Claimed (Gatekeepers of the Gods Book 3)

Chapter 6

“There is absolutely no chance I’m going to let her come with us.” Stefan placed the dossier on the table in front of him. He didn’t lean forward; he didn’t lean back. This wasn’t a negotiation; it was a simple point of fact. A point he’d made six times already, by his count.

Cyril turned from scanning the monitors. They were in the palace’s main conference room. He addressed Dimitri, the last person to deal with an American targeted by outside forces. “Had you to do it over again, would you have taken Lauren to Miranos?”

“No,” Dimitri rumbled. “We went there because we didn’t understand the lengths to which her insane ex would go. Had I known he was so deadly, and deranged, we wouldn’t have left the mainland. I would’ve put her in a safe house and sat on it.” He grimaced. “I agree with Stefan. It’s too dangerous to take an American into Turkey. Even one with a reason to be there.”

“A very good reason,” Cyril observed blandly. “Unlike any of us.” He pointed to the screens. “Nicole Clark was actually bylined last year at the Ala?ati competition. She competed deep into the tournament before falling out of the running, then continued on in her journalistic role.”

“Adventure blogging is not journalism,” Stefan countered. “She has none of the training of an international correspondent, she simply has a laptop and a Wi-Fi connection.”

He scowled. “It is not her credentials, though they are nonexistent. I will grant you her experience in windsurfing and her presence at last year’s tournament are worthwhile considerations. But she’s an American, a guest in our country. She’s also untrained. We’ll be taking her into unmonitored territory, where the Turkish military will be the least of our concerns. She has already demonstrated that she does not follow orders well, and that is of paramount importance. Make no mistake—this is a military mission. I’m being asked to secure information or possibly recover Ari’s remains from a potentially hostile environment, with nationals who may not be willing to give up those remains. It could get ugly very quickly, and an American would be, at minimum, a liability, and, at worst, collateral damage from which we wouldn’t recover.”

His statement caused everyone to pause, and he regarded them impassively. In his mind’s eye, he saw Nicki’s distant form windsurfing on the wide ocean, imagined her smile, her laugh, the sun warming her as the wind whipped the waves around her to a frenzy. He wondered if the sea nymphs were impressed with her, then pushed that thought from his mind. He could not—would not—be weighted down with someone who made him this protective. He couldn’t put it quite that way to the others, of course, but?—

“Stefan raises a good point,” Jasen said. He seemed more tired suddenly, and something in Stefan’s chest tightened. Ordinary mortals could be unexpectedly fragile, he’d learned over long years. Jasen worried him. “We need to weigh the costs against what we may or may not achieve.”

“Ari is there, though. You know he’s there.” Kristos spoke up, his attention swinging from Dimitri to Jasen—neatly skipping over Stefan’s icy glare. “And the location couldn’t be better for a simple op.”

The prince stood, moving quickly to one of the larger screens and with a few deft taps of the inset keyboard, pulled up a map of coastal Turkey.

Ala?ati was nearly as far south as Athens, and perched on a strip of countryside that stuck out into the Aegean before the land broke away to form several small islands. “We’re talking maybe two days by boat, going slowly—one long day if you’re focused. Slow would probably be better for this mission, to convey the tourist nature of it. Then you stop here.” He jabbed a thumb at a nondescript island. “That’s where the scavenger gang dealt their goods.”

“That’s an unusual stop,” Stefan put in. “Explain how we would make that a reasonable detour so close to the city.”

Kristos shrugged. “Diving. Nicki dives, right?”

Stefan thinned his lips. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“So, do the research. I bet someone somewhere has written about the diving off that island. Have her post about the story?—”

“You can’t be serious?—”

“Post about the story using Wi-Fi via a satellite uplink, take a vid showing how beautiful the scenery is, and done. Meanwhile, your men go ashore, maybe you go ashore and see what’s what.”

“We don’t know if the encampment is still there.”

Kristos shrugged. “Where would they go? The mainland is too crowded, and that place is desolate. Easy to get to by boat, but no reason anyone would be looking there. And it’s an island.”

He stared at the map a moment longer. When he spoke, his voice sounded strangled. “Ari could be there, Stefan. Dead or—whatever. Eleven months is a long time, but not so long that he couldn’t still be alive.”

Stefan grimaced. If Ari was still on that island, he was dead. He’d been disoriented when he’d sold the watch to the scavenger—for food and a boat. But even the fisherman had shaken his head at that story, relayed to him by the scavenger leader himself. Ari had asked for a boat, but he’d accepted a leaky-hulled wreck. For a watch that fine on the open sea, he should have known its value. He should have asked for something more, perhaps safe passage aboard a commercial craft.

So what had happened to him?

Cyril grunted and began arguing with Kristos about the logistics of the trip—no matter who was on the boat. Stefan swung toward Jasen, then stopped for a moment as his gaze swept past the blank screens lining the opposite wall. There’d been a shift in the doorway, the barest of movements, but his hands instantly tensed on the table. Not very many people knew of his heightened senses, and he knew he was right. Someone was watching them.

Normally, it would be the queen listening in on their private conferences; that he had allowed more than once. This wasn’t the queen, though her assistance was all over this intrusion, he had no doubt. This was Nicki. He knew it as sure as he was sitting there.

How much had she heard? He had to assume all of it—including his disavowal of her.

Well, too bad. It had only been the truth.

Stefan was about to end the conversation when another movement caught his eye—this one closer to him. King Jasen. The king was watching Cyril, but more importantly, he was watching Kristos with Cyril. Kristos, his younger son, who had wanted nothing more than to serve out his life in the military, protecting and defending the country of O?ros while Ari, the older son, took up the mantle of power. Those boys—both of them—were supposed to grow old as Jasen watched, maturing to the fullness of their abilities. Instead, one was tilting at windmills, hoping desperately to bring back the brother he could not let rest, and the other might be buried in a shallow grave in hostile territory—or worse.

Far worse.

Stefan scowled at the screen again. Ala?ati was twelve hours away by boat, give or take. If they made the trip in one long day and a short couple of hops, it could work the way Kristos, Jasen and Cyril envisioned. Nicki with her…laptop, phone, or whatever she would use, would be surrounded by O?ros’s guards, hand-picked by Stefan. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Further, he wasn’t unaware of the need for diplomatic overtures to the country. This sojourn would accomplish that and more.

And it would accomplish something else. Something the entire country needed: a king who could finally mourn the death of his first son and celebrate the life of his second.

His eyes trained on Jasen, Stefan drew in a breath.

“Very well,” he said. “This is how this is going to work.”