Chey hadn’t seen Sander’s mother—stepmother—in years. Not since the woman had been banished after king Aksel’s death. Helina looked nothing like her former, regal self. Thick streaks of gray dominated her dark hair and deep wrinkles made the woman look older than her years. Age spots discolored the skin around Helina’s jaw and hairline and probably the backs of her hands, although those were covered in gloves. A gasp rushed through the nearest onlookers as recognition set in, followed by whispers of “Queen Helina!”

“Bring her into the formal parlor,” Chey said, taking command of the situation. The crowd parted for the former queen, with several members of the staff dipping quick curtsies.

A single oil lamp illuminated the parlor, leaving heavy shadows in all the corners. The guards set Helina on her feet near a chair.

Urmas arrived just after Helina’s ice-crusted coat was ferried away to be thawed and cleaned. For the first time that Chey could remember, shock replaced his usual strict expression. Urmas had been ever loyal to the former king and queen during their reign. He might serve herself and Sander now, but she knew that Urmas secretly longed for the days of Aksel and Helina’s court. He preferred their tyrannical rule, their unbending ways. Urmas loved order and hierarchy and making sure everyone knew their place in the world. That was why he refused to willingly call Sander or Chey by their first names—ever. It just wasn’t done.

“Are you going to stand there or help me to sit?” Helina asked Urmas without looking his way. The elderly woman, attired in a wool outfit of lemon yellow with long sleeves and creased slacks, cocked her elbow as Urmas strode to her side.

“Your Highness, of course. Here, let me move the pillow.” Urmas grasped Helina’s arm and eased her into the cushions of a tapestried, gilt-framed chair. “Get Her Highness a pair of socks and slippers,” he ordered over his shoulder.

A loitering staff member rushed away to do his bidding.

Chey regarded the scene with puzzled concern. Helina acted as if she were once again in charge, as if she’d never been banished to the hinterlands in disgrace.

As if she’d never manipulated others to have Chey killed.

“I’ll need a change of clothes soon. The pant legs are wet and I want these heavy boots off my feet,” Helina said. “We lost the luggage not long after we left the boat.”

“We’ll get you everything you need,” Urmas said. He set his folder aside and accepted a hot cup of tea from a staff member to hand to Helina.

“And my old room.” Helina’s shaky hands grasped the cup and brought it to her trembling blue lips. She sipped, wincing, but didn’t complain.

“We’re gathering people into the informal parlors to save on heat. Having everyone in separate chambers with the power out isn’t the best use of supplies. You’ll have to bunk where we can find space. Maybe with the staff,” Chey said. Falling back on the diplomacy she’d worked so hard to cultivate in her time as queen, she kept her tone and expression neutral. Which was far better than what Helina deserved.

Urmas snapped a disapproving look in Chey’s direction. “She will have—”

“She’ll bunk where we find space,” Chey said. “We can shift the staff around. I’m sure no one will mind giving up a corner near the fireplace.”

Helina’s cup rattled against the saucer. She turned watery dark eyes on Chey as if seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time.

Chey withstood the familiar disapproving scrutiny and resisted the urge to cross a protective arm over her burgeoning stomach. “We can’t start giving special treatment to some people and not others, just to suit one individual.”

“Putting her with staff is out of the question,” Urmas said, an edge in his tone.

“Giving her a room to herself, her old room, isn’t going to happen. Now then, I have other things to do.” Chey was ten steps from the door when Helina spoke again.

“Where is my son? I’d like to see Dare,” she said.

“Sander isn’t here,” Chey retorted.

“What about Natalia?”

“Natalia is currently in another country with her husband. They were already gone before the storms turned serious. Mattias and Gunnar are with Sander and not available either.” Chey continued toward the door. She knew Helina was aware that Paavo had taken his own life and did not mention his name.

“My grandchildren? I would like to see the future king of Latvala.”

