“Close the doors,” Sander bellowed. “Urmas, arrange a meeting with my brothers and Leander Morgan before the night's end. Get them here, I don't care where they currently are or what they're doing.” Sander shot Chey a direct look, holding her eyes for several seconds, before he took to the stairs.
Chey didn't need to be asked twice to follow. She trotted up in Sander's wake as guards, advisors and other staff scattered to the four winds. Sander chose their bedroom suite, much to Chey's surprise, and closed the door once she had stepped inside.
“Sander, what in the world--”
“Konstantine proposed a ludicrous idea to merge our two countries--”
“What?”
“Listen. Just listen. He wants to merge our countries against what he says is a threat of invasion from Russia. His idea is to combine our economies and armies and no doubt, have everything under his absolute rule. I declined, of course, to which he predicted that my 'arrogance' would be my downfall. I did not take it that we would fall to the Russians, but rather to an attack by him. As if that would make me change my mind. Then he mentioned something about the children--”
Chey gasped. “He did what? Did he threaten them out right?”
“Not in so many words, but the damage was done by then and I will not allow any tyrant to speak on my children while at the same time informing me that I will be groveling to take him up on his offer. You heard him at the door. A king does not make those kinds of statements lightly.”
Shocked to her core at the very idea someone might even think of bringing harm to her children, and more understanding now of Sander's foul mood, she said, “Surely he must be talking just to hear himself talk. He can't be serious about a merger between countries. What of Somero? It sits directly between us.”
“That's what I said, too, and his answer was to either bring Somero onboard or, in Konstantine's words, make them listen. He double speaks and I trust a man who does that about as much as I trust a snake. I want you to be extra alert. Don't go riding alone or take the kids out to the shore without heavy escort. If you go to the mainland, be sure to be within a guard's sight at all times. Double check everything. If someone gives you a message from me, and you think it's suspicious at all, then call me directly. We're safer on the island than anywhere, so if you will, stay close until this is resolved.”
“Have we come to this? Is it really this critical this fast?” Dismayed that their years of semi-peace had been shattered in one short afternoon, Chey nevertheless took every word to heart. She had learned long ago that Sander had excellent battle instincts and she would do as he asked.
“Yes. Which tells me there is a timeline of sorts, and that already, a few things have not gone according to Konstantine's plan. He is under some kind of pressure, either from a real foe or something else entirely.”
“Could it be that he's telling the truth, and that the Russians are making a move?” she asked.
“Nothing is ever out of the realm of possibility. Konstantine swears that if Imatra falls, Somero and Latvala are next. I have my doubts about that but above all else, we need to keep everyone safe.” Sander adjusted a cuff, giving the material a tight tug. “I saw nothing in the hinterlands to suggest anyone has been there in decades. Not one Russian, spy or scavenger in sight.”
“You didn't have time to check the entire border, right? What if they are gathered at a point you didn't look?” Chey asked. “Can't you fly close enough to the border to at least cover more ground, getting a better idea if there are pockets of men clustered near Latvala territory?”
“If Russia is preparing for a ground assault, flying that close to the border may provoke them. If they are not, then a fly-over may bring us to their attention, put us on their proverbial radar. I'll send scouts to the hinterlands to keep an eye on things, but for now, I prefer to act as if we know nothing about what's going on. Until I can learn more, and see what Konstantine might or might not do, I want to remain as we are. Remember, if there is any kind of attack on our soil, get yourself and the kids into the air as quickly as possible. The main runway in Kalev isn't the only runway the jet can take off from, so arrange it with Urmas beforehand.”
Kalev, the capital on the mainland, was the home of the biggest airport in the country. Chey knew there were others though, as Sander had said, and filed that information away to take care of after this conversation was done. “All right. I will. Are you going to make an announcement to the public?”
“No. I want all this kept as quiet as possible. I've fought too hard to bring this country back together after my father and Paavo's antics to scare the population with talk of possible invasion or attack.”
“If you don't say anything at all, and Konstantine does the unthinkable, or the Russians, then won't the people blame you for not giving them any warning?”
“They might. But I'll take that chance. This happens all the time, withholding sensitive information from the population. There have been numerous 'almost wars' that only a select few in humanity will ever know about. It comes down to what is safer for the people at the time. If I announce there might be an attack, and the population rushes out and clears the shelves of food in five hours, there will be citizens—many thousands of them—who missed out and will go hungry. Arguments and robberies may escalate, and things may even deteriorate into civil unrest. I could be judged harshly on the backside of that for scaring the public unnecessarily. I just don't have enough proof yet that Konstantine will actually take the next step. He could be scare mongering for all I know. What I will do is take every precaution I can and maybe even send in a spy or two. For now, we hold tight.” Sander set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, then drew Chey into a hug.
“It's very complicated, all the things you have to consider.” It made Chey's head spin. There were no clear cut lines, no transcript to tell anyone what to do.
“It's always complicated. Just like the situation with my father and my brother. We'll have these things crop up for the rest of our lives. Now,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I have things to do. It would be prudent to pack a few bags for you and the kids, just in case.”
