The Wrath of the King (Royals Book 5)

by Bourdon, Danielle

  Not even twenty-four hours in power, and already Paavo was pushing through his former agenda of splitting the country into sections. The statement in her hand was aggressive and brooked no argument about the changes to come.

  She couldn't decide if this was a test of her loyalty straight away, or whether he was trying to trap her. The second she confessed to Chey, Wynn knew Chey would take action of some kind. Word would cycle back, as it always did in turbulent times, and Paavo would know she'd broken his trust. What then? What would he do if she ran straight to the Queen with information he'd pointedly stated was confidential?

  When the door to the room swung open without warning, Wynn twitched in surprise and nearly crumpled the paper out of guilt. Saving herself in time, she forced herself to be calm when Paavo entered.

  She hadn't expected him for another three or four hours, at the earliest.

  “Did you get the release finished?” he asked.

  “I did. Here are a stack of copies, ready to be distributed.” Playing it off as if she held nothing of importance, Wynn tapped the big stack in the Latvala language and set the paper she held aside atop separate ones in English. Sitting on the other side of the laptop, Paavo wouldn't see them as easily, unless she gave him reason to look.

  “Thank you. Did you have trouble?” Paavo's gaze skipped from the larger pile to the few sitting separate.

  Wynn saw him look and reached out to tap the English printed version with as much nonchalance as she could muster. Why hadn't she gotten rid of the evidence when she had the chance? She said, “Just a few copies that didn't print right at first, but I got it fixed. I guess after taking the summer off work, I'm a little rusty with printers.”

  Paavo picked up the large stack and looked over the front page. “Good, good. It'll come back to you quickly.” He met her eyes. “These are acceptable. What would you say to the idea of your own office? Down here on the main floor, a space totally devoted to you?”

  It took every ounce of Wynn's willpower not to fidget. He stood so close to the desk and her chair that she worried he might glimpse the other papers and realize the language wasn't the same. He stood too close, in fact, and she wished she wasn't so attuned to his presence or interested by the gleam in his sharp eyes.

  “I think that sounds perfect. Can I choose my own furniture though? I'm picky about how I like my space arranged.” She smiled a cheeky smile she hoped wasn't too contrived. Swiveling her chair toward him, thinking to block sight of the papers with her shoulders, her knee accidentally brushed his. A jolt of primal awareness knocked the cheeky smile right off her face.

  “You can put--” Paavo paused at the contact. His gaze became even more direct than it had been, then dropped to her legs for a brief moment.

  “I knew you wouldn't have any problem with me wanting to choose my own things,” Wynn said, abruptly pushing to a stand. Paavo's gaze followed her up. She ignored the rubbery feeling in her knees along with the curious glint in his eyes and gestured to the door. “Will you show me which room it is?”

  She hated to leave the papers exposed on the table, but distracting Paavo and getting him out of the room was paramount.

  For ten seconds or so, Paavo said nothing. “I'll have one of the staff show you. There's a press conference I need to make announcing my ascension as sitting King and it won't wait. Be ready at six this evening for dinner. I'd like to go over a few more things with you.”

  “Of course. I'll be waiting.” Wynn suffered through what seemed an eternity of electric tension, chiding herself a hundred times over for noticing things she shouldn't be noticing. She didn't know how she felt about having dinner with Paavo yet again, and found no good reason to deny him that wouldn't raise suspicion.

  Paavo glanced toward the laptop, causing Wynn's breath to catch in her throat. Did he suspect she'd made duplicate copies? He met her eyes once more before departing with his stack of papers in hand.

  After the door closed, Wynn leaned against the desk, bracing her weight with a palm. She gave herself exactly half a minute to recover, then picked up the English version copies and folded them small enough to fit inside her jacket pocket.

  Fishing out her phone, she called Mattias.

  No answer. She didn't leave a message.