Unprepared for the extreme negative reaction she had to the thought of her kids anywhere near Helina, Chey paused on the threshold and took a moment to steady her equilibrium. Only when she was sure her features would not betray her distaste did she glance Helina’s way. “That won’t be possible. They’re busy at the moment.”

Escaping before Helina could say anything else, Chey followed the hall away from the parlor. Wynn waited near the archway leading back to the main foyer, an oil lamp dangling from her fingers.

“Is it really her?” Wynn asked with a frown.

“Yes, it’s really her. And she’s making a statement already.” Chey took Wynn aside, entering beneath an arch into a much smaller formal salon. The room, unsuitable for use as sleeping space due to its lack of a fireplace, was vacant and dark. Wynn’s lantern cast a hazy glow into the gloom. “Listen, Wynn. I’m going to have you tell Urmas my list of rules, since I don’t want to add to the conflict already flaring up around here.”

“All right. What’s first?” Wynn said.

“Helina is, under no circumstances, allowed to see my children. She’s already asking and I’ve already made excuses. If Elias discovers she’s here he’ll put up a fuss, so the farther away we can keep the kids from her, the better. Tell the staff immediately, before she pays someone off.” Chey whispered to prevent anyone in the hall from overhearing. “She’s not allowed to have her old room back or start manipulating the staff. And I want someone watching her at all times. I want to know who she’s talking to, who she sees. We’ll need to keep an eye on her surviving guards as well. I just don’t trust any of them.”

“Okay. I got it,” Wynn said. “Should we feed her separately? Because if we bring her into the main rooms where everyone else is, the kids will see her.”

“Yes. Let’s try and keep her segregated for meals, at least. She won’t want to eat with the ‘lesser thans’ anyway, so we’ll use that to our advantage.” Chey tapped her lower lip with a fingertip. “She is to have the same food and the same portions as everyone else, also. We’re not making exceptions for anyone. I’m sure she’ll dispute this, if her attitude so far is anything to go by.”

“I’ll inform the kitchen staff. Why do you think she came here?” Wynn asked. “It’s such a long way.”

“Probably because she knows we’ll have the best chance of surviving the weather. She knows Sander would have set up stores of food. I can’t be sure, but she might have mistakenly thought that her former position allows her benefits that no one else gets. Like more or different food, a room to herself, all of that,” Chey said. “And yes, it is a long way. They’ve been traveling for some time, I bet. She risked the lives of her guards to get her here and almost lost her own life in the process. That says to me that she’s desperate. I can’t kick her out, so we’re going to have to deal with her the best we can.”

“We’ll have to adjust the rationing again, too. It’s only another three mouths to feed, but every one counts now,” Wynn said.

“Yes. See to that, too. Otherwise, I’m hoping to keep Helina out of sight and out of mind as much as possible. I’ve told her she has to sleep with the staff, so perhaps we can create a screen of some kind between her and the others.” Chey braced a hand against her back but smiled when Wynn reached over to squeeze her shoulder.

“You feeling okay? You’ve been buzzing around here like a bee,” Wynn said.

“I’m fine. Dinner will be served soon, then I’ll retreat upstairs with the kids. We’ve done what we can with the electricity out,” she said. “I’ve mentioned it to Urmas, but I want the guys to keep trying to raise Sander and the others on the satellite phone. Let’s see if we can coerce them to come home.”

“I’ll see to it. I’d love to have Leander home again, too.” Wynn gave Chey’s shoulder a final squeeze then departed the salon with the lamp in tow. “I’ll see you shortly at dinner.”

Chey remained another few minutes, mindless of the dark, needing the time to come to terms with Helina’s unexpected reappearance. The woman was a nuisance and Chey didn’t want her here. She felt especially threatened that Helina wanted to see the kids and knew Sander wouldn’t want her anywhere near them either.

After another few minutes of much needed respite, she stepped into the dimly lit hallway and headed for the great room.

With any luck, they would get through dinner and the cleanup without a fight breaking out.

