Theirs Ever After: (A MMF Romance) (The Thalanian Dynasty Book 3)

by Katee Robert

  He walked through the door, every inch the King of Thalania. Lord Bakaj saw him first and moved to intercept. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Sit.”

  “You can’t just—”

  “Sit.” Theo turned his attention across the room. “All of you will sit down and you will listen. To do anything else is tantamount to treason.”

  They sat. Some of them—Lady Vann, Lord Popov—looked more nervous than others, but he could care less about their petty schemes and conniving bullshit. “I will ask you this once, and once only—who in this room has had contact with Dorian Mikos?”

  Blanks stares from several of the nobles, shock from others. The only one who flinched was Lady Vann. Sickness threatened, but Theo held it at bay. He strode to her. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Answer the question, Lady Vann.”

  She clutched her hands to her chest as if making herself into a smaller target would save her. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

  “Dorian Mikos and his wife were convicted of treason not once, but twice. Anything to do with them inside Thalania is my business.” He towered over her, using his size to intimidate. “Tell me here or tell me in one of the interrogation rooms. It’s your choice, Hollis.”

  Her whole body shuddered. “You shouldn’t have brought that girl here. You shouldn’t have tried to change things.”

  Lord Bakaj was the closest noble to her, and he took several large steps back, as if her treason was contagious. Theo barely spared him a glance. “This is the last time I’ll ask nicely—where is he?”

  She laughed, short and harsh. “I’m just one of the many players in this game, Your Majesty. Do you really think that there isn’t anyone in this room who would pick up a knife if you turned your back? Don’t be naive.”

  Theo turned a slow circle, meeting every set of eyes present. Lady Vann’s heir looked sick to her stomach, but she would be investigated and tried on her own merits—or lack thereof—rather than on her mother’s. Everyone else made an effort to hold their heads high and act innocent. Time would tell, but if the network was really as extensive as Lady Vann claimed, she wouldn’t need to brag about it.

  He strode to the door and leaned out long enough to motioned Isaac’s two men forward. “Escort Lady Vann to the room next to Lord Huxley.”

  Everyone stood in silence as the screaming woman was dragged from the room. Theo gave them all one last long look. “If any of you have information about Dorian Mikos’s whereabouts, coming forward now will result in a lenient punishment if my Consort is returned unharmed.” No one moved. “If you have information and don’t share it now, the truth will out eventually and the penalty will be death.” A sentence of death for the crime of treason hadn’t been used since his grandfather’s time, but with Meg’s life on the line, Theo wasn’t capable of playing this carefully. He needed her safe, and he needed her safe now.

  Silence reigned.

  “So be it.” He turned and left without another word.

  Theo headed for the stairs leading down to where they kept the prisoners. He pulled out his phone and dialed Galen. The man barely had a chance to answer before he cut in. “Any news?”

  “Nothing yet. Kozlov’s got them out of the system, but they wiped the security feed for the fifteen minutes we need. He’s doing the best he can, but it’s not going to get us anywhere.”

  Damn it, he’d hoped there would be a simple solution for this. “Lady Vann is involved. I’m going to question her.”

  Silence. Finally, Galen took a deep breath. “Do you need me?”

  Yes. He didn’t say it. Galen had enough scars on both body and soul. Theo wouldn’t add to them if he had any choice in the matter. Extracting information was the stuff of nightmares when it escalated past simple questions, but he was capable of doing it. His father ensured that he’d never give a command he wasn’t capable of doing himself. Better for him to carry that price than anyone else. “I’m got it covered.”

  “Be safe.”

  There was no safety in this. Only danger and the kind of wounds that didn’t weep blood. “Call if you find something.”

  “You, too.”

  Theo slipped his phone into his pocket and moved down the stairs. Once upon a time, there had been a true dungeon in the palace, but one of his distant ancestors had removed it during a restructuring overhaul of the building. Prisoners and the like were relocated to a secondary location on the outskirts of Ranei, away from the general population and away from the nobles and their sensitive disposition.

  He’d never found that change to be problematic. Until now.

  A plain white room was too good for both Huxley and Vann. They had information he needed, and every minute they spent withholding it decreased the chance of Theo and Galen recovering Meg.

  No, he couldn’t think like that. They would get her back.

  They had to.

  He spotted the two men stationed outside the doors and strode to them. “O’Carroll. Bradshaw.” Theo made a point of learning the names of those who staffed the palace regularly, and the habit paid off now. Both men offered him tight smiles.

  O’Carroll was the elder, somewhere around his mid-forties, though he hadn’t softened with age. He gave a short bow. “Your Majesty. We have Lady Vann secured to the table. What do you require?”

  “Nothing for the moment.” He slipped through the door and set eyes on Lady Vann. Her cuffs were looped through a metal ring in the center of the table, and the position left her slightly hunched forward. She tried and failed to look down her nose at him. Theo shut the door with a quiet click. “Lady Vann.”

  “You’ll regret this, Theodore.”

