Heir in Exile (20 page)

Coming up empty on the upper floor, Chey descended to the main level. Mattias's voice coming from his office drew her that direction. Maybe he would know where Sander was.

Mattias ended his call when she appeared in the doorway. He smiled his welcome and gestured to one of the chairs opposite his desk. Dressed in black slacks and a midnight blue button down, he looked like he'd been up for hours.

“Good morning, Chey. You're looking better. Have a seat?” he said.

“Hi. Actually Mattias, I'm looking for Sander. Do you know where he's gone to?” She rocked on the soles of her shoes. It was so hard not to confess what she thought might be happening.

His expression sobered as he perched on the edge of his desk. “He left last night, Chey, to get our plans underway. We're expecting the results today or tomorrow from the samples, and once we have them, things will get dangerous quickly.”

All she heard was that Sander was gone. Gone. Without a word of goodbye. It hurt so much that she glanced at the floor to hide the sudden sheen of tears.

“I'm sorry,” Mattias said with a wealth of compassion.

She teethed the inside of her lip. “It's all right. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.” Yet she was.

“It's a precarious time. If it makes you feel any better, I know it was difficult for him to go without talking to you first. Once this is over, this particular event, things will smooth out.” He got up off the desk and strode closer to set a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I'm sure.” Chey wasn't sure at all. She wanted to believe they would work it out. They
had
to work it out. Confirmed hotheads, the both of them, and when they went at it, they
really
went at it. That didn't mean everything was over and done.

“Chey,” he said, trying to get her attention.

She glanced up. Met his eyes.

“It'll be okay.” He squeezed her shoulder with gentle pressure. “Sander might have a temper, but he's rational in the end and he's loyal to those he loves. Things will be fine, trust me.”

Chey smiled and wished it didn't feel so shaky. She would never understand how Aksel and Helina, considering how they were, had raised such compassionate, caring children. “You're the best almost brother-in-law a girl could ever have. Thanks.”

He laughed. “You're welcome.”

“Mattias?” She maintained eye contact so he would know what came next was serious instead of frivolous.

“Yes?” he replied, a curious gleam in his gaze.

“Is there any way someone can drive me to the closest town? I need...well. I need a few things that I don't have with me.” She made it sound of the feminine hygiene variety, which wasn't far from the truth. “I'll make sure I disguise myself so no one recognizes me.”

Mattias considered it, expending a few seconds in silence. “Yes, of course. I'm waiting for an important call, or I would take you myself. I'll have Olev drive you in.”

“I appreciate it. How long do you think it'll take? I can't remember where the closest store is around here.”

“Twenty minutes. Here.” He released her, reached into his pocket, and withdrew a fold of money secured by a silver clip. Peeling off several bills, he extended them.

“Thanks, I forgot about money.” Chey's money was sitting in a bank in another country and at Kallaster castle, inaccessible for now. She took the bills and folded them once more to fit in her palm. “I'll go change and meet Olev in the garage, all right?”

“Sounds good.” He winked and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket after returning the money.

Chey swung away and headed back upstairs to her bedroom. Once there, she changed again, drawing on a pair of jeans that had fit her a bit loose to begin with. They were loose everywhere except the button, which now fit against her skin instead of the usual inch gap. She traded tennis shoes for warmer boots, a beanie that she pulled over her head and all her hair, and a pair of sunglasses that obscured a good portion of her face. A glance in the mirror proved she was all but unrecognizable.

Tucking the money into her front pocket, she descended the stairs and went straight to the garage, where Olev was already waiting in the SUV, engine idling with the bay door rolled up. Blonde, tall and broad, Olev wore dark clothes and a coat that hid the shoulder holster beneath.

Chey got into the front instead of the back.

“Miss Sinclair,” he said in greeting. Once her door was closed, he reversed out of the garage and headed toward the main gate.

“Hi Olev.” Buckling in, Chey tilted her head against the seat.

“Any particular place?” he asked as he got them on the road.

“Just somewhere that sells a good variety of things.” She closed her eyes, caught between potential joy at the idea of being pregnant and sorrow that Sander was gone. Chey tried not to read too much into him leaving without seeking her out.

“Got it,” Olev said. He sped along the streets, not too fast and not too slow, taking great care to avoid any ice patches or stranded cars.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up outside a quaint looking store in a town with only one main street. All the shops faced the road with extra parking in the back. Snow lined the curbs from plows that had been running all night.

Olev shut the engine off, disembarked, and came around to open Chey's door.

“Thanks,” she said after undoing the buckle. Olev helped her down by a hand while scanning the area with discreet swivels of his head. Professional and aware of the need to stay undercover, he pretended to be a doting boyfriend as he escorted her casually to the front door.

“I'll wait out here. If you need anything inside, raise your hand to flag me. I'll see it,” he said near her ear.

Chey inclined her head, understanding he wanted to watch the road and sidewalks. “I will. Be right back.”

Olev pulled out a cell phone and feigned a call while she went inside. The tall windows along the front of the store allowed him to mark her passage up and down the aisles.

Grateful for the escort and the knowledge she had someone there if she needed them, Chey still hoped he didn't pay attention to where exactly in the store she went. The interior was set up a lot like corner pharmacies back home, with one wall dedicated to prescriptions and the other aisles catering to a wide array of products ranging from toys for babies to stationary to first aid.

