King and Kingdom (2 page)

Chey twirled a piece of hair around her finger, elbow resting on the arm of the sofa. “That a relationship wouldn't be allowed, at all, between us. I got the impression that if Sander and I attempted to make it more, someone would physically do something to stop it.”

“The cabinet and top military brass do all the hard lifting, as it were, regarding things of this nature. They do what's best for the country following the ideals of the King. Most of them are old school hardliners and agree that marriages should be arranged for financial and political gain. You won't find any friends there and you're right—they
will
attempt to derail this relationship.” Mattias sipped from his glass and maintained eye contact.

“So this will be an uphill battle all the way.”

“Yes. But you knew that,” Mattias said.

“Sander warned me.” And she'd made the decision to stay. To try.

“It's up to you to decide whether he's worth it. Obviously you think so, or you would have been back home by now.”

“Of course I think he's worth it.” Chey released her hair and rubbed her forehead instead. “It's just—how many people have to start off a relationship this way? We only had a week together without all this other stress and strain. I don't want all the chemistry between us sucked out of our time together because we're both aware this will probably go nowhere.”

“This is only the beginning, Chey. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, is easy about this life. If I were you, I would concentrate on your time with Sander and try to forget the rest. You'll know when you can't take anymore.”

“Yes, and by then, my heart will likely be in a hundred shattered pieces.”

“It's a good possibility.”

“You're not very reassuring, Mattias.”

“It's not my job to reassure you. It's for your own benefit that I'm straight with you.”

“If Sander would have been honest from the beginning...” Chey didn't finish the thought. There were times she harbored anger over his deception. If he'd just informed her that he was the heir to the throne, they might not be in this mess.

Then again, she wouldn't be dating Sander, either, and she wasn't willing to just throw in the towel because someone else told her to.

“Neither here nor there,” Mattias correctly guessed. “You've forgiven him already, which is why you agreed to stay.”

“I hate that you can read me so well.” Chey quirked her mouth at Mattias.

He swirled the drink in his glass. “It pays to be aware around here.”

“Apparently. So you think Sander and I should allow whatever relationship between us to develop, but not expect it to ever amount to anything. I'm surprised you condone that, to be honest.” Chey expected Mattias to advise cut-and-run, before it was too late.

“Like I told you that day at lunch. This is rare. What you and Dare might build between you happens once every other lifetime. I think it's risky, and I think there's probably a lot of heartache in both of your futures, but sometimes you have to take risks to win a greater reward.” He finished off his drink and set the tumbler on the side table. Mattias's expression changed little, giving no hints to what he was thinking inside.

Chey considered his words.
A lot of heartache in your future.
She knew he was right. It shocked her that she was willing to take the chance even though getting hurt was a distinct possibility.

“I guess time will tell,” she said. “What happened to Viia?” Viia, Mattias's former fiance, had been the mastermind behind the attacks on Chey. Jealously and fear seemed to be her reasons for taking action.

Mattias glanced at the dark panes of the windows. Night cloaked the land beyond the castle. “She swears she had nothing to do with any of it.”

“Of course she would say that. I'm sure she doesn't want to go to jail.” Chey fiddled with the seam of her jeans. She thought she saw indecision flicker across Mattias's features.

“Jail for someone like her is the least of her worries. What this will do to her reputation is the real punishment,” he said.

“Why do I get the impression that you might have doubt she was behind the attacks?” Chey frowned. Did Mattias feel more for Viia than he let on?

“Because I do have doubt,” he replied with quiet confidence.

“Tell me what's on your mind.”

Bringing a hand up, Mattias curled his fingers next to his mouth, still staring at the windows. Finally, he glanced at Chey's eyes. “Viia is many things. Conniving, truculent, petty, a social climber. I never suspected her of arranging murder. If so, I would not have coddled my mother and dated her even for a day.”

“If I'm honest, I had my own doubts that Viia was behind it as well,” Chey confessed.

“Why?”

“Well. First, it seemed a stretch to me that someone like Elise, with her standing and position in the house, would risk it on someone who wasn't actually a part of the family yet. And...I don't know. Something just felt
off.
Convenient, maybe.” Chey struggled to put the sensations and emotions into words.

“Yes, Viia was very convenient, given her attitude toward you.” Mattias frowned, a faint flicker that came and went on his brow.

“But if it wasn't her, then that leaves...your sister.” Chey hated to even bring it up. Natalia, the youngest member of the Royal siblings, had it out for Chey from day one. What was more, the woman made no bones with her threats and her discontent that Chey was still in residence. Bracing for backlash and anger from Mattias, Chey regarded him warily. To her surprise, he didn't surge off the couch in his sister's defense.

“Mm.” He hummed a quiet note of consideration. There was a disturbance in his dark eyes and displeasure turned the corners of his mouth down.

“Is she capable of it?” Chey asked, pressing the issue. Just how many people would she have to fend off to date Sander?

Mattias fell to silence. It stretched thick in the room between them. Only the crack and hiss of the fire interrupted the pause. Finally, he said, “I suppose she is.”

“You sound purposefully vague.”

“There are many things I know that I cannot say.” He leveled a knowing look on her.

Chey understood then that the Royal family did indeed have dark secrets, and only the immediate family and a few close advisers would ever have knowledge of them.

“I see,” she said. “If I don't go home, then the terror may begin again.”