  He smiled sadly. “You’re under the mistaken impression that someone is coming to save you. Dorian isn’t in the city. He took my Consort, and he left you to hang for it.” He walked over and sank into the chair across from her. “You will, by the way. Hang, that is. We’re not equipped for an electric chair, and I’ve always found it rather inhumane. Though I suppose that’s part of what made it such an attractive option. People are less likely to commit killing offenses if they think they might be strapped down and hooked up to a machine meant to fry their brain.”

  She blinked big brown eyes at him. Fear finally slithered through their depths. “Exile is the punishment for treason.”

  “Exile was the punishment for treason. Unfortunately for you, it’s no longer quite the deterrent it used to be. You, my dear, are to be an example to all who come after.” He sat back and considered her. “I suppose I could have someone rig up a guillotine. It worked for the French.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Who’s laughing?” He shrugged. “I don’t have all night, Hollis. Either tell me what I need to know or tell me who has the information I need to know. Those are your options, full stop.”

  “You’ll really kill me. Me. Lady Vann. Head of the Vann Family.”’

  Theo lowered his voice, a confidence between just the two of them. “I would happily execute you and every other Head of Family if it meant my Meg would be returned safely. All seven of your lives don’t begin to measure against hers. Yours alone? Don’t make me laugh.” He reached over and covered her shaking hands with his. “Tell me where Dorian’s taken her.”

  “What’s to stop you from killing me if I do?”

  “Nothing. You’re the villain of this piece, but I have no problem picking up the mantle in the meantime. Final chance, Hollis, or I go next door and talk to Huxley. He might not be a main player in the game, but I wager he knows enough to give me a direction.”

  She gave a laugh, but not like anything was funny. “Dorian is in Williamshire.” A small estate in Vann territory that edged up against the border of Greece.

  Theo was already moving. He shoved out of his chair, ignoring Hollis’s demand for assurances, and charged out of the room. He had his phone to his ear as he took the stairs two at a time. “Galen, she�
��s in Williamshire. Meet me on the roof.”

  16

  Waves of painful awareness crashed through Meg, pulling her out of the darkness. Her body had morphed to a strange combination of concrete and taffy while she was out, the drug leaving everything dull and impossible to extract herself from. She lay perfectly still and tried to figure out where the hell she was. The last thing she remembered…

  Alys.

  Dorian.

  Did Theo and Galen know she was gone yet? She had no idea how long she’d been out, but surely she wouldn’t go missing in the freaking palace for more than thirty minutes without someone noticing. No, they had to know she was gone by now.

  “Good morning, Consort.”

  She dragged her eyes open and squinted into the bright light of the room. It was empty except for the cot she lay on and the chair occupied by Dorian. Meg stared at him for a long moment, and then slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She doubted her legs could hold her at this point, but having a conversation with the enemy while she was on her back was out of the question. Another glance around the room offered no clues to where they’d taken her.

  Dorian gave her a warm smile, the kind meant to be reassuring, but all it accomplished was sending alarm bells blazing through her. “I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.”

  “Why?” She pressed a hand to her forehead. Everything hurt, but her head most of all. It throbbed in time with her heart, the pain somehow bigger than her skull. “Why keep me alive? It’s obvious you want me out of the palace. Why bother going through this song and dance and wasting everyone’s time?”

  He chuckled. “I can see why my son likes you.”

  He’s not your son anymore. She bit the words back. Antagonizing him wasn’t a smart idea, no matter how much she wanted to throw sentences at him like swords, to try to deal him even a portion of the pain he’d dealt Galen over the years. Instead, she did her best to swallow down her anger and focus. “We have a lot in common.”

  “A unique kind of fire.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his thighs. “From a trailer park to the palace in Thalania. I have to say, your ambition outshines even my own. It’s rather impressive.”

  It’s not like that. I didn’t plan on this. More words, stuffed down deep. Meg leaned carefully back against the wall the cot had been shoved against. The room kept spinning, and the last thing she wanted was to collapse and reveal just how screwed up the drugs still had her. She was in no shape to make a run for it. Even if she was physically capable of it, she didn’t know where she was, what the layout of this place looked like. She needed more information, and the only current source of information was smiling at her like he’d just won the lottery.

  Whether it was the Mega Millions or Shirley Jackson’s Lottery depended solely on Meg.

  “You have a point. Get to it before I puke on your shoes.”

  “Mmm. I should apologize about the drugs. Alys gets a little over-excited at times and she wasn’t sure she could convince you to follow along without a little… assistance.”

  “Lovely.” She’d never particularly liked Alys, but Meg had always chalked that up to what the woman represented—an ever-present reminder that Meg would never be good enough, would always be stepping in some kind of mess every time she left her suite. She had ignored her instinctive dislike because she blamed herself.

  Way to go, Meg. The enemy was right under your nose and you had no idea.

  Dorian shifted. “You’re obviously a woman who knows her worth, and knows how to make the world work for her.”

  Would he say that if he saw her staggering student loans? Or how close she’d been to going under completely before Theo and Galen walked into her life? Meg was resourceful, sure, but that sort of thing only went so far. Sometimes the world just kicked a person in the teeth and kept on kicking until they were curled in a ball, helpless on the floor. Meeting Theo and Galen was nothing short of chance, and everything that had happened since sometimes felt like the best kind of fever dream. Up until recently, Meg had taken no ownership of that, but she wasn’t about to admit as much to this man.

