Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
Shock ran through Benedikt like an electric current through copper wire. His fingers twitched and he had to firm his hold on the papers.
She was serious! Or the best actor he’d ever seen. He read hints of unease despite her raised chin and imperious stare. But she didn’t back down.
For a stunning moment he felt a searing lightness, a dazzle of relief.
Because he hadn’t wanted to be King. Monarchy meant King Karl and he’d never wanted to be like his father.
He’d seen hints of his father’s darkness in his own soul long ago and feared following in his footsteps.
The impatient, remorseless part of him that triumphed in getting his own way.
In winning no matter the odds stacked against him.
The pride. The thrill he got from risk-taking that in the past had verged on recklessness.
But he loved his country. He’d reconciled himself to his duty, knowing Prinzenberg needed him, now more than ever. With his father’s death, he’d shouldered his inherited burdens, despite his old fear that royal power might exacerbate those ruthless tendencies he’d tried to conquer.
‘You’re accusing me of being a usurper?’
She drew a deep breath. Benedikt fought not to notice her breasts rise against her constraining bodice. A tactic to distract him?
‘You’re not entitled to be King. The coronation you’re planning in a couple of weeks is a farce.’
Her words were as good as a slap to the face. Benedikt felt a muscle spasm in his jaw.
Did she really think she could get away with such a ridiculous lie?
He looked at the documents in his hand. The first was a copy of a marriage certificate, the writing old-fashioned but clear. It recorded the wedding thirty years ago between Alexandra Cecile Adelgunde Luise Von Edelforst to Christian Maximilian Eitel Luitpold Von Prinzenberg.
Benedikt’s breath escaped silently, leaving his lungs empty.
Christian of Prinzenberg.
Once the Crown Prince. So much loved by the people that his name still was spoken with reverence, something that had always annoyed Benedikt’s father.
All the country knew Christian had died tragically young and unmarried.
Benedikt sank onto the lounge, head spinning.
He read the certificate again, frowning. It had to be a forgery. He flipped the page over and found a copy of another certificate, this time a record of birth. For Annalena Alexandra Christiane Luise Von Prinzenberg, dated eight months after the wedding.
Von Prinzenberg.
It was the royal name, held only by the country’s ruler and their direct family.
Despite knowing this had to be fraudulent, Benedikt felt a tickle of unease track down his spine.
After Christian then his father the King died in quick succession, Benedikt’s father, Karl, had inherited the title.
He was a distant cousin of Christian’s. It had taken almost a year of careful checking and deliberation before he was officially named heir to the throne, his name changing to Von Prinzenberg. The name Benedikt now carried.
He lifted his gaze to the woman opposite. She sat straight-backed, knees bent and ankles crossed neatly. Hands clasped in her lap. Only the rapid and rise and fall of her breasts and the pulse thrumming at the base of her neck betrayed she was anything other than completely composed.
‘You expect me to fall for this fraud?’
She flinched minutely but held his stare with those deep green eyes. ‘It’s not a fraud. It’s the truth.’
Benedikt shook his head. ‘These papers don’t prove anything.’
‘On the contrary.’ She leaned forward. ‘They prove I’m the rightful ruler. I’m the only child of Prince Christian, who should have been King after his father. I’m his rightful heir, born before your father took the crown.’
‘If you believe this fabrication.’ Benedikt’s hand fisted, crumpling the papers.
‘You think by destroying those, you can hide the truth? You believe me so naive as to bring the originals?’ She sat back, eyebrows lifting. ‘Those are copies. The originals are held safe. Don’t think you can bury the truth.’
‘I’m not in the habit of burying anything.’
Her huff of disbelief was loud in the thick silence. ‘Like father, like son,’ she murmured.
Benedikt opened his mouth to challenge her but stopped. He more than most knew his father had kept secrets, some shameful. But he couldn’t let himself be distracted.
‘How do I even know you’re Annalena, granddaughter of the Grand Duchess of Edelforst?’
She looked the right age and he knew the real Annalena was blonde. He’d seen her once as a child on a rare visit to the province.
That had to be it. She was some crazy impostor. But why pursue a lie that would be easily found out?
‘You can call my grandmother, and there are people here in the capital who can vouch for me. Meanwhile…’
She dug out a small card and passed it to him. It was a driver’s licence, worn around the edges. It looked real. The only anomaly was that the woman in the photo wore a plain white T-shirt and her hair in a high ponytail.
He stared. It was the same woman but the difference from the one sitting here was enormous. The picture showed someone relaxed and half smiling, with none of the buttoned-up tension emanating from the figure before him.
He put the licence and papers on the seat beside him. They’d be investigated fully.
‘It’s still not true. You can’t be Queen.’
One eyebrow rose mockingly. ‘You should know Prinzenberg was one of the first European countries to acknowledge the rights of female heirs. Males don’t take precedence when it comes to inheriting the throne.’
He stopped her with a slicing gesture. ‘I’m fully aware of our constitutional history. It was an essential part of my education as son of the King .’
Her lips curled in a grimace, the first evidence of unfettered emotion he’d seen in her. Her tone was heavy with repugnance. ‘He might have ruled but that doesn’t mean he had the right to.’
Deep inside, Benedikt felt the truth of that. Not because he had doubts about his father’s right to inherit the throne, but because the country had deserved someone far better. Someone who cared more for it than themselves.
He breathed out slowly. That was his mission, and his obligation, to redress his father’s wrongs and be the head of state his country needed. He hoped he was up to it, that his father’s taint didn’t undermine him.
