Page 38 of Guarding the Princess
Mother puts down her toast and wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Go ahead.”
“I’d like to start planning the ceremony. On one condition.”
The glee in Mother’s eyes is tamped down the minute I throw out an ultimatum. “Hmm.”
Ignoring her noncommittal response, I continue. “I accept all the responsibilities as the future queen as long as my marriage is no longer a condition of taking the throne. I will marry who I want to marry, when I want to marry.”
Mother looks at Father quickly. “Well, I’m sure—”
“And,” I interrupt her. “If you agree to tell the public the truth about Rasmus.”
The silence is deafening. Even the waitstaff by the door freeze. After Rasmus went to the U.S., everyone was told he decided to give up the throne. There have been rumors, of course, especially because no one has been able to find him and zero photographs of him have surfaced. My parents have refused to answer any questions from reporters about Rasmus as well, leading people to assume they disowned him for something highly unconventional. I’ve decided my reign as Queen will not include those types of lies, nor will I let my brother’s memory be tarnished by the thought of us disowning him. He deserves better.
“Charlotta,” Mother breathes. Her hand, the one holding her necklace, is shaking.
My voice gentles seeing her facade crumble. In this moment, she’s not the Queen. She’s a mother who lost her only son.
“It’s time, Mother. It’s time to tell his true story. Let us all heal, I beg you.”
“She’s right, Margit,” Father speaks, his voice rough, as if the words had trouble leaving his throat.
After a long moment, she answers. “Give me today to think on it. I will let you know tonight.”
I nod. “Thank you for listening.” I stand up and come around the table to throw my arms around her shoulders. For a brief moment, she squeezes me back tightly before letting go and clearing her throat. I move down the table to give Father the same hug. He, on the other hand, doesn’t let go so easily.
“I don’t get enough of these so each one has to last a bit longer, Charlotta.”
My eyes fill with tears even as I fight them back. My sweet father. I’ve done enough crying though. Today is about being brave.
When Father eventually lets me go, I hurry back to my room to grab my cell phone to call our head of security. I’m sure he’ll know of a private investigator I can hire to find Ryker. I should have made this call last night, but honestly, I was too distraught to think clearly. While I’m on the phone with our security, maybe they can pull security camera footage of Ryker leaving the palace. I’d like to see how he left with my own two eyes.
* * *
The rest of the day I run from meeting to meeting, trying to get up to speed on everything I need to know to take over as Queen. In my quest to find freedom in another country, I lost touch with what’s going on in my own. Advisors have changed since I was here last which means I have plenty of people to meet and politics to keep straight in my head.
By the time the last meeting ends, I’m starving. I pull my phone out of my pocket as I walk toward the kitchen. I haven’t had a moment to check my phone, not when meeting officials for the first time. I could just see them rolling their eyes at the young princess rudely checking her phone when I should be paying attention to the meeting at hand.
My phone shows no new text messages or phone calls. That’s odd. I normally have several calls and text messages on any given day, and especially when I left a message for our head of security to get back to me.
“Hey, Chef.” I greet our head chef as I step through the doorway to the kitchen. “You got your phone on you?”
“I do, Princess.” He wipes his forehead with his sleeve and then pulls the phone out of his back pocket. He’s been with the palace for as long as I can remember. At least some things haven’t changed.
“Would you call me?” I wave my phone at him and rattle off my number.
He dials and lifts the phone to his ear, but shrugs when it only rings and rings. “Your phone not working?”
Ice shoots through my veins as my mind scrambles to come up with answers. Why is my phone not receiving calls? Can it be coincidence that something’s wrong with it right when Ryker disappears? I’ve buried my head in the sand for the last three years, but I’ve pulled it out now. I don’t believe in coincidence. And I don’t believe Ryker left of his own free will.
I spin on my heel and run out the door, leaving our poor chef wondering if I’ve lost my mind. I run through the halls, ignoring various staff members staring at me. There’s no time to waste, no time to walk properly down the hall when Ryker could be in danger. The heavy door to my parents’ office is closed. I bang on it with my fist, hoping they answer quickly.
The door cracks open and I push my way in. My father steps back and then grabs my arms when he sees the wild look in my eye.
“Charlotta, what is it?”
Mother stands up from her desk, coming around to stand next to Father. I wave my phone in front of their faces.
“My phone isn’t working. It’s not receiving phone calls.” The words rush out without any thought. I’m suddenly terrified Ryker’s absence has nothing to do with our relationship failing, but due to something far more sinister.
