A Royal Legacy

by Danielle Bourdon

  He encouraged the wrap of her arms around his middle while he engulfed her in his embrace. “You'll definitely see me later. I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Sander kissed her one more time before stepping around her for the door.

  Chapter Four

  “So you think he may be exaggerating the threat?” Gunnar Ahtissari asked.

  Sander let his gaze drift from his youngest brother to Mattias, then to Leander, and finally out the windows to the flatlands surrounding the back half of Ahtissari castle. The open area had been cleared of trees centuries ago to allow better visibility of approaching armies. Acres and acres of pastureland stood between the castle and the start of the forest. The coastline, with its stunning view of jagged rocks and the incessant lap of the ocean, stood exactly opposite of the forest. Sander couldn't see the water from this angle, but occasionally heard the horn of a passing boat.

  “I don't know. Something doesn't sit right with me, though. That Russian flag tangled up with the bodies looked...” Sander sought the right word. “...planted there. It seemed out of place with the rest of the picture. I can't put my finger on it, but the entire scene appeared staged. I've seen battle zones, been right in the middle of them, and they were nothing like what I saw.”

  “What would be Konstantine's reasoning, then, to stage such a thing?” Mattias asked. He ran a hand back through the short, styled layers of his dark hair. Mattias's equally dark eyes remained on Sander.

  “I'm baffled by it. I don't have a good guess,” Sander admitted. “He wants troops from Latvala—but to fight what enemy? That 'conflict' was just a skirmish and he lost men. Konstantine's army had to have driven the Russians back across the border, or the meeting of kings would have been much more urgent than it was. There should be a news blast on every world station and so far, nothing about an invasion, even a minor infraction, has made the media. Combined together, it's coming up strange in my book.”

  “I agree. We should not send troops until we know more,” Gunnar said. Blonde like Sander, the youngest Ahtissari brother crossed his arms over his chest. Leaner than the king, Gunnar was still broad through the shoulders with honed muscles from long sessions of training.

  “Go with your gut instinct. If something felt off about the photo, then that's probably the case,” Mattias added.

  “And you said he wants to meet with you if your answer was no. That's interesting. I can't wait to hear what he has to say,” Leander said.

  “Me as well.” Sander glanced at Leander, then looked back to the distant treeline. “I'll tell you one thing, though. I'm not going into that meeting blind. I think it's time for another, more thorough border check.”

  “How many are going?” Leander said.

  Sander might have laughed at Leander's quick reply and obvious eagerness, except this was no laughing matter. “I think the three of us should do.”

  “Wait, three?” Gunnar frowned.

  Sander stepped aside to clap his younger brother on the shoulder. An amiable gesture to appease the affront he was about to deliver. Gunnar had been training hard for missions of this kind, yet Sander needed a trusted pair of eyes in the castle while he sought more answers. “Yes. You need to stay here and take charge while we're gone.”

  “But Sander--”

  “I know, I know. How will you get more real time experience unless you're active in these forays. I understand that, but this time, I need you here, brother. God forbid anything happens, we need an Ahtissari to take the throne.” With Sander and Mattias going together, that left only Gunnar as an eligible heir in the event of a catastrophe. Sander's son, Elias, wasn't old enough to ascend. Wouldn't be for a very long time. Gunnar would provide a workable, standin king until Elias was of age. Sander wouldn't risk the throne falling into the hands of whatever other sovereign cared to invade should all three brothers die. Paavo, their other brother, was currently serving a life sentence by Sander's command.

  “All right.” Gunnar inclined his head, accepting his lot with grace.

  Sander had seen his youngest sibling mature by leaps and strides these last years. Gunnar was turning into a fine, capable prince and warrior in his own right. He squeezed Gunnar's shoulder then turned to Mattias and Leander.

  “Ready for a trip to the hinterlands, boys?”

