Chapter Twenty-One

“What the hell are you doing here?!?” I yelled at my older sister, her Most Perfect Royal Highness ever, Princess Theodora of Drieden, as I pulled up my pants.

Because of course. All this time, all these years, she was still cock-blocking me in our grandmother’s house.

For her part, she seemed to be recovering from shellshock, looking at me and then at Hugh’s straight back. He had jumped to attention and faced a corner as he tried to calm down from our super-hot-almost-sex-makeout session that had been so rudely interrupted.

“Excuse me!?” I snapped my fingers at her, and she jerked, as if she was offended by that small act of disrespect. Whatever. What about me? I felt hugely disrespected right now, after her barging in like she had. “What are you doing here?” I repeated slowly and clearly.

Thea seemed to take in the room again, and then she recovered, like Ms. Perfect always did. “Well, hello again, dear Caroline. So lovely to see you, after all these months,” she said pointedly. “I’ve been so worried about you after your husband’s passing.”

I silently called her a very bad word. “Thank you, dear Thea,” I replied, echoing her regal, distant tone and flawless diction. “I did so appreciate your thoughtful notes after I lost said husband.”

She smoothed a hand down the front of her precisely fitted wool jersey dress. Theodora of Drieden was always elegant, cool, calm and predictable. I could read her like a book. Even now she was reaching into her formidable royal bag of tricks and was about to play a princess card that was so indisputably well mannered that no one could possibly find fault with her.

“It is good to see you,” she said. “Even while you’re putting the moves on my bodyguard.”

Oh. Kill. Me. Now.

Where was a good Swiss sinkhole to swallow you up when you needed one?

I bit my lip and tried my hardest not to look at Hugh. Or Thea. Or anywhere except the portrait hanging above Thea’s left shoulder. There. If I concentrated hard enough, I’d be able to get through the supreme awkwardness of this night.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked, once I had regained my composure. “Did Konnor call you?”

“It’s Konnor now?” she murmured.

“No.” That was Hugh, now turned and transformed back into stern bodyguard mode. There was no trace of the passionate man who had kissed me so recklessly just a few minutes before. “I didn’t call her,” he said, looking only at me, which made my heart leap awkwardly into my throat. Yeah. I wasn’t sure how to handle this situation at all. I focused back on the portrait behind Thea, of a woman. Mid- to late-sixteenth century, from the dress. Pale skinned, honey brown hair pulled back and adorned with a coronet of pearls and rubies, sitting in a salon of some sort. I had no idea who she was or why she was hanging up here in the tower. Did they run out of room in the official gallery? Was this a punishment of some kind? Had she been a particularly nasty mother-in-law?

The artist had painted her coat of arms behind her—this I did recognize—the Sevine coat of arms. It was on my mother’s formal stationery, had probably been on other items in our house while I was growing up, and it was everywhere here, too.

So of course I knew it, the quartered shield featuring a cross and a fox and leaves of laurel. But my royal tutors had always focused on our Laurent heraldry, impressing upon us those symbols and consigning the Sevine insignia to the forgotten corners of my mother’s inheritance.

That was why I had never spent a single moment thinking about the significance of the fourth quarter of the Sevine shield. I had never wondered what that bold horizontal diamond meant, or why there were gold rays extending from only the bottom half of the design.

Hugh reached out and steadied me with one hand on my waist. “Caroline? Are you okay?”

Thea turned to Hugh. “And what a surprise to find you here. Especially as you haven’t checked in in several weeks.”

“Do you have any updates for me?”

He glanced at me again. “Possibly.” He seemed to hesitate for a second before saying to my sister, “Actually, if you could give Lady Caroline and me a chance to finish our conversation. I can brief you afterward.”

“No,” I said suddenly. I was aware of both of them turning to me in surprise, but I could only stare at the portrait.

When I studied art history, professors had remarked how I saw paintings differently. I would comment on the obscure parts, or a technique or some significance that few others pulled out.

And now, it would seem, I had done it again.

“I have to go,” I mumbled as I broke from Hugh’s grasp and went to find dear old Grandmama.

When I entered the main hall my attention was caught by the Sevine coat of arms etched into the stone floor. Then, by the tapestry hanging high on the wall opposite the door, where an older version of the same insignia was embroidered in gold and red.

All those horizontal diamonds. All hiding in plain sight. It seemed bold, daring, reckless, even.

It was the Sevine way, I guessed.

The handsome Ravi showed me back to Grandmama’s practice room, as she called it. There were two fencers in the middle of the piste, their epees flashing like Christmas tinsel. Upon our entrance, they paused and one pushed back their mask. It was Grandmama, wearing sporty eyeglasses. “Caroline, what an inconvenient time to visit.”

“You lied to me.”

She showed no response to my accusation other than to shrug. “No matter, I’m losing terribly. Now I have an excuse to defer this game to another time.” Her partner took off his helmet and ran a hand through his sweaty dark hair. Like Ravi, he was an exceptionally handsome man. Clearly, my grandmama had refined and specific tastes.

