The Introvert's Prince (The Royal Wedding Book 5)

by Caroline Lee

  Johan held his gaze for a long moment. His eventual nod was understanding, and Viggo returned it.

  He could always count on his twin to know him better than he knew himself.

  Viggo took his wife’s hand, and was surprised to see her smiling up at him. There was something in her eyes he couldn’t quite name. Something suspiciously close to love?

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go save our son.”

  Everything was wrong.

  Wronger, she supposed she should clarify. Stefan going missing was definitely wrong, and Marcia felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest. But being able to do something, to look for him, to feel as if she was actually contributing to him…that had been a good feeling.

  But here at home—no, not home anymore. Here at her father’s house, things were wrong again.

  After she told Viggo the code to key into the gate, they rolled past an empty guardhouse in the late summer twilight. Granted, Earl Lindqvist wasn’t exactly royalty, but he was serious about his security measures. Usually there were guards posted here and along the front drive.

  This was Viggo’s first time through the front entrance though, and he wouldn’t realize there was anything different. Except…

  “Is it always this dark?” His question wasn’t exactly a whisper, but she barely heard it over the convertible’s engine.

  Marcia peered towards the distant house, down the long drive, behind all of the carefully pruned fruit trees. There were no lights on anywhere that she could see.

  “No. Even if my father isn’t in residence, the house should still be open. Even if the staff are asleep, there should be lights on.”

  This far north, the days were long…but it was still almost dark by the time Marcia and Viggo pulled around to the front door of her childhood estate. Of Stefan’s childhood estate. She peered up at the dark windows and thick shadows, and shuddered. What would he remember of his time here? And could she and Viggo give him better memories, once they found him?

  They would find him. She couldn’t allow herself to think any differently.

  She didn’t bother waiting for Viggo to come around the car—she just bounded up the steps to the front door. It was locked, but her most recent key code still worked.

  Interesting. Father usually had his chief of security switch them out weekly. Maybe not enough time had passed since she’d left…or maybe Father just didn’t care?

  Then why would he have taken Stefan back?

  As they all-but-crept through the dark foyer—not a soul in sight—Marcia reminded herself that they didn’t know if Father had been the one to take Stefan, or if Stefan was even the target of the kidnapping.

  Still, there was something…something tickling her senses…something which told her that she was right. Stefan was with his grandfather, but he shouldn’t be.

  Maybe I’m finally getting a mother’s intuition.

  The thought bolstered her and made her sad all at once.

  She and Viggo visited the staff offices first, but when they couldn’t find anyone there, she led Viggo up to Stefan’s suite of rooms. They were deserted, but there was evidence of Elsie’s packing everywhere. The nursemaid herself was missing, but if Father had given her the night off, she’d be away from her little flat behind Stefan’s suite. She often went to stay with her brother’s family on her night’s off, to visit her nieces, and since it was nearing eleven o’clock, she’d probably be long asleep by now. That would also explain why all of Marcia’s calls had gone to voicemail.

  She glanced over at Viggo. He was bent over a child-sized desk Marcia had purchased online, but didn’t seem to notice the whimsical carvings or smiling animals. Instead, his fingers caressed one of the comic books piled on the top. X-Men. It had been the most recent issue, the one he’d given to his son so they could discuss it together.

  Had that only been a few days ago?

  She crossed to Viggo, and took his free hand in both of hers. “We’ll find him,” she whispered, repeating the promise she’d made to herself. The same promise he’d made to her.

  His quick grin was forced, but she appreciated it and the firm nod he gave. But when he looked around the shadow-filled nursery, he frowned. “Where is everyone, Marcia?”

  She shrugged. “Even if Father had given everyone the night off, some of the staff would still be here. And a skeleton guard force.” At least he hadn’t let the dogs loose to roam the house, as he’d threatened Stefan more than once if the boy wandered through the house at night.

  “But they’re not.” His voice was low. “They’re just…gone.”

  “That makes me even more suspicious of Father, frankly.”

