Latvala Royals: Sacrifices Page 7

  The reality was as grim as he’d stated, however, and he wouldn’t mislead her at a time when she needed to be at her strongest.

  Chapter 15

  A quiet rustle followed the opening of the door.

  Elias gritted his teeth as tension slithered along his shoulders. He gripped the knife until his knuckles ached.

  “Elias?” came a woman’s voice. Chey’s voice.

  His arm went slack and he exhaled.

  Not an intruder after all, but a stranger nonetheless.

  He hid the knife in the desk, embarrassed to be caught with a weapon in hand. Later, perhaps, there would be time to contemplate the semantics of his reaction to a perceived threat.

  “I was in the office,” Elias said as he entered the suite.

  Chey stood in the middle of the room with a tray held between both hands. She had changed into a pair of gray slacks and an ivory sweater, an outfit that made her look younger than her years.

  The scent of food wafting from beneath a covered dish distracted him from his thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were still resting.” She set the tray on the desk.

  “It’s fine. I just got up. What’s this?” he asked, leaving an eight foot gap of space between them. That was instinct, too. He didn’t want to get drawn into hugs or cheek kisses.

  He blinked several times but failed to remove the fuzziness at the edge of his vision.

  “Well, I’d hoped that maybe smelling or tasting one of your favorite dishes might help.” She removed the cover of the largest plate. Beneath sat a serving of steak smothered in vegetables and some kind of soup in a small bowl.

  He drew in a discreet, deep breath. Nothing about the food triggered any memories. His mouth watered, however, as he approached from the other side of the desk. “Thanks. Unfortunately, I don’t remember this.”

  “That’s all right. It didn’t hurt to try.”

  Elias looked up from the food to Chey’s face. He didn’t think he misunderstood the fading hope in her eyes or the dejected set of her shoulders. Although he hadn’t been able to give her what she wanted, he still recognized determination in the set of her chin. She wasn’t about to give up.

  “I’m hungry. That’s a good thing, at least.” He wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “Yes, it is.” She hesitated and glanced around the bedroom. Finally, she stepped toward the door. “I’ll leave you to eat in peace. Let me know if you want anything else.”

  “Why don’t you have the same accent as Sander?” The question popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

  “Because I was born in America, not Latvala.” She smiled, though it was a small thing, and hovered near the door as if to wait for more questions.

  “I see. Thanks.” He decided not to pursue that subject. It would lead to more conversation than he felt comfortable with.

  She nodded and left the room.

  Elias sat down at the desk and picked up a fork. Someone had thoughtfully cut the steak into strips, sparing him the torment of trying to grip a knife with his injured hand. The food did smell good and the meal would give him much needed energy. His earlier reaction had drained what little stamina he’d gleaned from his short rest.

  Although the food tasted as good as it smelled, he did not remember ever loving the meal or it being his favorite. It was just another means to an end.

  By the time he was halfway through the course, his headache had grown to unbearable levels.

  So much for the pain pills he’d taken earlier.

  He placed the cover on the plate and retreated to bed.

  The headache overwhelmed him.

  He pushed his good hand against the side of his head and applied pressure, as if that might ease the lancing pain.

  Nothing helped.

  After a half hour of agony, he sat up and reached for the bottle of pain pills, uncaring if it was too early for another dose. He took one anyway.

  An hour after that, just when he thought he couldn’t take any more, sleep finally came.

  The tunnel was long.

  Dark.

  He couldn’t see.

  As he ran his fingers along the rough rock wall, he encountered strange hieroglyphs carved into the stone that he tried to read like braille. The shapes were unfamiliar.

  He wished for a flashlight but had none.

  It was so very dark.

  He walked on.

  Deeper.

  The floor began a gradual descent that seemed to have no end.

  He walked and walked and walked.

  Sweat beaded his brow.

  “Hello?”

  His voice echoed off the tunnel walls.

  He received no reply.

  As if acting by muscle memory alone, he pivoted and walked back the way he’d come.

  Looking for the way out.

  Surely he would find it.

  Hieroglyphs again.

  Shapes he could not understand.

  He walked faster.

  His lungs hurt with each pained breath he took.

  He needed to find the way out.

  He walked and walked and walked.

  Nothing.

  No intersecting corridor.

  No door.

  No light.

  He could not find the exit.

  There had to be an exit.

  There had to be a way out of this hell.

  He jogged, breathing hard, one hand feeling for an opening.

  And then he was falling.

  Straight down, tumbling through the blackness.

  He screamed.

  * * *

  Elias jerked upright in bed. He was bathed in sweat. His good hand shot out to stabilize himself, as if to stop the free fall. That was when he realized he wasn’t falling at all. It had just been a dream.

  He shook off the disorientation and looked around the dimly lit room.

  The tray bearing the remnants of his dinner was gone. Chey, or maybe Sander, had come in at some point to remove it.

  “That must have been some nightmare,” Sander said from a shadowy corner of the suite.

  Elias twitched with surprise. The light did not reach all the way into the nooks and crannies of the room, leaving large swaths painted black.

