On the Line [Run Cold Book Two]

17: After

Six hours of restless sleep later, I sat on what had been Marc's bed, shaking my head as Braaten's detectives combed through the room for evidence. The man didn't keep much in the city, at least in the palace residence: a couple reference books about horse care, a dusty laptop, and some rock climbing gear. He had an apartment somewhere towards the shoreline, a home away from home before the whole mess between Joronn and I had started. I'd never been, didn't even know its exact location, but I refused to go now.

A young woman, blonde hair, bright blue eyes, flipped a gloved hand through an ancient Scandinavia text. Despite not having pegged him as a reader, equine health books I understood, but a thick history tome? Curious, I craned my neck, trying to see over her shoulder.

"Mean anything to you?" Braaten asked, his eyes never leaving my mine. Behind him stood Einar; a quiet surveyor and officially my permanent escort until their suspect was caught.

I frowned, sensing that he wanted me here for a reason, whether he thought I knew where Marc might run to, or that I was somehow hiding him myself. "Einar and I had crashed on his family's couch when Becky's call came through. Marcus drove us back into town. He was worried, not scheming." The compassionate plea moved neither the detective nor her commanding officer. "I know him, Braaten. Not once did it cross my mind that he was being less than genuine. Ask Einar."

"I told the Chief," my bodyguard began in an un-eagar tone, as though he resented being dragged into this. "He was seeing another woman. That there was tension in their home over you. That I entered into your service after the man had already gone north for the winter holidays. I do not know him. I do not trust him."

"He had no reason to call Trish. None."

"And yet cell phone records prove he did." The door creaked. Nik leaned against the frame, his arms crossed. "A word, Al?"

"It better be 'sorry,'" I warned him, taking one more look at Marc's book. With a viking helm on the front and several professors listed as author, it seemed more a coursebook than light reading. Still, that was hardly my concern as I rounded on the renounced prince.

Raising his eyebrows, Braaten bowed me out of the room. "Before she judges him too harshly, my queen may want to remember," he whispered, "the lengths she went to in order to save Prince Niklas."

"You're wiser than I thought," I relented, "for a wolf, anyway."

He pay my shoulder. "I'll see you at the prison in a few hours."

Closing my eyes a moment, I nodded, letting myself count down from ten to regather my thoughts. Nik's blue eyes were waiting when mine reopened, and he took my arm softly, leading me from the stables. For a long time we moved in silence, comfortably uncomfortable, with Einar a distant shadow. There was a lot I had to say, a lot he had to say, and neither one of us, it seemed, was eager to get the ball rolling.

So we started with small talk, how he'd been, what my plans in Norway were, and gradually shifted towards the other topics. Becky in Australia. My mom's long-term prognosis. If my dad was really as okay as he claimed.

This took us into the winding palace gardens, near the very same statue I'd called him behind at the engagement party. We stopped there, leaning against the stone bear's granite base, kicking our feet in the grass. The air was warm for a spring afternoon, warm and carefree and oblivious to the storm that clouded our hearts. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"I asked, tucking a loose strange of hair behind my ear.

He shrugged. "Would it make you any less convinced I acted out of jealousy?"