Rachelle McCalla - Royal Wedding Threat

Jason exhaled with exasperation. “I have things to do. I’m the captain of the guard. We’ve got a royal wedding in just over a week, and a bomb went off outside our gates this morning. I’m busy.” He glared at her.

When she glared silently back at him, he added, “I don’t like you any more than they do.”

“Good.” Ava stood straight. “Anyway, everything’s in place for Alexander’s wedding. It’s Princess Anastasia’s timeline that worries me. I should have the venue established by now.”

“Sardis Cathedral,” Jason volunteered. “The same as every other royal wedding in the history of Lydia.”

“Not every royal wedding in the history of Lydia,” Ava corrected him sharply. “Before Castlehead was abandoned, the kings and queens were always married—”

“We’re not going to Dorsi.” Jason stood and crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to wince at the pain in his aching back. “I don’t want to hear you speak of it again. It’s absolutely beyond question.”

“You don’t want me to speak of it again?” Ava raised an eyebrow. When Jason nodded, she continued, “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t ever bring it up again if you’ll accompany me to the island and hear the plans I’ve laid out for Anastasia’s wedding.”

Jason clenched his teeth, torn. He hated to let the woman have her way, even one tiny bit. However, he had planned to spend the rest of his afternoon—and even his evening, if necessary—grilling her about her past, searching for any hint of who might be trying to kill her. Alexander’s wedding was coming up far too soon for them to fire Ava and find someone else, but at the same time, if someone was trying to kill her, the whole palace was in danger. The bomb outside that morning had proved that.

Going to Dorsi would provide him with the necessary time and isolation to talk to Ava freely and ask her every question he could think of. It would also get her out of the city, away from where the attempts on her life had taken place and—should trouble attempt to follow them—far from the royal family he’d vowed to protect.

If it carried the bonus of convincing her to drop the Dorsi request once he’d heard her out, so much the better.

He uncrossed his arms. “Fine. We’ll go to Dorsi. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

“I’m ready now.”

“Good. You’ll have to promise me you’ll do whatever I say—the island is dangerous.”

Her triumphant glare didn’t falter. “As long as you hear me out, I’ll do whatever you say.”

* * *

Ava brought along the duffel bag containing all the brochures and papers from her desktop. She adjusted the strap over her shoulder as she followed the captain down the dock to a royal-guard speedboat. If Captain Selini wanted to ask her about possible suspects, she’d be ready with the brochures. They could analyze any and every vendor she’d ever worked with—as well as those she’d rejected—and root out possible suspects among them. Anything to keep the captain busy and too distracted to ask about her personal life.

There was no reason for Jason Selini to know anything about her past. Everyone she’d ever known or loved or cared about was half a world away, in Seattle, her hometown. The distance was far too great for any of them to be suspects. No, surely some angry cake decorator had gone off the deep end and decided to target her for not fully appreciating his buttercream frosting.

The captain hopped aboard and extended one hand toward Ava. She ignored the proffered help and planted one foot on the boat, determined to prove that, while she might be injured, she was by no means helpless.

As her foot touched the gleaming white step, the boat shifted, bobbing in the water. Ava hadn’t anticipated the motion, but, firmly intending to recover her balance on her own, she pushed off the pier with her other foot. The captain had hopped into the boat with grace. She could do so, as well.

The boat, however, wasn’t cooperating, and the bulky bag over her shoulder didn’t help. She careened forward, swung her arms wide and nearly punched the captain as he reached to steady her.

She landed hard against his shoulder and yelped.

“Steady now?” Jason asked, his hands surprisingly gentle on her arms as he held her upright.

She glanced up into his face, furious when she spotted amusement sparkling in his gray eyes. “I would be fine if—” She tried to think. Surely somehow her blunder was his fault, or could at least be blamed on him.

“If you’d taken my hand when I’d first offered it?” He looked far too pleased with himself.

Ava glared at him and pulled away, perhaps a bit too suddenly. Only Jason’s grip still secure on her arms kept her from tumbling backward.

“If this boat didn’t rock so much!” she shot back at him.

“Boats do that.” He watched her a moment longer, letting go of her arms but standing close, ready to catch her again if she tipped.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, flustered that she’d crashed into his shoulder and further distraught that he had such nice shoulders for crashing into. If she was going to embarrass herself, she’d have preferred to do so in front of someone who wasn’t so strong and handsome.

“Can I help you to your seat?” Jason offered.

Though she would rather have walked herself, Ava wished to avoid crashing into those shoulders again, so she took hold of his hand this time, though she glared at him the entire way to the seat and especially once she’d sat down. And she didn’t say thank-you, because she didn’t feel thankful at all. In fact, she quite resented needing his help.

To her relief, the captain ignored her as he got the boat started and pointed them out to sea. Ava watched carefully, still not completely trusting him to take her to the forbidden island of Dorsi.

The Lydian capital city of Sardis sat on the Mediterranean coast, on the tip of the tiny kingdom nestled between Greece and Albania. The island of Dorsi was the most remote of the dozens of islands that formed an archipelago extending out from the mainland. Once a peninsula connected by land to Sardis, the islands had been washed free by centuries of storms.

Dorsi had once been known as Castlehead, but after hurricanes and crumbling shorelines had rendered the former Lydian palace uninhabitable, the royal family had relocated to the palace in Sardis. Because of the island’s history and Princess Stasi’s own adventures there with her fiancé, Kirk Covington, the affianced pair wanted to be married in the ruins of the palace cathedral.

In Ava’s mind, the island was the perfect spot for a private wedding, which was what the youngest princess wanted. And Ava always gave her brides what they wanted—that promise, and her ability to fulfill it, made her one of the top wedding planners in Seattle, before she’d left everything to come to Lydia.

Kirk Covington had warned her of the supposed dangers of the island. Dorsi was said to have been contaminated by land mines during the World Wars, though Ava had never heard explained what enemy had placed them, since Lydia had remained neutral throughout those conflicts. Besides that, the massive blocks of limestone that teetered in ruinous towers were rumored to fall at the slightest provocation, especially when disturbed by those who didn’t belong there.

The island itself was such a formidable rock that there didn’t seem to be any decent spot to anchor, and if that weren’t deterrent enough, the periphery of the island was dotted every twenty feet or so with fearsome signs, warning potential visitors of certain death should they venture there.

But no rocks had fallen when she’d visited the island with Kirk and Stasi. Indeed, the peaceful Mediterranean shores had looked to her like the perfect location for a private wedding, just foreboding enough to keep the paparazzi at a distance. She only had to convince Jason Selini to agree with her. Perhaps if she cooperated with his investigation questions, he’d be more willing to see things her way.