Heir in Exile (13 page)

The corridor was empty. Chey glanced behind her, hoping the opposite direction was as well. She saw nothing and no one.

Running as quietly as she could for the door to the basement, she opened it and rounded onto the landing, easing the door closed in her wake. She winced when it creaked. Hastening down the stairs, stung by the difference in the warmth up there compared to the cold down here, she fled to the shady alcove and plopped down onto the moving blanket.

With any luck, the man upstairs would get distracted by someone else and forget the flicker of movement he'd seen. She needed to remain indoors until dawn, so her choice of whether to stay in the building or go out into the snow wasn't really a choice at all.

She had to stay and hope she wasn't discovered if she wanted to live through the night.

Chapter Ten

It was still dark when Chey left the security of the basement a handful of hours later. Out in the open, she saw the snow had stopped falling, leaving about a half foot on the ground. Adjusting the strap of the duffel over her chest, she eyed the vacant yard and the cover of trees beyond. She needed to get to the wall and the gate. Anyone looking out the windows on an upper level would be able to see her until she was on the other side of the wall, a place she really wanted to be right then. Just as she stepped for the cover of the trees, she heard the distinct rumble of an engine to her right. It didn't come from the yard, but somewhere around the corner of the building. Maybe there was a garage just out of sight.

Chey weighed her options. Obviously, someone had started the car. Had they left it idling and went back inside, like many people did when the weather was so frigid? Or were they still sitting within, waiting while the heat blasted through the interior of the vehicle?

Access to a car, in her estimation, was worth the risk of being spotted. It would only work if the driver had gone back inside, however; Chey wasn't willing to engage in a brawl—which she would probably lose—or a gunfight to have it.

Changing direction, she crept along the back wall of the building, ducking below dark windows. At the corner, she peered around the side.

Several bay doors indicated the entire part of the structure here at the end was a garage. One had been rolled up and exhaust puffed out of a tailpipe on the idling vehicle. Creeping forward, cheeks stinging from the cold air, she peered inside the garage.

A dim light shined down from overhead, glinting off the white paint of a rugged looking SUV. The vehicle didn't look brand new, but neither was it old. The tires appeared suited for bad weather such as this.

Waiting against the wall, she sought the interior for a driver. The tint on the windows made it hard to tell if anyone was inside or not. Cursing silently, Chey debated giving up on the idea of stealing the vehicle and just going on foot out the same gate she came in.

Even if she did get the car, an alarm would be raised sooner or later. How far could she get before someone found and stopped her? Then again, she might put a lot more distance between herself and the building before anyone got another car up and running.

Clenching her teeth, she bolted around the corner, going low along the side of the SUV. She approached the passenger side and tried to use the side mirror to see a driver. All she needed was a glimpse of the seat.

Empty. The driver's seat was empty.

Not allowing herself time to second guess, she ran around the front, opened the door and hopped in. The driver was probably inside getting a mug of coffee for the road. Dumping her bag on the passenger seat, she reached for the gears. Putting the vehicle in reverse, she eased out of the garage as quietly and as slowly as she could. In her mind, the less engine revving right now, the better. Rolling forward, she aimed for the front where a driveway had already been cleared. Once she hit pavement, she gave the SUV a little more gas.

Ahead, the main gate protecting the structure stood open. Chey thanked her lucky stars the driver had done all this beforehand, making her theft a bit easier. Pulling onto the road, she sped up, yelping when the back end fishtailed before the tires caught. Straightening out, hunched over the wheel from tension and stress, she drove away as fast as she dared. No other buildings dotted the slightly hilly terrain to the right. On her left, a broad meadow separated the structure from another length of forest that connected with the rest far back in the distance. It was a remote area, that much was obvious.

She took the first turn heading South that she came to, checking the rear view mirror often for a tail.

Someone had to have found the missing car by now.

Chey hit several lengths of road that had not been cleared, making passage difficult. The SUV handled it well enough as long as she went slow. She took a turn, and another, and another, until she felt marginally better that a tail wouldn't be able to find her. That didn't mean the police wouldn't, should they get a glimpse of her in the distinctive white car.

She planned to ditch it before too long anyway. All she wanted to do was cut some of the distance to the shore down. Even a semi-busy city would work. Anywhere she could get lost in crowds was good. Checking the built in GPS often, she remained generally on course, taking whatever paths she came to that led her where she needed to go.

Just as dawn started to break over the horizon, Chey spotted two headlights in the rear view mirror. Cautioning herself against panic, she retained the same speed. It could be anyone on their way into town for work or whatever else. People in this country were used to driving in bad conditions; it didn't stop them from coming and going.

Not far ahead, she could see the shape of a city looming out of the twilight. She knew she wasn't at the shoreline yet, but this would be a good place to stop and possibly ditch the SUV. As soon as the sun was fully up, she would become a sitting duck. The car behind kept a respectable distance and didn't rush up on her bumper.

Chey entered the edge of the city as the vehicle veered off another direction at the first light, allowing Chey to breathe easier. Definitely not in pursuit, just a citizen on errands of their own.

Cruising along the avenue, Chey turned right at the next stop sign, looking for a place to pull in. All in all, the city looked to be smaller than it was large, with a few main streets interconnecting onto less busy thoroughfares.

Parking in front of a cafe, Chey shut the engine down and took stock of her situation. Most of the businesses on this street looked to be closed. Did she dare stick her head in one anyway, in case her face had been on TV? She didn't trust Aksel not to pull out all the stops to find her.