  Studying the bright icons on the screen, Wynn debated her next move. Call Chey and prove her loyalty remained where it should, or hold her tongue so she didn't end up in jail. Thumbing through the Contacts, she pressed Chey's name. The phone rang. Exhaling a breath, Wynn waited for Chey to answer.

  “Hello?” Chey said.

  “I can't talk long, but I have news.”

  Chapter Six

  In the middle of pacing through Sander's room for exercise, Chey frowned as she discerned a thread of anxiety in Wynn's voice. “Why can't you talk? What's going on?”

  “Chey—he's making the announcement today. It'll probably be on television in a few minutes.”

  “About becoming the sitting King?” Chey asked, bemused why the news would set Wynn on edge. It was true that no one liked the idea, but it wasn't a surprise at this point.

  “Yes.” A long hesitation followed.

  “Wynn, what aren't you saying?” Chey braced a hand against her back when she paused at the end of Sander's bed. A quick glimpse proved he was still and silent, unaware of the world around him. It bothered her every time she looked at him.

  “Well, I—you know what, let me call you back in about ten minutes. I need to change rooms.” Wynn severed contact.

  Flustered, Chey pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen. Sure enough, Wynn ended the call. “What is going on with that girl?”

  In the meantime, Chey turned on the television in Sander's room, searching for a channel denoting a public announcement coming soon. It only took her a few minutes to find one.

  Breaking News-Unexpected announcement by his Highness, Prince Paavo, in four minutes, the ticker tape read. Because it was in two languages, Chey had no trouble following along. Using the remote, she turned it up loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to overflow into the hallway.

  Moving back to her chair at the side of Sander's bed, she leaned against the cushion and stretched out her legs, running a hand over her bulging belly. The baby was active and kicking like crazy.

  Paavo appeared on screen, striding up to a podium set up in the media room at the family seat. Chey recognized it from statements Sander had given. Paavo appeared confident on camera, self-assured. The sharp suit he wore accented the color of his eyes, which the camera man focused in on as the event got under way.

  “I won't be taking any questions after my announcement,” Paavo said. “Due to unexpected circumstances, I have been installed as the sitting King in his Majesty's place.”

  Gasps and whispers preceded several reporters surging to their feet with questions.

  What happened to the King?

  Was his Majesty detained in a foreign country?

  Did the King commit suicide, like his father before him?

  Paavo used his hand to urge them back into their seats. “As I said, I will be taking no questions. This is a temporary arrangement only. His Majesty is just fine, but unable to be here directly to run the country. As well, Prince Mattias is away on official royal business. This is a formality only, and I am making it known to the public because I believe in keeping the citizens of Latvala informed.”

  Several more journalists tried to interrupt.

  How long will you be performing the King's duties in his absence?

  When does King Sander return?

  If you like to keep the public so informed, why can't we know where his Majesty is?

  Chey watched Paavo's expression wane a little at the last question. She snorted to herself. Paavo reported what Paavo wanted to report, nothing more, nothing less. This was in his best interest rather than the public's, she'd bet a year of her life on it.

  “For security reasons,” Paavo continued, “his Majesty
's whereabouts won't be disclosed until he returns and has a conference with you himself. Then, he'll answer your questions.” Paavo paused to smile. A disarming sort of smile meant to put the reporters and citizens at ease. “Until then, I'll be stepping up in his place. Thank you for your time today.”

  As another group of reporters shouted questions, Paavo exited the media room via a side door.

  Chey regarded the television with more than a few pensive thoughts running through her mind.

  Just then, her phone rang. “Hello?”

  “It's me,” Wynn said, out of breath.

  “What did you do, jog through the castle? Did you see Paavo's statement?”

  “No. I was too busy avoiding guards and everyone else. Anyway, what did he say?”

  “What we expected him to say. Why?” Chey frowned and clicked a button on the remote. The television went dark.

  “Chey, you have to make me a promise. Right now. You have to promise me you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. Okay?”