  He nodded. “Let’s search the house room by room, to see what we can find.”

  With a sigh, Marcia agreed.

  Four hours later, they were becoming frantic. Viggo had been in constant contact with his twin brother, and Johannes reported no one—not even the police—had found a trace of William or Stefan. He agreed that the empty Lindqvist estate was suspicious, and once everyone reported back from their assignments, Alek would send them to help Viggo.

  The royal wedding was in only a few hours, and the groom was missing.

  Even worse, so was her baby.

  Marcia’s legs were exhausted, but she pulled Viggo through the lower pantry and out into the back corridor. “Father’s conservatory is through here. Be careful—all these pedestals are easy to knock over.” Both she and Stefan had made that mistake only once. Father’s punishments were harsh.

  Still, Viggo only snorted as they began walking up and down the paths lined with bonsai trees. “I would knock them all over if I had the time. The man deserves it.”

  On the other side, Marcia’s attention was caught by a glint of something in the distance through one of the huge glass windows. “Hmmm,” she agreed distractedly.

  “The man has openly opposed the initiatives Mother and Alek have proposed—some of them initiated by William!—to protect the Aegirian environment and economy. Fishing is our way of life, historically, and without legislature protecting our seas, we’re going to see a steady decline. But your father has had no problem shooting down all the proposals…and then has the gall to collect plants? No—” Viggo cut himself off with a snort. “He’s collecting plants he can control. He shapes and molds them the way he wants.”

  Marcia could hear her husband tromping angrily up and down the other side of the conservatory, as she peered into the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of what she’d seen before. She’d had no idea Viggo was so up-to-date on politics, and she’d ask him about his interest…later.

  “Find anything, sweetheart?” he called.

  “I think so…” she murmured. Then, “Yes!”

  He came running to her side just as the light she’d seen in the distance coalesced into a pair of headlights, bumping over the meadow beside the cliffs. They seemed a mile away, but as they came to a stop, it was obvious there was a car out there where no car was supposed to be.

  Marcia and Viggo shared a look. “Stefan,” they said together.

  Then they took off running.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Oh God, Oh God.

  As Viggo hurtled through the darkness, Marcia close behind—she’d long ago kicked off her shoes—he found himself praying. Praying they’d finally found Stefan, that he was part of the mysterious car out there beside the cliffs where the boy had played with the drone only a few days ago. Praying that he wouldn’t be there, that his absence was easily explained. Praying that he was safe.

  The conflicting prayers converged into something repetitive and heartfelt and desperate.

  Oh God, Oh God.

  Even this far north, dawn was still a little time away. Whoever was out here by the cliffs had the cover of darkness for whatever deeds he was committing. As Viggo and Marcia got closer, he could make out people moving in the car’s headlights, but it was impossible to guess who they were.

  Until th
ey reached the shadow of the large tree Marcia had sat under while Stefan had played, the afternoon of her birthday. In a flash, Viggo recognized the people standing beside the cliffs, and he threw himself to the ground, pulling Marcia with him.

  “Wha—?” she uttered as she slammed into his chest.

  “Shh,” he breathed into her ear. Her father couldn’t know they were there. “We have to get closer, but don’t make a sound.”

  He felt more than saw her nod, and he released her long enough for her to roll away from him. Together they crept through the tree’s shadows to a row of loganberry bushes he’d long ago taught Stefan to avoid because of the thorns.

  This was their place. This was the meadow between their estates, the one spot where the Lindqvist property didn’t have a tall wall and security cameras. This was where Marcia had snuck baby Stefan out—where he’d taken his first steps—where Viggo had taught his son how to make snowballs. This was their place, and now it would never be the same.

  Because up ahead, in the cone of brightness formed by the car’s headlights, Herman Lindqvist held a gun to his grandson’s head.

  Viggo knew the exact moment Marcia realized that fact. She whimpered and seemed to sink into the ground. He caught her and eased her back until they could see what was happening by the cliffs between the thorny, overgrown branches. She trembled in his arms, clutching at his shoulders, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from their son to reassure her.

