The Eye of the Wolf (30 page)

Victoria
beamed a bright smile and linked her arm through Mikayla’s. “I would enjoy that
greatly. Thank you.”

They
set off down the hill. Trees danced in the faint breeze. Flowers bright with
color bobbed in their boxes. Flags and bunting draped buildings along the
streets throwing the ruby red, gold, and midnight blue of the Amor flag into
the bright sunlight, dazzling the light. People thronged through the streets as
cheerful music blared from various windows, reminding people that mourning for
the loss of a king was past and celebration was now upon them. Members of the
press snapped pictures of the tourists and the buildings as old women in their
worn clothes hung flags from windows and young men scrambled up light poles to
hang the flags bearing the seal of Amor to flutter in the breezes.

Victoria
waved at people as they knelt as she passed linked to Mikayla. She was gracious
to those who genuflected and conspiratorially whispered in Mikayla’s ear that
she hated when people bowed to her. Her hand waved in what was known as the
royal wave, a slow curve wafting through the air. Her blonde hair blew gently
around her face making her the most beautiful person in the world, in Mikayla’s
eyes.

After
walking and admiring the city, Victoria flopped down in a chair on the Patio as
Stephen served them café au lait and scones. Mikayla beamed at him as he
returned her smile with a shy one of his own.  Victoria braced her feet
against the wooden railing and stared out at the sea. After a moment, she
shaded her eyes and then pointed to a sailboat with its cheerful red sail
bobbing on the horizon with a laugh.

“There’s
my handsome brother, sailing as always.” She sipped her drink. “I wonder what
beauty is accompanying him this time.”

Mikayla’s
eyes narrowed as she stared at Will’s boat moving smoothly across the choppy
sea. She said nothing and stared into her coffee. She tapped her fingers
against the china, refusing to acknowledge him.

Victoria
glanced over at Mikayla. She was surprised to see Mikayla’s frown and
concentration on the drink as if it might slip from her fingers if she didn’t
give it her upmost attention. “You haven’t met my brother, have you, Mikayla?”

Mikayla
winced and then glanced over, hoping her face was placid. “We’ve met.” Her
statement was simple. She wished she wasn’t transparent as Victoria removed her
feet from the railing and turned to face her, her chin resting on a fist, her
face the picture of interest.

Victoria
smiled sweetly. “I didn’t realize you had met.” She sensed there was a story
here. She sensed there was more than Mikayla was telling. She loved a good
intrigue, especially when it belonged to her twin brother.

Mikayla
shrugged. Her eyes flicked up to where Will’s boat had come in closer to the
coast. She could just make out his blond hair flying free in the sun, his shirt
sleeves rolled to the elbows and the chunky diving watch adorning a wrist.
Without wanting it to happen, her lips curved slightly as he wrestled with the
sheets of the sails to keep it tacking in the wind. She could just feel those
arms and hands around her, touching, igniting a fire that she knew no one would
ever create again.

“Are
you going to tell me about that secretive smile or shall I tell you what I
think it means?” Victoria grinned as Mikayla’s head shot up and her eyes flew
open in surprise. “Didn’t think you were that transparent, did you?”

Mikayla
fought for control. She fought to dampen the emotions that the thought of Will
had aroused. She fought for calm. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was
calm, much calmer than she felt.

Victoria
smiled. “I know that William has stayed on this island longer than he intended
to when he first arrived two months ago. I know that he hasn’t spent more than
two weeks consecutively on this island since he was fourteen, which explains
his British accent. I don’t suppose you could tell me why that is?”

Mikayla
glanced over. She said nothing but allowed her eyes to meet Victoria’s. There
was silence before Victoria looked away to the boat that was slowly becoming
smaller as it sailed further out to sea.

