Latvala Royals: Bloodlines Page 3

  “Could be.” He crossed the room to her side, one large hand gently cupping her elbow. “Why don’t you let Jeremiah, Caspian, and I escort you out? We’ll have Bero bring your limousine around to the back so your exit doesn’t draw more attention.”

  “Is it really necessary to leave the party altogether?” she asked.

  “I think it’s a good idea. If this guy realizes his drugging attempt failed and he won’t get his scandalous pictures, he might up the ante. Maybe try and grab you. It’s not worth the risk,” Elias said.

  “But I mean really, Elias. Try to snatch me under the noses of all these guards and security? There are even more outside.” Nonetheless, Inari allowed Elias to escort her from the room and into the hall. She walked at a brisk pace to keep up with his longer stride.

  “There’s no telling what other trick he might have up his sleeve. And let’s remember, we can’t be certain this photographer from three weeks ago is the same person who attempted to drug you here. We’re assuming, and that’s always dangerous.” He made a discreet call on his cell phone as he guided her deeper into the castle.

  Inari had been to the Imatran family seat several times over the years, mostly when she was younger on state visits. She did not know the layout of the castle beyond the great hall and a parlor or two. Elias, however, appeared to know every shortcut to the back. The hallways became more rustic and the stone smelled older, a testament to the age of the structure.

  “Caspian has alerted Bero. Your cars will be waiting outside shortly,” Jeremiah said from behind them.

  She was so surprised at Jeremiah’s stealth and sudden appearance that she stumbled. Elias gripped her elbow more firmly with one hand, helping stabilize her balance. Jeremiah had a hand on her waist as well, politely providing an extra level of security.

  “Thank you.” Inari regained her footing easily with their help. “You should announce yourself before you sneak up on people.”

  “I did,” Jeremiah said, clearly amused.

  “He’s like a ghost. Slips in and out of places unheard, just like his father,” Elias said. “Caspian will meet us at the back.”

  Inari couldn’t help but be impressed with both men. She discreetly studied Elias’s profile as they passed from one ancient hallway into the next. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a well-shaped mouth. Despite the formality of the ball, he’d neglected to shave his whiskers. Visually, the fine golden layer added appeal rather than detracted from it.

  Too bad she loathed beards and whiskers of any kind. Loathed the sandpapery feel when a man brushed his cheek to hers.

  “You get lost in your head a lot, don’t you?” Elias asked, meeting her eyes.

  “What?”

  He gestured to a high-ceilinged room flanked by two sets of double doors that they were entering from a hallway.

  Inari snapped her attention to her whereabouts, galled to have been caught staring. “I was thinking.”

  “I can only imagine,” Jeremiah said.

  The tone and inflection he used made it seem as if she’d been thinking inappropriate things about Elias. She huffed, feigning indignation, when she was actually amused.

  Elias laughed outright. “Jer, stay with her while I see if they’ve got the cars ready.”

  Inari tracked Elias’s exit through one of the doors before she turned a withering look on Jeremiah. She didn’t know him whatsoever, but she recognized the devilish glint in his eyes that spoke of trouble.

  With a capital T.

  “What house do you belong to?” she asked with an imperious lift of her chin.

  Jeremiah’s brows arched high. He had an expressive, handsome face: patrician nose, angular features, and light brown eyes. Unlike Elias, his skin had been freshly shaven for the evening’s events. Inari waited him out, trying to guess what royal family he belonged to.

  “I’m not of royal blood, Your Highness. Merely a pauper who happens to be best friends with a prince.” He winked.

  Not of royal blood? Inari was pleasantly surprised. She smiled and bowed her head a fraction. “Regardless, I appreciate your help this evening, Jeremiah. Since we haven’t formally met, I’m Inari Ascher.”

  She extended her hand, preferring to shake rather than expect him to touch lips to her knuckles. Some men who ran in royal circles still insisted upon the archaic action; most had transitioned to handshakes.

  Jeremiah surprised her again when he lifted her hand and pressed a light, warm kiss to her skin.

  “My pleasure, Your Highness. Jeremiah Morgan, at your service.”

  She laughed. “Call me Inari. My closest friends do.”

  “Have we progressed that far already, then? Perhaps I should be asking for a date . . .”

  “That’ll be enough, Jer,” Elias said as he reentered the room, voice full of mirth. “I leave you alone for three seconds and already you’re trying to charm your way into dinner with a future queen.”

  Oh, they were an amusing pair. Both handsome, both charming. She decided Jeremiah must be more rakish, more devilish, but one could never tell. Elias had breathed that little whisper near her ear earlier, proving he might be just as devilish as his friend.

  Bero appeared in the doorway, clearly expecting her to precede him to the limousine. Inari faced Elias and Jeremiah. “Again, thank you for your help. And your discretion. Good evening.”

  They parted ways, with their farewells ringing in her ears.

  Once in the limousine, as the vehicle pulled away from the private courtyard, Inari turned her thoughts to the problem at hand.

  Namely, assessing exactly how serious a threat her stalker might turn out to be.

