Chapter 14
EVA
The roasted lamb is perfect. It’s moist, pink in the center, and fragrant with rosemary. Stéphanie has outdone herself. Not that I’ve tasted much of it. I’ve mostly pushed it around my plate while I focus on appearing relaxed and in control.
But inside, I’m a mess.
And for no good reason. Princess Felicia’s children and their spouses—well, perhaps except for Prince Theodor—are extremely easygoing. Also, I’ve met the royals countless times, including their visits to Fort Vauclairt. You’d think I’d stop getting nervous around them.
Yet, I worry.
About what? Pretty much everything! That they’ll hate the food. That the wine won’t be to their liking. That Millie will say something out of turn…
I remind myself that if any of that happens, it’ll still be fine. No one will berate me, slap me, or drag out a belt the moment our guests leave. But it doesn’t help. The reflex is too deeply wired, damn it!
I take a breath and force myself to tune back into Princess Lucie’s story, which everyone else seems to genuinely enjoy.
“So, I was juggling flaming torches at a kid’s birthday party in Lyon,” Lucie says, “when this kid runs straight at me and yells, ‘You suck!’ ”
Maximilian grins. “Tell them what happened next.”
“The same kid then tries to impress his friends by grabbing one of the torches,” Lucie goes on. “It was still burning.”
“No!” Millie gasps, eyes wide.
“Yep. I dropped everything, smothered the torch in my scarf, and the kid ran off screaming.” Lucie rolls her eyes. “I never got paid for that gig, by the way.”
Millie lets out a laugh, too loud for the setting.
Lucie opens her mouth to add something, but, to my horror, Millie speaks over her.
“That’s awful but kind of hilarious,” my daughter says, leaning in. “I had something similar happen when I helped at a puppet show in Aymon. There was this five-year-old who kept trying to punch the puppets and—”
My stomach knots. I give her the stink eye, telegraphing, Stop talking right now! You’re interrupting royalty.
But she doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are fixed on Lucie.
“He got behind the stage and pulled the strings off the dragon,” she plows on, “so I had to improvise the rest of the show with a limp, floppy—”
A suffocating wave of shame rises from the pit of my stomach, drowning out her words.
My heart is racing. A part of me wants to scream at Millie to shut up already.
But I won’t. Her manners may have lapsed, and her convoluted story drags on, but there’s no place, time, or circumstance in which I’d humiliate my baby like that.
I’m on the verge of self-combusting when Alex turns to Millie. “Hold that thought. I’d like to hear Princess Lucie’s punch line before I lose the thread entirely.”
He doesn’t raise his voice. His tone is friendly and calm, but there’s a shift in his expression—a subtle narrowing of the eyes, a faint tilt of his head. Quiet authority.
Millie stops. She looks at him, then picks up her water glass and takes a sip like nothing happened.
Lucie smiles, unfazed. “Well, the punch line was that my boss at the party agency was also my boyfriend.”
Millie gives Maximilian an incredulous stare.
He laughs, “Not me, my dear Millicent. The guy before me.”
“He had dumped me a few days earlier,” Lucie explains to Millie. “So not only was I getting screamed at by children, I was also getting passive-aggressively criticized by my ex while wearing fairy wings.”
Millie snorts into her glass.
Lucie throws her hands up in mock horror. “That day I swore I’d never date a boss again. A week later, I got a job at MINDFUCH in Paris, and guess who was my immediate supervisor?”
“She really tried not to date me,” Maximilian deadpans, eyes twinkling. “Heroic effort.”
“I tried so hard,” Lucie groans, flopping theatrically against the back of her chair. “Like, nun-level hard.”
Laughter bubbles around the table. Even Brigitte smiles faintly, which, for her, is fireworks. I sit back, shoulders relaxing. The tension that threatened to hijack the evening vanishes. By dessert, I’m actually enjoying myself.
As for Alex… No matter how you slice it, he handled Millie’s gaffe well. And he didn’t gloat.
