Latvala Royals: Sacrifices Read online

  “Not yet. I want to keep all this under wraps for another three days. Elias could pop awake a few hours from now with his full memory intact. We just don’t know. I’d rather give him the benefit of the doubt.” Sander squeezed Chey closer to his body when tension slithered through her shoulders. He knew it was difficult. It was difficult for them all.

  “It’ll be hard to keep it from them. I’ll help in any way I can, though I’d like to stay close in case Elias comes around,” Erick said.

  “Leander has been keeping a lid on things. Everyone involved with the accident has been informed to say nothing. It won’t hold, of course. I just need it to be kept quiet for another two weeks,” Sander said.

  As a group, they nodded.

  “Also, I think we should help Elias along. Gently bring up memories of things, good things, while you’re with him. It might help if we take turns rather than all hover over his bed at the same time. Casual discussion, hearing your voices, talk of the past and of things he loves might be what he needs right now,” Sander said.

  “That’s a good idea. We’ll start later today, if he seems up for it,” Eliana added.

  “What about Inari?” Erick asked.

  Sander drew in a deep breath. He’d told Leander that he would bring Inari in today, or at least contact her and let her know, but Elias’s current state did not encourage him to tell her. He was still convinced that the fewer people who knew, the better for everyone involved. Once the details hit the local media, the faster the news would break to the world. He needed to prevent that at all costs, especially within the first few days.

  “Not yet. I’ve considered calling Thane myself, but I don’t want to do that at this point. We’ll see how Elias is tomorrow,” Sander said. Thane Ascher, Inari’s father and king of Somero, knew how to keep secrets. It wasn’t Thane or Inari he was worried about, but the employees surrounding them. News of this nature would burn through the lower ranks like kindling doused in kerosene.

  “And if she gets suspicious when he doesn’t return her texts or calls for days on end?” Chey asked. “Inari has been known to just show up at the castle.”

  “Elias will be away on unexpected business.” Sander wouldn’t relent on Inari for now. She would know when he decided it was time, texts and calls or visits be damned. He was aware that Inari might be the spark Elias needed to help his memory return, but it could wait another several days, depending on Elias’s progress.

  A tap on the door drew Sander’s attention. “Enter.”

  “Excuse me, Your Majesty. Elias has awakened and he’s asking after you,” a nurse said.

  Sander experienced a rush of relief. “Requested me by name?”

  He kissed Chey’s forehead and stepped after the nurse.

  “No, Your Majesty. He asked for the big man who had been at his bedside.”

  How quickly the fire of joy turned to ash.

  Chapter 6

  It felt like someone was driving an ice pick straight into his brain. He winced, but refused to ask the nurse for more painkiller. For this first one-on-one meeting with the man who was supposed to be his father, he wanted to be as alert as possible.

  Sander.

  The man’s name was Sander.

  It bothered him that the name did not bring forth any kind of feeling or emotion. Such as hearing his own name—Elias. The word meant nothing. He did not connect with it on any level, didn’t experience a tingle of recognition or that it should be special in his life.

  And that was the problem.

  Nothing was special. He could not grasp onto even one single memory or moment of euphoria. There was a great gray void and that was all.

  He couldn’t recall grandmothers or grandfathers, best friends or lovers.

  Did he even have a lover?

  Was he married?

  The startling thought drew his gaze to his left hand, where a ring should have been. Nothing there to indicate a wife. It didn’t mean he didn’t have one, he reminded himself, only that he could not recall her.

  He moved his fingers and winced as pain shot up into his wrist. The cast prevented articulation of the joint, but did not inhibit the lower half of his hand. He decided to restrict all movement below the elbow until the ache subsided.

  The door opened and in walked Sander. Elias took in the measure of the man as he had several times now, waiting for a spark. A clue. A hint of familiarity. Elias realized then that he needed to feel something. Anxiousness was beginning to settle beneath his breastbone like a hive of buzzing bees.

  “Hello, Elias,” Sander said when he reached the bed.

  “Hello.” Elias could not call this man father. Despite the knowledge of blood bonds, Elias hadn’t been able to force the familial word past his mouth. Sander was as much a stranger to him as every other person, including the woman named Chey—his mother.

  There was a special kind of agony in his inability to remember the woman who gave him life.

  “Have you remembered something?” Sander asked.

  “No. But I thought it might jar my memory if you told me a few things about myself. More personal things.”

  Sander rubbed the pad of his thumb into the center of his opposite palm, a gesture Elias didn’t recognize. Was that a common habit of this man? What did it mean? Was Sander nervous? Dismayed? Angst ridden?

  Not angst ridden, Elias corrected himself. That emotion felt wrong on such an obviously powerful man.

  Sander dropped his hands and braced them on the edge of the bed. He seemed to be considering the best way to approach an answer.

  After several minutes of casual eye contact, Sander straightened and pulled a chair closer. He flipped it around and straddled the seat backward, using one arm as a brace along the back.

  “Do you remember the dungeon tunnels?” Sander asked.

  Elias frowned. “What?”

  “The tunnels beneath—” Sander paused.

