CHAPTER 3
With a great effort, Luis pulled his attention back to the discussion going on around the conference table. Four men—a marqués and a conde from the Consejo de los Se?ores and two citizens from the Consejo de los Ciudadanos—had presented a proposal to negotiate an increase in the amount the Americans paid to lease the property on which their military base was built. Luis was attending only to get a feel for the players and how committed they were to this issue. He had every intention of letting Raul handle subsequent meetings, which was why his son sat to his right.
The Marqués de Huarte passed black binders to Luis and Raul. “These reports show the costs the military base imposes on Caleva versus the amount the Americans pay for use of our land. I think you will see that their presence here has become less and less beneficial to us over time.”
Luis tapped the folder without opening it. “Have you included the cost of building our own navy and air force if the Americans no longer protect us? Or the money the sailors pour into our economy when they leave the base to visit our cities and towns?”
“We have factored all that into our analysis, of course,” Huarte said stiffly.
The two aristocrats were part of the same group who had tried to wrest control of the lily fields away from the crown a year before. Luis had fought them off then, and he would do it again. He just wondered who had whipped up this sudden hunger for more money within the consejos. In this case, the money from the military base’s lease flowed into the national treasury. He assumed the councillors would promise their constituents tax cuts if the proposal was approved. At least that was less greedy than the nobles who had wanted the profits from the dementia-stopping lily sap for themselves.
Luis turned his gaze to the two representatives who did not hold titles. One had been an agitator in the Consejo de los Ciudadanos since his election seven years ago. He attached himself to any cause that brought publicity and strife. Felipe Camacho, though, was new to the consejo and an unknown quantity politically, according to Francisco’s briefing. Camacho was in his early sixties, had a mane of white hair, and worked as a professor of mathematics at the national university.
“Se?or Camacho, the military base is in your district,” Luis said. “Do your constituents feel it is a burden economically? I would have thought the opposite.”
“I am honored by your question, Su Majestad,” Camacho said, tilting his head downward in a gesture of respect before he met Luis’s gaze. “Our concerns are less about economics and more about interactions with our citizens. We have had some…friction with the military personnel recently.”
“How will raising the rent ameliorate those issues?” Luis asked, his tone sharp.
“It will not, of course,” Camacho conceded without hesitation. “I simply hoped to use this opportunity to bring these problems to your attention.”
“Ah.” The man might be new to politics, but he understood how to work the system. “That should be a separate report.”
“I will be happy to submit it at your soonest convenience, Se?or.” Camacho’s words were polite, but Luis saw a flare of anger in the man’s eyes.
Luis had no intention of getting involved in a local matter, but he nodded before turning to Huarte. “Don Pedro—”
A knock sounded, and the heavy oak door swung open. Mikel slipped into the room and glided to where Luis sat at the head of the conference table, his presence creating a ripple of uneasiness on the faces of the assembled consejeros.
Mikel bent to murmur beside Luis’s ear. “You asked to be informed the moment Quinn found the DNA information. She is waiting for us in your office.”
Luis nodded, keeping his expression neutral as a strange mix of excitement and anger pinwheeled in his chest.
“My apologies,” he said to the group. “A pressing matter calls me away. El Principe Raul will continue this meeting in my stead.”
Luis stood, and everyone at the table rose with him, bowing as he walked out of the room. Before Mikel closed the door, Luis saw Raul claim his chair at the head of the table with authority in every line of his posture. Having Raul give the opening address to the consejos had brought unexpected dividends in the seriousness with which the politicians regarded the prince.
Luis strode down the carpeted hallway with Mikel at his side but one step behind him. Neither of them spoke since this wing of Castillo Draconago was busy with staffers and other officials at this time of day. Mikel pressed his thumb to the pad beside the entrance to Luis’s private office suite and held the door open for Luis to pass through.
Quinn had jumped to her feet and now curtsied, her black-rimmed glasses catching a glint of light and her brown braid bouncing with her motion.
Luis waved her back to her seat in front of his desk. “What did you find?”
“If you will be seated, Su Majestad,” Mikel interjected. “We will share all the information we have gathered.”
Luis tightened his lips in irritation but allowed his security chief to stage-manage the revelation for the time being. He moved behind his desk and sat in the leather chair. “Quinn?”
She pushed the glasses up on her nose. Despite all his efforts to ease their relationship, she was still nervous around him.