  *

  “I still don't understand why you can't send someone else,” Chey said. She walked a slow path from an overstuffed chair to the cold fireplace and back again. Having returned to the informal parlor at Sander's request, she'd listened to his plan with Leander and Mattias and couldn't help but try once more to get Sander to send men in his stead.

  “I can. I can send anyone. But they might miss something important that Leander, Mattias or I won't. I want to see for myself if the Russians are testing the borders that back our countries,” Sander said.

  “But you just did that, didn't you? Not long ago?”

  “Yes. A cursory check by men who were not on serious alert. And that was before. This is now, after a supposed incursion that happened recently. Likely, we'll find nothing more than scrub and brush and a few dead trees.” Sander braced his hands on the back of a chair.

  Chey felt his gaze track her every step. She hated the pangs of fear that kept trying to surface at the idea of Sander that far out in the hinterlands without easy access to medical attention. The hinterlands, a desolate area spanning thousands of acres at the furthest eastern border, had few amenities and no hospitals. Only the bravest natives had homes there and those were spread far and wide. A person could walk for days and days without seeing a single sign of humanity. If there were skirmishes going on, and if the Russians were beginning a press into smaller coastal countries, then, in her opinion, Sander was leaving himself wide open for attack. Yet they had been through variations of this before, when he chose to put himself in the path of danger for the benefit of his country or the safety of someone else. She'd promised to be more understanding, to work with him when these situations arose—and she had. She'd been very good about the secretive missions he sometimes went on, putting his own life in immediate peril.

  “I know you worry,” Sander added, before she could say something else. “But we're careful, and we know what we're doing. This particular visit will be like looking for a needle in a haystack, as it were, and will probably amount to us wandering the hinterlands without seeing anything worth while. Which is good, all told.”

  Chey circled the chair, wandering closer, as if drawn to her husband by some magnetic pull. Sander had always had that effect on her. He straightened as she drew within arms reach and palmed her hip to draw her the rest of the way into his body. Chey rested a hand on his chest and stared into his eyes. She enjoyed seeing him all dressed up like this and though she liked scrubbing her fingers through his whiskers, she had a thing about his clean shaven jaw. The smooth skin felt good against her cheek when she rubbed against his like a cat.

  “Just call me when you get back. How long will you be gone?” Chey capitulated, not wanting to argue or have tension between them right before parting ways.

  Sander pulled her snug against his chest. “Two days, maybe three. Not that long.”

  Long enough, Chey thought. “All right. Be careful.”

  “You know we will. Return to Pallan Island, though, rather than bringing the kids here. I don't want them at the Ahtissari stronghold any more than need be,” he said, bending to press a lingering kiss against her lips.

  Chey caught him around the nape and held him there for another minute more. She tugged his lower lip with her teeth and flirted a little with her eyes. “I know. I'll go home as soon as you depart. I don't want to be here, either.” Chey and Sander felt equally troubled in the family seat and never stayed longer than was necessary.

  “Good. Give the kids hugs and kisses from Daddy and tell them I'll be back soon, hm?” He dipped his head to nuzzle at her throat.

  “If you keep this up
, your little adventure will be delayed for hours and hours,” Chey said with a small noise of contentment for the nip of his teeth at her pulse.

  “You're a wicked distraction. And if you think I won't make my brother and Leander wait a little longer, you're absolutely wrong.”

  “Really? Is that a promise?” Chey gasped when Sander suddenly picked her up while she was still pressed against him. He walked with her through the room to the nearest wall, trapping her between it and his body. Catching the edge of her shirt, he dragged it up her torso. “Less talk, more touching.”

  *

  Chey stared at the water as the helicopter flew her back to Pallan Island. The slate gray surface reflected the deepening color of the sky, which had turned dark and brooding during the stolen hour Chey spent with Sander in the parlor. Her body still tingled from the rough handling and a delicious ache had settled low in her pelvis from the animalistic pounding of Sander's hips. A stray shiver coursed down her spine at the erotic memories of their coupling. He'd left her all but starry eyed in the aftermath, spent of passion and more in love than ever.

