Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Elliot
I probably shouldn’t have left the princess’s side, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.
She has Hex and Sander with her, along with a dozen palace guards, and Rensvik seems like the kind of guy who has his own security.
I have confidence that she’ll be safe, especially if I learn something useful tonight.
“Sir, are you sure this is a good idea?”
Ignoring Rothesby, the guard I brought with me, I keep my eyes trained on the man walking ahead of us in the rain. Visibility is lower than I would like, so we need to keep on his tail. It’ll be dark soon and even harder to follow him, so I’m going to take my chance while I’ve got it.
This is the first time one of us has seen Fenwick without him seeing us first.
“Wouldn’t it be better to detain him rather than simply following him?”
Fenwick turns a corner, and I pick up my pace to avoid losing him.
Thankfully, he’s on a straight path again, but I maintain the smaller distance.
It was a miracle that I saw Fenwick in the first place, catching sight of him down a side street while on the way to Rensvik’s dinner.
The twins were with Freya in the coach, so I leapt from my horse and grabbed Rothesby, ordering one of the other guards to inform the princess that I would be at the duke’s estate shortly.
That might have been a lie, depending on what Fenwick decides to do tonight.
“I don’t have any legal grounds to detain him,” I say, pausing behind a stairway when Fenwick turns his head to one side and adjusts his hat. “I’d be committing treason if I captured him. That would cause a whole lot of trouble, not just for me but for the royal family as well.”
Rothesby stumbles, making me wonder if he was a poor choice of companion tonight.
I picked him because he was the closest, but I don’t know much about him other than him being one of the best shots in the guard.
He could be terrible under pressure, but it’s too late now.
“Oh,” he chokes out. “That would be bad.”
“Bad indeed,” I agree. Which is a pity. According to the RIA, who has a painfully small amount of information about Elvar Fenwick considering they’re an intelligence agency, Fenwick lives here in Skalridge.
Were I anyone else, I would have already broken into his apartment and taken a look around.
My time in the Special Forces was never easy, but right now I miss having sanctioned orders to break and enter into hostile environments.
Fenwick pauses at the next street corner, tugging his jacket tighter as he stands beneath a street light.
Ducking out of sight behind a well-placed shrub and dragging Rothesby with me, I peer through the leaves and try to figure out what his next move might be.
“He shouldn’t be standing in the light,” Rothesby mutters. “Not if he wants to stay hidden.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to stay hidden,” I mutter back. We’re close enough to be heard if we’re not careful.
“He’s been hiding from us all week,” Rothesby argues.
“But he doesn’t know we’re here.”
“What is he waiting for?”
The answer to that question comes a moment later, when a large man under an umbrella appears from the cross street, stopping at Fenwick’s side.
Though the new arrival faces us, the umbrella blocks the light and hides his features in shadow.
The two men talk, but through the rain their voices are only indiscernible rumbles.
If I could only see their faces, I could get a read on what they’re saying.
At the very least, their emotions could give me a sense of the nature of their conversation.
Cursing under my breath, I search the street between me and the men to see if there’s any way I could get closer, but if I move from this spot, the bigger guy will almost certainly see me. I need to find a way to—
A body rushes past me, and it takes me two full seconds to realize it’s Rothesby moving down the sidewalk at a fast clip, his collar turned up and a newspaper over his head.
He keeps his head ducked low, so when he runs straight into Fenwick and his buddy, it looks unintentional.
Rothesby apologizes profusely, still with his head down, and grabs the newspaper from where he dropped it upon colliding with the two men.
He picks up his jog again, turning the corner and disappearing.
I’m contemplating the best way to get Rothesby fired when a disgruntled voice cuts through the rain. “…exactly why we need a new Candora.”
My breath catches in my throat, but the men’s voices stay too low except for a word or two, nothing useful. They speak for another two minutes, then the big man crosses the street as Fenwick continues forward.
I’m about to follow the bigger guy when a voice right behind me says, “Did you catch any of that?”
Cursing, I fight the instinct to grab my gun. “Rothesby!” I gasp, swearing again. “Where did you…” My eyes catch on the alley we’re standing next to, noting how it leads to the next street over.
“I found a place to hide around the corner.” He frowns at me. “I thought, if the conversation wasn’t friendly, they would get to the point quicker if interrupted. Sir, are you—”
“What did you hear?” I press a hand to my heart to will it to calm down. I never used to be this jumpy, and I’m glad only Rothesby saw my reaction. Hex and Sander would have all sorts of jokes for me if they witnessed that.
“Not a lot,” Rothesby says, still looking at me with concern. “They mentioned the debate and how they expect Grimstad to put Princess Freya in her place once and for all.”
Like that would ever happen. Grimstad is charismatic, yes, but Freya has this way with words that surprises me every time.
She almost always says the right thing, even when under pressure, and sometimes it takes all my concentration to keep an eye on what’s happening around her instead of getting sucked into whatever conversation she’s having.
Sander was genius when he suggested the debate because it’s where Freya is going to shine the most.
“Did they say anything else?” I ask.
Rothesby shakes his head. “Not much I could understand.”
“Did you get a look at the other guy?”
“He kept his face hidden.”
Swearing, I look down the street, but both men have disappeared.
Fenwick’s apartment is somewhere in this direction, so there’s a good chance he’s headed home.
We could go that way and hope he has his shutters open for us to see inside, but at this point I’m really grasping at straws.
