Kristos rolled his eyes. “Like you’re the poster child for restraint.”
“Enough.” Cyril raised his hand. “I’ll discuss their situation with the US embassy in Athens. Expedited passports will not be a problem, I’m certain.” He flattened his lips. “A few days, at most. Less, if possible.” He slanted a look at Kristos. “Have you decided upon a story?”
Kristos blinked, surprised at being offered the chance to craft his own spin instead of Cyril and Stefan taking the lead. For the first time, he felt the tangible weight of his new responsibilities sit a little more easily on his chest. “Simple is best. Emmaline is a friend, someone I met while I was in school, both of us touring France. We dated, broke it off, and her visit to Garronia was an unexpected but very pleasant surprise.”
“Not bad. Doesn’t cover the kiss here this afternoon, though.” Stefan stood aside as their car arrived. He waved Kristos and Cyril inside. “Go on ahead. The first ping on the passports has hit.” He touched his hand to his earpiece. “Story will break inside of five minutes, you can guarantee it. Better hope none of these women is in the US witness protection system, or we’re going to have a very busy night.”
Kristos and Cyril had reached the long drive to the royal palace within five minutes, Kristos taking in the looming structure as they approached. What would it look like to an American who’d just endured her room being ransacked, her belongings stolen? Would she see the quiet ramparts and feel safer, or less so?
Nothing he could do about that now.
He winced as he saw his parents standing at the top of the stairs, waiting to greet them. He’d not even had a chance to see his mother today, yet here he was bringing an international incident straight to the castle doors within three hours of taking up the royal reins. They should have left him to his men and their missions. At least he knew how to behave there.
He exited the car almost before it came to a rest, leaving Cyril behind. His father looked grim, which was his father’s usual look, but to his surprise, his mother simply beamed at him as he bounded up the stairs. She held out her hands to gather him into a hug before he could say anything, then stood back to look at him, every inch the doting queen.
“Mother,” he started in, not sure for a moment if she had seen the television reports. “I’m sorry that—”
“Sorry!” Her eyes widened, and she looked from him to his father with irritation. “Sorry, he says. And you’re just as bad, Jasen, with your long face and tense jaw. You two are hopeless.”
“Catherine, now is not the time.” Jasen Andris wiped a tired hand over his brow. “This is a serious matter.”
“No. His wife’s expression was firm and resolute, but her eyes sparkled. “Godless mercenaries crossing our borders and terrorizing mountain villages is a serious matter. This isn’t even a halfway serious matter.” She turned to Kristos. “The young women have had their passports stolen, Jasen told me. Stefan should have that set to rights in twenty-four hours or so. But given the celebration at week’s end, it would seem rude to turn them out so soon, now that they’re already going to be staying an extra day or two. How are you framing the story? You don’t really know the girl, do you? She seems very nice.”
“I don’t—enough, slow down.” Kristos forced himself to laugh, catching his words in time. He needed to puzzle through the situation on his own before he tried presenting it to his mother. “Right now, we have to make sure they’re safe. I’m sure you can find out everything you need by grilling them on your own.”
She patted his arm. “I fully intend to.”
Cyril had joined them on the short staircase, his attention on the king. “In the meantime, the breach of security at the Hotel Garronia is troublesome, Your Highness. With tourism our most valuable commodity, stolen passports is a less than ideal development.”
“How are the news stations handling it?”
“They’ll be silent on the matter of how the passports were obtained, Stefan assures me. The first story will break shortly, however, and as we’re hosting the Americans at your private residence…”
“Of course,” Jasen said to Cyril’s unspoken question. “Perform all the usual checks.”
“What? No!” Kristos protested, stopping Cyril with a hand. “Background checks aren’t necessary. These are our guests, not a band of insurgents.”
“We perform checks on the pope, Kristos,” his father said, waving Cyril on. “The sooner you get used to how things work at the castle, the better for all concerned.”
“It will be delightful, you’ll see,” his mother said, tucking her arm into his. “Now tell me all about your American friend while we wait. I am not going to lie, this is the most fun I’ve had in well over a year.”
Kristos hesitated, then caught the suddenly intent look in his father’s eyes as he gazed at his wife. His father seemed…old again, a cast to his face that Kristos was simply not used to seeing, and one he didn’t care to see. But his mother’s bright smile was infectious, and she did seem genuinely enthralled by the idea of the mysterious American who was now being splashed across screens throughout Europe and soon across the Atlantic as well.
He hadn’t seen her look so happy in—well, in longer than he could remember, honestly. What harm would it do to extend the illusion that he was a young man in love for a few more days, while the women were under their roof? And, once again, at the very least it would throw a wrench in his parents’ plans to have him married off by Sunday.
As with any good lie, however, he knew he needed to start with a liberal dose of the truth to make this work. “You should know how it really happened, Mother. I met Emmaline for the first time today, down at the beach while doing maneuvers with the aquatic crew. ‘Met’ is perhaps an understatement. I ran into her when she stepped into the path of our footrace.”
“Ran into her!” His mother’s perfect eyebrows lifted. “She wasn’t harmed?”