  Chey frowned and sat forward. She'd known Wynn far too long to miss the concern and worry in her friend's voice. Her position as Queen put Chey in a precarious position when it came to promises, though, and Chey hesitated. Wynn might need a promise Chey simply couldn't follow through on now that her priorities were with Sander and Latvala.

  “Wynn, that's really hard for me to do not knowing what you're about to tell me.” Chey was upfront with Wynn, choosing to let her know it might be a promise she couldn't keep.

  “If you tell anyone, it'll get back to a certain someone, and I'll probably end up in jail. Or worse. Promise me, Chey.” Wynn didn't back down.

  Chey didn't like where this was going. The hair was up on the back of her neck, a sure indication what she was about to hear would set off extreme alarm bells at the very least.

  “If I can keep the secret, I will. That's my promise, Wynn. I'll do my absolute best not to break your confidence.” Chey couldn't give Wynn more than that.

  “Paavo gave me a voice file to transcribe today, while he was at a meeting with the council members. Chey, it was a news release for the papers stating that Latvala was now divided into separate sections, sanctioned by the council with a passing vote from the majority. The phrasing made it sound like, by the time the public reads it, the country will already legally be split into territories.”

  Chey sat forward as far as her stomach would allow. “What? He did what?”

  “Yes. He told me I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. I can't help but think it's a test—one that I'm failing right this minute—to see if I go straight to you with sensitive information.”

  Experiencing fury that caused her jaw to clench and her spine to go rigid, Chey fought down the urge to call Paavo right then and tell him off. She looked toward the bed, at Sander stretched out with his tubes and wires, and wondered. Who wouldn't wonder if Paavo had something to do with the accident? This seemed too convenient, too planned. Paavo hadn't wasted a second, literally, to put the deed into motion. That alone raised suspicion.

  “Chey?”

  “What else? What else did it say?” Chey paced the room again, this time in agitation.

  “Only that more information would be forthcoming in the days following the release. I suspect he'll call another news conference after it hits the papers.”

  “He's getting it out there awfully fast. I agree, I think he's setting the stage for something bigger. Do you think Gunnar knows?” Chey thought not. She was close enough with Gunnar and Krislin to believe they would have come to her immediately with the information.

  “I doubt it. He was too adamant that this stay with me only, though with the wording in the statement, it seems he needed to talk to the council about it. So they should know already. Maybe that was part of his meeting today. Still, he knew before then that his plans would go through,” Wynn said.

  “I agree. Because he gave you that to transcribe before his meeting, right?”

  “Yes. Something stinks about the whole thing. I also tried to call Mattias several times and still can't get through.”

  “Keep trying. I need to think about all this,” Chey said, pulling fingers through her hair.

  “Just remember. No one is supposed to know yet.”

  “I know, Wynn. I know. Someone has to stop this from going through, though.” Chey had no idea how to make that happen at the moment. She needed time to plot and plan and strategize.

  “It's a lot, especially with Sander like he is. I know it's hard, Chey. Paavo might have been moving pieces around his chessboard before this, so the whole idea could be much farther along than we realize. Be careful, okay? We don't know what all Paavo has done.” Wynn started to say something, then paused.

  “What?” Chey knew when there was more to the story. Wynn hadn't told her everything yet.

  “It's just...he told me to show up for dinner tonight. Said he had more things to go over. Maybe I'll find out more about what's going on.”

  “You be careful. What's all this with the dinners and everything?” Chey didn't like that part, either. Paavo didn't need to have dinner with Wynn to tell her things. Her question was met with another distinct hesitation. “Wynn?”

  “I—don't know. But I'll call you when I can. Bye.” The line went dead.

  Chey pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen. She frowned, unable to put a name on the fresh bout of unease slithering through her system. As if Sander's condition wasn't stressful enough, now there was this to contend with.

  Moving to the Contacts section, she found Mattias's number and dialed it.

  His phone rang, and rang...and rang.