He might just be a zealous Grimstad supporter and has been following him this whole time instead of Freya.
As for the other guy, he was heading for one of the busier streets in Skalridge, and we didn’t see enough to be able to pick him out of a crowd.
“What do you want to do, sir?”
That’s a loaded question. I want to know for certain if Fenwick is dangerous.
I want to make sure Freya wins this election so she can stop worrying.
I want another chance alone with her in the coach so I can do things differently and tell her how I feel about her, even if she refuses to talk about it.
I just spent four days watching her charm her people with nothing but her genuine self.
I sat on the other side of a wall and listened to her talk to her friends about their problems instead of her own even though she’s dealing with so much right now.
I stood back and let her be the future queen because it was obvious that I was only getting in her way before.
What I want is to live in a world where I could actually be an option for her, but that’s not going to happen.
“Sir?”
I clear my throat and stand up straight, really feeling the rain for the first time as it continues to fall in heavy sheets.
We’re both soaked to the bone, and at this elevation the night is going to get cold.
“Let’s go back to the hotel. You can have the rest of the night off after all this, and I’ll go meet up with the others to get the princess home safely. ”
“With respect, sir, you shouldn’t go alone. I’ll join you.”
I’m about to argue when I remember how he caught me off guard a minute ago. At least I’ve been sleeping lately, but I’m still on edge. It doesn’t help that I’m no closer to having answers about Fenwick than I was four days ago, and every time I look at Freya, I wish things I shouldn’t be wishing.
Giving Rothesby a nod and a soft “thank you,” I lead the way back to the hotel so we can change into dry clothes and find a way to get to the duke’s estate.
As we walk, I mentally run through the security plans Gregor and I have been working on for tomorrow’s debate.
Local police from Skalridge will combine with the men I’ve brought with me, and the arena where the event is being held is on the small side, which makes it easier to control who comes in and out.
As long as we’re diligent during the actual event, we’ve prepared as much as we can.
After we’ve reached the hotel, I’m pulling on a dry shirt after taking a quick shower when my phone buzzes on the bed. I tense, expecting an emergency from Carsten—the guard I put in charge tonight—but it’s a text from one of my old squad members.
Wade:
I know you’re ignoring the group chat, but I wanted to check and see how you’re doing today. I know it was harder on you than anyone.
I frown, not sure what he’s talking about.
What was harder? But then my eyes flick up to the date at the top of the screen, and my stomach drops as the realization hits.
Griff died a year ago today. I’ve been so focused on Freya and her campaign that I haven’t paid attention, and I can’t decide if that makes me a terrible friend for forgetting or if it means I’m healing.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I type out the first text I’ve sent to one of my brothers-in-arms in more than six months.
Elliot:
I’m okay. I’ve been distracted and didn’t realize the day.
Wade:
That’s good.
Elliot:
Is it?
Wade:
We both know losing Griff messed with your head. Take this as a good sign.
It’s clear why you’re distracted. If the job gets too messy, you know you can come back.
Wade is the quietest of the ODA, usually sitting back while louder voices like Bax or North command attention, but he always had my back, even when things got rough. We worked closely together, and he was the one who suggested I take a break and work on base for a while.
But he’s also been one of the more vocal guys about me coming back to the team.
I have no contractual obligations to the Army at this point because I made sure I fulfilled the required years of service before resigning, but from the sound of things, it wouldn’t take much for me to reenlist and get back on my team.
Though I hate acknowledging it, I’ve had moments when I thought about starting the process.
Mostly during those moments when Freya seems to be leaning toward accepting Grimstad’s marriage proposal.
I’ve found my rhythm with this post over the last few days, but the idea of being behind her while he gets to be at her side…
“She hasn’t made a decision,” I remind myself, but that doesn’t mean much. There’s a fifty percent chance that my job is about to become a lot more painful than it already is.
Choosing not to respond to Wade’s last message, I instead send a text to Nora, Griff’s wife, and tell her that I wish I could be there for her and the girls. I can’t imagine how hard a day like today will be for them. To my surprise, she responds quickly.
Nora:
Thanks, Elliot. It means a lot to know you’re thinking about him too.
Guilt floods my belly, but I ignore it and focus on the picture she sends with her text.
It’s a selfie she took with her two daughters in front of Griff’s headstone, and though she was clearly crying at some point, she’s smiling right alongside her girls.
I can’t help but laugh at the messy state of the girls’ hair, which was a pretty common occurrence when I lived with them, and a pang of sadness hits me.
I thought I was ready to move on, but I miss those girls.
It felt less like Griff was gone when I was around them because they were so much like their dad.
Even with how little they got to see him before he died.
Nora:
Melody can’t stop telling her friends about how her Uncle Elliot takes care of a real-life princess.
Elliot:
I bet they don’t believe her.
Nora:
Not even a little bit. But we’re all proud of you for finding something good, Elliot.
I wonder if she’s read any of the tabloids. Is she talking about the job, or is she talking about Freya?
Elliot:
I should get back to work, but tell the girls hi for me.
Nora:
Of course. Good luck with everything!
It’s nearly impossible to look at Freya through a professional lens at this point, so I need all the luck I can get.
I need to get her through this campaign so she can win the election—preferably sans Grimstad as her husband—and then I can work on getting over these feelings that keep growing.
By law, Freya and I can never be anything but friends, and that’s going to have to be enough.
Otherwise, someone else is going to have to look after her, and I’m not sure that’s something I can allow.