Chapter Three
“Infuriating bastard.” Chey stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, unable to sleep despite the jet lag dragging at her bones. The unexpected meeting in the woods was still on her mind. She'd made her way back to the stables, and then the castle, with little trouble. After finding the kitchen and a late dinner, she'd retreated to her room to begin sorting through the photos she'd taken on her first day in Latvala.
Now the hour was somewhere beyond midnight and the encounter kept flashing behind her eyelids, replete with soundbites from their conversation. It even eclipsed her meeting with Mattias.
Sitting up, she pushed the covers back and swung her legs to the ground. For bed, she'd worn a velveteen track suit the color of butter. It was soft against her skin and modest should she decide to wander the halls when everyone was was asleep.
Which was what she wanted to do.
Grabbing her camera off the desk, she checked the batteries and, still barefoot, exited her bedroom. The castle at night proved to be just as intimidating as it was during the day. There was something ancient and mysterious about the feel in the air, as if the castle had absorbed all the joys and horrors of its occupants over the centuries.
She wished she could capture that on film. Somehow portray the structure's longevity and the sensation of secrecy.
Drawn toward the stained glass window at the end of the hall, she found several interesting angles to capture the spill of colored light by. From there she headed downstairs, snapping a pale marble bust of who might have been an ancestor. Milky eyes stared sightlessly into the hall, the lush mouth and hard jaw even more defined in half shadow. A big library drew her next, the shelves illuminated from moonbeams falling in through the panes of a tall window. Books with leather spines crammed every shelf, perfect for shots from the side. Because she couldn't help herself, she straightened one or two books from their crooked lean.
She became aware that she wasn't alone when the faint tink of ice in a glass hit her ears. Glancing toward one of the high-backed chairs facing the fireplace, Chey groaned. Someone was sitting there. All she could see was an arm, a hand, and a tumbler.
“Can't sleep?” Mattias asked.
“I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. Excuse--”
“You needn't rush off. Come, sit.” He used his glass to gesture at the opposite, empty chair.
It was the last thing Chey wanted to do. While he intrigued her, she also knew he was involved, and she didn't want anyone else walking in and getting the wrong idea. On the other hand, she might not get this kind of opportunity again. It wasn't every day that she got to sit and chat with Royalty.
Chey crossed the room and eased down into the chair, sitting on the edge rather than making herself comfortable in the plush confines.
Mattias, bare chested and bare foot, wore only a sleek pair of black lounge pants that sat low on his hips. A swirl of dark hair started on his chest, made a line down his stomach, and disappeared beneath the band at his waist. He was in excellent physical condition. Muscular, honed.
She took all that in with a quick glance, heat rising in her cheeks. “Do you always sit and contemplate cold fireplaces?”
Mattias regarded her in that way he had, as if he was trying to figure out all her most personal thoughts and feelings. “Sometimes. Especially when I have much on my mind. I didn't expect to see you taking pictures this late.”
His tone said, I didn't expect to see you at all this late.
“As you guessed, I couldn't sleep. It's difficult to when you're staying in a castle for the first time. I'm restless or something.” The urge to explore distracted her as much as her unique circumstances did.
“I imagine so. Tell me what you think of our home, then.” He invited her to elaborate as if they'd known each other a lot longer than one day.
Chey exhaled and glanced around the extensive library. The mantle over the fireplace held what looked to be priceless statuettes and brass candlesticks.
“It's hard to put into words this soon,” she admitted. “Of course I think it's lovely. But there is something else, too. Almost as if the castle is brooding.”
She glanced back to Mattias in time to see his brow arch.
“That is an interesting way of putting it,” he said.
“That's how it appears to me. And secretive. If these walls could talk, I can only imagine what they would say.”
“Don't you think most ancestral homes are like that?” He swirled the remains of his drink around his glass and lifted it for a sip. Watching her over the rim.
Chey shifted on the seat. “I don't know. I've never been to other ancestral homes. This is just how yours strikes me.”
