“I'll caution you once more, Gunnar, to have a care with the accusations you're flinging around. My tolerance, even for beloved siblings, has limits.” Paavo's expression shifted from cajoling to stony.
“Or what?” Gunnar had a fleeting thought that he should heed Paavo's warnings. His anger was getting the better of his judgment. Dare would be playing the game right along, he reminded himself, hiding any fury he felt in favor of not allowing his adversary—and that's what Paavo was at this moment—to be privy to his emotions.
Paavo looked at the ground, then at different points in the bedroom. When his gaze landed on Gunnar again, something cold and hard lurked in his eyes. “Things we hold precious cease to be.”
Rocked by the implication, Gunnar opened his mouth to blast Paavo for the mere thought of bringing harm to Krislin. But he closed it again, swallowing down the anger. This was more serious than he realized. He needed time to think, to plan. To get Mattias back in Latvala. He needed to wake Dare from the coma. Taking an extra moment to get control, he crossed the room. Standing before Paavo, Gunnar pretended to think about the threat and the 'offer'. He made a big show of it, too, careful to make it appear an agonizing decision.
“You give me no choice,” he finally said. “But don't think for a second that I approve, or that I like it. I'll do my duty, I'll take over my territory. You keep your hands off what's mine, and everything will be fine.” Gunnar didn't grovel or plead. He knew Paavo wouldn't believe a total change of heart in that short amount of time. Chances were, Paavo still might not believe him, and knew the game for what it was.
Right now, Gunnar just wanted to get out of the room and away.
Paavo regarded him, contemplative and assessing. “Very well. I'm glad you've come to your senses. For a few minutes there, I started to wonder if you'd learned nothing your whole life about situations like these. I'll be in touch tomorrow. As it stands, I'm not ready to break the news of the division until the day after, so do not mention it to anyone.”
And so, the evening had come full circle. Those were the words Belmar likely heard at his last meeting with Paavo.
Gunnar inclined his head and stepped on for the door, letting himself into the hallway. Pacing past lingering guards, Natalia swerved his direction.
“Not now, Natalia. I have things to see to,” Gunnar said. He locked gazes with her. “Go back in your room and stay there till morning.”
Natalia stumbled over a reply, then gathered the robe and disappeared into her chamber.
Gunnar, relieved that Natalia hadn't argued and made a scene for once, ignored the guards and paced away toward his own room. He withdrew his cell phone and shot Krislin a text.
Watch your back. Tell Chey the same. Things are not what they seem.
Chapter Eight
“There's no change at all? Nothing? When should we start to really worry?” Chey stared across Sander's body at the doctor. In his middle fifties, the capable physician with his white lab coat and clipboard was the epitome of professional. He made a note, then glanced up.
“No change, I'm sorry. Sometimes it takes several days,” he said.
“It's already been several days. Does this mean he might not wake up?” Chey stroked her fingers over Sander's arm, stomach tightening in anticipation of the answer. She'd asked this a hundred times already, but couldn't help asking again.
“I wouldn't say that. Not yet. If we see a decline, then we'll reassess, all right?” The doctor smiled and inclined his head before exiting the room.
Chey rubbed the back of her neck, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles. Days upon days of sleeping in a chair were doing her body no good. She'd sent Krislin home before dawn with a request to send Wynn in her stead. Krislin needed a break even though the woman had insisted she was fine.
A glance at the wall clock proved the dinner hour was not far off. Wynn still hadn't arrived. She must be too busy with business for Paavo to leave yet.
Unable to shake her brooding mood, Chey realized part of the reason was the lingering gloom. Everywhere she looked, shadows lurked. Leaving Sander's bedside, she went to the windows and adjusted the blinds, squinting at the sunlight when it streamed through the slats. For several minutes, she stood there and soaked it in.
“Chey?”
Turning around, she started to smile at Gunnar until she saw the grim look in his eyes. He stepped into the room and closed the door.
“Gunnar, what's wrong?” Chey asked. Rumpled and askew, his suit appeared slept in.
