The Wrath of the King (14 page)

“What do you mean, strike first?” Gunnar frowned.

“You don't expect me to just sit here while he's got Chey, do you?” Sander arched a brow. The more he talked about the abduction—because that's exactly what it had been—his control threatened to slip a little further. If he dwelled too long on Chey's safety, he might make hasty decisions that could cost people their life. Rubbing fingers against his brow, Sander closed his eyes. His head was starting to ache. The flicker-flashes of light had returned as well, coming and going intermittently. He didn't have time to deal with his injuries.

“No. I thought you'd send in a team.”

“
We
are the team.” Sander used his other hand to gesture first at Gunnar, then himself.

“Just the two of us? How will we get inside? He's probably got the entire hill surrounded.” Gunnar pushed to a stand and paced the room.

“The two of us and one more. It's time you started learning the intricacies of battle, Gunnar. Your training will only take you so far. Experience will fill in the rest,” Sander said. In their youth, Gunnar had always been the pup of the group, bringing up the rear. His training didn't include the same intensity Sander and Mattias attained. It was high time to change that.

“You didn't answer my question. How will we get past security?”

“We become them.”

Gunnar shot a look across the room. “What?”

“I'll explain in more detail later, when the third member shows up and we go over the maps. I don't have all the information I need yet. What I
do
know is that we need to strike while Paavo is distracted at the main family holding.” Sander hadn't finished speaking when one of the phones rang. Plucking it up, he brought it to his ear and said, “Yes?”

“He's taken Wynn with him to his main holding,” a voice said.

Sander cursed under his breath. “Chey?”

“She's there.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

Sander exhaled with relief. “Meet us downtown as soon as possible.”

“You up for an extraction, Sander?”

“I'll have to be. I don't trust anyone else to get her out of there.”

“I got your back. Be there soon.”

Listening to the line go dead, Sander pulled the phone away from his ear then hung the handset up.

“Who was that?” Gunnar asked.

“Our final team member. We need to start defining plans and be ready to depart later tonight.” Shuffling through the maps, Sander set the three most pertinent ones on top and rolled the rest.

“That's not enough time, is it? Are you sure you can handle this, Dare?” Gunnar came to the desk and propped his hands on the surface over the maps.

“I have no choice.
We
have no choice, little brother. He's got my wife, my heir, and our country is in jeopardy of coming apart at the seams. Get some coffee and pull up a chair. It's going to be a long day.”

. . .

Sleep was a necessary evil. As much as she hated to close her eyes, Chey knew she couldn't function properly without it. Three hours of oblivion wasn't enough to totally refuel her batteries, but it was enough to give her a burst of clarity that made it easier to think. Forced to take sips of water from the faucet thanks to a lack of food or drink, she stayed hydrated that way while going through scenarios in her head.

At noon, with no warning, the bedroom door swung open.

From the small table near a tall window, Chey glanced across the room to see Paavo enter. Standing, she faced him, noting that he had nothing except a key in his hands. That was only a minor relief. She wondered if he left the door open behind him as temptation or just to be cruel.

“No, I haven't come to kill you, Chey. You can stop looking at me like that,” he said. The key went into his pants pocket along with his hands.

“Then why did you bring me all the way out here?” she asked, deciding to be blunt.

“You're my
guest
, nothing more.”

“Guests are allowed to leave whenever they please. Are you telling me I can walk out the door any time?”

“In your condition, I wouldn't recommend it.”

“You didn't answer my question.” Chey wasn't in the mood to play mind games. She cautioned herself in the next breath; if Paavo
was
responsible for the attack on Sander's convoy, then he was capable of anything.

“You're a guest of convenience. I brought you here to protect you, so no, I would not let you simply walk out the door.” He stopped near the end of the bed and leaned his shoulder against the thick, carved post.

“To protect me?” Chey couldn't keep the sarcasm from her question.