“I will. Let me know what's going on and if you have to leave the castle.” Chey didn't want Sander to leave without a final goodbye.
For all she knew, it might be their last.
*
Between leaving Chey and reaching the conference room where his brothers and Leander waited, Sander stopped four different times to give orders to specific people. Urmas, advisors, military personnel, castle guards. He left no stone unturned. Konstantine's threats might amount to nothing—and he hoped that was the case—but he thought it wise to be prepared for the worst.
Entering the downstairs conference room, Sander found everyone present and waiting.
“You cannot believe the things I'm hearing,” Mattias said first.
“I second that,” Leander chimed in.
“Is it true? There may be an attack on Latvala soil?” Gunnar added.
Sander shut the door. In as precise terms as he could manage, he caught his brothers and Leander up to speed. He left nothing out. Not the implied threats—or his perception of them—nor Konstantine's assertion that Sander would be groveling to take up the offer before the week was out.
“So as a precaution, I've put Chey on alert and they're ready to leave here should the situation arise,” Sander said in conclusion. Mattias looked thoughtful, Gunnar was frowning, and Leander had begun to pace the room.
“Usually when something like this happens, you hear about it through word of mouth,” Leander finally said. “I've asked around, been listening to the whispers of people who should be in the know, and there's very little information. Either Russia is keeping a very tight lid on this, or Konstantine has some other agenda. He may be attempting an overthrow—but in a very unusual and strange way. Trying to get you to submit, then once he's publicly merged the two countries, there's an assassination attempt on you, Sander,
so he's in control of both armies. With Imatra and Latvala on either side of Somero, he could put a lot more pressure on Somero to either join or go down in flames.”
“That's impossible. It's so bold and so aggressive it seems no man would dare try it,” Gunnar said.
“Nothing is impossible Gunnar,” Mattias added. “Would you have ever thought your own brother would order Sander's entire convoy blown up?”
A brief hush fell over the room until Gunnar quietly said, “No.”
“Or,” Mattias continued, “ Konstantine did receive those threats and that letter is real. He may be the type who is easily spooked and his gut reaction was to send word to Sander for help, then to come here with erratic threats because while we're conjecturing what Konstantine might do to Sander, it's a near certainty that there's a hit out on Konstantine as we speak and he's in desperate fear for his own life.”
“Has his rule ever been challenged that we know of?” Leander asked.
Sander considered all the options. Mattias's assertion that Konstantine's own life might be in jeopardy had not occurred to him. “He took the throne last year. Honestly, I haven't been paying extreme attention to those kinds of details.” He'd been busy trying to salvage his own country and secure his reign as king.
“I don't think so. But I'll have someone look into it,” Mattias said.
“He could have approached all this in a better way,” Sander muttered.
“Absolutely. Some men, as I mentioned, are easily spooked when the word assassination comes up. But I can also see Leander's take on it, too. There's no way to know for sure what's going on. I think the right call, in either circumstance, was to decline and remain on notice,” Mattias said to Sander.
“Do you want me to get into his house?” Leander asked.
Sander glanced at Leander. The man, who was so skilled at getting in and out of tricky situations, could probably learn more in ten minutes inside Konstantine's stronghold than they could in a week of prying from the outside. But Leander was a father now, too, and had a wife who happened to be Chey's best friend. Not only that, the mission was extremely risky. If Leander was caught, a spy in Konstantine's own house, he could be tried and executed. And, Sander reminded himself, it would give Konstantine an excuse to attack. A flimsy excuse, but nevertheless.
“No. I won't risk your life. Let's do some more digging over the next week and see what happens. If Konstantine is attacked again, let's find out the who and why of it this time. Someone out in the 'community' has to know something. And if there's an attempt on his life—or mine—we'll have a better idea what's going on. If you can lean on our contacts to listen in on a phone call or two, Leander, that would be even better. Get the information from a safe distance.” Sander rubbed his chin in consideration and assessed each man's reaction. Mattias nodded, on board with the decision. Leander looked mildly disappointed not to have an aggressive mission like spying to tackle, but Sander knew he wouldn't go against the order to stand down. Gunnar was still frowning, hands on his hips.
Relieved to see that everyone was in agreement with the tentative plan, Sander breathed easier. This was becoming a tenuous situation and, without knowing more details, there was every chance that he could be making a wrong decision. He didn't want to risk anyone's life until there was no other choice.
The 'community', a network of undercover agents, spies and men committed to the safety of others should be able to shed some light on the truth. Sander and his brethren were a part of that community, a group who dedicated their time, energy and resources to try and keep the oft threatened members of the elite alive. Assassination attempts happened more frequently than people realized. Or, at the very least, were talked about behind closed doors.
If he and his men could get the information they needed without triggering a war, all the better.