After the two men left us alone, Grandmama went to a nearby table and poured from an insulated pot. “Herbal tea?” she asked, and I declined. Still, she poured two cups.

“You haven’t asked me why I’ve come,” I observed as she took a sip of tea. I didn’t wait for a further response. “It’s about Vox Umbra. You’re connected to it somehow. And Christian. He has a tattoo of something in your own crest and you lied to me about it.”

“Darling, we were in the middle of a conference call.”

I sputtered. “Were you going to tell me? He’s a madman. He’s blown up your daughter’s house, he kidnapped your granddaughter, he threatened your Queen!”

Grandmama set her teacup down. “Well, that last bit’s not that bad. Aurelia deserves it.”

“Did you tell him where to find me?”

“Do you want to know the truth about yourself, Caroline? About your heritage?”

The sudden, direct twist startled me. “I know everything about my heritage,” I said bitterly. “You forget what type of education a princess must endure.”

Astrid pinned me with her ice-sharp gaze. “Your other heritage. We’re Vox Umbra. It’s an organization the Sevines have been involved in for a long time.”

“This is real?” I asked, remembering Professor McIntosh’s evidence about fourteenth-century Inquisition documents. “This has been going on for nearly a thousand years?”

“Isn’t it fascinating?” Astrid closed her eyes slightly, enraptured at the thought, and I saw what had stimulated her passion for archeology.

Then she continued, “It’s simply a small group of influential people, bound by blood to ensure that the will of God is done on Earth. Historically speaking.”

“You’re religious zealots.”

My grandmother chuckled. “Perhaps in the past. In this century, we consider ourselves peacekeepers.”

“You’re powermongers.”

“We bring stability and prosperity to our nations.”

“By keeping a small cabal in authority.”

Grandmama was not bruised by my accusations. Instead, she looked almost…amused.

And I understood why. I raised my hand. “Okay, fine, I get your point.” It was ironic that I, raised in a palace, given all the princessy titles, would be shocked at such things as cabals that kept power in the hands of the few.

“But why would you bring Christian into all this? He’s running from the law!”

Grandmama pressed her lips together. “Throughout the centuries, a small group of families passed leadership of Vox Umbra among themselves. One by one, they would take a turn. Some were successful and some…well, we don’t speak of them anymore. Christian claimed his hereditary membership shortly before his engagement to Theodora.” She lifted her hands. “Who knew he’d turn out to be one of the rotten apples?”

None of this made much sense. “But if he’s Vox Umbra…why would he try to destroy the Driedish monarchy? You just said the organization is interested in stability and peacekeeping.”

Now Astrid’s smile had faded. “That is what we’re wondering. He’s a loose cannon, obviously, but he’s clearly found asylum with some other members.”

“And he’s blown up buildings, and kidnapped people, and he knows—”

I broke off before I shared too much.

But this was Astrid Decht-Sevine. “What does he know about you, Caroline?” she asked softly.

“He knows what I’ve done.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Ah.” She let silence do the pressuring for her.

Finally, I had to admit it. “For years, I’ve published newspaper stories under pen names.” I paused. “Some of them were stories about my family.”

If Astrid was shocked, or disgusted, I couldn’t tell. “What were these names?”

“Cordelia Lancaster. And Clémence Diederich.”

She frowned a little and then shook a finger at me. “The Formula One series in the British paper. I wondered how the reporter knew so much about Stavros’s team.”

My stomach twisted. Trading in secret insider information never stayed secret, did it?

“How does Christian know of all this?” Astrid asked me.

How indeed. I shook my head. “I don’t know, but Christian will tell everyone all the things I’ve done if I don’t help him put his story out there. To publish it. Let the world know it.”

Astrid straightened, as cool and as dangerous as her epee. “We cannot let that happen.”

“Which part?”

“All of it, darling. You’re one of us,” my grandmama continued. “You’ll just have to help us stop him.”

I cursed softly. Being dragged into more drama was not my plan. Which is what I told her. “I thought I’d go to Patagonia next. I’ve heard it’s nice,” I finished.

Astrid was not impressed with me. “This is not who you are. You are a Sevine woman.”

“Mother ran away,” I said, a little like a toddler, if I’m honest. But of course, Astrid ignored that.

“What if Christian was threatening your sister Sophia? What would you do to stop him from hurting her?”

The surge of anger, the rush of violence, caused my fist to clench. “To protect someone I love, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do,” I said quietly.

Astrid smiled warmly. “Well, then, welcome to Vox Umbra, Caroline of Sevine.” She extended a hand to me. “Now, let’s catch that bastard.”

Hugh found me on a balcony.

The night air was cold, and I now knew from experience how warm I’d find Hugh’s embrace.

But I couldn’t go to him.

