Chapter Thirteen
After a restless night's sleep, Chey rose before her alarm and changed from her pajamas into jeans. Pulling a thin ribbed sweater of burgundy over her head, she forewent shoes and started editing the photos she'd taken the evening before. She was especially interested in the ones she'd taken of the main castle with the shadow in the window. No matter how much she zoomed in, or changed filters and lighting, she couldn't get any real detail to show up. There was only a vague outline of what could or could not be a body. It might have been anyone from a passing guard to a maid to one of the Royals en route from one part of the castle to another. There wasn't anything to indicate that she'd captured someone blatantly staring down, even if that was the sense Chey had standing in the bailey.
At eight o'clock sharp, Elise and Ingel arrived with breakfast and merry greetings. Both women examined her bruises and declared her well on the mend. The women blew through as they always did, gathering used towels and washcloths, making the bed even though Chey always made it herself, and running a duster over the furniture. One woman cleaned floors while the other did showers and sinks.
Most of the time, when Chey offered to help, she was gently turned down. The women had their routine and though they tried to clean when Chey was out of the room, they were efficient and quick when she was in residence. It always smelled fresh and new in the suite when they were done.
Once they'd departed, Chey got back to work, nibbling eggs, bacon and several pieces of fruit in between. The photos from the old castle, while beautiful and eerie, turned up nothing remotely resembling a ghost. No strange orbs, no flickers of light, no unexplained shadows within a shadow.
“I'm not sure what you were expecting, Chey,” she muttered to herself. Of course there weren't any ghosts. Ghosts didn't exist.
After lunch, Chey grabbed her camera and wandered the halls of the castle. She got several great shots of the snow out a few of the large windows and more pictures of the armor lining one entire hallway. It felt good to stretch her legs and get some exercise. Moving around also took her mind off Sander.
She wondered where he was on the property and if he'd found out any news about the paper clippings. Surely he would have texted her if so.
Returning to her room an hour before dinner, she was surprised to find a box sitting outside her door.
Immediately wary, Chey approached it with caution. Although white, and glossy, with a pretty bow of red on the top, she worried it contained something less than pleasing. Like a head. Or a pair of eyes. Picking it up off the floor, she sniffed near the edge of the lid for any strange scent. All she picked up was a vague hint of something floral.
What had the world come to for her to be checking a gift box for body parts.
Not convinced it wasn't a trap, or a trick, she hesitated before taking it inside. Locking the door behind her, she walked the box to the bed and removed the camera from around her neck. Setting it aside, she pried at the box until the lid came off.
Bracing herself for all manner of horror, she put the lid down and lifted back three layers of black tissue. Folded with care was a stunning garment of blood red silk. Removing it from the box, she held it at the top and let it unfurl.
The cocktail dress sported a square shaped neckline and intricate beading on the bodice. More beading decorated the cuffs of long sleeves and when she held it up against her body, the hem landed a modest half inch above her knee. It was beautifully simple yet elegant.
A quick search of the box turned up a short note that read: Be ready at six sharp.
It had to be Sander. He was going to surprise her with a trip away from the castle. Maybe to a quaint, small restaurant along the coast between here and Kalev.
Excited at the prospect, and to finally have him see her in something besides jeans and sweaters, she draped the dress over the end of the bed and headed for the shower.
She wanted to look her absolute best for their date.
. . .
Chey checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. The red silk fit her to a tee, outlining her shape with a snug bodice while the skirt flared slightly from her hips. Her eyes boasted smoky charcoal shadow and liner that accentuated the almond shape. The blue of her iris looked more vivid with her lashes coated in mascara and she'd chosen lipstick as red as the dress to paint her lips with. The wispy curls of her hair had been fashioned into a neat updo, held in place with a few cleverly placed pins. As ever, several strands slipped the fastenings and tickled the line of her throat.
Pleased overall with the effect, she daubed on a bit of feminine perfume at her wrists and throat. Transferring her wallet, ID and money into a nude purse that matched her heels, she was just snapping the clasp when a knock sounded at the door.
Grinning, anxious to see Sander in clothing a little more refined than hunting gear, she swung the door open.
“You sure know how to s--” Chey halted when she came face to face with Mattias. Austere in a black suit and red tie that matched her dress, he arched a brow.
