The media reaction to Mattias’s announcement was exactly what Sander thought it would be: incredulous, shocked, perplexed. The moment Mattias finished explaining that they had been brought there to witness Emily’s swearing in as heir to the throne, the media erupted into a frenzy of questions and photos. Mattias calmed them long enough to initiate the ceremony.

Sander watched the beginning of Emily’s transition from just off stage, so to speak, out of the media’s eye. He waited until Emily stood before the throne, dressed in her navy blue and gray cape, throat wrapped in royal jewels, to appear and approach the dais. Like his daughter, he, too, wore a floor-length cape, although his was decorated with a larger family crest and a thickly jeweled clasp.

A new buzz hit the onlookers as he took his place on the throne. He stood rather than sat and accepted a small crown presented to him on a plush blue pillow. Sander forced down a wave of discomfort as he recited the swearing in ritual and placed the small crown atop Emily’s head.

He wished it didn’t feel like such a betrayal. Sander recalled all too easily when he’d presided over Elias’s swearing in so many years before, which did nothing to calm his inner unease.

Because Emily deserved his full attention and support, he banished thoughts of betrayal from his mind and met his daughter’s gaze. She’d performed perfectly and accepted her new status with calm grace.

Once the ceremony was over, Sander remained standing at the throne to answer questions. The media—hell, the entire country—would expect it of him even though Mattias had already given all the pertinent information.

Sander reiterated the same talking points as his brother: Elias had been in an accident and was recovering nicely. No, he wasn’t at liberty to say where Elias was recovering. No, there wouldn’t be a list of details about the accident itself or Elias’s injuries. No, the media could not interview the former heir. Sander repeated that the ceremony was more for official purposes than necessity, which was the first white lie he told.

A moment later, he stepped off the dais and exited the throne room, leaving the media abuzz about the entire event. In an antechamber, he shed the cape and poured himself a drink. Councilmen and advisors were undoubtedly waiting in a conference room for him to give them more details—which would not be forthcoming. He wasn’t about to tell them any more than he’d told the media.

“How are you holding up?” Chey asked from the doorway. She wore a pristine suit of navy blue with pale gray accents. A color scheme to match the ceremony.

Sander was genuinely glad to see her. She always seemed to know when he needed her most. “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted.

“I know.” Chey crossed the room to stand before him.

He searched her pretty eyes, reading her concern and compassion easily. “I hate the feeling that I’ve betrayed Elias. I suppose it’ll pass.”

“You did a good job making it sound as if this was a temporary precaution, nothing more. Maybe it is. I hope it is,” she said.

“I hope the same. I thought it was a smart move to take him one of his favorite meals last night, by the way.”

“I wish it would have worked.” She lifted her chin, as if deflecting disappointment that her idea hadn’t had the outcome she’d hoped for.

“You never know. It might. Keep trying.”

“I will. I don’t give up that easy,” she said. “Are you going from here to the conference room? The councilmen and the advisors are all up in arms. They’re impatient to talk to you.”

“Yes.” Sander finished his drink, hissed at the burn, and set the glass down. “I guess I’d better get to it.”

“I’ll be with Emily when you’re done. Find me.” She lifted her mouth for a kiss.

Sander cupped her face and kissed her soundly. “I will.”

He departed the antechamber without looking back.

As he walked the hall toward the conference room, a low buzz of voices emanating from the foyer reached him. Sander knew the media would be slow to leave Kallaster after the announcement and the ceremony, and hoped the security he’d positioned all around the first floor would deflect any nosy reporters hoping to sneak off into the kitchen or elsewhere to question the staff. Everyone at the castle had been warned not to speak to the media at any cost, but sometimes bribes could not be ignored.

He entered the conference room and closed the door.

Thirty voices rang out almost simultaneously.

“Your Majesty, whatever is going on?”

“We need answers. Mattias has told us nothing more than he told the reporters.”

“Has there been a death?”

The latter question hit Sander like a kick to the gut. He approached the head of the long oval table the men stood around and unbuttoned his suit coat before sitting down. “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

Chairs scraped the floor. Men sat, most on the edge of their seats.

“Your Majesty, this is most unusual.”

“Do you realize the implications this might have on the international stage?”

“Have you considered the idea that we might be attacked if something happens to you?”

Sander held up a hand. The room fell to silence. He allowed the silence to stretch so that the men understood he would speak when he was ready to, and not from being heckled.

A full minute later, he leaned his forearms on the table and looked each man in the eyes. Sander made them all wait until he’d completed a full circuit before he began speaking.

“I am not prepared to give you any other details than what you have already received. That is to say, Elias has been in an accident and is recovering. Don’t ask me for more. The ceremony was more for show than anything, so that any other country considering an invasion or an attack realizes our chain of command has not been compromised. And yes,” he said after a brief pause. “I do realize that Latvala’s position on the world stage is precarious. It has been for at least five years after Russia made it clear they would like to overtake every country from Imatra to Lithuania. We are not alone in our concern. For the record, I believe Russia will continue along the diplomatic route rather than launch an outright attack or invasion.”

The councilmen and advisors exploded into commentary. Some were exasperated, others distressed. Sander glanced from man to man, absorbing all the fears and worry until, once again, he held up a hand for silence.

“I hear your unease and apprehension. However, I believe things will revert to normal shortly. As I’ve said, and as Mattias asserted at the beginning of the ceremony, this is about following official protocol right now. If things were not so precarious with our neighbor, we wouldn’t have taken this step.”

“So Elias is not dead, then?” someone asked.

Sander snapped a hard look at the man. “My son is not dead.”

The advisor faltered under Sander’s withering stare. Another spoke up in his place.

“Your Majesty, you have to understand—”

“I understand perfectly well what position this puts you all in. Yes, I know ambassadors and media from other countries will bombard you with the same questions you are putting to me. Tell them what I’ve told you, nothing more. Do not speculate. Things will be back to normal soon.”

“What of our military? We’ve seen the increase in soldiers around Kallaster. What does that mean?”

“It just means that I’m taking every precaution. Some people might overreact to the news today and I intend to thwart any foolishness.”

“Leaving us in the dark as to the specifics of whatever is going on puts us in a bad spot, Your Majesty,” someone said.

“Deal with it, Henri.” Sander stood from his seat and buttoned his coat, indicating he was done with the short meeting. “I’ll give an update when I have one.”

As one, the councilmen and advisors rose to their feet.

“Will you be remaining at Kallaster?” an advisor asked.

“Yes and no. I’ll be coming and going as I need to.”

“To see Elias?”

“Dealing with the situation.” That was all Sander was prepared to say. He refused to admit that Elias was there at Kallaster, preferring to keep Elias’s whereabouts under wraps until word leaked or the situation changed. Certain members of the staff would eventually find out—there was no way around it—but Sander intended to keep the secret as long as possible.

He departed the room as the men fell to heated whispers and speculation.

There was a troubling conversation he needed to have that he was not looking forward to.