The Wrath of the King (Royals Book 5)

by Bourdon, Danielle

Chey rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. The phone call from Wynn threatened to make the headache she'd been dealing with all day worse.

  He offered me a job as his assistant, and I took it. Chey saw all sorts of disasters happening from the situation, not the least of Wynn putting herself in a dangerous spot being so close to Paavo. If someone was trying to take out the royal family, that put Wynn right smack in the crosshairs. She was right about one thing, though; gathering information should be a lot easier when she was actually in the lion's den rather than sniffing around outside.

  Folding her arms on the side of Sander's bed, Chey stared at his face, willing him to wake up. Earlier in the day, she'd put her foot down with a few of the nurses, refusing to allow anyone to sponge him clean except herself. Chey had taken the lead, meticulously washing him head to toe. It was quite a job lifting legs that were dead weight, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She'd even managed to wash his hair, working around the bandages to get any remaining dried blood out. Chey thought maybe the manipulation of his limbs would help pull him out of the coma.

  Now it was night time, and still, no change. No movement, no flicker of his eyelids. Refusing to be disheartened, she told herself tomorrow was a new day with new opportunities.

  “Chey?”

  Sitting up, she twisted a look over her shoulder. Natalia stood in the doorway, looking as if she'd come straight from the private airport. Attired in a sundress with tropical colors, hair styled back away from her face and sunglasses in place, Natalia dropped a large carry-on bag next to the wall on her way toward the bed. She removed her glasses and stashed them in a front pocket. Her eyes shifted from Chey to Sander, expression switching immediately to a pained frown.

  “Hey. He hasn't woken up yet,” Chey said, catching Natalia up on the details. She knew the woman had been halfway around the world on royal business and was only now arriving back in Latvala.

  Stopping on the other side of the bed, Natalia hesitated, then reached a hand out to touch Sander's arm. “What do the doctors say? He will wake up, won't he?”

  “They don't know. No one really knows what will happen from here.” It was hard for Chey to admit. Without warning, Natalia's chin quivered and she bent down to put her forehead against Sander's temple. A few quiet sobs shook her slender body.

  Since the night Chey found Natalia having what amounted to a breakdown at the family seat, Natalia had been something of a different woman. Quieter, more introspective, less argumentative. Definitely less snarky. Now, faced with a brother laid low by an unexpected attack, she wore her heart on her sleeve, expressing sincere sorrow for his current state.

  Chey wasn't sure what to do. She could commiserate with the pain, although she knew they experienced it on different levels. What Natalia felt for Sander was difficult for Chey to pin down, though it appeared as if a lot of the woman's nasty comments regarding Sander hadn't been directed at him so much as at life itself. Sander was an easy target. The way he'd defended Natalia, protected her from the marital contract drawn up by their father had to go a long way in making Natalia see that Sander's heart was in the right place.

  The stricken King had no reaction to Natalia's presence or her tears. He didn't rouse, didn't twitch. It pained Chey to see him so still, appearing lifeless stretched out on the hospital bed. Finding comforting words for Natalia didn't come easy.

  “He'll pull through, Natalia. He's strong and as stubborn as you and I. He just needs a little time,” Chey said.

  “He better. Does anyone know who did this yet?” Natalia asked, smearing a few tears from under her eyes.

  “Not yet. They're still investigating. So far, no one can get ahold of Mattias, so apparently the council recommended Paavo take over until he comes home or Sander wakes up.” Chey paid close attention to Natalia's reaction to the news. She appeared startled in the seconds following, leading Chey to believe that Natalia knew nothing about it until now.

  “I guess that's what they have to do if they can't locate Mattias. I'm sure it won't be long until someone gets through.” Natalia gazed at Sander, remorse and more in her eyes.

  “I hope so.” That was all Chey felt safe saying. She didn't think it wise to confess her hesitation about Paavo taking the throne or her concern that it might go to Paavo's head again. Although things between herself and Natalia had improved dramatically, they didn't hang out together and weren't best friends. A tentative truce existed, the gap growing a little smaller with each passing month.