Chapter Eight
Flickers of candlelight crawled up the stone walls flanking the double-sized, claw footed tub. Another storm had moved across Latvala later in the evening, knocking out the power and bringing an end to the relentless schedule of meetings. Chey, neck deep in sudsy water, leaned further back against Sander's chest. The kids were long in their beds and rain still fell in sheets past the windows, affording her and Sander a little alone time. Sander might have worked through the night if Chey hadn't intervened and requested his presence in their suite.
The bath—well. That was an unexpected bonus after she'd pried all the information she could out of him regarding his meetings and plans. Frothy suds decorated the wavy surface of the water as well as any exposed skin, and she cupped her hands around a peak to squish between her fingers. Sander's hands were on her body, gliding around her ribs, over her breasts and down her stomach in slow circles. The rough callouses on his palms felt especially good when he grazed them across her nipples.
“I have a hypothetical question for you,” she said in a low voice. The water rippled around her updrawn knees.
“Hm?” Sander rumbled the noise close to her ear.
Chey shuddered, nearly forgetting what she wanted to ask. “What would you do if someone assassinated Konstantine and attempted to take Imatra?” Since the Russians had not been identified positively, Chey left the threat vague.
“That depends. Have we received a direct threat? Does it appear like the invaders will turn to Somero and Latvala next? What does the next in line to the throne of Imatra want? In this case, Aleksi, Konstantine's brother, might want to align with the invader.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?” Chey asked.
“I don't know Aleksi any better than I know Konstantine, but perhaps he may think it's safer for Imatra to be absorbed by a larger country, especially if he is allowed to retain a seat of power and make decisions directly regarding the welfare of the people. If that's the case, then Latvala should not interfere. I wouldn't send troops unless the situation became dire and I knew other countries were standing with us, not against us. We don't have enough men and women to fight an army as large as Russia's—if that is who is behind the skirmishes.” Sander's hands flattened over Chey's ribs, massaging down to her hips.
“I can understand that strategy. Do you go over all this in your head a million times? I'm not even king and I can't seem to quit thinking about all the variables,” she admitted.
“Yes,” he said in a quiet voice. “Everything hinges on something else. Who is doing what, how many lives each action will cost, and what the best outcome will be. I do not take sending troops into battle lightly. If we were being invaded under the same circumstances, then I would call upon the allies we have and fight back. Being absorbed into a super-power does not interest me.”
“It's like you knew I was going to ask that next, although I was pretty sure I knew the answer beforehand.” Chey tickled her fingertips up the muscled length of Sander's forearms, reveling in the sinewy strength.
“I know you better than you think I do,” he murmured near her ear.
“I suspect you're right. Would you fight if it came down to that?” she asked.
“As much as I would want to...no. Not only would I be a distraction for the men, I would be a prime target for abduction or assassination. And if we needed more help, more troops from our allies, I have to be able to get in contact with other people in power to request aid. Doing that on the battlefield would prove difficult at best.”
“I hope it doesn't come to that. For Imatra, or for us.”
“I hope not, either. The day after tomorrow I'm going to travel to Somero and meet with the king. I shouldn't be gone longer than a handful of hours,” he said.
“Is it safe?”
“As safe as it ever can be. So far, we have no proof the Russians are doing anything. There are no troops at the border. We'll find out if Thane is receiving threats as well to help guide our own decisions.”
“Since you have to take the jet and fly out on the mainland, why don't I pack the kids and we'll stay at Ahtissari castle until you get back? It's only a
half day or so. You know how much Elias loves to take the helicopter rides from the island to the mainland.” She smiled, remembering her oldest son's penchant for flying.
“That's fine. We won't be there long.”
Chey drew slow, swirly designs on the thick muscle of Sander's thighs. Thinking. “We've had a good reprieve these last few years regarding attacks or subterfuge. I know it hasn't been easy recovering from the last event,” she meant Paavo and the attacks that nearly tore Latvala apart, “but at least we weren't under direct threat of war or situations like this. I guess I got a little complacent.”
“Konstantine may back down and things will smooth out again. All of this might amount to nothing more than a few tense conversations before it's over. Something else will come up of course, it always does, but perhaps we'll have another handful of peaceful years in between.”
“That sounds excellent. And I know what we can do to wile away the hours in the meantime,” she said, dragging her hands higher up this thighs.
Sander said, “I like the way you think.”
*
The country of Somero, roughly half the size of Latvala's land mass, had quite a lot of commerce and residential areas packed into a relatively small region. Toward the coastal areas, which was where Sander's private jet touched down, he could see endless streets and grids that made up the main city. It appeared that many more citizens chose to live closer to the cities than toward the interior of the territory, either by choice or by design. Latvala's main cities were also busy, but his people preferred to spread out into the countryside a little more.
From the private airstrip, a limousine escorted Sander and four guards to the main palace, which sat apart from the city by several miles on its own road, on its own high plateau, with a stunning view of distant buildings. Not of the scale of the Ahtissari family seat by far, but resplendent nevertheless. The palace itself sprawled across the landscape, three floors high, with spires and peaks of a more baroque design than the castles that decorated his homeland.
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