“Is there any news on Dare?” Gunnar went straight to Sander's bedside and leaned over to stare down into his face.
“No, unfortunately. The doctor was just here and said there's no change. What's wrong?” She stood opposite Gunnar, one hand on the protective railing attached to the bed.
He glanced up. “Chey, there was a shooting last night at the castle. A man who came to see me earlier in the day supposedly committed suicide. That's not the truth, though. The truth is that Paavo had it set up to look like a suicide. He has put in a decree to have the country divided into territories, like he tried to do months ago before your wedding.”
Shocked to hear a shooting had taken place in the castle, Chey listened with avid interest and not a little fear. Gunnar's tone and expression only added to the dire feeling in the air. His confession of Paavo's intentions threw her; she struggled to keep knowledge of the division off her features until she knew whether it would endanger Wynn to confide in Gunnar. When she hesitated a few seconds too long, he pinned her with a more direct look.
“I'm not supposed to say anything. Wynn's worried about her safety. But Paavo had her type up a news release stating that the country was being divided, using language that suggested he already knew it would happen before whatever meeting he had with the council.” Chey searched Gunnar's eyes, watching realization sink in. She would have to trust his ability to keep quiet about Wynn's confession.
Pulling his phone from a pocket, Gunnar thumbed through screens and pressed a button. He put the phone to his ear, one hand gripping the rail of the bed until his knuckles went white. “No answer. What the hell is he doing?”
“I don't know. But someone has to get ahold of Mattias soon.” Chey knew without asking that it was Mattias Gunnar tried to call.
Gunnar came around the end of the bed to stand next to Chey. He tilted his head toward her and lowered his voice. “I'm going back to the castle and see what I can find out. Paavo threatened me as well, or I should say Krislin, so it's going to be very tough to do this without him finding out. Since I missed Krislin on my way here, will you discreetly tell her to be careful? She needs to watch her back.”
“He did what? But he's your brother--”
“I know,” Gunnar said, interrupting. “But something bigger is going on here. I think he's attempting a coup. He wants me to take control of a territory, so I will. I think it's best if I get myself integrated and grab hold of what I can, while I can. Set up my own security, find troops loyal to Dare.”
“It's so dangerous, Gunnar. If he finds out...” Chey let the sentiment trail.
“I know. But I can't sit here and do nothing. Mattias and Dare would be able to handle this so much better than I can, though I'll do everything in my power to get a foothold on a territory in case Paavo's plans get that far. I need to find out who Paavo has in his corner, and where he's getting the funding for all this.”
“Funding?” Chey frowned.
“He has to be getting money from somewhere. Men don't change their minds this fast unless they're being bribed or blackmailed, and Paavo's stipends have been slashed. The council unanimously voted this down mere months ago, and now the majority has had a change of heart? I don't think so. Besides—if Paavo can threaten me with Krislin, he can certainly do it to the council.”
An image came to mind, one of a long hallway where Chey came upon two men having a serious conversation. Paavo and Bashir, whispering and gesturing, hadn't been happy to see her. The
Crown Prince had every motivation to go against Sander, too, after negating the marriage contract between he and Natalia.
“I bet it's Bashir,” Chey said with a glance at the door to make sure no one had come in.
“Damn. Damn. I bet you're right. What perfect payback. He's the best choice to look into right now. We can see if there are others.” Gunnar pocketed his phone.
“I'll tell Krislin, though I expect you'll see her before I do.” Chey rubbed the side of her stomach when the baby rolled and kicked. She didn't want to think about how serious her situation might become if Sander didn't wake up or if Mattias couldn't be found to take control.
Gunnar glanced at her rubbing hand, then her eyes.
Chey knew he was aware just how precarious everything was. “Will you tell Wynn to come back to the hospital when you see her, please? She's working for Paavo, of all things, but I could use someone here to relieve me for showers and all that.”
“I wondered what was up with that. I'll tell her,” he said.
“She's trying to stay close to the action, if you get my meaning.”
“I do. It's smart, but it's also dangerous right now. I'm sure she knows that.” Gunnar touched Chey's arm. “I'll see you soon. Call me the second Dare wakes up.”