  * * *

  Hours later, Elias reclined into a leather sofa and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. He had water in hand again, ice clinking against the sides of the glass. Rather than parlors and formal sitting rooms, he and Caspian had chosen the king’s library in which to relax and converse. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined three walls, the shelves stuffed with books. The ragged spines of old tomes invited a person to investigate their mysterious contents. Elias had spent many an hour there doing exactly that.

  Caspian paced the perimeter of the room, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, a frown denting his brow.

  “You’re still troubled at the attempt with Inari, aren’t you?” Elias asked. He already knew the answer.

  “Very. Imagine if she’d come under the effects of the drug in public and made a spectacle of herself. In my home, under my watch.” Caspian shook his head, lips drawn into a displeased line. “I don’t like it at all.”

  “No one would have blamed you. You’ve provided excellent security, and a lot of it. Checklists . . .”

  “And yet the bastard still got in.”

  Elias took a drink of water then set the glass aside on a small wooden table. He draped his arm along the back of the sofa, gaze following Caspian’s persistent pacing.

  “As they sometimes do. It’s not the first time someone has crashed a party looking for trouble. And it won’t be the last,” Elias said.

  “My men intercepted Inari’s guards and had the tainted champagne transferred to my care. We’ll get answers over what kind of drug before her people will. Besides, traveling with it back to Somero would have been difficult. I didn’t want the contents leaving the castle lest they get tampered with,” Caspian said.

  “How soon for results?”

  “Sometime tomorrow.”

  “I’m flying back to Latvala after breakfast. Let me know what happens?” Elias asked.

  “You should stay on another day or two. Go over the security footage with me in detail. I want to look at every hour of it from when the guests arrived until the last one left,” Caspian said.

  “You’ve got no less than eight men already doing that.”

  “I know. It doesn’t seem like enough.”

  “He knew where all your cameras were. I’m guessing it’s going to be very difficult to find him in the crowd.
He knew to blend in, to be as inconspicuous as possible. Did you have surveillance of the check-in where the guests had their IDs examined by security?”

  “No, unfortunately. I have blanket coverage of the drive, but not the niche near the doors. I feel the same way about video feeds as you do.” Caspian’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

  Elias had no love for extensive surveillance. Present-day technology was too easy to hack. He pushed to a stand and walked closer to the bookcases, gaze roaming over the spines.

  “Let me distract you from all this for a second,” Elias said.

  “That’ll be a challenge,” Caspian replied.

  Elias shot the man a grin for his bluntness, which finally drew a wan expression from the prince.

  “I found something interesting in a tunnel beneath Ahtissari Castle,” Elias said. “A dagger. The crest on the hilt does not match the crest that has been used by our family for generations, yet, clearly, it’s a variation.”

  Caspian frowned. He perched on the arm of a sofa. “Perhaps someone just got it wrong? Or the king contracted a smith to provide a new, fresh crest and the old one got tossed.”

  Elias fished his cell phone from his pocket and approached Caspian. He pulled up the photo he’d taken of the dagger’s hilt.

  “Here are two pictures of the crest. As it appears on the hilt, and as it is today. I know you’re familiar with ours, but putting them side by side is interesting.” Elias handed Caspian the phone.

  “I see what you mean,” Caspian said a moment later, flipping between two pictures. “Why is the A gone? You’d think, of all the design elements to let go of, that wouldn’t be one of them.”

  “I don’t know. Has your family crest ever gone through a distinct change?” Elias asked.

  “Several. It seemed there were upgrades until, finally, one of my ancestors decided they were happy with it and decreed there would be no additions or changes. That was eons ago, though.” Caspian handed the phone back.

  Elias pocketed the device and resumed pacing. “I don’t know why it’s under my skin like it is. I’m going to spend some time digging through our library, see if I can find the history of the crest. I’d love to know why the A got dropped and why the lions now face away from each other.”

  “You do realize you’re probably chasing ghosts, right? If that information wasn’t passed down through history and common knowledge to most, then I don’t think you’re going to find much about it. Anywhere.”

  “You’re probably right. But that won’t stop me from looking.”

  “No. No, it won’t. Let me know if I can be of any help. I’m willing to go into the dungeons with you, even, to search for more clues.”

  “It may come to that, old friend. It just may come to that.”

  Chapter 4

  Two days later, Elias was back in the tunnels beneath Ahtissari Castle. The single light attached to his head gear sent a beam ahead into the gloom, bouncing off rough stone walls and a slightly uneven floor. He took care with his steps, pausing now and then to orientate himself on a map he held between both hands.

  The tunnel systems were extensive and complicated, proof that his ancestors were deeply paranoid men.

  At a juncture where the tunnel split into two, Elias stopped to mark the map with a stub of a pencil he always carried with his other supplies. He veered to the left this time, trading the pencil for a piece of chalk with which to mark the wall.

  The last thing he ever wanted to do was get lost down there—an easy task thanks to the mazelike system of tunnels. He shone the light across the floor and walls, looking for anything unusual. His progress slowed considerably so that he did not miss something important.

  A weird sensation suddenly gripped his spine and sent the hairs up on the back of his neck. He felt more enclosed than before, as if the tunnel space had shrunk and taken some of the air with it.

  Elias knew what it meant.