  Lindqvist was ignoring Stefan, scowling instead at the darkness beside the car. “Do it! If you want to save the cripple, you’ll do as I say.”

  Viggo tried in vain to make out who was standing beyond the light. All he knew was that Stefan was standing there, looking confused and scared, and there wasn’t a damn thing Viggo could do.

  Oh, he wanted to charge over there, through these bushes, through Lindqvist, and smash the old man’s face into the ground. He wanted to scoop up his son and feel the boy’s arms around his neck and breathe in his sticky-soft scent.

  But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything to protect his son, not when Lindqvist was pointing a gun at Stefan.

  But surely Lindqvist wasn’t that much of an asshole, to hurt his own flesh and blood? The man was a monster to his daughter, sure, but Stefan was his only grandchild. Surely—

  “Hayes!” Lindqvist suddenly screamed, loud enough to make Stefan jump, then cower. “Hayes, you know what you have to do.”

  Hayes. William was here.

  Without taking his eyes from Stefan, Viggo rolled until his torso was behind Marcia. She laid there, her cheek pressed against the dirt and her fist in her mouth—probably to keep from crying out—and her eyes glued on the boy. Viggo was just as terrified, but he had an obligation to his family.

  Using her body to block as much of the light from his cell phone as possible, he opened up his recent chat conversation with Johan.

  You there?

  His twin’s reply came less than ten seconds later.

  Yeah. What’s up?

  The volume had been off, but the phone still buzzed slightly as it vibrated with the incoming text. In front of him, Marcia stiffened, and Viggo froze, watching Lindqvist for any sign the old man had heard the noise.

  When he finally allowed himself to breathe, he dropped his gaze to the screen.

  Don’t reply again, can’t afford to announce our presence. Send.

  Found William with Stefan. Lindqvist has them at the cliffs between our estates. Send.

  Send police NOW.

  Just as Viggo pressed “send”, Lindqvist called Hayes’ name again, and there was a sound beyond the lights.

  “Okay, okay.”

  William stepped into the cone of light, and Viggo heard Marcia’s little intake of breath. The man looked terrible—still wearing the suit he’d worn to his rehearsal, same as Viggo, with his shirt dirty and his jacket ripped. Viggo squinted. Was that blood on the older man’s lip? And judging from the way the light bounced off his glasses, at least one of the lenses was broken.

  What the hell had happened?

  At William’s appearance, Lindqvist seemed to relax slightly, his grip on Stefan loosening. The gun didn’t drop from the boy’s temple, but Stefan stopped clawing at the arm his grandfather had pressed to his throat.

  William took another step, carefully lifting his foot and placing it down as if worried he’d scare Lindqvist into doing something stupid. He patted the air in front of him placatingly.

  “I’m here, I’m here.” It wasn’t clear if he was speaking to Lindqvist or to Stefan. “I’m here now, I’m out of the car, I’m mostly functioning, and everything’s going to be okay.”

  Judging from the soothing way William was speaking, and the way his eyes were locked on Stefan, his words were directed towards the boy. In fact, Stefan seemed to relax a bit, watching the man who would become his step-grandfather.

  Lindqvist, on the other hand, snorted and pulled Stefan back half a step. “Okay? Everything is not going to be okay, not for you. You’ll be dead.”

  William lurched to a stop the same time Stefan jumped in his grandfather’s arms. Marcia rocked forward, pulling her head up, and Viggo clamped his arm around her middle, silently warning her to be still.

  With a gun to their son’s head, he wasn’t willing to risk being heard.

  “What do you mean?” William’s voice was less soothing now. “Dead?” In fact, it had risen to a high-pitched wail. “Dead? What did I do to you?”

  Stefan began struggling. Lindqvist shook him slightly.

