ankle.

Beside her, Wynn wore a black sheath dress with chunky platform shoes that added several inches to her height. The front of her hair had been caught back with a clip, leaving her expressive face on full display. Bright red lipstick matched the polish on her short, manicured nails.

Sander, sharp in a suit of black, escorted both girls into the mix, greeting the new arrivals with handshakes and hellos. He introduced his bride-to-be to those she didn't know, as well as Wynn, and parted off after a few minutes when one of the Russian men gestured him over to their group.

“This is so exciting. I've never seen so many
royal this
and
ambassador that
in my life,” Wynn whispered, running a hand down the length of her hip.

“I know. This is daily life here. It takes getting used to.” Chey was still acclimating herself and understood how overwhelming it might be for Wynn.

“Good to see you, Wynn. Enjoying yourself?” Mattias said as he strolled up, drink in hand.

Chey glanced over, giving Mattias a smile. Debonair in a white jacket over black slacks, dark hair combed away from his face, the Prince looked right at home in the presence of his peers.

Wynn matched Chey's smile. “Oh, hi. We just got here, but it's
amazing.
I'm so enamored with the castles and meeting different people.”

“I hear this will become a permanent situation for you,” Mattias said after a sip from his glass. His gaze scanned the small clusters of guests, lingering on Sander a moment before returning to the girls.

“Yes. It was a surprise for Chey. I've had my eye on Latvala for awhile,” Wynn said with a cheeky smile.

“Good. It'll be nice to have a friendly face in attendance more often. Excuse me a moment.” After a wink, he stepped away to engage several guests that hailed him from a separate group than the one Sander stood with.

“Why is he not attached again?” Wynn whispered to Chey.

“I don't think he's ready or something after the Viia fiasco. Maybe he's happy to be single for a while,” Chey replied, watching after Mattias. The man was so self contained he was hard to get a bead on sometimes. If he was lonely, he didn't show it or act it.

“Hello!” Krislin appeared at their side, all smiles and subtle exuberance.

“Evening, ladies.” Gunnar split off right after his amiable greeting, heading for Mattias and Sander.

“Hey, it's great to see you again, Kris. Hello, Gunnar!” Wynn exchanged cheek kisses with Krislin.

“Evening, Gunn--” Chey paused to stare at Wynn and Krislin and their cheek kisses. The women acted like they'd known each other for years, which wasn't unusual for Wynn, but she didn't recall any meeting between them.

“Oh, we met the night you were in the hospital,” Wynn explained after glancing at Chey's expression. “Traded phone numbers and things to keep in touch.”

“So that's when it was. You threw me for a minute.” Chey shook with a silent laugh at the deviant gleam in Wynn's eyes.

“We're fast friends,” Wynn added.

“I can see that,” Chey retorted.

“Kris and I are going to hang out when you and Sander trot off on your honeymoon, maybe get into a little trouble.” Wynn accepted a glass of wine off a tray when the waitstaff came by.

Chey chose water for herself. Krislin declined completely.

“Don't let her get you into
too
much trouble, Krislin. She can be devilish sometimes.” Chey thought it only fair to warn Gunnar's wife what a terror Wynn could sometimes be.

Krislin and Wynn exchanged an amused look before Krislin said, “Thanks for the warning. I'll keep it in mind when she drags me out.”

From the corner of her eye, Chey saw Natalia enter the hall. A snug fitting gown in a gauzy shade of baby blue accented Natalia's tawny coloring and outlined her figure. Unsure what might happen, Chey decided to initiate conversation. Or would have, except Natalia veered toward Mattias and Gunnar after a glance over her shoulder.

Chey skipped a glance at the archway. Bashir rounded the corner, straightening the knot of his tie.

“Are you listening to a thing I'm saying, Chey Sinclair?” Wynn said.

Drawn back to Wynn and Krislin, Chey tried to catch up to whatever topic the girls were on. “What? Yes.”

“What did I just say Krislin and I were going to do first when you and Sander leave?” Wynn challenged, a gleam in her eyes.

Chey hesitated, lips quirked. She had no idea.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Natalia hovering near Mattias and Gunnar, though she didn't want to outright stare to see what else might be going on. Had Bashir confronted her in the hall? He seemed perturbed to Chey, mouth tight under the mustache.

“Uh huh. What's got you so distracted?” Wynn asked, casting her gaze over the room.

“Nothing, nothing. I--” Music filtered out through speakers Chey couldn't see, interrupting her train of thought. She tracked Bashir, followed by several security men, as he threaded through the room toward the group Natalia stood near.

“Pardon, would you care to dance?” a masculine voice, heavy with a Russian accent, said from behind them.

Chey snatched her attention back from the group even as Krislin and Wynn glanced over their shoulders.

One of the elite, somewhere in his middle twenties, the blonde haired man with a well defined jaw and vivid green eyes stared at Wynn while he waited for an answer. Tall, built lean under his suit, he extended his hand like he thought Wynn's agreement was a foregone conclusion.

Wynn, opportunist that she was, didn't waste a second. She pushed her glass at Chey and accepted the offered hand.

“Yes, I'd love to. Be back shortly, girls.” Wynn flashed Chey and Krislin a smile and let the handsome foreigner lead her to the dance floor. Others had already congregated there, taking advantage of the music and mellow atmosphere.

“We'll be waiting,” Chey promised.

“I'll be right back. Little girl's room,” Krislin said, making a gesture to the archway.

“All right.” Chey watched Krislin head out of the hall. She set Wynn's glass on a nearby table along with the water she'd barely touched. Now that her companions were otherwise occupied, Chey sought the group Natalia stood with to see if Bashir had joined them yet.

He had. Standing adjacent to Natalia, hands in the pockets of his slacks, the Crown Prince engaged the group he obviously knew well, judging by the familiarity with which they spoke to each other. Mattias and Gunnar flanked Natalia, creating a buffer between her and the rest.