“I sure know how to s...” Mattias repeated her and trailed, like he expected her to finish what she'd started to say.
Mattias had sent the dress? Chey stifled her disappointment and pasted on a smile. It wasn't that she wasn't happy to see the Prince—she'd just been expecting someone else.
“You sure know how to surprise a girl,” she said, completing her thought. What an understatement.
He eyed her like he knew there was more she wasn't saying, then glanced at her throat. “You're not wearing the pendant?”
Chey's fingers flew to the base of her neck. “I was just about to put it on when you knocked. Give me one second.”
“Do you need help?”
“I...sure. Sure.” Chey stepped away from the door, leaving it ajar for Mattias to follow. The necklace was back in its box in her dresser. She fished it out and handed it back, then scooped the escaped strands of her hair out of the way.
Mattias accepted it, undid the clasp, and draped the chain around her neck.
Acutely aware of his presence behind her, of his masculine cologne, she cautioned herself to tamp down her surprise and just go with it. She twitched faintly when his fingertips brushed her nape.
“There. Ready?” he asked, turning to offer his elbow.
Chey released the wisps of hair and glanced at his arm before lifting her gaze to his eyes. “Yes, sure. Where are we going, anyway? I wasn't expecting this.”
“It's a surprise. You look ravishing, by the way. Red suits you.” He led her to her door and waited patiently while she locked it behind them.
“Thanks. You look very nice yourself,” she said. But then, Mattias always did. Clean shaven, hair combed back, he was the epitome of polished masculinity. She wanted to ask him what he was doing gifting her with diamonds and expensive dresses, but decided that he would give her an answer along the lines of the one he had at lunch the other day. Maybe he was testing her to see how she performed under pressure. To what end, she couldn't guess.
“Thank you. I've noticed your absence around the castle the last couple of days. Everything all right with you?” He escorted her down the hallway and around the corner for the other set of stairs. The ones leading to the third floor.
Places off limits for people like her.
“I was taking pictures of the Latvala wilds.” Which was true. The canoe trip definitely fell into that category.
“And did you like what you saw?” Mattias slowed his pace leading her up the stairs.
“It's beautiful country. I hope to explore more of it during my stay. Closer to the mountains, perhaps.”
“Better hurry then. By the middle of November, the days will be much shorter and the snow deep enough to be a hinderance.” Mattias guided her toward a tall archway on the Royal's personal floor.
“Thanks for the warning. I'll make it a priority in the next couple of weeks.”
“Excellent. If you need escort, or a more rugged vehicle, let me know and I'll arrange something.” He didn't pause before sweeping her into the vast, formal dining hall.
Whatever Chey might have said evaporated when she spied the long, elaborately set table and the people either seated or standing around it. The entire Royal family appeared to be present. The King and Queen, Paavo and Aurora, Natalia and another man and woman Chey hadn't met. It was either the eldest brother, Dare, or the youngest, Gunnar. He was as striking as the other men, though not quite as tall, with blonde hair and green eyes.
Chey didn't have time to decide who was who before her gaze landed smack on Viia.
She was going to kill Mattias. Kill him dead.
Mattias halted their progress halfway to the end of the table. Chey guessed Viia had everything to do with the sudden, cold expression that crossed his face. The two must have had a falling out, or an argument, or some other point of contention between them. Either that, or Mattias was just that disgruntled to see her there.
Silence descended on the entire group.
Wishing a great black hole would open up in the floor and swallow her, Chey glanced from Mattias's murderous look to the others. Paavo and his wife seemed genuinely surprised. The King stared with displeasure clear on his features while the Queen leveled a rather direct look on Chey.
It was Natalia, of course, who broke the awkward pause. Her chair scraped back over the floor when she stood up.
“What is she doing here?” Natalia demanded.
“Quiet your mouth,” Mattias hissed. “Miss Sinclair is my invited guest to dinner. I want to know which one of you extended another to Viia without my knowledge or approval.”
Had Chey been on the receiving end of Mattias's dark tone and predatory stare, she would have withered and disappeared under the table. Pronto.
“I did not realize an invitation was needed,” the Queen said after a long sip of her wine. “After all, Viia is your intended. This woman is not.”