  Natalia leaned down to press a soft kiss against Sander's temple. Straightening, she said, “I'm heading to the family seat. Will you text me the second he wakes up or the doctors have any news?”

  “Yes, as soon as something changes.” Chey stroked her fingers over Sander's arm.

  “Thanks.” Natalia paused after putting a whisper in Sander's ear and met Chey's eyes. “Take care of yourself. You look exhausted.” Then she swept out of the room, closing the door with a soft click.

  Chey exhaled. Natalia wasn't wrong. Exhaustion seeped into every part of Chey's being, making her eyelids grainy. Rubbing one with a knuckle, she refocused on Sander.

  “Baby, you need to wake up. Everyone's been here to see you, they're pulling for you. Even Natalia. Can you hear me? Sander? Please wake up.” Tracing light patterns over his knuckles, she watched for signs of recognition, for awareness. Once again, she received no response.

  A half hour later, with nothing but sound of machines for company, Chey fell asleep.

  Chapter Five

  The following morning, just about to walk around a corner on the main floor, Wynn paused to take stock of her person. The navy pencil skirt and matching jacket was much more demure and understated than she was used to wearing. She had several outfits of this nature, however, from working in her father's law firm, and was glad to have them in her wardrobe.

  Running her hand over the small cloth covered buttons down the front of the jacket, she thought she appeared professional enough for her first day on the job. A pair of taupe heels didn't add more than two inches to her modest height, chosen for comfort over style thanks to all the walking she expected to do. Even her make up was toned down, consisting of tonal browns and a peach colored lipstick.

  The sound of approaching footsteps in the adjacent hallway halted Wynn's hand on the bottom button. Just when she thought she would come face to face with the murmuring trio of men, they stopped out of sight around the corner. Her language lessons over the summer with Chey allowed her to understand the gist of their conversation.

  “I'm telling you, the rest have no idea what's going on,” a masculine voice said.

  “They should be warned in advance,” another added.

  “Are you willing to risk it?” a hissing whisper asked.

  “We don't know what all he's done, who he's compromised. Besides that, there's no time.”

  Immersed in the hush of voices, Wynn never heard the quiet tread of footfalls until someone set a hand low on her back and propelled her five steps forward, taking her around the corner before she had time to think. Several things hit her senses at once: the scent of spicy cologne, a crisp rustle of an expensive suit, and the surprise of three councilmen who stood huddled together.

  “Gentlemen, I'll see you in the conference room in five minutes,” Paavo said, steering Wynn around the group.

  Plastering a fake smile on her mouth, Wynn made a frantic attempt to appear normal, as if she hadn't heard a thing anyone said. She inclined her head, reading confusion and bemusement in the eyes of the councilmen.

  “Yes, your High--”

  “Of course, your Majesty.” They spoke at the same time, stumbling over titles.

  Wynn followed Paavo's lead. He never so much as slowed down until they reached a vacant, smaller meeting room. On a round table, she caught a glimpse of a laptop and several folders stacked neatly to the side. A printer and several other pieces of office equipment sat at the ready against the wall on a separate desk.

&
nbsp; Paavo faced her, standing close. He met her eyes and said, “Your first order of business is to transcribe an announcement to be printed in the newspapers. You'll find my voice file on the desktop. Can you handle it?”

  “Yes, of course I can handle it.” Wynn composed herself, recovering from the shock of being discovered listening to the councilmen talk. Paavo probably thought she'd done it on purpose when the opposite was true. Too late to defend herself now, she nodded to confirm she could do the task set before her. She refused to notice how immaculate his suit fit or how the diagonally striped tie was the same color green as his eyes. He smiled a devastatingly handsome smile.

  “Excellent. If you have any questions, I'll be available after the meeting and the press conference scheduled shortly thereafter,” he said.