“I will. Be careful.” Chey watched Gunnar depart the room, then looked down at Sander. Gunnar's voice rang through her mind. Paavo threatened me. I think he's attempting a coup.
The attack on Sander's caravan hadn't been wrought by a foreign hand, but by someone much closer to home.
. . .
Wynn eyed her new office with a heavy heart. It was beautifully decorated with polished mahogany furniture, gilt trimmed paintings and a view of the gardens. Any other time, she would have been excited about working in such a decadent space.
Right now, she felt like a traitor of the highest order.
Chey was at the hospital, sitting non-stop at Sander's bedside, stricken with grief and worry, and here she was, taking on the role of Great Pretender. Suddenly, it didn't seem like such a good idea to be this close to the fire. The 'suicide' last night left a bitter taste in her mouth. Made her wary to sleep under this particular roof. And what good was she doing here, anyway? When it counted most, she had no access to a phone to call Chey and tell her what was going on.
Some of it was guilt. Guilt at the attraction to Paavo, an attraction she'd tried to put from her mind. That was an unexpected drawback to the whole thing.
“Don't you look thoughtful,” Paavo said from the doorway.
Wynn turned around, one hand over her heart. Startled, it took a second to get her breath back. She was jumpier than she realized. “You shouldn't sneak up on people like that.”
“Trust me, if I wanted to sneak up on you, you'd never hear me coming.” Leaning against the door frame, he crossed his arms over his chest. Dressed in a navy suit, white shirt and red tie, he exuded professionalism and confidence.
“Well, isn't that reassuring,” she said, willing her heart back to a normal rhythm. She glanced at his smooth jaw, then to his eyes. “Actually, I'm glad you're here. I was about to come search you out. I need to go back to the hospital for a day or two.”
“Really.” Paavo didn't structure it as a question.
“...yes. Chey called, she needs me.” In truth, Gunnar had stopped by an hour before and passed on the message. Wynn decided Paavo didn't need to know that. Not after what Gunnar had told her. Those were the thoughts she held onto while she locked gazes with the sitting King. It was because of their direct eye contact that Wynn saw something shift in his expression.
“Do you work for Chey, or do you work for me?” he asked.
Wynn opened her mouth, and closed it again. Caught off guard—not a usual occurrence—she mentally flailed for a second. Finally, she untangled words from the jumbled mess of her thoughts. “You, of course. But I figured it would be all right to go back and forth to see Chey. She needs relief.”
“You figured wrong. Be prepared to meet me downstairs in conference room one to go over notes for tomorrow's announcement. Ten minutes,” he said, and disappeared into the hall.
Exasperated, Wynn put her hands on her hips and stared at the now empty doorframe. If she wasn't mistaken, that was the first real test of her loyalty.
Him, or Chey.
There was no question where her loyalty lay. What she needed to decide, however, was just how far she was going to perpetrate the deception. Which was more important, relieving Chey or staying close to Paavo in an attempt to glean something useful? Not only that, but what might he do if she switched sides? What if he suspected she'd betrayed him and made something ugly happen to her, too?
This was all getting a little deeper and more complicated than she liked.
Heading for the door, she put on her Great Pretender face and prepared to spend the day with the King.
. . .
“So, what's your decision, little brother?” Paavo asked, staring at Gunnar across the oval table in the conference room. For now, they were alone.
“I'm taking Barkava instead of Solvandi because it's closer to one of my holdings. The travel time will be cut down substantially.” Gunnar rubbed the tips of two fingers together, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“You appear to have had a change of heart. I don't detect as much animosity.” Paavo searched Gunnar's face for indications of his true emotions. Gunnar, of all the Ahtissari brothers, had never been good at hiding his feelings. He wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time, and hadn't been known for taking a tough stance on too many issues. Being the youngest, Gunnar hadn't been as exposed to court dealings as Dare and Mattias and to a lesser extent, himself. He wasn't sure whether to be surprised or amused that he couldn't currently get a bead on Gunnar's mood.