“Like most castles, this one has roots in dark parts of history. Men—and women—have been killed here. One of my ancestors, Prince Gustav, was hanged in what is now the East garden. This castle has been laid siege to, has seen Royalty born within its walls, and has weathered its share of scandal.” Mattias finished his drink and set the glass aside on a small table.
Fascinated, Chey studied his eyes. “Is that the garden that is off limits to me?”
“Yes. It is one my mother and sister favor and they do not like to be disturbed. Would you like to see it?” His mouth curved into a somewhat devilish smile.
“Are you certain I won't get in trouble?” Chey wanted to see the garden more than ever now, but Allar's strict warnings echoed through her mind. Under no circumstances was she to enter the garden.
Mattias pushed up from the chair with leonine ease. “When a Prince invites you anywhere here, take that as a golden access pass. If anyone troubles you over it, send them to me.”
Chey was tempted to tell him about the incident with Sander earlier in the woods, even if it wasn't related, and promptly dismissed it. She wasn't prone to 'tattling' and in reality, no harm had really been done. It didn't mean she wasn't still irked at Sander Fisk, but she wasn't going to out him.
“I'll remember you said that.” Chey stood when Mattias did, hyper-aware of his naked chest, the lean angles of his hips. Any woman would be, she told herself, and tried to put it from her mind.
“If you don't take any pictures, no one will ever know you were there but me anyway, and I promise not to tell.” He winked over his shoulder.
“You know, you almost seem normal.” Chey blurted the thought before it had time to run through the filter between her brain and her mouth. Cringing, she braced herself for his anger.
Instead, Mattias laughed. Leading her out of the library, he padded along the floor with a languid, unhurried stride. “We're people, above all things, with feelings and emotions and whatever else. I might be Royalty, but I'm not untouchable.”
“You all seem that way. Or you did when I was taking the photos. I guess it's just status. You have loads, I have none.” Chey paced at his flank, eyes ahead on the hallway and not aside on his back. Safer that way.
“We're born what we are. Some of us have no choice but to follow the course expected of us.”
“Well. I mean, you could decide you didn't want to be a Royal and go live elsewhere. Right? That's still your choice.” Chey rounded the corner when Mattias did, heading down a restricted hallway. Already her skin started to prickle with nerves.
“That's where duty and honor step in. I could, but where does that leave my family? Where does that leave the people of this fine country who believe in us? Our ancestors lived and died to make this a country we could be proud of—and I am very proud of our country—and I would not consider abandoning the duty of carrying on.” He glanced aside, a brow arched.
Chey chewed in the inside of her lip. She realized just how outclassed she was, how small in comparison to his position. It was quite a shocking revelation to comprehend the gap of separation. At the same time, standing next to him in his half clothed state—he seemed like any other man.
Meeting his gaze, Chey tilted her head in a way that said she understood. Mostly. “I get it. About honor and duty. At least as much as I'm able to coming from the background I have. Family is important, but we only answer to ourselves and those we come in contact with. It's not like we have an entire country to think about as well.”
“Some think it a burden, and it can be. At times, I wish nothing more than to sink into the ranks of the unknown, so that I may move about the world without a camera always in my face. Yet there is no other position I would like to hold than to be second in line to the throne.” Mattias guided her through another turn, and another, entering a short hallway with double french doors at the end.
“I don't think the first in line was at the photo shoot today,” she said, fishing for a little more information. “In fact, two of your brothers were absent, yes?”
“Mm, yes. Dare, who will be crowned King when father passes, has been...set up to meet a woman mother dearly wishes he would consider taking to wife. They were in Italy last I heard. Gunnar, the youngest brother, returns tomorrow from vacation with his wife, Krislin. Otherwise, you've met Paavo and me as well as our sister, Natalia.”
“I'm never going to keep all this straight,” Chey muttered.
Mattias chuckled and opened one of the french doors, allowing her to enter first. “Dare, Mattias, Paavo, Gunnar and Natalia. Easy.”
Chey repeated the names under her breath as she stepped from the castle into the secretive, walled garden.
. . .