  Elias waited for inspiration. For a memory to surface. He wasn’t sure what Sander meant by the dungeon or the tunnels. What did a dungeon have to do with anything? He decided Sander must be speaking metaphorically.

  “Do you know that you’re the son of a king? That you will inherit my throne one day?” Sander asked in a quiet voice.

  Elias surprised himself with a laugh. “The son of a king?”

  Sander did not appear to share in his amusement. “Latvala. It is our homeland. I am its king, and you are the heir to the throne.”

  By degrees, as he realized the title wasn’t a joke, Elias’s amusement faded. Latvala. The name meant nothing. He felt no national stirring, no call to arms. He could not even dredge up an image of their home, their colors, their crest. If Sander was king as he’d said, surely there was a family crest involved.

  It dawned on Elias then that he’d had no expectations of what his life might be like. He hadn’t considered much beyond who am I? and who are these strange people? The concept of day-to-day living had, so far, escaped him. Now this man was telling him he was heir to the throne of a country whose name he didn’t recognize. It seemed impossible, implausible.

  And what would happen if he never regained his memory? Would he still take the throne? Would he want to? Elias experienced no sense of commitment to the cause, no loyalty to the people of Latvala. He wished the notion bothered him more than it did.

  “Not ringing any bells?” Sander asked.

  “Unfortunately not,” Elias said.

  “There isn’t any rush.” Sander rubbed his whiskered jaw with his fingers. “You love to trawl the dungeons and the tunnels beneath the castles. You’ve been mapping the caves for years, since you were a young boy. It’s one of your passions.”

  Again Elias waited for an epiphany. For nostalgia or a niggle of familiarity. If trawling dungeons was a passion, he expected to feel something in the recesses of his mind.

  As before, there was nothing. Nothing but a flat gray wasteland where his memories should be. Before he could speak, Sander continued.
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br />   “You and I have taken canoe trips together. When you’re not mapping tunnels, you like to be outdoors. We visit the hinterlands sometimes, checking on our people in the outback. That’s where you were headed on this trip, actually. To the hinterlands.”

  “But we never made it,” Elias said. “I still don’t remember anything about the drive or the crash.”

  “You may never remember anything about the accident. What’s important is that you remember who you are.”

  “I’m trying. Honestly, I just feel a whole lot of nothing. Maybe a bit of frustration and wariness, but overall . . . nothing.”

  “That’s all right. We can try again later. Maybe your mother will be able to trigger something. Or your brother or sisters. This is just the beginning, Elias. We won’t give up until we have you back.”

  Elias easily recognized the steely determination in Sander’s voice. The man was driven, he was coming to find, and would not give up or give in lightly. As he studied the king, Elias suddenly realized that he did not know what he himself looked like. He didn’t know what color hair he had, what color eyes, or what shape of face.

  It was disconcerting.

  “Is there a mirror in here?” Elias asked, desperate to see an image of his features.

  Sander frowned briefly then pushed up from the chair. He moved with leonine ease through the room and searched the countertops until he produced a hand mirror. He walked back to the bed and offered it over.

  Elias grasped the mirror by the handle and aimed it at his face.

  He could not have been more surprised to see such similar features as Sander staring back. Same light-streaked hair, same strong jaw. There could be no doubt he was related to the man. He even recognized the woman who was his mother in the shape of his eyes and brow.

  As with everything else, he felt nothing when he looked upon his own image. No recognition other than the familial similarity, no memories of his life. The man in the mirror was a stranger, and it disconcerted him more than he wanted to admit. He laid the mirror facedown on the bed.

  Sander picked it up and set it aside, as if he understood Elias didn’t want to look at himself any longer.

  “I’m going to go check in with my liaison. I’ll be back in a little while. Call if you need me, all right?” Sander said.

  “All right.” Elias switched his attention from the departing king to the ceiling.

  He was no closer to finding his memories than he had been before.

  Sander quietly closed the door, leaned a shoulder against the wall, and counted to ten. He needed the brief, mental pause to silence the worry plaguing his mind. Not just the worry, but the sheer strangeness of sharing space with a son who did not recognize him.

  When he had conquered his fears, he strode down the hall toward the waiting room. Leander was there, pacing like a caged lion, a phone to his ear. The moment Leander glimpsed him in the doorway he ended the call and approached.

  “Any changes?” Leander asked.

  “No. He’s still working to recover his memories. Listen. I want you to have my assistant cancel all my foreign obligations. Cancel the meetings, the galas, the state visits.”

  “All right. What do I tell your assistant when he asks what’s going on?”

  Sander scraped fingers along his jaw while he considered his options. He had to be careful how the information was presented, lest he raise suspicion among the staff and councilmen.

  “Tell him another personal business matter has come up. If they ask for details, don’t give them any. Just repeat that my schedule is to be cleared for the next two weeks.”

  “It’s going to spark interest with the council and advisors,” Leander said.

  “I know. But there’s no way I’m leaving Latvala with Elias in the state that he’s in. If we’re lucky, Elias will come around within the next day or two and spare us the need to make a public announcement.” Sander was prepared to wait a couple of weeks before going public, provided the news didn’t break before then.