“Oh, don't think I forgive you. Threatening me? No, Paavo, I haven't gotten over it. Like I said before, you haven't given me a choice.”
“You always were too honest for your own good. At least I know where we stand, hm?” Paavo leaned back in his chair, pleased at Gunnar's answer. If he hadn't shown any frustration or anger, Paavo would have questioned his motives. As things stood, he would still have to keep an eye on him. “As for your holdings, you will be staying at Solvandi. I am giving you Einarr castle, located within its borders. That is where you will rule your territory from.”
“Einarr castle? But it hasn't been used in decades.” Gunnar frowned.
“The castle itself is large and well fortified and has been prepared for your arrival in advance. You won't be needing to commute.” Paavo regarded Gunnar's pensive expression. His brother did not look overjoyed at the prospect of moving.
“So that's where we're all supposed to live permanently? In our territories?” Gunnar stood up from his seat.
“Of course. Do you expect to rule from afar?” Paavo also got to his feet, adjusting the lapels of his suit.
“I expected you to act like our brother, not a usurper. I guess I was hoping for a little too much.” Gunnar exited the room without another word.
Paavo narrowed his eyes. Gunnar would come around.
One way or another.
Chapter Nine
Chey watched the dissolution of Latvala happen on a television screen many miles from the family seat. It pained her as much as it infuriated her; Paavo, cool and calm and self-assured, broke it all down in terms no one could misunderstand. The brothers and Natalia were now responsible for their regions, the ones in charge from job security to population growth to the general well being of the citizens. Paavo never mentioned that Mattias could not be located, nor explained Natalia's absence from the press conference. Only Gunnar attended, grim faced and hard-eyed, looking less than pleased.
Although she knew Gunnar was doing his best, Chey fretted about what it meant for herself and Sander. Paavo, under fire from reporters, stuck to the story that Sander was involved in urgent royal business elsewhere and that he was acting in the King's stead. This was, according to Pa
avo, the best thing for the country. In fact, he pointed out, new investors were arriving that very day to tour the back country with promises for thousands of new jobs.
Chey felt sick. Not only was Paavo appeasing the masses with promises of higher pay and more work, he had already taken steps to secure the new borders with military and 'other personnel' dedicated to keeping the peace. What personnel, she wondered, was he talking about? Men brought in besides the military, hired for that specific task? She hated not knowing what was going on. Hated feeling so distanced from the people, the council, even though Gunnar thought many had been bribed or blackmailed.
In her frustration and niggling fear, she grew angry at Mattias. Where the hell was he? What sort of problem kept him from his phone for days on end when a crisis was at hand? This was his job, what he was supposed to do if something ever happened to Sander.
Realistically, she knew it was a knee jerk reaction to all the uncertainty. It was easy to transfer her frustration to someone else when she felt this helpless. Fear that Sander would never wake up lingered despite her fierce determination that he would open his eyes and be his old self.
Four hours later, a hand on her shoulder jerked Chey from a dead sleep. Sitting upright, one hand still on Sander's bed where she'd lain her head, she swiveled a look behind her. Five councilmen stood in a semi-circle around her chair, three looking at her, and two looking at Sander's prone body.
Chair legs scraping the floor when she pushed to a stand, Chey let her natural wariness burn away any confusion leftover from slumber. “Yes?”
“Miss Sinclair, we would like a few minutes alone with Sander and the doctor to assess the situation for ourselves. Will you please step outside?” the councilman said with a gesture to the open door.
Chey wanted to ask where her title went, as well as Sander's. Now she was 'Miss Sinclair?' Regardless of her title as Queen, she and Sander were still married. Her legal surname was Ahtissari. She decided they'd done so on purpose, to unsettle her, put her off her game. More than that, something just felt...wrong. She didn't know if it was the looks on their faces or the way all five men crowded too close. Instantly defensive—and protective—she straightened her spine and met each man's eyes. Her first order of business was to get those she knew were loyal to Sander in the room.
The Wrath of the King (Royals Book 5) Page 7