‘Of course he had the right. He was the previous King’s closest surviving relative.’
She merely shook her head as if the nonsense on the papers she’d brought were true.
He’d never been gullible, even as a child. Growing up with a father like his had ensured that. Karl had been cold, emotionally abusive and regularly twisted the truth to suit himself.
Benedikt rubbed the back of his neck where tension clamped. The six weeks since his father’s death had been taxing. His schedule was diabolical and he couldn’t waste more time on this.
‘I’m not interested in fairy tales. I know this can’t be true.’
In the afternoon sunlight her braid gleamed like gold as she tilted her head. Far from looking put out, she appeared curious. As if he were an intriguing specimen to be examined. ‘How can you be certain?’
‘Because if your story were true, your mother would have told the old King she was pregnant with his grandchild and secured your place on the throne.’
His guest didn’t look flustered. ‘He didn’t outlive my father for long. The King was already dying when my father was killed in that accident.’
Impatience made Benedikt grit his teeth. ‘That doesn’t explain why she didn’t come forward. Why hide you? Why keep the supposed wedding secret?’ He rose. He’d had enough. ‘Your story doesn’t hold water. I don’t know what your game is but you didn’t think it through.’
He grabbed the papers, about to turn away.
‘They kept the wedding secret because the old King was pressuring my father into an arranged marriage. He was gravely ill and wanted his son married before he died. He’d chosen someone but Christian, my father, couldn’t marry her because he was in love with my mother.’
‘Fairy tales,’ Benedikt repeated. ‘That’s all you offer me.’
‘It’s true!’
She shot to her feet, eyes ablaze, and Benedikt found himself snared by the emotion he read there. It punctured his estimate of her as coolly conniving. She looked full of passion.
His pulse kicked.
‘The King was worried about the country’s finances and wanted him to marry the daughter of an American billionaire. Someone with plenty of money to invest in Prinzenberg.’
A sliver of ice punctured Benedikt’s chest.
Someone like his mother.
Karl had been charming when he chose and Benedikt’s mother had fallen for his wooing, then lived to regret her choice, finally realising he cared more for her money than her.
Karl’s pretence of affection had ended after several miscarriages and the stillbirth of a second son.
With the news she’d never be able to give him a spare heir.
Benedikt’s most vivid childhood memories were of her distress at her husband’s casual cruelty.
If he had a choice he’d never marry. For him the very idea was weighted with pain and negativity, with trauma.
Fury rose that this stranger should involve his mother, a woman who’d endured so much, in this scam.
Benedikt still felt her loss deeply, and his grandfather’s.
He stalked across, straight into Annalena’s space. If that was who she really was. ‘I’ve had enough of your games.’
He’d long ago learned to curb the volatile anger that could provoke reactions he’d later regret. But he had his limits.
Serious eyes met his with no trace of fear.
‘My parents were in love but my father didn’t want to disappoint his father so he stalled for time.
Then they discovered I was on the way. They married in Edelforst with my grandmother’s blessing.
My father left, intending to choose the right time to announce their marriage, but he made my mother promise not to come to the capital.
He insisted she keep their marriage and her pregnancy secret until he took her there. ’
Despite himself, Benedikt was intrigued. It had the elements of a good yarn if nothing else.
‘That doesn’t explain why she didn’t come forward later. Why no one else heard about this supposed marriage.’
Annalena crossed her arms, not pugnaciously but, he realised, defensively. Her shoulders curved in. Suddenly she looked vulnerable, making him notice for the first time how much smaller she was than he. Her feisty attitude had eclipsed so much.
‘She was protecting me. She died soon after I was born and my grandmother stayed quiet for the same reason.’
‘And you needed protection from…?’
‘I was only a few weeks old when your father was proclaimed heir to the throne.’
‘Still time to assert your claim. Why didn’t they?’
She straightened, arms unfolding and shoulders pushing back. She tilted her jaw and, despite the fact she only came up to his shoulder, managed to look down her nose at him. As if she really were Queen and he some ragtag imposter.
‘Because of what my father said before he left that last time. He wasn’t looking forward to telling his father he’d married for love not duty.
He didn’t want to disappoint his sick father.
But he had something else on his mind. A series of accidents had dogged him in the capital. Potentially fatal accidents.’
‘You’re saying he thought someone was trying to kill him?’
‘Someone else was vying for power. Someone who saw the old King’s illness as an opportunity. My father didn’t want to reveal he was married until he had concrete proof and had neutralised the danger.’
She went on before he could interject. ‘My father left Edelforst on a Sunday night and by Wednesday morning he was dead. In a car accident on a road he knew like the back of his hand. The first report mentioned an oil spill on the road at the only spot where the side plunged into a ravine. But the official, final report made no mention of it. There were other anomalies—’
‘You forget there was no one else in line to inherit the throne. No one vying for power.’
Her expression changed, defiance and sadness replaced with something like regret.
‘No one except the orphan who’d been raised at the palace beside the Crown Prince as an act of charity.
Someone ambitious and older than Christian, who chafed at the fact he could never rise to the same heights of power.
Someone who, within weeks of the Crown Prince’s death, quietly married the American heiress whom the old King had favoured. ’
Benedikt’s blood froze, his skin turning clammy with horror.
‘Your father. Who later became King Karl.’ Her voice was implacable, her words missiles. ‘That’s why my family kept the marriage and my parentage secret. They didn’t want him to kill me too.’