  “How long have you been sitting there? Don’t you ever sleep?” Elias asked. He wasn’t sure he appreciated the continual observation. At the same time, he experienced relief that Sander was there. An odd conundrum.

  “Long enough. Would you like something to drink? You’re sweating.”

  “I can get my own drink.” To prove he wasn’t an invalid, Elias rose from the bed and walked to a side bar where a fresh pitcher of water waited. Brought by Sander, no doubt. He poured himself a glass and drank.

  Silence filled the room.

  Elias took the glass with him to a chair near the fireplace. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I sleep when I need to.”

  “Is that normal?” Elias attempted to penetrate the shadowed corner with his gaze. All he could make out was the rough shape of Sander straddling a chair backward.

  “No. But this isn’t a normal situation.”

  “Nothing here is familiar. The castle, the room, my things.” Elias changed the subject without warning. He sipped from the glass, wishing he could see Sander’s face.

  “Give it time. Are you at least comfortable enough to stay for a while?”

  “That’s a good question. I don’t know yet.” Elias decided to be upfront and honest. “I’d like to look around tomorrow.”

  “We have an event going on downstairs in the morning, so I’d like you to remain up here on this floor. There will be too many people for your comfort, I think.”

  “Maybe it would help jar my memory if I sat in on whatever event it is,” Elias said.

  Silence descended on the suite. Elias wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong to prompt Sander’s obvious discomfort. He could almost feel the man’s inner conflict.

/>   “I’d prefer it if you stayed up here,” Sander said after a moment.

  “I’d like to know what it is you don’t want me involved in.”

  “I’d like a lot of things, Elias, but I don’t always get them. Just stay up here tomorrow. You can explore this floor all you like.”

  Elias suspected Sander had just pulled his parent card. The king wasn’t giving any leeway about whatever was going on downstairs. Which, of course, just made him more curious.

  “All right.” Elias decided it was better not to argue the point. Things were tense and awkward enough.

  “You should try and get more sleep. I’ll step out so I don’t disturb you.” Sander rose from the chair.

  “I won’t be sleeping anytime soon,” Elias admitted.

  “Because of the nightmare?”

  “How did you know I was having a nightmare?”

  “The tossing and turning. And the noises.”

  Elias sipped from the glass to buy himself some time. He was uncomfortable that Sander had witnessed such a spectacle, though he didn’t know why.

  “My brain is too awake to go back to sleep now,” Elias said. It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

  “Either way, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sander exited without another word.

  Elias stared at the closed door, wondering at the weird pang in his stomach. It wasn’t anger or frustration.

  It was regret.

  Chapter 16

  The media reaction to Mattias’s announcement was exactly what Sander thought it would be: incredulous, shocked, perplexed. The moment Mattias finished explaining that they had been brought there to witness Emily’s swearing in as heir to the throne, the media erupted into a frenzy of questions and photos. Mattias calmed them long enough to initiate the ceremony.

  Sander watched the beginning of Emily’s transition from just off stage, so to speak, out of the media’s eye. He waited until Emily stood before the throne, dressed in her navy blue and gray cape, throat wrapped in royal jewels, to appear and approach the dais. Like his daughter, he, too, wore a floor-length cape, although his was decorated with a larger family crest and a thickly jeweled clasp.

  A new buzz hit the onlookers as he took his place on the throne. He stood rather than sat and accepted a small crown presented to him on a plush blue pillow. Sander forced down a wave of discomfort as he recited the swearing in ritual and placed the small crown atop Emily’s head.

  He wished it didn’t feel like such a betrayal. Sander recalled all too easily when he’d presided over Elias’s swearing in so many years before, which did nothing to calm his inner unease.

  Because Emily deserved his full attention and support, he banished thoughts of betrayal from his mind and met his daughter’s gaze. She’d performed perfectly and accepted her new status with calm grace.

  Once the ceremony was over, Sander remained standing at the throne to answer questions. The media—hell, the entire country—would expect it of him even though Mattias had already given all the pertinent information.

  Sander reiterated the same talking points as his brother: Elias had been in an accident and was recovering nicely. No, he wasn’t at liberty to say where Elias was recovering. No, there wouldn’t be a list of details about the accident itself or Elias’s injuries. No, the media could not interview the former heir. Sander repeated that the ceremony was more for official purposes than necessity, which was the first white lie he told.

  A moment later, he stepped off the dais and exited the throne room, leaving the media abuzz about the entire event. In an antechamber, he shed the cape and poured himself a drink. Councilmen and advisors were undoubtedly waiting in a conference room for him to give them more details—which would not be forthcoming. He wasn’t about to tell them any more than he’d told the media.

  “How are you holding up?” Chey asked from the doorway. She wore a pristine suit of navy blue with pale gray accents. A color scheme to match the ceremony.

  Sander was genuinely glad to see her. She always seemed to know when he needed her most. “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted.

  “I know.” Chey crossed the room to stand before him.