  “Press conference? Shouldn't I be there with you?” she asked. Wynn wanted to take a step back, put another foot of space between herself and the Prince. He was distracting her with his scent, the gleam in his enigmatic gaze.

  “If you're finished with this, please do. But this project you're working on is just as important, so don't rush. I'll update you on all the specifics if you miss the press conference.” Paavo smoothed a hand down his tie. “All right?”

  “Yes, right. I'll get to work.” Wynn forced herself to break away and head to the chair in front of the laptop. What was wrong with her? She needed to stop noticing Paavo's attributes and focus on the important things. Like Chey and Sander and getting ahold of Mattias. Sitting down, she pulled the chair closer to the table. Paavo hadn't left the room yet, though she refused to look up.

  At the door, he said, “By the way. The contents of the statement are confidential, for your eyes only, hm?”

  Wynn locked eyes with Paavo and inclined her head. “Absolutely. I wouldn't expect any less.”

  “That's my girl.” He spoke low, intimate, then departed with a quiet click of his shoes on the floor.

  Wynn closed her eyes. She centered herself, struggling to ignore the echo of his voice and scent of cologne he left behind. This was ridiculous. She had a job to do and Chey was counting on her to do it right. Above all else, Wynn would not let her best friend down in a time of need.

  Putting her fingers on the laptop keys, Wynn found the voice file and set to work.

  . . .

  Paavo walked in on a scene of blatant tension. The formal conference room where important matters of the nation took place seethed with unease and apprehension. Divided into sections, the seating for the councilmen sat to the right, with seats for advisers and other legislators to the left. Only the councilmen were currently present; the advisers and other important leaders would be brought up to speed after the meeting. Sporting a high ceiling and broad lighting fixtures to make up for the lack of windows, the conference room was a study in dark mahogany furnishings and light colored walls.

  Silence descended as all eyes turned on him. Clasping his hands behind his back, Paavo paced down the middle of both seating areas, perusing the faces gathered. He knew the ones who remained clueless about the secretive coup about to happen. Those were the faces wearing confusion and frowns at the angst the rest of the councilmen portrayed. Oh, they all knew a vote would happen to officially make him the sitting King, but the rest had no idea what else was coming.

  Andersen took the lead, stepping from his seat onto the open floor. Like the rest of the councilmen, he wore a sharp suit, the tie knotted snug at his throat. He cut to the chase, wasting no time getting to the subject at hand. “Gentlemen of the council, we're here to take a vote. Those in favor of ascending Prince Paavo to sitting King, say aye.”

  A chorus of ayes echoed off the walls.

  Choosing to remain standing, Paavo ceased pacing and faced the congregation. A thrill shot through him hearing the men agree so easily to put him in a temporary position of power. In all truth, that milestone was a small hurdle—the officials had little choice. Mattias could not be found and Sander was unfit to rule. The next issue is where men's mettle would be tested.

  “Pass the decree around and sign it,” Andersen said, passing a legal document into the hands of the first councilman at the end of a row.

  One by one, the men added their signature to the document with brisk strokes of a pen. None took the time to read any of the fine print, a thing Paavo had counted on. The document looked exactly like any other of its kind barring a few subtle changes at the very end. Assuming it was the same document they had already seen many times, the council members added their name with little trouble.

  Paavo signed it last, keeping his smirk hidden from view.

  “There is another matter at hand,” Andersen added once Paavo handed him the document. “An urgent matter.” A murmur rippled through the crowd of councilmen. “As sitting King, his Majesty's first order of business is a decree to divide the country into regions, as previously recommended by his Majesty some months back.”

  Half the men in the seats surged to their feet. An uproar of protest commenced, turning into confusion when the blackmailed members remained seated and silent.

  “This is absurd! What's the meaning of putting a decree that's already been shot down in front of us while his Majesty is incapacitated?” one man shouted.

  “It cannot happen. Moreover, it will not happen.”

  “What's this? There has never been support for this decree and you will find no support here now.”