  When she didn’t immediately jump in, his smile widened. “I think we can help each other.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry, but do you usually try to kill people before you recruit them? Doesn’t seem like the most effective policy.”

  “Ah. Yes, well.” Dorian grimaced. It was the tiniest of breaks in his smile, but present all the same. “Plans change and, as I mentioned, Alys is… overzealous.”

  So Alys had been the one to shove her down the stairs. Meg suspected as much after the whole poisoning incident, but she tucked the confirmation away for later use. She pressed her palm to her forehead. The dizzy spells weren’t abating, and though she’d mostly threatened to puke on Dorian out of spite, it might be a very real possibility in the near future. “Why don’t you stop pussyfooting around and tell me what you’re offering?”

  Another low chuckle. She hated that he almost sounded like Galen when he laughed like that, loathed even the tiniest of similarities beyond their blatantly shared physical traits. He straightened. “You want to stay in the palace. I want to ensure my goals are enacted by the Crown. Like I said, I think we can help each other.”

  Clarity sifted through her, slower than she would have liked. “You want me to, what, be your mole?” Meg frowned. That didn’t make sense. He had to know she had absolutely no incentive to do what he wanted. “Why?”

  “You’re uniquely positioned.” Dorian examined his palms. “I think I’ve made it quite clear I can get to you—and anyone in the palace—if I want to.”

  “You have,” she said slowly. “But I’m already here. If you’re going to kill me—”

  “Oh no, my dear. Not you.” He looked up, the warm seeping from his expression, revealing the snake beneath. “But it would be increasingly unfortunate if people around you simply began dropping like flies. Poison is such nasty business, and so easy to administer. Maybe to a shiny new Head of House. Or perhaps to a certain princess who meddles in things she had no business interfering with. Or even the King himself. The possibilities are truly endless.”

  Meg stared. Was he really planning on blackmailing her with the safety of the people around her? Devious, to be sure, but… It still didn’t make sense. If that was his play and he was just as brilliant and everyone seemed to think, he would have gone about it in a different way. “So you’re just going to take my word for it and let me go if I agree to this?”

  “The consequences for you breaking your word are high enough to warrant consideration.”

  They were, but… Meg shook her head, the room giving another sick turn around her. Something was wrong. Something… She exhaled harshly. Dorian wanted her dead. That was the one consistent factor that ran through this whole nightmare. She’d done nothing in that time to make him think it was possible to turn her, and he wasn’t a stupid man. Evil, yes. But not stupid. He had to know she would go directly back to Galen and Theo and tell them everything.

  Then why not murder her here and now? Why not take her out while she was still drugged and just dump her body somewhere? That was more logical than this weird blackmail situation. The only thing he offered by allowing her a chance to get back to Theo and Galen was…

  Hope.

  He offered hope.

  What better way to hurt someone than to give them a moment when they were sure everything would be fine, and then snatch it away at the last moment? Meg closed her eyes, but that only made her dizziness worse. “Will it be a sniper set up to take me out the second I’m within touching distance of them? You can’t let me get back into the palace and the relative safety it offers. Another accident won’t work now that everyone’s guard is up, and you burned Alys’s cover when you had her take me.” The words tasted foul on her tongue, but realizations hit her, one after another. What had he mentioned… “Poison. It’s got to be poison. How long will I have? A day?
A week?”

  She opened her eyes to find him appraising her with new interest in those dark eyes. He pushed slowly to his feet, towering over her, but made no move to come closer. “Smart little thing, aren’t you? Brave and foolish like my son. Cunning like Theodore. No wonder they couldn’t resist you.”

  “I won’t do it. I won’t go back just to hurt them.”

  Dorian shrugged and headed for the door. “It doesn’t really matter what you think, my dear. You are just a pawn in a larger game. My boy had a chance to return to the fold and chose not to come to heel. Now he’ll be brought to his knees as everything about him turns to ash. Starting with you.” He walked out of the room and closed the door softly. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed through Meg’s head, making everything hurt more.

  Time. I just need time. He brought me here for a reason instead of just having Alys dose me. I have time, and it’s not over until I’m dead.

  She slipped back to the cot and rolled carefully onto her back. She just had to think. To plan.

  There was a way out of this. She just had to find it.

  Galen stared through the binoculars at the house on the cliff. “Going to be tough.” They stood on the boat they’d rented earlier today from a town several miles away.

  “Walk me through it.” Theo’s voice curled through the space between them, a comfort and a glaring reminder of their missing piece.

  Galen took a deep breath and told him what they’d discovered up to this point. Maybe Dorian had started in Williamshire, but he’d left right around the time they got surveillance up, traveling to his place in Greece. They’d followed covertly, and, for all intents and purposes, he appeared to have settled in here.

  Satellite images told them that storming the house by land was damn near impossible. It was even tougher to get to than Galen’s place, and he’d intentionally purchased that house for its location and natural defenses. Only one narrow road approached his old man’s house, and there were snipers set up on the hills on either side of it. In fact, judging from the heat signatures, he had an entire team around the house.