“Natalia may not like you, but she won't simply crank out orders for your demise on a daily basis. Trust that she's been talked to about all this and knows she's being watched.”

“I'm not sure if I feel better or worse.”

“Sander has his own pull. She will only defy him so far, so perhaps, if she
did
know of Viia's plans or helped to suggest things, she will now let it drop.” Mattias moved his foot from his knee back to the floor and sat forward in the chair. He stared across the space with a contemplative expression.

“Sander had a talk with her?” Chey, surprised to hear it, regarded Mattias curiously.

“Yes, as have the advisers. Many others have been questioned as well, to see if anyone else had been brought into the plans.”

“And what did you find?” Chey braced herself for bad news.

“It does not appear that anyone else was involved. If there were others, they're not talking. We've snipped the tail from the snake. With any luck, we've also severed the head.” He stood in a smooth, effortless motion. “I need to be going.”

Chey stood when he did. “I hope you're right. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Of course.” He smiled and turned for the door.

Chey followed. When Mattias stepped into the hall, she posed one more question for him. “Mattias? Is it true that you were just using Viia to keep your mother from setting you up with other women?”

He swayed to a stop, looked down the hallway, then swiveled a glance back to Chey. There was no deception in his eyes or his voice. “Yes. I never made Viia any promises.”

“I was just curious. You two were an ill fit from the beginning, as far as I could tell. At least I know all my instincts aren't off.” Chey leaned against the door. “Have a good evening.”

Mattias inclined his head, then started off down the hall.

Closing the door, Chey retreated into her apartment and snatched her phone off a side table, hoping for a text from Sander. She needed contact, a message.
Something.

The screen gave her an unpleasant answer:
No new messages.

Chapter Two

“How fast can you pack?”

Chey jumped when Sander spoke behind her, so close to her ear. In the kitchen—which was not off limits to her—she set down the butter knife and twitched a look back and up.

“You startled me. Pack for what? Hello.” She squeezed in her questions and greetings all at the same time. Struck by how clear and blue Sander's eyes were, and by the sense of expectancy he exuded, she left the sandwich she'd been making on the counter and gave him her full attention.

He cut a fast smile and leaned in to kiss her right on the mouth.

None of the chefs or their aids elsewhere in the expansive kitchen said a word. No one bothered them at all.

“Hello. For a trip. I've cleared your schedule for the next four days.”

A day had passed since her meeting with the Queen and Mattias's unexpected visit. Chey hadn't heard from Sander the entire time. She had half a mind to voice her ire over his silence; in the end, she was more interested in this proposed trip than she was wasting her breath on admonishment. At least for now.

“A trip where? I can pack very fast, trust me.” If it meant time alone with Sander, Chey would make Speedy Gonzales resemble a snail. She tried to turn all the way around to face him, but he crowded her back, towering over her with his height and masculine scent.

“It's a surprise. Bring something comfortable and something dressy. I'll meet you in the courtyard in a half an hour.”

“But is it here, or is it--”

“Shhh.” He silenced her with another kiss.

Chey palmed his jaw, reaching across her body and over her shoulder. She lingered in the kiss, then smiled. “You're on. I'll be there in time.”

He winked and receded like the tide.

Chey watched him go. She had to admit, he looked as good in his black slacks and black button down as he did in the more rugged gear he wore outdoors. The breadth of his shoulders was more pronounced in the tailored shirt as well as the leanness of his hips.

With quick motions, she cleaned up her mess from lunch, snagged her half tuna sandwich off the counter, and departed the kitchen at a brisk walk. Like the heathen some here thought her to be, she ate on the fly, holding a napkin under the bread to prevent crumbs from littering the polished floor.

By the time she reached her apartment, the sandwich was gone and the napkin rolled into a ball. Evening was encroaching once more, the landscape giving way to darkness. The snows that had gripped Latvala four days past had melted, the skies cleared of the storm.

In short order, Chey had a suitcase and overnight bag packed. She chose jeans and sweaters, a silk shirt or two, and several pieces of a more formal make for the trip. It would have helped if she'd known their destination. Regardless, she thought she'd covered the basic necessities at the very least. The jeans and red sweater she wore would have to do for travel.

Of course, she brought one of her cameras.

Excitement and anticipation gripped her as she left the apartment with eight minutes to spare. A guard outside her door held a hand out for her suitcase; after reminding herself that this was expected of her, she passed it over. Keeping the overnight bag, she made her way down to the first level and across the immense foyer to the front doors. They opened just as she reached for a heavy, iron handle.

She suffered a surreal moment when she saw Sander standing next to a silver limousine, door open, his security detail spread out around the courtyard. Not a week ago, she'd witnessed Sander departing the castle in this very manner. Now she had a different view than one from a distance, behind the lens of her camera.

In the time since finding her in the kitchen and now, Sander had added a sport coat to go with his attire. All in black, he looked refined, decadent, yet somehow rakish. The length of his hair was loose instead of caught back into a tail and his jaw sported a layer of golden whiskers. He smiled, flashing a line of straight, white teeth. Then he tilted his head toward the waiting limousine, silently cajoling her to snap out of her stupor and get in.

That was when she realized she was standing half in and half out of the doorway, blocking anyone else from coming or going, and that the men surrounding the car were staring.

Galvanized into motion, wearing a sheepish grin, Chey crossed the porch and slid into the limousine. Setting her overnight bag on the floor at her feet, she tucked wayward strands of hair behind her ears and glanced over when Sander got in.