The storm blew for two days straight. Sander decided Armageddon must have begun with how hard the wind tore at the tarpaulin and how much snow continued to accumulate along the sides of the truck. Going outside for any reason at all had become treacherous and dangerous. Leander took it upon himself to question Joska and Gaius separately, but came away with no answers or clues to which man had perpetrated the crime. Gaius was the more vocal of the two in his own defense, which meant nothing when Joska declared his innocence with unwavering steadfastness.

On the third morning, the men awoke to an eerie silence beyond the walls of the truck. Back to normal after two days of recovery, Sander poked his head out the door. A calm morning awaited. The gray sky promised the weather wasn’t done with them yet, but it was the first time in a handful of days that he could see farther than thirty feet in any direction. It was then, in those initial seconds, that Sander made a decision.

“Load up. We’re leaving the truck,” he said over his shoulder.

“Before or after coffee?” Leander asked. He slurped the hot liquid and hissed a curse.

“Now. Right now. Because I don’t want to leave an enemy at my back, we’re taking Joska and Gaius with us. They can carry twice what they’re supposed to.” Sander retreated into the truck and pulled the door closed. He clapped his hands to get his brethren moving. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

It took less than twenty minutes for the team to dress and prepare for the trek. Sander loaded extra provisions into every backpack and carried two canteens of water over his shoulder. True to his word, he added twice the supplies to Joska and Gaius’s bags. Neither man complained.

Instead of backtracking to the last farmhouse, Sander decided to go forward. He knew there were more homesteads in the miles ahead and perhaps they would find another family in need. To his recollection, the next house was closer to the truck than heading back to the farm they’d already visited. Closer was better.

Trekking through two feet of snow, he plowed the way along the road using a long, gnarled stick to steady his balance. Where trees and brush crowded close to the lane, he had an easy time discerning where he should and should not walk. Heading off the road would be disastrous in terms of navigating to the next farm. Certain stretches lacked trees, bushes, or other telltale signs to let him know where the road turned to ditch. Once, he misjudged a curve and sank thigh deep into a hole.

The weather cooperated for the first three hours. No new snow fell. The temperature, while cold, wasn’t as frigid as it had been overnight. Sander utilized the break to put as much distance between them and the truck as he could. He anticipated locating the next farmhouse before dark. He didn’t want to contemplate what might happen if another blizzard like the last tore across the landscape before they found shelter.

It wouldn’t be pretty.

“We should have seen something by now,” Leander said.

“Keep going. We probably haven’t gone as far as we think we have,” Sander replied.

“I can’t see the flare I left back at the truck,” Leander said. “Maybe it went out.”

“Or there’s a lump of snow in the way, blocking the view. We’d be able to see it better at night. What’s that ahead? Is that a roof or a stand of trees?” Sander squinted through the sunglasses that helped cut the endless fields of white.

He stopped walking and fished for his binoculars. Adrenaline fueled by hope surged through his system. Sander raised his sunglasses and held the binoculars to his eyes.

The distinct shape of a roof came into view.

“It’s a house. We made it,” Gunnar said. He had also paused to take a closer look.

Relieved, Sander tucked the binoculars away and led the group on. They wouldn’t be exposed to the cold tonight which increased their odds of survival.

Sander didn’t want another person to die on his watch.

An hour and a half later, he approached the farmhouse down a long drive buried by snow. Sander had no trouble following the lane thanks to a row of boulders lining each side. Trees sat beyond the boulders, limbs laden with precipitation.

The two-story farmhouse looked to be decent sized, with a slanting, faded gray roof, a wraparound porch, and two outbuildings. All the windows—and there were many—appeared to be shuttered or covered with cloth.

Sander glanced back to make sure Gunnar had pulled the royal pennant from his pack. Attached to a short stick, the pennant waved high enough to be seen by any tenants, alerting them to who had come to call.

“I don’t see any smoke—” Sander paused when he thought he saw a flicker of movement near a window. The next thing he knew, two sharp retorts cracked through the day and he found himself tackled into the snow.

Leander said, “Everybody down! We’re being shot at.”