  It meant someone was in there with him. He felt their body mass as surely as he would have felt a fresh spring breeze.

  A quick jerk of his body faced him back the way he’d come, the light bouncing off the walls to land on none other than the reigning king of Latvala.

  His father.

  Elias’s muscles relaxed. The tension leeched from his bones.

  “And I’m not the quiet one of the bunch,” Sander said. “It took you long enough to realize I was here.”

  “Judas’s bones, Dad. Why are you skulking around the tunnels? You could get lost,” Elias said. He shrugged the backpack strap higher onto his shoulder. Every time he came face-to-face with the king, Elias had the eerie sensation that he was looking ahead into the future. That this image was what he would see in the mirror as he himself grew into his latter years. A few pieces of silver threaded through Sander’s hair at the temples, though he still wore it at neck length with the top half drawn back into a small ponytail. The few wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth only added to a sense of wisdom the king carried with him always. Nothing about his physique had changed. His father stood tall, strong, the muscles of his arms and legs honed with use and frequent activity.

  “Who says that these days? Judas’s bones. It’s like you’ve traveled through time or something,” Sander said, mouth quirked into a half grin. “And, if I may point out, you might also become lost. It doesn’t stop you.”

  Elias muttered and dug into his backpack for a small flashlight that he handed across to his father. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing following me around down here?”

  Sander accepted the light and snapped it on. “It’s not a crime to see what’s snared my eldest son’s interest. The same thing as usual, which doesn’t really surprise me.”

  “That’s not why you’re here,” Elias said. He knew his father well. He rolled the map and tucked it into the backpack.

  “No, it isn’t. I tried to catch you while you were upstairs in the main part of the castle—even home, at Kallaster. You’re slippery as a fish, always on the go. So now I have to do this here,” Sander said, pointing the flashlight beam indicatively at the stone walls.

  “Do what here?”

  “Tell you that your mother and I have, after intense and great consideration, made you a marriage match.”

  It was the last thing Elias expected to hear. He was so stunned, at first he couldn’t breathe. Or move.

  “Don’t worry. We chose well, and with care. She’s lovely, with a great personality. I think you’ll really like her,” Sander said.

  Elias broke out into a cold sweat. His skin felt clammy. He waited for shock to pass so anger could take over. They’ve arranged your marriage. Chosen your future bride. Politics, again.

  “You’ve nothing to say?” Sander asked, arching a brow. “Don’t you want to know who it is? It will make our country even stronger with her family as staunch allies.”

  Suddenly, words tumbled from his mouth, and Elias didn’t care how loud his voice sounded echoing down the corridor in both directions. He was furious. “How the hell could you and Mom do this to me? You, of all people, who ranted on and on about how you hated that Grandfather and Grandmom tried to arrange yours and Uncle Mattias’s marriages. Now you’re telling me you’ve set up my own marriage? Are you insane?”

  In the glow of his headlight and the illumination from the flashlight, Elias regarded his father with increasing frustration. The king’s blue eyes, still so clear and sharp, narrowed. Then the corner of Sander’s mouth twitched.

  Elias frowned.

  Sander threw his head back and guffawed. Loud, rude, obnoxious.

  Elias realized then that his father had gotten one over on him. “You bastard.”

  Which served to make Sander laugh harder.

  Elias smirked.

  “The fact that you believed any of that nonsense at all is amazing,” Sander said when he got his breath back. “My kingdom for a camera. If only I’d thought to record that look on your face. Your mot
her will be sorry she missed it.”

  His father was right, of course. He should have known better. His parents would never trap him into any situation he didn’t want to be in, much less a permanent arrangement. Sander had sold the lie well, though, Elias assured himself.

  “But you did follow me down here for a reason.” Elias knew that much, at least. Sander didn’t spend a lot of time in the belly of the beast. His father preferred sunshine and fresh air.

  Sander’s expression sobered instantly. Elias knew that whatever his father said next would be serious. His stomach tightened. Concern spread through his system in lightning bursts while his mind ran one scenario after another.

  “I did. Your phone doesn’t get a signal down here, or I would have called to pass on the message. Caspian has been trying to get a hold of you,” Sander said.

  Elias took a step closer to his father. “He got the results back from the attempted drugging?”

  “Yes.” Sander’s expression hardened as the truth fell from his lips. “It wasn’t a drug. It was poison. Someone made an assassination attempt on Inari Ascher’s life.”

  * * *

  Inari stared at her lap. At her intertwined fingers. Contemporaries who knew her mother always told her that she had her mother’s hands. Fine-boned, slender, tapering to slim nail beds that she kept neat and short.

  Today, her hands shook.

  Even clasped together, there was no escaping the subtle tremor.

  “Inari?”

  She glanced across the dainty sitting room to her father. Thane Ascher, with his dark goatee and serious eyes, sat forward on the tapestried divan. She read concern and anger in his gaze. Not anger at her, she knew. They had a great relationship. They were as close as a father and daughter could be.

  The attempt on her life had, at first, sent him into long minutes of silent devastation. Then came several hours of questions, followed by two hours of absence.

  Now he was back, hands pressed together at the end of his knees as if he might break into prayer at any moment.