This woman. The Queen could not have sounded more disdainful if she'd tried. Chey bristled inwardly but took care not to let it show where everyone else could see. Although if she was honest, the Queen was only being truthful. Chey had no business attending a private, Royal family function.
“She is not my intended and each one of you know it. Now, who invited her?” Mattias's quiet fury could not be contained. A muscle twitched along his jaw.
“I invited her, brother. Your behavior lately is inexcusable,” Natalia spat, before turning a venomous stare on Chey. “And you. I have had about enough of this. I want her fired--”
“Enough!” Mattias's voice boomed through the elaborate, richly decorated dining hall.
Chey twitched in surprise. She'd never heard him raise his voice that way before. Real fear gripped her gut. Natalia would push to have her fired after this. Or maybe she would get her way before Chey could even escape the dining hall.
Oh no. This was a disaster.
“Mattias--” The King got no further before Mattias cut him off.
“No. This ridiculousness ends tonight. Viia, take your leave.” He snapped the order her way. When she didn't move fast enough for him, Mattias cracked another command. “Now.”
Openly flustered and upset, Viia set her wine glass down and stalked from the room.
Chey knew better than to make eye contact with her. Just then, she wanted to be at Sander's cabin, far from the tension and strife of being involved with the Royal family. His life was so much simpler.
Mattias had never done her wrong, however, so she stood resolutely at his side while he sent one girl from the room and faced down the rest.
Natalia burst into their native tongue, using a finger to point at Mattias with obvious accusation. Mattias, with steel control, replied in a way that convinced Chey he had the upper hand in the conversation.
A moment later, Natalia's face went white and she fled the hall in Viia's wake.
The Queen's lips pressed together, but she said no more.
“If anyone else intends to be rude to my guest, kindly take your leave,” Mattias said. He guided Chey to the table and pulled out a chair.
The last thing she wanted to do was sit down. If he expected her to eat after this, he was sadly mistaken. Still, she eased into the chair, waiting to see who else was going to get up and depart.
Paavo and Aurora sat down across from them.
There were four place settings between their seats and the King and Queen and Chey thanked her lucky stars that Mattias had the wherewithal to give everyone some distance.
“Nothing much has changed in our absence, I see,” the unnamed man said. He escorted his companion to a chair next to Aurora and sat down himself.
“Miss Sinclair, my youngest brother Prince Gunnar and his wife, Princess Krislin.” Mattias took his chair while making terse introductions.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Chey said. She didn't offer her hand across the gilded table, accustomed already to the Ahtissari tradition as far as that was concerned.
Krislin, with her tawny hair and blue eyes, assessed Chey without the judgement so common with everyone else. And she smiled, nearly catching Chey off guard.
“Miss Sinclair,” Krislin said, inclining her head.
“Miss,” Gunnar added.
Paavo and Aurora tacked on quiet greetings and took their seat closer to the King and Queen.
Much to Chey's surprise, neither Aksel nor Helina retreated from the table. She soon learned it would have been much better if they had.
Over a first course of fine bullion and black rye bread, Helina asked, “What of your family line, Miss Sinclair? Where do they hail from?”
“My parents were both born in Washington. They met in college and got married after they graduated. Beyond that, I have more distant relatives that came from France, Italy, and Ireland, among others.” Chey struggled to sip spoonfuls of the broth without choking. She was sitting here talking to the Queen of Latvala like it was an every day occurrence.
“What of their occupations?” she asked next.
Chey squirmed in her seat. She didn't miss the look Mattias shot his mother.
“My father owned a small business in Seattle and my mother was a teacher.”
“And your grandparents?”
“Stone mason, automobile factory employee, seamstress and my other grandmother stayed at home to raise her child.” Thankful for the wine Mattias poured, she picked up her glass and had a much needed sip.
“A family of laborers, then,” Helina surmised.
“Yes.” Chey refused to show shame. More than half the people in the world were laborers of one sort or another. Not everyone could be Royalty.
“And how many--”
Mattias cut the Queen off with a quiet word in their native language.
“...how many brothers and sisters do you have?” Helina, apparently unintimidated by Mattias's interruption, finished asking her question.
The second course arrived. Platters of broiled pork, fish and salads were set near each person. Sliced potatoes in some sort of cheese sauce followed, along with slices of a different kind of bread Chey couldn't place.