“Not at all.” This was the part of the story that would be the illusion, but he’d lived his entire life in his mother’s household. He knew her weak points. “But when I came back to make sure she was okay, there was something about her. I don’t know. She was pretty, definitely, but she seemed almost familiar.”
“Oh boy,” his father said dryly, and his mother elbowed the king in the ribs.
“You’re the least romantic man I know. This is outstanding. Kristos, I command you to continue.”
At that point, Kristos’s earpiece crackled. “We’ve got a problem.” Stefan’s voice was clipped, sharp. “The news broke while the women were still in the hotel. All exits are blocked, unless we elect to escort them under armed guard.”
“Too much show of force.” Both Kristos and the king spoke at once, the latter sending him an approving glance.
“Agreed. Next option?”
“Where are they now?”
“They’re all in the limo, still secure, idling in the garage.”
Kristos nodded, then bowed to his parents before turning to dash back down the stairs, pulling his cell phone from his suit jacket as he went. “Keep them there, Stefan. I need ten minutes.”
Chapter 6
“Who actually smokes anymore?” Nicki continued to fiddle with the various compartments inside the limo, including a sleek silver ashtray built into the door. “Do people do that in Europe? Is that still a thing?”
“I swear to God, I’m not taking you anywhere,” Lauren groaned, while Frannie giggled, buried in one of the lush pashminas that had been folded up on the smooth leather seats of the limo.
“Take me, then. I promise not to play with the taxis.” She glanced outside the idling limo. “Although if this one takes any longer to get going, we might as well walk.”
Em stared out the window as well, her fingers gripped around the phone that Kristos had given her. She had to return it to him first thing, before she forgot. Not that she usually was the type to forget those things, but she also wasn’t usually the type to have her picture on TV. Lauren
had switched on the in-limo device as soon as they’d all piled in, and the first thing they’d seen was a teaser for the official news broadcast, that would “reveal” the identity of the mermaid princess. Worse, it had let drop that she was staying at the “prestigious Hotel Garronia.”
Nicki let out a low whistle. “No wonder we’re getting the official escort to the castle.”
“We’ve got to already be too late, though,” Lauren said. “That’s why we’re cooling our heels. How many exits out of this place will allow for a limo to sneak past? Not many.”
Em shook her head. “Guys, they’re going to put our passports up on the media, you know they will. Is that even legal? Shouldn’t there be some sort of repercussions for that?”
“Who knows what’s legal here?” Frannie said. “If anyone has any interesting arrest records floating out there, though, now would be a good time to mention them.”
Nicki snorted. “I’ve been too busy blogging to get arrested for anything interesting. And Em, you cannot tell me that you have.”
“Like you wouldn’t have been my first call.” Em immediately sobered, though, her eyes going wide. “My God—my parents. I have to call them.”
“That can wait until we get to the palace,” Lauren said. “Let Garronia pay the long-distance fees.”
At that moment, there was a sharp knock on the car door. Everyone jumped, but the door opened quickly, and they were suddenly being glared at by a man Em recognized, dressed in a perfectly cut suit. “The hotel is surrounded. We’re taking you out a different exit. You’ll split up to distract the crowd.”
“Split up!” Nicki’s alarm rang loud. “No way.”
“Yes.” The man lifted his hand, his voice like a whip crack. “Miss Andrews will depart by way of motor van, the rest of you in the limo. Otherwise, I fear far more pictures will find their way to the Internet and international media than any of you want. Once the crowd realizes their prey is not in the limo, you’ll reach the castle that much more quickly.”
“It’s okay. I know him,” Em said to the others, and Fran nodded too. She suspected they’d both recognize that cold, shuttered face again anywhere. “He was with Kristos in the Visitors’ Palace, briefly.”
He nodded. “We don’t have much time.”
“Will they be safe?” Em was already turning for her bag.
“They’ll be safe. Leave your things. You’ll be reunited with them shortly.”
“Okay, so…I’m not hugging any of you,” Em said as she forced her voice to remain steady. “Not until I see you next. Which will be in about thirty minutes, so don’t miss me too much.”
Before any of them could respond, she was being helped out the door by the man in the suit. Without even a bag to hug to herself, she tucked her elbows tightly to her waist and hurried beside him. He walked in long strides, down another level of the parking garage, and straight across the wide expanse to an open delivery truck.
“You’re seriously putting me in a delivery truck, like I’m a drug shipment or something,” Em said, her eyes rounding. “This is that big a deal?”
A man emerged from the shadows at the back of the truck. “It’s that big a deal, Emmaline.”
“Kristos!” Her escort’s surprise was plain as Kristos hopped down. “You are not supposed to be here. You were to command the trucks, nothing further.”
Kristos, for his part, merely shrugged. “You haven’t been watching the news, Stefan. The girls’ identities are being shot around the world; we have reports of flights being booked into the city from all parts of the globe, probably more media people. Cyril advises that it’s going to get worse before it gets better, at least for the next few days. It’s time for a new strategy.”
Stefan shook his head, peering into the back of the truck. “You can’t tell me Jasen has approved this.”
