Elias Ahtissari strode briskly through the secret tunnels of Kallaster Castle, winding his way down treacherous flights of stairs and long, cobweb-laden corridors with only a flashlight to guide him. He could have walked every passageway blindfolded if he’d needed to, but today he was on a mission and wanted to get where he was going quickly.

Three turns and one set of steps later, Elias entered a rustic, subterranean room unknown to most. Four oil lamps set at each corner of the space cast illumination across several tables and the walls, the latter of which sported large maps of strategic locations. His brother Erick stood at a table across from Jeremiah, pointing to something on another diagram laid out flat on the surface.

Jeremiah, who looked an awful lot like his father, Leander—but with darker hair—shook his head and gestured to another point on the map.

“We should go in here,” Jeremiah said.

Elias strode to the table and stood next to Erick. After turning off the flashlight, Elias set it down and glanced at the diagram. “How is it looking?” he asked.

“Jeremiah thinks there’s a better way in,” Erick said, jerking his chin to move his forelock out of his eyes. “I think we go in right here.”

Elias examined each point of entry with a critical eye. He could see the benefits of entering the structure from both angles. After a few minutes of thought and study, he pointed to the entrance Jeremiah favored. “This one.”

Erick made a noise of discontent.

“Trust me, brother. That’s the best one.” Elias clapped a hand on Erick’s back.

Jeremiah straightened, not spending any time gloating over his brief triumph. “Once we get inside, I’ll go straight up and get the document. You two infiltrate the crowd and keep watch over the main staircase. If anyone who looks like security starts to come up, radio me.”

Elias knew from experience that Jeremiah had his father’s talents. He could get in and out of almost anywhere undetected, and do so silently. “We’ve got a plan. Tomorrow we’ll board a plane for Dubai and be back here within three days.”

Jeremiah rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest, smiling. “What’re you going to tell your old man?”

Elias raked a hand back through his shoulder-length hair. Streaks of light wove through the darker blond mass. “Mom and Pop think we’re going to Princess Sarah’s ball.”

Erick snorted then playfully shuddered. Possessing streaked brown hair and blue eyes, he looked more like his mother than his father. “Like we don’t have better things to do than sit around and listen to girlie talk about dresses and shoes and whatever else.”

Laughing, Elias shot Erick a smile. “Pop should totally understand. They used to go on secretive missions when they were our age. I think they only stopped when old age got in the way. Like . . . forty or something.”

Jeremiah shuddered. Not yet eighteen, he seemed to think forty was ancient.

Elias couldn’t blame him. At just past twenty-one, forty years sounded like a death sentence. He said, “All right. Let’s go get our gear packed. We won’t have any time to waste tomorrow.”

Sharing handshakes with his brother and Jeremiah to seal the deal, Elias led the way from the chamber. He couldn’t wait for the rush of adrenaline, the excitement that came with doing something dangerous.

The trickiest part—convincing the king and queen that they were attending a ball and were looking forward to it—was behind them.

Lounging like Cleopatra on her throne, Chey watched Sander draw on a black vest over his equally dark shirt and cargo pants. The man might be in his early fifties, but Chey couldn’t get enough of his rugged good looks or the way his muscles filled out his clothes. He was in excellent shape thanks to a rigid regimen of running and other physical work that demanded a lot of his time. There were crinkles around the corners of his eyes now, and a spritz of gray in both his whiskers and the hair at his temples. He looked world-wise, strong, capable.

In all their years together, Chey hadn’t been happier or more content.

Or so completely in love.

“Are you positive they don’t know?” Chey asked again.

Sander glanced up after clasping a final buckle. A grin spread across his face. “They have no idea. Elias, Erick, and Jeremiah think they’re going to show up tomorrow and locate the document. By then, Mattias, Leander, and I will have already returned here with it. But let the boys have their fun. Let them think they’ve pulled one over on us ‘old folk’. We’ll have the last laugh. The document containing the real DNA evidence—which a certain prince is desperate to keep out of the media—will be replaced with . . . something else.”

“And what will that be?” Chey asked, a smile trembling at the corners of her lips. Sander, Mattias, and Leander were far from leading sedentary lifestyles.

Sander pulled a small fold of paper from one of his vest pockets and stepped over to hand it to Chey.

She unfolded the scrap and read the message written so clearly in Sander’s handwriting.

You should have been quicker.

Laughing out loud, Chey handed the note back to Sander. “Elias is going to freak when he finds that and realizes you were there before them. And that we’ve known all along they never intended to go to any ball.” She scoffed.

Sander laughed with her. “Exactly. I wish I could set up a camera to record his reaction.” Switching subjects, he said, “What are you and the girls up to today?”

“Emily, Eliana, and I are going shooting. Not with guns, with cameras,” she clarified, even though all three women were well versed in handling weapons.

“Emily has a real eye for it, just like her mother,” Sander said. “Eliana—I think she’d rather go with her brothers. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she tried to sneak on the plane and hitch a ride to Dubai.”

Chey laughingly dragged a hand down the side of her face. Their youngest child was the spitting image of Sander, right down to her love for mystery and adventure. The girl had been in more trouble than Chey could believe, but Eliana’s intentions were always in the right place. She couldn’t fault her for that.

“I’ll see you when you get back, then,” Chey said, turning her mouth up for Sander’s kiss.

Cupping her gently under the jaw, Sander bent to press a warm kiss on her lips. He left a whisper there. “You certainly will, my love. You certainly will.”