“Odette made it almost too easy,” she said. “Of course, that was only true once we knew what to look for.” She pulled two sheets of paper from the leather portfolio she held and slid them across the polished wood of Luis’s desk.
On top was a New York State birth certificate for a baby named Marie Dupont. The mother’s maiden name was Jeanne Dupont, the French equivalent of Jane Doe.
And the father was listed as Luis Dragón.
Seeing his name on the official document socked him in the gut, which was why Odette had done it. He looked up at Quinn. “And the DNA record?”
“That baby was definitely yours,” she said, her voice growing more confident.
Luis rocked back in his chair and closed his eyes, releasing the emotions he had shoved into a box and slammed the lid on. His hatred for Odette flared a moment before he was swamped by joy at the knowledge that he had a daughter. He snapped his eyelids open. “What do you mean ‘that baby was’?”
“The next page is the amended birth certificate that was issued when Marie Dupont was adopted, the day she was born,” Quinn said.
Luis flipped the page to find a similar document, except on this one, the baby’s name was Grace Howard, with parents Eve Beaumont Howard and Benjamin Howard. Luis ran his finger over Grace Howard’s name as though he could conjure her up from the ink.
“The amended birth certificate appears legitimate,” Mikel said. “But given the implications of acknowledging the child as yours—”
“We must test Grace Howard’s DNA to confirm she is the same person as the baby named on this birth certificate.” Luis did not need to be reminded of his duty to the crown. It was grafted onto his bones. He turned back to Quinn. “Have you found her?”
“Yes, we have.” Quinn pulled a black binder from her portfolio and pushed it across the desk. “This is not a full report,” she said. “I pulled it together quickly once I found the DNA and birth certificates. I will get you more soon.”
Luis quelled his impatience long enough to smile at his nephew’s fiancée. “You have done more than I could expect in such a short period of time. Thank you for this.”
“It was an honor to be asked to work on such an important project,” she said, her brown eyes glowing at his praise.
“We are keeping all this information off the palace servers,” Mikel said, gesturing to the binder. “These pages reside only on the highest-security storage in my private office. I would recommend that you read this while we wait and return it to me so that I may destroy it.”
“Of course,” Luis said.
Mikel and Quinn stood, which reminded Luis of something. “Gabriel is traveling to recruit new talent for the next music festival, is he not?”
Quinn nodded. “I’ll be joining him in a couple of days.”
“I will not ask you to keep this information from him, because there should be no secrets between you and your betrothed,” Luis said. “I will request that he not tell anyone else, though.”
“I understand,” she said, hesitating a moment before she added, “I hope this is really your daughter, Se?or. I want her to be yours. She seems like someone I would like to know.”
“I hope you will have the chance to do so,” Luis said, touched by her sympathetic support.
“We will leave you to absorb the report in private,” Mikel said. “Let me know when you would like me to return for it.”
Mikel held the door for Quinn and closed it with a quiet click.
Luis opened the folder to see a full-page photograph of a beautiful red-haired young woman smiling directly at the camera. With his fingertip, Luis traced the strong, straight line of her nose, the clean-cut angle of her jaw, the slashing cheekbones, and dark, winged brows. He saw those features every day in the mirror. He saw them when he looked at Raul and Gabriel.
Her face was his face but softened into the female version.
A drop of water spattered onto the photo. Only then did he realize that tears were running down his cheeks.
Mikel must have seen the extraordinary resemblance, too, but the security expert would not let that sway him until he had incontrovertible proof. Nor could Luis.
Luis sat back, pulling a handkerchief out of a drawer to wipe the tears away. When he was a young man, he had looked forward to having a family of four or five children of his own. His brother, Lorenzo, had expected to do the same. They had envisioned the private wing of the palace filled with children’s voices, unlike their own quiet, restrained childhood.
But life—and death—had changed their plans. As had Hélène. She had chosen Lorenzo instead of Luis, shocking both brothers.
Luis had believed his heart was shattered, but he had been young and only a prince then. With the arrogance of his youth, he had thought he had plenty of time to find a new love.
Then his father, el Rey Carlo, was diagnosed with brain cancer. He commanded Luis to wed before the cancer killed him. Luis had married the woman his father chose, a political marriage, and it had been a disaster in almost every way.