The night air is crisp and thick with the scent of fallen leaves. The royals, Alex, and I step off the castle’s terrace when I realize this isn’t going to be just a digestion-friendly stroll under the stars.
Maximilian and Lucie exchange a look heralding serious news.
We follow the gravel path to the oldest part of the park, lined with yew hedges and overgrown marble urns. Lucie wraps her arm around Maximilian’s. I keep my hands in my coat pockets.
Maximilian speaks first. “Mother’s recovery is slower than we’d hoped. She’s having difficulty speaking. And walking. Her fine motor skills are erratic. She recognizes us, and she smiles. But…”
He looks away.
My chest tightens. “I’m so sorry to hear that!”
“What about her gift?” Alex cuts to the chase, as usual.
“We don’t know,” Lucie replies. “It might come back. Or not.”
“And without a vision,” Alex says, “you have no leads for the eighth key.”
“No,” she agrees. “And the clock is ticking.”
Maximilian picks up the thread. “That’s not the only update. We wanted to tell you in person because it concerns you both, directly. The sniper has been talking.”
I stop in my tracks. “What?”
“He’s confessed,” Maximilian says. “His name is Tobias Brunner. Ex-military. Swiss Special Forces. One of their best shooters.”
Lucie adds, “He wasn’t acting freely. Kurt Ozzi’s men kidnapped his wife and daughter.”
I exhale sharply. “Jesus.”
“They mailed him his wife’s little finger,” Maximilian says grimly. “Told him if he didn’t eliminate Felicia, he’d start getting bigger pieces.”
We all stay silent for a while.
I rub my arms through my coat. “How did he even get into Mount Evor?”
“Kurt bribed Swiss officials,” Lucie explains. “They gave Tobias a legitimate diplomatic passport. He entered through the front gates, under his real name.”
Alex frowns. “And the rifle?”
“It was smuggled separately,” Maximilian says. “Tobias was told he would find it buried beneath a marked tree in a secluded area.”
“And he just obeyed,” I bite out.
Lucie turns to me. “Nothing justifies his actions, but he faced an impossible choice. It was Princess Felicia’s and your husband’s lives or his wife’s and daughter’s.”
“His mission wasn’t just to assassinate Mother,” Maximilian clarifies. “He was ordered to eliminate Geoffroy, too. The drivers were shot to make sure the cars went off the cliff as an extra precaution. Julian was the only one without a specific target on him.”
I can feel my pulse in my throat. “That’s not what we were told.”
“Von Dietz told us both Geoffroy and Julian were collateral damage,” Alex says tightly.
Lucie shakes her head. “That’s what it looked like at first. But now we have Tobias Brunner’s confession. Geoffroy’s driver’s autopsy corroborates that Geoffroy was a target.”
“How?” Alex asks.
“Geoffroy’s driver took a bullet between the eyes,” she replies.
“He was shot deliberately, not just caught in the crossfire,” Maximilian adds. “Even if Mother’s car hadn’t pushed Geoffroy’s off the cliff, it would’ve likely ended up there, anyway.”
“But why?” I whisper. “Why target Geoffroy?”
“We don’t know,” Maximilian admits. “We’re still investigating.”
I blink, trying to process. “Geoffroy wasn’t part of the quest for the keys. He had no prophetic ability. He was never read in about Ozzi’s scheme. Why would Kurt Ozzi want him dead?”
No one answers.
Maximilian’s jaw tightens. “Our best investigators are trying to find out. But until they do, if either of you sees or hears anything, be it a letter, a file, people Geoffroy may have met—”
“We’ll look,” Alex says. “And you’ll be the first to know.”
Maximilian nods. “Thank you.”
Lucie exhales. “If it’s any comfort, Tobias Brunner will spend the rest of his life in an Evorian prison. He’ll never get out.”
“Unless Kurt wins,” Maximilian interjects with a bitter smirk. “Then maybe he’ll get Brunner out and return his family to him.”
“If they’re still alive,” Alex points out.
I stare into the dark down the path. There’s a coppery tang in the air, and my mouth tastes like confusion and blood.