Yet she needed access to shelter where she could wait a few hours to see if Mattias contacted her again. She thought about shooting him a text, but decided she shouldn't in case someone had gotten their hands on that particular phone.

A small restaurant at the very end of the row beckoned. In the window, a green neon sign proclaimed them open.

Chey disembarked, leaving the keys in the ignition. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she hit the sidewalk and made for the restaurant. If anyone appeared to recognize her, then she would simply flee on foot and find a new hiding place.

She could do this.

Entering the restaurant, she found it small, cozy and warm from a fireplace blazing along the back wall. A proprietor called out a greeting, which Chey returned in their native tongue. She'd picked up a few words here or there, enough to converse with the most basic sentiments.

Sinking into a booth, she rubbed her hands together before removing her gloves. Tucking them away, she ordered coffee and a rather large breakfast, watching for signs of recognition on the waiter's face the whole time. Seeing no spark, or narrowing of the man's eyes, she sat back to wait. In the meantime, she contemplated everything that had happened since leaving the cabin on the run. She debated the odds that Sander had come out on top with Aksel and they didn't look good. Considering no one had contacted her before now only added to the idea that something had gone terribly wrong. Chey debated how to leave the country if Mattias didn't text or call her in the next day or two. She had enough money to pay for rooms until then, and not much more.

Taking a flight out was asking to get caught by customs. She would have to sneak aboard a boat, maybe, on its way to a port in another country. Even then, if she got caught, how would she explain herself? It might land her in jail no matter what.

At least the others wouldn't outright kill her, as Aksel would.

Digging into her breakfast after the waiter dropped it off, Chey ruminated over her options, disappointed with each new idea that arose. They all led back to the same place in the end: she couldn't get out of Latvala without crossing paths with someone who would check her identity, and that was a problem.

After the meal, she slouched in the booth, hands cupped around a cup of coffee, her phone sitting next to her leg on the seat.

The jingle of bells on the door two hours after finishing her meal drew Chey's gaze to the side. A hand landed on her shoulder before she could catch a glimpse of the person's face, startling her bad enough that she thumped the mug on the table. Just about to fight back, she realized it was a staying touch.

“Ready to go?” Mattias asked, cautioning her with a gaze that peered out from a hood drawn over his head. It completely obscured his features unless someone was right in front of him.

“Yes.” Chey didn't waste a second leaving money on the table and gathering her things. Relief felt like a drug in her veins. She wasn't sure how he found her—GPS on the phone, most likely—and didn't care. Mattias was here, and he would make everything all right.

Exiting the restaurant, she followed him to a waiting black Hummer and climbed into the back. A guard drove and another sat in the passenger seat, dressed warm for the weather instead of their usual suits.

Setting her bag on the floor at her feet, Chey looked across the vehicle at Mattias. “What happened? Someone followed me into the woods when I ran from the house,” she said.

“I know. I'll tell you about it on the way. Sander has been forced to leave Latvala. We're going to have to figure out how to reinstall him as Heir to the throne.” Mattias's grim expression boded ill for the near future.

Chey said, “I may have found a clue that will help.”

. . .

As the vehicle drove the roads away from the small town, Mattias, frowning, glanced across the car to Chey. “What do you mean?”

Half turning on the seat, she met Mattias's eyes. “This is going to sound crazy, but I have proof. Anyway, I got lost in the woods after I left the cabin. I'm not sure how far I ran, or in what direction. I suspect I wound up in the East woods, however.”

Mattias's frown turned into a scowl. “Why do you say that?”

“Because of what I found there. Tell me—have you or Sander ever explored that area?”

“No. What did you find?” He shifted in his seat, curiosity mingling with wariness on his features.

“Late in the evening, when I knew I needed to find shelter before it got darker and colder, I stumbled upon a building. It's surrounded by a wall, but I managed to get in the back gate and break into an outer basement door. While I was huddling down there, I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, someone was in the basement with me.” She paused to lick her lips, then continued. “I opened my eyes, and in the available light—which wasn't much—I thought I was looking at Sander's back. I was so convinced he'd found me that I even started to call out. Thank God I didn't, because it
wasn't
him.”

Mattias's frown deepened. “So you think a man who shares a build like my brother is somehow a clue?”

“Yes, and when you see these, you will think so, too.” Chey fished her phone out and called up the photos she'd taken.

Mattias eased the cell from her grip and muttered something under his breath in his own language.

A curse, as far as Chey could tell. Maybe an exclamation.

“See? The profile...there is no denying he resembles Sander. It's not just the build. The jaw, the shape of the face where it isn't deformed, it
could
be Sander except for the black hair.” Chey glanced from the phone to Mattias.

“Yes. This is striking. I wonder, then, if this has to do with the King's recent cryptic remarks about being able to force Sander into exile.” He thumbed through the photos, examining each with critical care.

“It could be. Those were taken when I sneaked upstairs at one point, into the building proper, and discovered that man playing violin.”

Mattias gave Chey a chiding glance for the risk of entering the house proper. Her information seemed to surprise him. “Violin? You saw him playing?”

“Yes. Sander told me he plays, too, although I've never heard him yet. There are one or two photos that show the violin, when I wasn't zooming in.”

“He does. Excellently, at that.” Mattias looked down at the phone, thumb passing along the edge of the next picture. “What else did you glean?”

“Nothing too much more than that. He almost caught me, so I had to hide then escape back to the basement. I stole a car in the morning, before sunup, and made my way through the countryside to that little town you found me in.” Chey didn't ask for the phone back. Not yet. She saw Mattias forward the photos, likely to his phone or a secret email account. Then he deleted them from her photo gallery.