  He searched her pretty eyes, reading her concern and compassion easily. “I hate the feeling that I’ve betrayed Elias. I suppose it’ll pass.”

  “You did a good job making it sound as if this was a temporary precaution, nothing more. Maybe it is. I hope it is,” she said.

  “I hope the same. I thought it was a smart move to take him one of his favorite meals last night, by the way.”

  “I wish it would have worked.” She lifted her chin, as if deflecting disappointment that her idea hadn’t had the outcome she’d hoped for.

  “You never know. It might. Keep trying.”

  “I will. I don’t give up that easy,” she said. “Are you going from here to the conference room? The councilmen and the advisors are all up in arms. They’re impatient to talk to you.”

  “Yes.” Sander finished his drink, hissed at the burn, and set the glass down. “I guess I’d better get to it.”

  “I’ll be with Emily when you’re done. Find me.” She lifted her mouth for a kiss.

  Sander cupped her face and kissed her soundly. “I will.”

  He departed the antechamber without looking back.

  As he walked the hall toward the conference room, a low buzz of voices emanating from the foyer reached him. Sander knew the media would be slow to leave Kallaster after the announcement and the ceremony, and hoped the security he’d positioned all around the first floor would deflect any nosy reporters hoping to sneak off into the kitchen or elsewhere to question the staff. Everyone at the castle had been warned not to speak to the media at any cost, but sometimes bribes could not be ignored.

  He entered the conference room and closed the door.

  Thirty voices rang out almost simultaneously.

  “Your Majesty, whatever is going on?”

  “We need answers. Mattias has told us nothing more than he told the reporters.”

  “Has there been a death?”

  The latter question hit Sander like a kick to the gut. He approached the head of the long oval table the men stood around and unbuttoned his suit coat before sitting down. “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

  Chairs scraped the floor. Men sat, most on the edge of their seats.

  “Your Majesty, this is most unusual.”

  “Do you realize the implications this might have on the international stage?”

  “Have you considered the idea that we might be attacked if something happens to you?”

  Sander held up a hand. The room fell to silence. He allowed the silence to stretch so that the men understood he would speak when he was ready to, and not from being heckled.

  A full minute later, he leaned his forearms on the table and looked each man in the eyes. Sander made them all wait until he’d completed a full circuit before he began speaking.

  “I am not prepared to give you any other details than what you have already received. That is to say, Elias has been in an accident and is recovering. Don’t ask me for more. The ceremony was more for show than anything, so that any other country considering an invasion or an attack realizes our chain of command has not been compromised. And yes,” he said after a brief pause. “I do realize that Latvala’s position on the world stage is precarious. It has been for at least five years after Russia made it clear they would like to overtake every country from Imatra to Lithuania. We are not alone in our concern. For the record, I believe Russia will continue along the diplomatic route rather than launch an outright attack or invasion.”

  The councilmen and advisors exploded into commentary. Some were exasperated, others distressed. Sander glanced from man to man, absorbing all the fears and worry until, once again, he held up a hand for silence.

  “I hear your unease and apprehension. However, I believe things will revert to normal shortly. As I’ve said, and as Mattias asserted at the beginning of t
he ceremony, this is about following official protocol right now. If things were not so precarious with our neighbor, we wouldn’t have taken this step.”

  “So Elias is not dead, then?” someone asked.

  Sander snapped a hard look at the man. “My son is not dead.”

  The advisor faltered under Sander’s withering stare. Another spoke up in his place.

  “Your Majesty, you have to understand—”

  “I understand perfectly well what position this puts you all in. Yes, I know ambassadors and media from other countries will bombard you with the same questions you are putting to me. Tell them what I’ve told you, nothing more. Do not speculate. Things will be back to normal soon.”

  “What of our military? We’ve seen the increase in soldiers around Kallaster. What does that mean?”

  “It just means that I’m taking every precaution. Some people might overreact to the news today and I intend to thwart any foolishness.”

  “Leaving us in the dark as to the specifics of whatever is going on puts us in a bad spot, Your Majesty,” someone said.

  “Deal with it, Henri.” Sander stood from his seat and buttoned his coat, indicating he was done with the short meeting. “I’ll give an update when I have one.”

  As one, the councilmen and advisors rose to their feet.

  “Will you be remaining at Kallaster?” an advisor asked.

  “Yes and no. I’ll be coming and going as I need to.”

  “To see Elias?”

  “Dealing with the situation.” That was all Sander was prepared to say. He refused to admit that Elias was there at Kallaster, preferring to keep Elias’s whereabouts under wraps until word leaked or the situation changed. Certain members of the staff would eventually find out—there was no way around it—but Sander intended to keep the secret as long as possible.

  He departed the room as the men fell to heated whispers and speculation.

  There was a troubling conversation he needed to have that he was not looking forward to.

  Chapter 17

  By ten o’clock the following morning, Elias had had enough of being cooped up in his room. It wasn’t just the strange surroundings that had started to wear him down; the line of pictures staring out from the mantel over the fireplace was a constant reminder of all that he did not remember.