The only joy in that period of his life had been Raul’s birth. When Luis had felt overwhelmed by the demands of his dying father, his fragile wife, and the thousands of decisions he felt unprepared to make, he would sneak off to the nursery and cradle his infant son in his arms. At first, the nurses had been flustered by his presence, but they became accustomed to his sudden appearance at all hours of the day and night and simply handed over Raul without question. The sweet, innocent scent of Raul’s tiny head had soothed Luis’s soul and given him the strength to face his challenges again.
When his father and wife died within six months of each other, and Luis was drowning in a maelstrom of pressure, self-blame, and loneliness, Odette Fontaine had come to visit Hélène in Caleva. Odette had seemed to be everything his dead wife was not. Strong. Confident. Independent. Adventurous in bed. He had ignored all the red flags and plunged into a mad affair with her.
Until one too many red flags had snapped in the breeze, and he had broken off the relationship. To say Odette had taken it badly was an understatement.
He shook his head. If Grace Howard was truly his daughter, he could not entirely regret his lapse in judgment.
He leaned forward to devour the photo once again. He wanted to savor the knowledge that he was the father of two children.
He drank in the sweetness of Grace’s smile, the intelligence that glinted in her ice-blue eyes that matched the color of his, and the way her thick auburn hair—Odette’s genetic contribution—waved away from her temples.
There were several more photographs, taken from different angles. Luis lingered over each one.
Then he turned to the printed pages and began to read. He finished and closed the folder, his hand splayed over the cover protectively.
He pressed the button that summoned Mikel and sat back to think.
“Su Majestad.” Mikel bowed as he entered and closed the door behind him.
“First, Quinn did an excellent job,” Luis said. “You were very smart to hire her despite the issues in her past.”
Mikel gave a faint smile and bowed his head in acknowledgment. “She is a remarkable young woman in many ways.”
“I am glad of that for Gabriel’s sake.” Luis turned back to the report. “I see that Eve Howard and her husband divorced when Grace was a baby and that Grace lives with her mother still,” he said. “Is the ex-husband part of his adopted daughter’s life at all?”
“As far as we were able to ascertain, he is not,” Mikel said. “Se?ora Howard has carried all of the financial responsibility for Grace’s education, which is substantial, given that veterinary school tuition is high. As you can see, Grace is in her fourth and last year now.”
Luis frowned at the thought of a man who adopted a child and then abandoned her entirely. On the other hand, the fact that Grace had grown up without a father might leave more room for Luis in her life.
“I will approach her mother first.” Eve Howard was a veterinary technician at Iowa State College of Veterinary Medicine’s clinic, so she and her daughter were undoubtedly close. “I need to know everything you can find out about Eve Howard before I meet her.”
Mikel looked pained. “It would be safer to confirm Grace Howard’s parentage before you become involved personally.”
Luis stabbed a finger on the closed binder. “You saw the photograph. Grace Howard looks exactly like a Dragón. Add Quinn’s findings to that, and it seems almost certain that she is my daughter. I wish to meet her as soon as possible, but we will handle it through Grace’s mother. She can buffer the fact that I am the king. I do not want Grace to feel overwhelmed by that aspect of the situation.”
Mikel made a wry face. “The latter may be difficult.”
“I will go as Luis Dragón, not as the King of Caleva.” A private trip to the U.S. with no fanfare and as few people as possible informed of his presence there. Mikel would manage that.
“We can strip away the trappings of kingship, Se?or,” Mikel said. “But you are ever the king.”
“After so many decades, it is difficult not to be.” He had borne the weight of the crown for so long, he could no longer remember how it felt to be free of it.
He pushed the binder toward Mikel but kept his hand on top of it. “I want that first photo of Grace on my phone. Strip all identifiers, but get it onto my personal cell.”
“Of course, Su Majestad.”
The intercom on Luis’s desk pinged, and Bruno said, “Se?or, the delegation from the consejeros has departed. El Principe Raul is here in my office, ready to brief you on the conclusion of the meeting.”
“Gracias, Bruno.” Luis looked at Mikel. “Grace Howard is now your top priority.”
Mikel bowed and started toward the door.
“Mikel!” Luis softened his tone. “I may need your advice about having a daughter. I’ve only ever dealt with young men.”
His security chief hesitated before half turning. “Daughters seem so vulnerable that you want to build a ten-foot-high wall around them, yet they are as strong as the steel blade on one of your swords.”