  Paavo regarded the councilmen, calm in the face of their red-faced fury. He met the eyes of several, not cowed by their rant. Before three minutes passed, the councilmen turned on each other.

  “Why are you silent? Where is the outrage?”

  “You can't tell me you think this is a good idea!”

  “Something is absolutely wrong here!”

  Andersen lifted his hands, speaking loud enough to quell the dissenters. “Sit down. Sit down! Now then. As with every other official decree, it will be put to a vote. You have all seen the dividing maps before, so you already know where the lines are drawn. Fresh copies will be distributed after the meeting. We are only looking for a majority, here.”

  The words sparked a new round of shouting. It took Andersen fully ten minutes to calm the men enough to proceed. Paavo said nothing, allowing Andersen to press forward to the vote.

  “Those in favor of separate regions in Latvala, say aye,” Andersen said.

  “Aye!” Exactly one more member than half voted in favor of the decree.

  Paavo understood by the tone and expressions on the men's faces that they did this under duress. Those who were not subjects of blackmail or bribery jumped to their feet, pointing accusing fingers at the other members. One or two speared suspicious glances his way.

  Fifteen minutes into the raging argument, Paavo called for order. Andersen's voice had become lost in the mix and no one paid him any attention. The councilmen, all on their feet now, faces red with indignation, gave the sitting King their direct attention.

  “We all know that the majority rules. By my count, more than half of you voted yes to the decree, which is what we needed to pass it into law.” Paavo waited through another shouting match before bringing order to the room once more. “Some of you may not agree but the vote stands. Latvala will be sectioned into regions, effective immediately. I have already appointed leaders and council for each region, military and other semantics that Andersen will explain after I depart. You are each cautioned not to say anything to anyone until I am ready to make a formal announcement a couple days from now. Trust that you have done what's in the best interest of the country.”

  “What if those of us who do not agree refuse to sign the decree?” one man demanded.

  Paavo stared him down. “Considering the majority voted for the decree, I'll take anyone refusing to sign as an act of treason. I need not point out what happens to traitors.”

  Blustering, the councilman sat down and conferred with another man in whispers. Outrage and thinly veiled accusations flew through the room in th
e aftermath of Paavo's declaration, some louder than others. The councilmen appeared on the verge of mutiny, yet after the furor calmed to a rumble rather than a roar, Paavo saw that no man among them was willing to challenge his intent. Few were happy, one way or another, and Paavo cared little.

  Andersen mopped his brow with a linen handkerchief that he stuffed back into his pocket. “That went a little rougher than I expected,” he said.

  Paavo half turned to block his words from the council. “I want the second decree signed before they leave this room. Should any refuse, have them arrested. There are guards outside who will see it done.”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  Paavo exited the chamber, hearing the men's voices raise before he even had the door closed. Andersen and those loyal to him had their work cut out explaining their actions to the rest.

  High on the adrenaline rush of forcing his hand, he set a course en route for Wynn. He wanted the press release in his hands for dispersal day after tomorrow. On the way, he pulled out his phone. Speed dialing a number, he put the cell to his ear and waited for an answer.

  “Yes?” a brusque voice said.

  “Are the troops in place?” Paavo asked.

  “They are, your Majesty,” Ingvar said.

  “Excellent. Make them aware that the plans go into effect tonight.”

  “As you wish.”

  Disconnecting the call, Paavo pocketed the phone.

  This was how a King took control of his country.

  . . .

  Gnawing at the inside of her cheek, Wynn stared at the press release she held in her hand. A stack of printed copies sat to the side of the laptop, whose screen had gone dark in the absence of her tapping fingers.

  She supposed she shouldn't be surprised at the information the press release contained—but she was. And she wondered what Chey would think when she heard. Although the press release was in the native language of Latvala, Wynn utilized a translation program built into the computer to help her translate those words she still didn't know. Switching to English, she made a few extra copies, telling herself she would claim not to know whether both languages would be needed if Paavo caught her with them.