  She smiled to herself as the first glimpse of Pallan's shores came into view out the window. What a lucky woman she was to have found a man like Sander. Compassionate, intense, attentive, thoughtful, and one hell of a lover. One hell of a king, too. She couldn't imagine anyone else fulfilling the role Sander had in her life. Although she had struggled with some aspects of becoming queen, she'd learned to suppress most of the stress and strain, finding other outlets like exercise or photography to help unburden her mind. There had been a lot of growth on her part, she knew, since her coronation. Being Sander's wife came with complicated responsibilities that challenged her, forcing her to rise to the occasion on a daily basis. She wouldn't change her circumstances for the world.

  As the helicopter landed on the helipad, Chey unbuckled, preparing to disembark. Resting the headset on the seat, she accepted a hand down and ducked the spinning rotors on her way to the waiting limousine. Thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was coming, rolling in from the west. She could smell rain on the air, feel the electric charge against her skin.

  Urmas waited inside the car, dressed as immaculately as ever, a folder sitting on his thighs.

  “Urmas,” Chey said as she settled into the seat. “It couldn't wait ten minutes for the ride to Kallaster?”

  Urmas smiled. “Your first priority will be to see your children straightaway. I figured I'd better use every spare second I can.”

  Chey laughed and couldn't deny it—he was right. Her first order of business once in the castle was to head straight for her kids. “Okay. Lay it on me then, Urmas. Let's see if we can get all the business out of the way before the limousine stops at the steps.”

  Urmas opened the folder. “Now then...”

  In the back of her mind, Chey sent up a quick prayer that the men's travel wouldn't be affected by the oncoming storm.

  Chapter Five

  Sander had no great love for the hinterlands. There were fewer trees, unexpected ravines hidden by brush that made walking treacherous, and little in the way of beauty this far from the greenbelt. Driving wasn't an option unless one wanted to risk crashing every fifty yards or so. The terrain was too uneven, with boulders hiding behind innocuous looking brush and ancient, dried up creeks that wreaked havoc on suspension systems. Horses were a better option, although if a mount got spooked by the myriad number of creepy-crawlies that inhabited the land, then the risk of an accident increased exponentially should the steed bolt across the unpredictable terrain.

  So it was they chose to go on foot from the drop off point. The helicopter got them within five miles of the border, which wasn't a hard delineation but rather a general area that they navigated by GPS. Laden with hiking gear tucked into backpacks and thick walking sticks, Sander set out with Mattias and Leander just as the storm let loose its first drops of rain. There was more to come, Sander knew. The weather report for the area had deteriorated marginally before they'd departed the stronghold. Sander chose to press on anyway. A little rain never hurt anyone.

  Attired in camouflage that matched the surrounding terrain, with a hat to block either sun or rain, Sander led the way forward, picking the path of least resistance closer to their destination. In truth, if there were trespassers this close to the border, they might encounter them anywhere from this point on. In this desolation, there weren't fences or other barriers to entry. A person could travel overland—for days upon days—and penetrate either country. Armed with two handguns and one rifle, he felt confident the three of them could take on any adversaries they might meet.

  Unless Konstantine had been right all along.

  After two miles, Sander guided their path parallel to the border, stopping every few hours to use binoculars for a better view across the hinterlands. No one spotted anything suspicious. No small encampments, no out of the ordinary colors, no walking bodies. The rain remained steady throughout, not quite a downpour but more than a sprinkle. Despite that winter had not set in, Sander noted the temperature slowly falling into the low forties, then into the high thirties. They were a few degrees from snow. The rain turned to sleet that pinged off the camouflage like darts.