  “I’ll let him know. Anything else you need?” Leander asked.

  “Have Chey’s assistant cancel all her appointments, too. She won’t leave Elias’s side either, and she shouldn’t have to. I know it’ll send up red flags, but I don’t care.” Sander couldn’t expect Chey to leave the hospital and get back to business while he stayed behind to look after their son. She was as invested in Elias’s well-being as he was.

  “I’ll do it.” After a moment, Leander added, “I haven’t said anything to Jeremiah yet. He thinks Elias is still traveling to the hinterlands, so he hasn’t attempted to contact him.”

  Jeremiah Morgan, Leander’s son and Elias’s best friend, would know something was up before most people. Councilmen and advisors were easier to appease than those who had close interpersonal relationships with Elias. The two boys had grown up together, traveled together, attended functions together. They were as close as brothers. Sander didn’t think Jeremiah would spill the news about Elias’s condition, but the fewer who knew, the better. That extended to those within the inner circle who weren’t siblings or parents.

  “It’s best to wait. I’m going to hold off calling my brothers and sister for as long as I can as well.” Sander thought he had no choice, despite the fact it would upset his siblings.

  “Probably wise,” Leander said. “They’ll want to come to Kalev immediately, and if there’s a sudden convergence of royalty at the hospital, there’ll be no way to stave off rumors and inquiry.”

  “Exactly. By the way, where’s Chey?”

  “She was plotting something with Emily and Ellie last I saw. They were in one of the other patient rooms.”

  “There’s no telling what they’re up to. I’ll find her. Thanks.” Sander clapped Leander on the shoulder and departed the room.

  Time to locate his wife and fill her in on the schedule cancellations.

  Chapter 7

  The hours passed in quiet agony. Elias stared at the ceiling without seeing the plain white panels. His mind was elsewhere, desperately trying to pull up memories that did not exist. He searched and searched through the endless gray and came up empty. Not even a flicker of his old life existed.

  When he had exhausted himself thinking, he relented and allowed his mind to rest. He thought of current things then: the man who was his father, his mother, his siblings. His title. Latvala.

  In the middle of wondering what the hell he was going to do if he could not remember anything of his past, the door opened and Chey came in.

  His mother, he reminded himself. He found it easier to think of her as simply Chey rather than Mom, however, and addressed her as such.

  “Hello, Chey.” He didn’t think he misunderstood the faint wince that touched her brow before she smiled.

  “Hello, Elias. How are you feeling?” She set a white envelope on the side of his bed and reached out to gently touch his hand.

  To his credit, he did not draw back or shake her off. “The same. What have you brought?”

  “Pictures. I thought perhaps visuals would help better than explanations,” Chey said.

  She wore jeans and a powder blue sweater that offset stunningly blue eyes. Elias was silently impressed with how together this woman seemed, how immaculate her makeup and hair despite having spent the past day walking the halls of a hospital or sitting vigil by his bedside. She looked fresh from a shower, ready to begin another lengthy session of visitation. That she’d thought to bring photos both pleased and alarmed him. What if he still felt nothing after looking upon actual proof of his life?

  “Thanks,” he said. Chey must have sensed his discord. Her brows furrowed.

  “You don’t have to look at them right now if you don’t want to,” she said with a light squeeze to his arm.

  “It’s a good idea. I don’t mind.” He battled through unease as he used his uninjured hand to reach for the first photo she extended. Elias suffered a major emotional kick to the gut when he saw himself in the photo, dressed in a
military uniform, standing next to a throne. Clearly, the throne must have been the one he was supposed to inherit one day. He thought he looked studious and serious in the picture, and quite comfortable in the role he’d been born into.

  Inwardly, he connected with none of it. The picture did not jar his memory, only added to the growing anxiety he was consistently experiencing.

  “Where is this?” he asked.

  “The throne room in the family seat. It was one of the rooms not damaged in the bombing all those years ago,” Chey said. “You were caught in the blast. Do you remember any of it?”

  He frowned. “No. I don’t.”

  She said nothing and handed over another photo.

  Elias accepted it after another glance at himself next to the throne. The image unsettled him for other reasons he could not name.

  The next photo was a picture of him with a hard hat on his head, a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a map in hand. He appeared to have just glanced up at whoever had taken the picture, perhaps surprised to see the person there. The background looked gloomy, made of rock walls—tunnels, he realized.

  This was what Sander had referred to when he’d mentioned the dungeon. One of his passions, if Sander was to be believed.

  He set the photo down and reached for another. That one depicted him and his siblings in a state of hilarity. Something must have been incredibly funny. It seemed one of those rare, candid photos taken during a more serious photo shoot. The elaborate sunroom in the background was lush and perfectly decorated.

  The next was a family shot outside a sprawling, impressive castle.

  “Here. Let’s pause for now,” Chey said, interrupting his intense concentration.

  He didn’t realize he was breathing shallowly and sweating until after he’d handed the pictures to Chey. When he made eye contact with her, there was an unspoken acknowledgement that he hadn’t recognized anything or anyone. Nothing had triggered his memory.

  “I’ll let you rest a while. You look tired,” she said.