Astrid and I had concocted a simple yet effective plan, but in order for it to work, I’d have to lie to everyone involved.

It had been surprisingly easy to agree to this. After all, I’d been lying to the world for a very long time, it seemed. No one knew the real me; no one knew my secrets or my dreams.

The only person who had been able to unlock that door recently was Hugh Konnor.

And now I had to slam it shut. Lock the bolt.

Which was fine.

He didn’t want me, not really. And I couldn’t have him. Not without destroying his life. Which wasn’t a very polite thing to do, now, was it?

So. I would lie. Hide in plain sight. And ensure the safety of my family, the stability of my country and the secrecy of an organization whose existence I’d only just discovered today.

Not bad for a Tuesday.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, in a bossy bass. “It’s freezing.”

“I’m a native Driedener,” I said, with a rueful smile at the dark shadows of the Alps around us. “I laugh at cold wind.”

“Hmph,” was all he said as he draped a blanket around my shoulders.

My heart twinged a little at that gesture. This was why I went gaga for him at nineteen. Because he did these things that a bodyguard did and I always misinterpreted them as something more intimate, more meaningful.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Another heart string pulled. Nope. I wasn’t falling for it.

“You’ll be happy to know that Astrid and I had a long talk. She’s convinced me to go back to Drieden.”

Hugh pulled back, his face filled with skeptical surprise.

“I’m not staying,” I told him sternly. “I…can’t. She simply has some business that she might need some assistance with.”

It was the truth. Astrid was convinced that a Vox Umbra member in Drieden had helped Christian. She felt that if I was in the country, and if Christian wanted to meet with me, he’d feel more confident coming forward and we could potentially catch him, and identify his protector at the same time.

“Have you told your sister?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t seen her. Not since we were…” I let that drift off, uncomfortably reminded about all the places Hugh had placed his hands—and lips—just a while ago.

Our gazes locked. He looked down at me with a molten golden stare and I got the distinct impression that he was thinking about the same things.

“We can’t,” I started.

“No,” he agreed quickly.

Too quickly. I felt the familiar resistance, the old wound of his rejection, that he found me ridiculous and repulsive, but I remembered. His fingers, his touch, the way he greedily tasted me.

My inner princess was now offended. “Why can’t we?” I demanded. “A lot of men think I’m attractive. A lot of women, too,” I added, for good measure.

A tense sigh tore of out of him. “I know.”

“You know that I’m attractive, or you know that a lot of other people think I’m hot enough to…” My voice tapered out under the undeniable heat of his gaze. “Kiss,” I ended lamely.

“You don’t want to be with someone like me,” Hugh said, almost kindly.

“Someone like you?” There was my alter ego, Awkward Repeating Robot, again. “Are you gay?” I asked him.

“No.”

“Impotent?”

His mouth slid to one side. “No.”

I wracked my brain for other possible reasons why I would not want to be with this tall, handsome, extremely competent man with intense eyes and clever hands and a loyal heart and…oh. Crap.

“You’re married.”

“No.”

“Otherwise attached?”

Another frustrated sigh. “No. I’m a fucking street kid from Koras who joined the army simply to get food and a roof over my head. I’m a government employee with cheap suits, tattoos, a government pension that starts in two months and absolutely no knowledge about expensive wine or the Crusades or the fucking king who got himself killed in that supermarket car park.” Suddenly, Hugh was much closer, practically looming over me.

“Wait. You think you’re not good enough for me?” I laughed. Oh, irony was delicious. “You know I’m not a princess anymore, right?”

“So you keep saying. But all I see is the daughter of the next king of Drieden.”

I held his gaze for a long moment. “Liar,” I finally said.

“What did you call me?”

“You heard me. I called you a liar. If all you saw was an untouchable princess, then you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Not on the couch,” I said. “In the stables. When I was nineteen and asked you to take my virginity. You know what I think?”

“I couldn’t possibly guess.”

“I think you were tempted to take me up on the offer.”

“You were a child.”

“I was nineteen. You were—what, twenty-five?” I shook my head. It wasn’t an unheard-of, insurmountable age difference. “You saw me as something else.”

“You’re right.”

“See?”

He leaned in, inches away from my face. “I saw you as trouble.”

It all clicked then. Hugh’s fundamental nature, how he took his job so seriously. He’d said it in Italy, hadn’t he? He thought his job was to protect me from my own bad decisions.

Even if my bad decision was him.

“Fine.” I said, even though it most definitely was not. I backed away and regarded him solemnly. Like a giant jar of candies that held a prize, if only I could guess the correct amount inside. “You win.”

Strange how Hugh didn’t seem happy about that statement. “What do I win?” he asked, as if was already regretting asking the question.

“You think I’m trouble, you don’t want us to be involved. Fine. You win. We’ll go back to Drieden, I’ll keep doing my thing and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Like hell you will.”

I smiled. I saw what he was about now. “Then you’ll agree to my terms.”