  “Quiet, you,” he snarled, not taking his eyes off William. “As for your death, it’ll be accidental. Very tragic and all that. You’ll go over the cliffs here, and if I’m lucky, your body will be swept out into the bay with the outgoing tide—after being smashed almost beyond recognition, of course. And even if anyone can trace where you died, you’re on royal property here.” Lindqvist nodded towards Viggo’s distant home. “It’ll be assumed you and your future sons-in-law were having a wild stag night and you wandered off.”

  “That’s not true!” William stuttered, his arms flashing back and forth between his chest and Stefan as he gestured. “That’s not at all what happened. You jumped into our car and stabbed me with something. Everyone knows where we were supposed to be!”

  Under Viggo’s arm, Marcia was shaking. With rage or fear, it was impossible to know without seeing her face. They both stared at her father, dreading what would come next.

  “Why?” he heard her breathe against the dirt.

  Why would he do this? The thought wasn’t finished, but Viggo found himself nodding in agreement.

  “Why are you doing this?” William’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and Viggo wondered if he was in danger of hyperventilating.

  “Because, you arrogant American, your marriage to the queen will ruin everything.”

  What? Did Lindqvist have designs on Viktoria? Viggo shuddered at the same time Marcia did.

  William’s hands were still raised in front of him. “How—wha?” He seemed lost. Maybe he’d been hit in the head…

  Lindqvist just sneered. “You’ve gotten entirely too nosy, Hayes. If you’d just kept that sharp little brain of yours focused on where it belongs—the queen!—instead of making everyone else’s business your own, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “What business?” William near-wailed. “Everything I’ve done is for the good of Aegiria!”

  “That’s the problem, you idiot!”

  Lindqvist was practically vibrating with rage. Viggo was terrified the man might accidently pull the trigger without meaning to.

  Marcia’s father let go of Stefan long enough to shake a fist at William before dropping a heavy hand back on the boy’s shoulder. Viggo, who’d tensed to make a dive over the bush in the opening, forced himself to relax once more.

  “You! You sashay into my country, poke your nose into my business, prepare to ruin everything, and call it noble! When you marry that b
itch Viktoria, you’ll become her closest advisor, with the damn title to prove it! Marina—I mean, Princess Marina—has had that role for years, but now some upstart American geek will have it. That’s ridiculous! If Viktoria had half the sense God gave man, she would’ve abolished that stupid law ages ago.”

  William drew himself up. “See here, now. I won’t have you insulting my beloved—”

  “Shut. Up.” Lindqvist punctuated the command by shaking Stefan. “You have to die so you won’t be able to pass any of the laws you’ve been pushing. And this crippled bastard is going to help that happen.”

  William lurched forward. “No— Wait.” He pulled up short. “Laws? You think when I’ve got Marina’s advisor position, I’ll be able to—Oh my God, this is about the financial reforms, isn’t it?” A look somewhere between horror and excitement crossed his face. “We thought you were fighting us so hard on those because you had something to hide. You’re seriously going to kill me just so I don’t get the advisor position, over your bank account?”

  Lindqvist’s laugh wasn’t funny at all—he sounded deranged, and the sound scraped down Viggo’s spine. Fear gathered in his stomach, and he bunched his muscles awkwardly, ready to throw himself from their hiding spot if given even a modicum of evidence that it would help.

  “‘The good of Aegiria’!” mocked Lindqvist. “You’re just trying to make yourself look useful! Honor and accolades, that’s all you Americans care about.”

  “And money is all you care about,” William snapped back. “What are you doing to get all that money, Lindqvist? What are you so scared of us discovering when we pass the transparency laws?”

  Lindqvist’s face was turning purple in anger. “You’re not going to pass them!” he screamed.

  But William wasn’t cowed. “You’re going to commit murder over a few measly thousand dollars of government bribes?”

  “More like millions, you moron.” Lindqvist snarled. “And I’m more than willing to kill to keep that sort of investment. And it won’t be murder, it’ll be suicide. Now, get over there by those rocks.” He nodded behind William, where the cliffs were just visible in the growing pre-dawn light.