“None, your Majesty. I'm an only child.” Chey remembered Mattias explaining how Viia had been chosen because of her extensive family line.
“What of your parents?”
“All but one had a brother or sister. My mother was an only child as well. My grandmother miscarried two before her.”
Silence fell over the table. The only sound for five minutes was the gentle clink of silver against china.
If you'd been petitioning for a place as one of the Prince's wives, Chey ol' girl, you just shot yourself in the foot. Dry commentary ran through Chey's mind as she picked up one of three forks set on a separate napkin. She couldn't help that her grandmother had difficult pregnancies.
Mattias muttered something under his breath. After that, the rest of the meal passed in relative peace and quiet. Everyone concentrated on eating, which absolved the need to converse.
The food turned out to be well seasoned and excellently prepared. Chey hardly noticed. It was a distant appreciation in the effort to finish so that Mattias would escort her back to her room. If this was what it was like to be an intimate part of the Royal family, Chey wanted no part of it.
She felt sorry for them all, unable to even enjoy a meal without Natalia making mountains out of molehills.
Finally, after a course of dessert, the torture was over. Mattias excused them at the same time Paavo and Aurora pushed back their chairs. Chey bade them all good evening and breathed a sigh of relief once she and Mattias were in the hallway.
He said nothing. One hand low on her back, he guided her off the private floor to the stairs and down to a more suitable level. Chey wasn't sure what to say to all that and her urge to kill Mattias a little had passed. He couldn't have known that would happen.
Could he?
At her door, Mattias released her and maintained eye contact. “Open it.”
“...what?” Startled, Chey frowned. He wanted to come in? Did Mattias have the entirely wrong idea about what was going to happen tonight?
“Your door. Open it,” he repeated.
“Mattias, now look here--”
“I want to check and make sure no one is hanging around that shouldn't be.”
Of course he would have heard what happened by now. Feeling ridiculous that she'd suspected he wanted something else from her, Chey fished her key out and opened the door. He stepped in before her, stalking through the space with a critical examination of the most obvious hiding places.
“Is it always like that? Dinner?” she asked, setting her purse and keys on her dresser. While he stepped into the bathroom, Chey pulled the pins out of her hair and set them down. Running her fingers through the curls, she let them settle around her shoulders and toed off her heels.
He returned, hands clasped behind his back. Mattias swept a look over her, head to toe. “Not always. Sometimes it's worse, sometimes more tolerable.”
“Why did you bring me?”
“I wanted you to meet my brother and his wife, for one. And because you're a guest in this house. Guests should be treated like they matter, shouldn't they? The King and Queen entertain only those they have to or the ones who can do something for them.”
“So they do it when they can't get around it, you do it to soothe your conscious.” That was the conclusion Chey came to after hearing his reasons and watching his stern expression.
“I think it's a little more involved than soothing my conscious.”
“Is it?” she challenged.
Mattias stopped in front of her and stared down into her eyes. Without her shoes on, she had to lift her chin another inch to maintain easy contact.
“With you, it's more than just soothing my conscious,” he repeated.
“Why? Oh, because I don't fawn over you like other women? I'm not afraid to speak my mind?”
“Viia and Aurora will speak their mind, have no doubt. As you've seen already. You wear your cynicism like a badge; Viia uses it as a shield. There's a difference. Not to mention that you're generally more pleasant to be around on the whole.” He arched a brow and stepped away to the door without warning. Grasping the handle, he paused to add, “The photo session has been moved indoors tomorrow. We're expecting the snow to continue and increase overnight, making an outdoor shoot difficult at best. The entire family will be present this time, so make whatever adjustments you need to.”
Chey wasn't sure what to think about her cynical side. He cast a new light on it, however, leaving her puzzled and bemused. Only half paying attention to the details about work, she inclined her head.
“Okay. Where am I supposed to go?”
“The south solar. Urmas will show you if you can't find it on your own.” Mattias paused half in and half out of the room. “I would apologize for tonight, except this is who we really are. It's unfair to pretend otherwise.”
Chey opened her mouth but he was already gone. Crossing to the door, she closed and locked it in his wake.
What a complicated situation. What a complicated family.