The smell was both clinical and floral thanks to a row of candles in jars on a rounder right inside the door.

Feeling conspicuous, Chey stopped near a section of make up and other cosmetics. She chose a few lip balms, a new hair brush and several hair bands that went into the basket hanging on her arm. Swinging around into the feminine hygiene section, she went on the hunt for her primary target: pregnancy tests. Finding them with ease, she then debated what kind to get.

It struck her then that she could be carrying the next King or Queen of Latvala. The knowledge made her hand shake. She chose a brand that looked easy to use and put three tests into the basket.

Chey wasn't taking any chances.

A few bottles of lotion followed the tests in with the rest of it before Chey headed to the counter. She traded hellos with the clerk in her halting use of their mother tongue. After paying and accepting her change, she scooped the bag off the counter, bid her goodbyes, and headed to the door.

Olev saw her coming and had it open by the time she got there.

“Find what you need?” he asked, ending his phone call.

“I did, thanks.” Chey felt confident Olev hadn't pinpointed what products in particular she'd been after.

Once in the SUV, Olev wasted no time getting them back on the road for home.

Distracted by the possible pregnancy and the upcoming test, she stared out the window. Low music poured out the speakers while heat kept the temperature comfortable.

Before she knew it, they were pulling into the garage at the house.

“I appreciate you taking the time to drive me, Olev,” she said, climbing down from the car.

“Of course, Miss Sinclair. Anytime.” He shut the engine off and followed her into the house.

Chey cut away for the stairs with her bag in tow.

Time to find out whether or not there was a baby on the way.

. . .

Two minutes was a lifetime. Chey paced in the bedroom while the test sat on the counter in the bathroom. She glanced at the nightstand clock and exhaled frustration that the digital read out wasn't what she wanted it to be. Could two minutes really last this long? She had half a mind to run in there to see if there was any early indication. One pink line, negative. Two pink lines, positive. Maybe she would be able to tell already.

One more glance at the clock.

Now it was time.

Chey walked into the bathroom, wishing Sander were here to experience this with her. She couldn't wait another second to know, didn't want to drink or eat or do anything that might harm the baby.

Approaching the counter, she held her breath. Stopping before the skinny stick, she glanced down.

Two pink lines. Two
very
pink lines.

“
Oh my God, oh my God!”
Chey covered her mouth over a gasp of shock. It didn't matter that she'd mostly deduced she was pregnant. This made it
real.
She was going to have a baby. Cupping her hands low over her stomach, she let the reality of it sink in. Again, she realized this child's role in life would be so much different than she ever imagined a baby of hers would be. She didn't know if girls ascended the throne like boys did, but she would find out soon enough.

What would Sander say? It pained her that they were at such odds. She wanted to fix things between them before she told him. Wanted all the warmth and affection in place of the tension and silence.

Just to be on the safe side, she went through all the motions again and took a second test. In case there was a glitch, she wanted to see if she got the same result twice.

She did. Two pink lines popped right up. This time, she stood there and watched, tears stinging her eyes. Two tests couldn't be wrong.

Gathering up the evidence, she crushed the boxes and wrapped them in tissue before discarding, so the staff wouldn't see. The tests themselves she hid inside her make up case beneath a lift out section.

Exiting the bathroom, she started for the nightstand and her phone. Halfway there, she came to a halt. Should she tell Mattias? She felt it was important that someone know besides her. Yet she hated for anyone to know before Sander. What if it slipped out and he overheard someone else talking?

No, it was better to get Sander back here as soon as possible so they could talk and she could find a way to tell him.

While she debated, someone knocked at her bedroom door.

Maybe Sander had returned.

Crossing the room, she swung the door open. Olev stood there, grim faced.

“Prince Mattias requires your presence in the main parlor. It's urgent,” Olev said.

“What's wrong?” Chey stepped out after him and followed Olev to the stairs, trotting down to the first floor. She held the banister the whole way, cautious about an accidental stumble.

“I'll let him explain,” Olev said. He indicated the parlor in question and swiveled away for the foyer where another guard waited.

Chey glanced after Olev, then entered the parlor. Mattias paced in front of the blazing fireplace with a phone to his ear. Speaking in his native tongue, the words fell rapid and brusque from his lips. When he caught sight of her, his gaze lingered. He held up a finger in a
one moment
gesture.

Taking up a lean against the arm of the couch, she wondered what in the world was going on.

Hanging up, Mattias pushed the phone into the pocket of his coat. “Thanks for coming down, Chey. I'm afraid we have a problem.”

“What is it? Nothing happened to Sander, did it?” Her blood ran cold at the thought.

“Laur contacted me an hour ago, stating he thinks the guards in the house are onto him. He overheard them talking over whether to call the King to tell him what they've discovered.”

“Onto him? You mean they know he left the house or something? But you said they'd probably think he just went into the woods,” she said, fretful that something might happen to Laur.

“He's not positive exactly what they know or don't know, but they're suspicious enough to consider contacting my father,” Mattias said. “I've called Sander back to the house.”

“I'm not sure I understand the urgency,” Chey admitted. “Once you get the results back, then you can work to free Laur and the others, yes?”

“I fear if the King thinks Laur has communicated with the outside world, he'll give the order for the guards to clean the house.” Mattias's mouth pressed into a tight, displeased line.

“Clean the house?” Chey wasn't following.

“Kill them all.”

Chapter Sixteen