She understood immediately why the garden was the queen's favorite, and why it was off limits to everyone else. Stepping into the walled space was like stepping into Eden. Chey guessed it was a half an acre, impressive considering it was attached to the castle itself, with cobbled walkways, extensive foliage and stone fountains in the shape of cherubs. Water burbled from each one, and from a meandering creek that fed into a small pond. Tiny white lights decorated trees, adding a whimsical flare.
Right away, Chey brought the camera up to snap a few shots. If Mattias brought her here to begin with, she doubted he would say anything about the photos. He didn't. He paced alongside, hands behind his back, watching both her and the surroundings.
Chey could see his attention swing out and then back every few steps.
“It's really beautiful. I can see why they love it so.” She stepped over a small bridge that straddled the creek to get a shot of a gazebo smothered in vines and tiny pink flowers.
“I suppose. Personally, I prefer more rugged pursuits.” Mattias sounded unimpressed with the garden.
“Such as?” Chey swung the camera around and snapped off a shot of Mattias framed by the castle, just about to cross the bridge.
His gaze met the camera, enigmatic and as secretive as the garden they stood in.
Chey lowered the camera and smiled. “I figure Viia will enjoy that as much as you will enjoy the ones I take of her.”
His lips ticked into a somewhat wry smile. “Perhaps she will.”
“Stop there on the bridge and I'll take another. That's a great shot.” Chey pointed with a finger right where she wanted him. To her surprise, Mattias complied. He leaned a sleek hip against the arching rail, slid his hands into the pockets of the lounge pants and crossed one bare foot over the other.
He was the picture of a rake, dark hair sweeping his brow. Even in repose, Mattias commanded the same sense of animal magnetism and regal bearing as he had earlier, dressed in his fine suit.
Chey tried to capture that aspect of him, though really, she thought to herself, it wasn't hard when Mattias exuded it with such ease.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” a feminine voice snapped from the shadows.
Startled, Chey lowered the camera. Natalia stood on the footpath, tumbler in her fingers, glaring straight at Chey. She wore a diaphanous gown of white that lapped at her ankles and scooped low on her chest.
It didn't take Chey but a second to realize Natalia was six sheets to the wind. Not drunk enough to stagger or slur, but drunk nevertheless.
“I'm--” Chey, about to explain, got cut off by Mattias.
“She's with me. Stay your tongue, sister,” Mattias said, warning clear in his tone.
Natalia never looked away from Chey. She pointed a finger around the glass. “She is not supposed to be here. What will mother say?”
“She will marvel over the pictures of her favorite private place.” Mattias stepped away from the rail, sliding his hands out of his pockets. When he glanced at Chey, there was a message easily read in his dark eyes: Do not ever speak of what you see here.
Chey nodded and crossed the bridge back to the other side.
“Our private place! She's violated it and now we can never come here without wondering if she's skulking in the shadows, taking pictures of us!” Natalia screeched in fury, her beautiful face torqued into a mask of disdain. Cocking her arm back, she hurled the glass at Chey's head.
Mattias shot a hand out, but wasn't quick enough to block the hurtling tumbler.
Lucky for Chey, she'd been watching the altercation like a hawk, and ducked her head away from the projectile. Glass shattered against the edge of a fountain. Shards rained over the cobbled walk like bits of diamond. Shocked at the woman's anger, Chey made eye contact once more with Mattias, who had been scowling at his sister. He inclined his head toward the double doors, indicating it was high time to leave.
“Don't you ever come here again!” Natalia shouted.
Chey departed the garden with quick strides, concerned that Natalia's bellow would bring the guards. Breaking into a trot, she found her way along the private corridor, sure that someone was going to catch her here by herself and raise the alarm.
The hallways, so far, were empty.
Chey made it back to the main hall, which was common ground for her, and breathed a sigh of relief. Taking the stairs at a jog, she headed for her bedroom, wondering if Natalia's drinking was routine. Mattias hadn't seemed surprised to find her inebriated. In fact, his whole demeanor had become one of spare tolerance, as if he had to deal with it more often than he preferred.
In the safety of her bedroom, Chey closed the door and leaned against it, out of breath from the stairs.
What a way to end her first full day in the Royal castle.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be her last.