“Tell
me, Mikayla, did he catch you by asking you to pose for pictures since he
fancies himself a photographer? Or perhaps he took you sailing with a romantic
picnic? Or perhaps he told you that he was an orphan and needed love and
understanding?” Victoria’s eyes danced with humor but there was also
understanding in them. When Mikayla didn’t answer, Victoria continued. “William
has traveled all over the world. I suspect there’s a woman in every port of the
world. Don’t be too upset if you fell for those gray eyes and that disarming
smile.” She smiled at Mikayla. “He’s very charming, when he wants to be. Maybe
someday, he’ll put that charm to good work for the country that he says he
hates.”

Mikayla
swallowed the lump in her throat. Somehow she had always known that she was
just another conquest for Will; something inside of her had told her that all
along, but she hadn’t allowed herself to truly believe it. It was hard not to
believe it when the words came from his own sister. She fought the wave of sickness
that washed over her and swallowed the lump in her throat. When she finally
could speak, she asked the one question that had been on her mind since
realizing that Will was part of the royal family. “Victoria, why does William
hide that he’s the Dauphin?”

Victoria
sipped from her drink and watched the sails of Will’s boat disappear into the
horizon. “That’s a difficult question to answer, Mikayla, but I guess it goes
back to the accident. I don’t think he hated Amor before then, but since, it is
a true hatred within him.”

Mikayla
frowned. “Accident? You mean the death of Prince Jonathan?” There hadn’t been
much written about the present royal family, but what had been reported, she
had read, going back to World War I. The reports of the eldest son had been
sketchy, lacking details, facts, only speculation.

Victoria
nibbled on a scone. Her blond head bobbed. “William’s alwaus blamed himself. He
refuses to let it go.”

When
Mikayla continued to stare at Victoria with disbelief and curiosity creased in
her forehead, her blue eyes wide, Victoria continued. “About ten years ago,
William, Jonathan, and I went sailing on an afternoon not much different from
this one. A storm came up from nowhere. William went below to start the motor
so we could get into shore faster since the wind seemed to be coming from all
directions. While William was below decks, Jonathan got knocked overboard by a
large wave. We never found his body.” She tore the scone apart in her fingers.
Her face was sad, but as odd as it seemed, that sadness didn’t reach her eyes.
Her eyes were cold and chilled Mikayla to the bone. “William still blames
himself for Jonathan’s death because Jonathan was a poor swimmer and William
had wanted to go sailing that day. In some respects William was the older brother
even though 4 years separated us from Jonathan.”

Mikayla
cocked her head to the side. It was a very sad story, but she felt no pity for
Victoria. She felt sadness and pity for the eighteen year old Will who carried
the guilt of a death around with him daily. “Why isn’t there much information
available about him? His death was a tragedy for your
family.”       Victoria’s hands stilled and she
raised her eyes to meet Mikayla’s. “Jonathan was our brother.” Her voice was
cold making Mikayla feel as if an icy wind had just blown through the tropical
setting, freezing everything. “Once he turned eighteen, the media hounded him,
making things up, blowing stories out of proportion. They reported his death as
a drunken accident.” She paused. “I promise you, it wasn’t.”

Mikayla
sipped her cooled coffee, attempting to find warmth that couldn’t be found in
the cold green eyes that pierced her.

“It
was a very difficult loss for our family.” She stretched her regal hands flat
on the table. “It isn’t something my family is comfortable talking about,
especially my mother. You see, she blames William for the loss of Jonathan, he
was her favorite after all.” Her wry smile didn’t meet her eyes. There was no
humor there, just a strange coldness that reminded Mikayla of an animal hunting
at night. “I believe that Jonathan’s experience with the press led William to
hide like he does. He hasn’t had a picture published since he was fourteen. The
pictures of Grandfather’s funeral were the first ones in sixteen years.”

“I’m
sorry about the loss of your brother. It must have been very hard for you to
witness his death.” Mikayla stood from her seat and began to move towards the
sand on the other side of the railing. She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t sit
there, couldn’t remain in one place. Her mind whirled with questions, questions
that had nothing to do with the royal family or its history. Each one centered
on Will and the pain he must still carry within his heart.