“He has no idea.” Em watched as Kristos strode forward, gripping Stefan’s arm in a way that seemed almost ceremonial. “Take care of her friends. Keep them safe and out of sight, and we’ll let all this die down. I had no idea how much damage I could cause in the first few hours of taking on my official duties, and it needs to stop.”
Em peered into the back of the truck. As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she could see what had set off Stefan. A motorcycle. She snapped her gaze back to the two men. “We’re not going to the palace, are we?”
Kristos looked at her, and something odd chased over his face, something fierce and proud and—possessive. Then it was gone, and his expression became warm. Almost comforting. “Not at first,” he said. “We’ll be besieged with media, tourists, even the public of Garronia if they think I’ve somehow chosen you for my bride. It’s a headache we don’t need. Let the story die, the media disperse, then we’ll return.”
“How long will that take?”
Stefan pressed his finger to his earpiece. “The crowd is starting to shift. We need to move.”
“Then by all means.” Kristos turned and waved Em into the back of the truck. “Ladies first.”
“This is safe?” she asked, but her words were directed at Stefan, who stared at them both with exasperation.
“Not even remotely,” he said.
Em thought about it for another second, but Kristos’s eyes were steady on hers. She was the one who always played it safe, after all. Made lists. Double-checked. This was all completely off the rails.
And yet somehow, deeply right.
“We should probably get going, then,” she said.
Kristos felt Emmaline trembling beside him in the dark, but he couldn’t deny his own surge of excitement. The plan was a simple one. Three trucks would leave from the loading bays of the hotel in quick succession after the limo, along with cars streaming out of the hotel that had been delayed by the management-imposed garage lockdown. Emmaline could arguably be in any of those vehicles, and most probably the limo, so everyone would disperse and they’d continue to the outskirts of the city. And then the fruit truck he’d chosen would slow enough to let them out the back.
The plan also met his primary need: get out of town with a beautiful woman. Check and check. Fortunately, Emmaline was dressed in a tank top, khakis, and tennis shoes. She’d handle the ride easily, even if it was longer than she expected.
They exited the hotel, Emmaline stiffening as the sound of many hands pounded along the sides. “What are they doing?” she whispered.
“Showing us that they expected this maneuver. But they can’t be certain, right? Not with so many vehicles leaving at once. It’s the perfect shell game.” He quirked her a glance, peering through the darkness. “You good?” He turned toward her, but as he did, she straightened.
“I’m good,” she said, her voice sounding stronger than he would have given her credit for.
And even thinking that gave him pause. How much did he really know about Emmaline Andrews? He hadn’t taken the time to get the download of information from the Crown’s security check, and, despite his words to his father, he knew that was a precaution that was wise to take. What if he was harboring an escaped convict?
His lips quirked up at the idea. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“One thing, though.” Emmaline glanced at him in the gloom. “Wherever we’re heading, I will need to make some calls. Will that be possible?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, satisfaction rippling through him. “Where we’re heading, you’ll be able to do whatever you want.”
She didn’t respond to that, and Kristos turned his attention to the feel of her hand in his, the warmth of her body next to him. And more too. The rumble of the truck wheels on the asphalt. The sound of traffic rushing around them, of city noise gradually diminishing to a low, distant rumble. The truck slowed at last, and he gestured to the motorcycle strapped to the inside wall of the truck. “You’ve ridden before?”
Emmaline nodded tightly when he offered her his helmet. “Where’s yours?”
“I couldn’t explain my plan to my parents, so a second h
elmet would have been suspicious. They’ll find out soon enough from Stefan, if they haven’t already.”
Any additional conversation was halted as the truck slowed, then turned sharply. “That’s our cue.” He moved toward the unlatched door and hauled it open, blinking against the bright light. A few paces took him back to the bike, and Emmaline slid onto the seat behind him.
“Um, I haven’t exactly ridden a lot.”
“Put your feet on the spokes. We won’t be on the road long.”
“How long is long?” She sounded dubious, but she gripped his waist easily enough. “And how hard is it going to hurt when we land without a ramp?”
Kristos smiled, remembering her own words earlier that day. Had it really been just this morning that he’d seen this woman for the first time? “It’ll be an adventure.”
They shot out the back of the truck and hit the dirt lot, and even Emmaline’s bitten-out curse made him happy. She yelped and grabbed him more tightly, her head pressed against the back of his jacket. This far away from the city—traveling in the opposite direction of the castle—no one was still following the truck. They’d made it out. He felt marginally bad about leaving Stefan to clean up his mess with his parents, especially his mother, who had images of fancy dresses and balls dancing in her head, he was sure. But then he felt the warmth and excitement of Emmaline against him, and couldn’t bring himself to care very much about anything else at all.
The trip to the chateau was a winding one. The place itself was private, yes, and fortunately not one of the family residences but the home of a friend who could be counted on to lend it for royal business. Still, Kristos had to time his arrival carefully—quickly enough that he would draw no attention, but in a roundabout way so that his final destination wasn’t immediately identified, if anyone should be tracking his motorbike.
Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 Page 7