  No answer.

  . . .

  “Hey, psst. Gunnar.”

  Hailed by a voice lurking in a shadowy niche in a long hallway, Gunnar stopped and took one step back. A body shifted into the light, proving to be none other than councilman Belmar. Gunnar, originally on his way through the castle to meet with this man via a note delivered just before dinner, took stock of the details: Belmar's shifty eyes, his black pants and white shirt usually reserved for staff, the hunkered way he held his body.

  “Belma--”

  “Sshh. For God's sake, man. I mean, your Highness. My apologies,” Belmar said. He gestured down the hallway, making a point to look both ways once he was free of the niche. Belmar set a quick pace for the doorway of a nearby, rarely used office.

  “I've known you my whole life and I've never seen you like this. Are those waitstaff clothes?” Gunnar followed Belmar's lead. He turned into the office and pushed the door almost closed at Belmar's insistence. Leaving it cracked so a thin sliver of light from the hallway spilled over the floor, Gunnar snapped on a lamp by feel and memory, only to turn it right back off when Belmar went into a mild fit.

  “Off, your Highness, turn the light off!” Belmar hissed.

  “Are you drunk?” Gunnar inquired, certain the man was either hopped up on drugs or had finished off a bottle of Scotch. Gunnar got another look at the councilman with the available illumination. Belmar, a short man with a heavy paunch and bald head, sweated profusely across his forehead and under his arm pits. The damp circles on the white shirt stood out like a sore thumb.

  “No, no. I'm sorry for the clandestine manner in which we needed to meet, but it's imperative our conversation remain private.” Belmar, shorter than Gunnar by a half foot, glanced warily at the cracked door and back to Gunnar again. “No one can overhear.”

  “Overhear what?” Gunnar propped his hands on his hips and waited Belmar out. The man's eyes, a light hazel in color, widened with the telling.

  “Prince Paavo, the new sitting King, has filed a decree to split Latvala into regions. As he wanted to do once before. Not only that, he somehow convinced the majority of the council to vote for it earlier today and the decree was signed into law before lunch.”

  Taken aback at the news, Gunnar wasn't sure what to say. More correctly, he didn't know what to ask first. “A
decree has already been signed into law?”

  “Yes, your Highness. There was a great upset at the meeting. Council members argued long after the document had been signed, but those of us who voted against it got no answers from the ones who voted yea.”

  “So are you saying you believe Paavo tampered with some of the councilmen, coercing them into passing the decree?” Gunnar wanted to believe his brother wouldn't do such a thing. Memories of Paavo's enthusiasm months before at his own holding surfaced, the way Paavo's eyes lit at the idea of sectioning the country into separate territories. The desire was there, but would Paavo go this far?

  “Something happened. I know for a fact that four members who voted yea were vehemently against dividing Latvala up. Yet today they sat there, stone faced, and did the exactly the opposite I expected them to. It wasn't right or normal, your Highness.” Belmar twisted his hands, stretching the skin taut across his knuckles.

  “Did anyone say when this is to take place?” Gunnar asked.

  “I don't know. We weren't given a lot of information. He only told us specifically not to say anything. I had to tell you, your Highness. I fear the Prince's actions after today.”

  “No, you did the right thing. I need to confer with Mattias. Let me see if I can raise him before anything else happens. Come to me the second you have more information. Do so in whatever way you deem safe,” Gunnar said.

  “I will. Please, your Highness, do not let on it was me who told you.” Belmar looked anxious and nervous while he pleaded for secrecy.

  “Have no fear, I will say nothi--”

  “Sshh. Did you hear that?” Belmar clasped his hands on Gunnar's arms and cocked his head toward the crack in the door. Sweat glistened on his brow, face a mask of concentration.

  “Hear what?” Gunnar pulled his arms free of the hold and boldly opened the door. He stepped out into the hallway, glancing left and right along the corridor. No one was in sight.