“I know it's hard to believe, but yes. In case you didn't notice on your way here, there are things afoot out in the countryside. Not just there, but everywhere. This is where I can keep you safe.”

“Yes, I noticed. I didn't expect the people, even military members, to be a threat to me. Isn't their job to protect me, also?”

“Some still will. Others may not. For now, you will remain under my protection.”

“In your benevolence and clear determination to see to my well being, perhaps you could find it in your heart to have food and water delivered at some point.” So much for keeping the sarcasm to a minimum. Irritation and annoyance grated across her senses, making her words sharp. They both knew she was his prisoner, nothing more, nothing less. No amount of fancy double-speak would convince Chey otherwise.

“An oversight, surely. Tell me, what will you do now that Dare is no longer King?” Paavo regarded her with shrewd eyes.

“As long as he breathes, he's still King.” Chey lifted her chin in defense. She swallowed past a knot in her throat, worried Paavo was here to tell her Sander was dead. Unwilling to show weakness, she remained steadfast and stubborn. “Which means I'm his Queen. Nothing has changed barring your desperate attempt to overthrow him.”

“If I tell you he's lost the throne anyway?”

“Then I would want to know why you're ruling from the furthest reaches of Latvala and not the family seat. If you're King, what are you doing here? I think you're on the run, or that someone—probably my husband—has you backed into a corner.”

Paavo laughed, a low sound that didn't travel far. “Now who's dodging the question?”

“Why are you asking me, when you're the one with the answer? Since I'm under lock and key, I can do nothing until you let me. Or was your point to indirectly make that obvious? If Sander truly isn't the King any longer, then what happens to me is your doing.” Chey laid all the blame where it should be. She doubted Paavo had the capacity to feel guilt if he'd already attempted to take Sander out, but she didn't let the opportunity pass to let him know who she held responsible for these actions.

“Would you be happy going back to Seattle?” he asked.

The question startled Chey. That was the last thing she expected to hear. “What?”

“Seattle. I'm wondering if you could go back to your old life, or a semblance of it.”

Frowning, Chey tried to follow his line of thinking. The implications were dire and heart wrenching. If she went to Seattle, that meant Sander was dead. Before she could say anything, Paavo continued in a contemplative tone.

“If I allowed that, then you'll have your baby and raise him in your own country. But you won't let him forget who his father was,
what
his father was, and perhaps you will even be mad enough to instill the desire for your son to try and take back what he believes is rightfully his.” Paavo paused, then said, “That cannot be allowed to happen.”

It did not take Chey long to understand why Paavo was asking his rhetorical questions. He didn't really want or need answers. Paavo was underscoring for her exactly what he meant to do with her when the time was right. He spelled it out sentence by agonizing sentence.

“A bastard can never be allowed to take the throne again,” Paavo said. “Seattle, therefore, is not an option. Giving your child to another family is out, too. If they discovered his true heritage and were once loyal to the former King, it could play out the same way.”

In other words, letting you and your child live at all is a threat to my reign and my existence.
Those were the words Paavo
didn't
say. Chey heard them loud and clear nevertheless. She refused to acknowledge her understanding in front of him, although through the eye contact they made, she saw recognition in his. The corners of his lips turned up, as if sealing their silent communication.

“I'll send someone up shortly with lunch.” Paavo pushed away from the bedpost and headed for the door. Letting himself into the hall, he locked her in with a quiet clack of the deadbolt.

Now she wondered if the food and water would be poisoned. Paavo made sure to leave her clueless about
how
he meant to be rid of her. Turning back to the window, she rubbed a hand along her stomach and decided that Paavo must still need her alive for the time being. Perhaps Sander wasn't dead, and she remained a bargaining piece Paavo wasn't through with yet. Otherwise, she didn't see the need to wait. The longer she lived, the closer she came to giving birth to a new heir. He could have killed her any time.

That meant there was hope. It meant she needed to speed up her plans for escape.