Victoria
followed Mikayla off of the porch. The sand squished between her toes as she
removed her leather pumps. It was a pleasure she rarely had time to indulge in.
“Tell me, Mikayla, how was your research going before everything was stolen?
Had you learned anything interesting about my family?”

Mikayla
glanced over at Victoria and was greeted with a bright cheery smile and genuine
interest etched into the fine, aristocratic features. That coldness that had
frozen Mikayla while sitting on the patio had disappeared, almost as if it had
never existed. She tried to relax the tension that had appeared in her
shoulders. She must have imagined the feeling of dread that had centered itself
in her stomach. She must have been affected by the horrible tale of the loss of
a brother overboard during a storm in this paradise. She smiled slightly and
picked her way over the sand. Her tennis shoes dangled from her fingers. The
wetness from the cellar was just beginning to dry in the hot sun. “Well, I
uncovered records that showed there was a charter between the natives, Greece, and
King Henry and his Crusaders allowing Henry to set up the monarchy. I found
that very interesting since it was before charters were used, before the Magna
Carta and so on.” She shrugged. “I also found some interesting records showing
a rebellion by the natives against King Henry and then King Richard.”

Victoria
shook her head. “No, no, I mean, have you found anything about the Eye of the
Wolf?” Her voice was light, but beneath that breezy attitude, steel laced her
words.

Mikayla
glanced over, but Victoria’s eyes were out to the ocean as she attempted to
skip a stone across the waves that rolled in gently. “Um,…mostly I just have
legends about the Eye of the Wolf. Your brother told me that it was brought
here by the Crusaders after they stole it from a sultan in Jerusalem. He also
said it disappeared sometime during King Malachi’s reign never to be seen
again.”

Victoria
nodded. “True, but have you found anything new?” She turned her head slightly
and looked at Mikayla who splashed her feet in the waves mindlessly. She hoped
Mikayla didn’t find it odd that she would question about this one part of the
history. It was important that she know what Mikayla knew before she went any
further.

Mikayla
moved her feet through the water, finding the coolness refreshing after the
heat of the sand. She thought in her mind of what she knew about the Eye of the
Wolf. Her mind rested on the phrase she had found in the tapestry and on the
stone. Something inside her held back from telling Victoria. She knew if it had
been Will questioning her, she wouldn’t have hesitated to tell even if she
didn’t trust him completely. She would have blurted it out, asked his opinion,
let him stew over the meaning of the odd phrase. But something inside her held
her back from sharing with Victoria. Something inside her didn’t trust Victoria
even though Victoria had been friendly, kind, helpful. Something inside her
worried about sharing too much. She had shared some of her findings with
Dejeune and the next day, her research had disappeared.

Mikayla
turned and looked at Victoria who stood just a few feet away, an expectant look
on her face. Curiosity infused with intellect. Her eyes shone with the same
excitement that had appeared when Mikayla had burst through the wall from the
secret passage. Her eyes were clear and interested, none of the cunning, shrewd
coldness that had been there when she spoke of the death of her brother,
Jonathan. Mikayla grinned. She was being foolish. Victoria was innocent. She
was the Princess Royale of the royal family of Amor. Whatever Mikayla
discovered would be old news to Victoria. She probably already knew what the
messages said and what they meant.

Mikayla
willed her shoulders to relax. “I discovered a matching message in the tapestry
in the Hall of the Crusaders as carved in the stones on top of the mountain.”

Victoria’s
mouth opened wider and her eye brows shot up. “And?” Her voice rose an octave
higher, anticipation written in every movement, every feature. She gripped her
hands together in front of her much like a child waiting for a present or a new
toy.

Mikayla
shrugged. “I don’t really know if it relates to the Eye of the Wolf, but I
translated. It means ‘Look to your mother’s hand.’” She shrugged again. “I
don’t really know what that means.”

Victoria
tapped a finely glossed nail against her perfect white teeth. “Very
interesting.” She looked again at Mikayla. Her perfect green eyes narrowed
slightly and the smile seemed fake. “And you’re sure that is what it means?”