  When the gloom took a turn toward darkness, Sander called a halt for the night. It would do them no good to announce their presence to any night crawlers by spearing flashlight beams across the landscape. As a team, the trio set up a compact tent and ate a hasty dinner of dried beef and trail mix. One man remained on watch while the other two slept, taking turns through the night. This was no more hardship than any other mission they had been on, and in some ways, better than most. Camping out in the middle of nowhere under a storm allowed Sander to have a much needed break from the demands of his position. Out here, where there were no phones, no meetings, no walls, he could just be. During his turn at watch, he sat five feet from the tent with his arms around his drawn up knees, weapon loaded and ready in the holster under his jacket.

  Lightning flashed against the inky sky, followed a minute later by deep rolling thunder.

  In the morning they broke camp and set out once more, again besieged by the weather. Rain fell harder and the temperature remained right around forty. Mattias marked their progress by GPS—when they could get it to work.

  At midday the rain eased to a sprinkle, and then stopped altogether. Clouds still rolled across the sky, an endless procession of patchy white and pewter. It reminded Sander of a witches brew, with frothy peaks and roiling darkness. More rain was not out of the question.

  They halted for a break, setting their packs on the ground to scan the area with binoculars. The hinterlands stretched as far as the eye could see. It was as if man had never encroached on this barren terrain, so empty was it of human life. Sander saw no signs that anyone had passed through here in decades. No bits of trash, no leftover campfire rings, no discarded water bottles.

  Just before night claimed the land, the men set up camp again.

  “I haven't seen anything suspicious at all,” Sander said once the tent was up. “Not that we've covered the entire border, but this was generalized to be the most expedient area for anyone to come across if they meant to penetrate our territory, at least as a marching army, and there hasn't been sign of a single remnant of humans.”

  “I agree,” Mattias said as he picked out a slab of beef from a waterproof bag. “Although I think you're right. I say we have the helicopter grab us in the morning and drop us another two hundred miles further down the border. Keep spot checking areas.”

  It would have been so much easier for the military to conduct pass-overs, Sander thought, except bringing aircraft that close to the border might increase tensions between countries. At some point, the aircraft would ping on their neighbor's radar and Sander wouldn't risk any kind of conflict. Besides, at that altitude, one might miss the smaller signs of humanity passing through the terrain. Good soldiers wouldn't leave huge, blatant signs of their presence. That's why
they were on foot, hunting up subtle signs in the brush.

  “That's what we'll do, then.” Sander was on board with the suggestions.

  For the next three days, that was how the three men searched. They covered perhaps ten miles on foot, were airlifted to a different drop spot, and started over again. As hard as they searched, they never found one indication that an army had passed through, large or small, or even smaller indications that anyone had stopped to camp.

  On the sixth day, the trio climbed aboard the helicopter for the last time. They had been gone longer than expected, but Sander now had a better idea of what parts of his border with Russia looked like. There were no troops amassed as far as he could see. Flanked on both other sides by different countries, there was no way foreign militants had penetrated those borders to come at him from the interior.

  As the chopper headed for home, Sander received an update from Urmas via the co-pilot.

  Konstantine had arrived overnight and awaited Sander's presence.

  Another attack, according to the king, had occurred on Imatra's soil.

  *

  Chey stared down into her oldest son's face. Elias wore his impatience and growing frustration on the surface, his features beginning to skew toward discontent. He was as tall as her hip now, growing like a weed and ever so much his father's son.

  “He's due home any second, Elias. I promise, as soon as he gets here and cleans up, he'll come to see you. Why don't you shoot another basket?”

  “But Mooom...”

  “No buts.” Chey shooed Elias across the half court, bouncing the basketball on the shiny surface so that her son had to catch it. The activity room, as Chey called it, was a converted ballroom on the lower floor of Kallaster castle. An older ballroom not on as grand a scale as the other two. It was more than suitable for the half court, ballet bar, miniature bowling lanes and two trampolines. Two, one for the kids and one for her and Sander when they challenged the kids to see who could do the most forward flips in a minute. One wall had been converted into a rock climb, replete with safety harnesses and a soft mat in case a cable broke. In the dead of winter, during the most severe snowstorms, it gave the children something active to do.