Tonight, when the moon was high, one way or another, she
would
leave this castle.

. . .

She was lost. Again. Arms full of file folders, Wynn paused at the end of a hallway on the bottom floor. To the left and right, an intersecting hallway led off in directions Wynn could only guess at. She thought she was in the east quadrant, but couldn't be sure. Her new office was here somewhere, hiding amongst endless doorways.

Breaking right, she marched past three doors, all leading to rooms that were
not
her office.

“Why do these castles have to be so huge?” she complained under her breath. It wasn't that Paavo's holding wasn't impressive—it was. She'd been as enthralled with it as any other despite her internal distress at the recent turn of events. Castle hopping posed its own hazards though, such as being unable to find what she needed when she needed it. Right then, she needed to find her new office so she could dump the files off and get to what was
really
important: figuring out Paavo's strategies and plans. Her attempt to check in with Chey resulted in a whole lot of nothing; Chey's voicemail invited her to leave a message she didn't dare leave. Someone other than Chey might find the phone and Wynn didn't want to risk anyone calling Paavo to tell him about her duplicity. She knew Paavo was probably already suspicious, but that would be handing him solid evidence and it was a risk she didn't want to take.

Coming up on another set of doors, Wynn was about to enter when low voices made themselves known. Pausing, she glanced along the hallway, relieved to see no one else in sight. The decision over whether to announce herself stalled when talk of the Queen came up. Wynn wondered if Helina was living under Paavo's roof. As far as she knew, Helina was still in mourning, tucked away somewhere in the countryside. Once more, Wynn found herself deciphering the Latvala tongue.

“The
Queen
is taking it better than we thought,” a man said.

“And you're sure she can't get out? We don't need her running off to the military camps,” another man asked.

“Not unless she's Houdini. She's in the Red Room with no less than four guards at her door and two more at each end of the hall.”

“Good, good. Miss Chey Ahtissari isn't known for her patience under pressure, so we'll have to remain vigilant. Has she asked about Sander?”

Wynn sucked in a surprised breath. They weren't talking about Helina. They were talking about Chey.

“Not yet. She's said little and won't answer questions.”

“Discourage exchanges of information from our people, but get whatever you can out of her. See if she's aware at all that Sander was showing improvement in the last hours before she was taken.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Wynn backpedaled, frantic to find somewhere to hide. A narrow closet provided the place. Scooting inside, she closed the door with a gentle click, catching several falling folders against her hip. Moments later, the same men rounded into the hall, discussing military movements and plans. Wynn didn't catch much before their voices faded out of range.

Chey was
here.
In Paavo's castle. Of course they'd confiscated Chey's phone and any other means of communication. No wonder she hadn't been able to get through, and no wonder Chey hadn't returned her calls or messages. Following Paavo to this distant holding proved more of a boon than Wynn expected.

Waiting until she was sure the men were gone, Wynn straightened the files in her arms and exited the closet. She was half convinced someone would stop her before she went ten feet, a victim of bad timing and increased security. To her relief, she made it as far as the staircase before bumping into a guard. Murmuring her apologies, she sidestepped and trotted up to the bedroom allotted to her while she performed her duties as Paavo's assistant.

Dumping the files on the bed, Wynn paced the considerable space between the dresser and the window, fingers tapping against her lower lip. She needed a plan to find out where, exactly, the Red Room was, and how to free Chey without making it obvious she was doing so. Everyone knew they were best friends, and she thought any attempt to simply walk into the room would be construed as disloyalty to Paavo.

They would be right.

With the extra security surrounding the castle and the property, Wynn saw no easy way out.

It didn't stop her from plotting and planning as the hours wore on.

Chapter Fourteen

“Sander, you should really get some rest,” Gunnar said.

Leaning over a long table covered with maps, Sander made another note and glanced across the office to see Gunnar's concern firsthand. “I'll get some rest when my wife and my son are safe. Do you feel confident with the plans we have so far?”