He grinned impishly. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He rose a little creakily to his feet. “I’m done with the pinning. Why don’t you go get your outfit and we’ll see if my idea is going to work for you?”
I hurried back to the bathroom, anxious to get out of a dress made scratchy by straight pins. I felt a little pang of regret taking off the jewels. They were an amazing gift, not just because of the value, although that was not inconsiderable, but because they were an honest reflection of the affection Isaac, Gilda, and I have for one another.
My family might be a source of pain and frustration for me, but my friends? My friends are excellent.
Adriana’s voice whispered in my head. There is a safe hidden in the floor of your bedroom. I will give you the combination so that you may keep those jewels under lock and key when you’re not wearing them.
Thanks.
You are most welcome. And I am quite pleased. The dresses you chose are lovely. You can be fully armed without drawing attention to it, and Mr. Levy has agreed to check the tailoring and hem of my gown.
That would probably piss off the designer to no end.
Perhaps it will. But it is my gown, and my wedding. And I don’t want the ankle holster with the derringer to … show.
Wow. I guess my gun was going to be the “something borrowed.” Fair enough. When this was over, I might just give it to her. Politics is a very dicey business, particularly in Rusland. She’d probably need it.
Adriana soon left for a meeting with her priest. Olga left almost on her heels; only Natasha chose to stay while Isaac finished making adjustments to the lavalavas I’d be wearing to tonight’s state dinner and the wedding the day after tomorrow.
Natasha seemed very nervous. Isaac and Gilda sensed something was up and made some excuse to run out to their rental car for something, giving us a moment alone. The minute they were out of earshot, Natasha turned to me and spoke quickly and quietly. “You must not trust Olga. She is devious and determined. She does not believe the wedding should happen.” Her expression was so earnest it almost hurt to see it. I was glad that she’d come around. Adriana wasn’t perfect, but she did love Dahlmar, and she truly wanted to be a good queen for his people. I hoped that his people would eventually come to appreciate that, and her. That Natasha was coming around was a good sign.
“I know,” I assured her, “and I don’t.”
She didn’t seem reassured. “I wish I knew what she was planning. I do not. If I had proof, I would go to Igor and the king. But I have no proof, only suspicion. Olga is the king’s niece, a member of the royal family. Without proof I can do nothing. But I know, in my heart, she is planning something.”
“I believe you.” I did. Natasha’s suspicions fit with what Gilda had told me and with my own observations. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on her.”
Natasha looked searchingly at me. After a long moment, she said, “I think, perhaps, she is planning on that, as well. Please, look where she would not expect.”
25
Checking the schedule I saw that tonight was going to be a busy night for Adriana and, consequently, for me. First, in the early evening, there was the big rehearsal dinner for the Serenity portion of the ceremonies—a black-tie event for the men and “Serenity formal” for the women. Later, Adriana would attend the private bachelorette party hosted by her girlfriends. I was scheduled to be with her at both events. Since nobody was throwing a fuss about this, I suspected that one or more of the royal family’s clairvoyants had seen signs of trouble. It would’ve been nice if somebody had warned me about the threats—the when and where—but no one had, which probably meant no one knew. There are limits to what even the best seers can do. If there wasn’t, there’d be no crime. The police would head it off ahead of time.
In my business I’ve guarded a lot of celebrities, but until recently I hadn’t done much work with political figures, so I’d never actually been to a formal state event. It was an eye opener.
The dinner itself was in a ballroom decorated in teal, sea green, gold, and tan. Round tables were covered with elegant china, silver, and crystal. Each table had its own candelabra and floral arrangement.
I was seated at the head table, which was on a raised stage, between Adriana and Igor. I had done a personal check of the security arrangements that afternoon. I could tell that irritated Special Agent Albright, but it was my job to be Adriana’s last line of defense, and I wasn’t going to let anyone’s attitude get in the way.
Everything was perfectly normal, which made me nervous as hell, particularly since Rizzoli had e-mailed to let me know that Jan Mortensen had disappeared completely. Rizzoli’s friends in the CIA had information that he appeared to be hiding out “somewhere in Europe.” They also swore that he hadn’t gotten there by plane, train, or boat. Which left teleportation, probably via Okalani.
Thinking about Okalani brought back the memory of Hiwahiwa’s words. I prayed that she was wrong, that maybe the kid was okay, that her father was protecting her. But I didn’t really believe it. Just thinking about demons and torture made me nauseous. Having been on the wrong end of that particular equation, I don’t allow myself to think about it too closely. The memories were blunted, not erased, and they’d been coming closer and closer to the surface lately.
I’d need to talk about it all with Gwen, my shrink, and soon. But tonight I was working and needed to be on my game. So I forced thoughts of Mortensen and Okalani out of my mind and kept scanning the crowd for anything untoward or unusual.
Adriana and I were passing through the anteroom, greeting the guests and schmoozing. She was a vision in emerald and gold. The queen, home at last, was sitting on the sidelines, letting the crowd come to her. She looked lovely, but tired, and the scars she’d mentioned to me days before were angry red welts marring her porcelain skin.
Powerful people are just as vain and petty as the rest of us. The women all wanted to be the most beautiful and best dressed. This was a little trickier than usual since we were all wearing basically the same dress. Ah, the lavalava—equalizer of women. Of course, it really didn’t work that way. Beautiful women looked beautiful. Homely women looked … really well dressed. There were dresses in every conceivable fabric and pattern, with jewels in more colors than the rainbow. No expense had been spared as the attendees all tried to outshine one another.
All the men wore tuxedos, in a variety of classic styles that looked good on most men. Still, some wear them better than others. I saw John Creede and felt a wash of emotions. His tux fit so flawlessly and he looked so good in it that most people would never have guessed he was actually working security, protecting King Dahlmar’s brother, Arkady.
Greede gave me a cold nod, acknowledging me but making it strictly business. That stung, but not as much as I’d expected it too—probably because I was still angry with him. There were things I missed about him, but there were also plenty of things I didn’t.
Gunnar Thorsen came up to Adriana. I hadn’t seen him since he’d oh-so-nicely interrogated me. I’d found him handsome in a business suit. In a tuxedo, he was stunning. His long hair had been pulled back in a tight braid. There are men who look effete with long hair, almost girly. He wasn’t one of them, not with those shoulders and those chiseled features.
“Ladies, you’re looking lovely this evening.” He pulled Adriana into a light embrace, then released her and said, “That’s an excellent choice for you, Celia, very striking.”
“Thank you.” I smiled up at him. I knew I looked good. My lavalava was made of raw silk in a dramatic black and white hibiscus pattern. The dress went well with my pale skin and there was quite a lot of that skin showing. Because it was such a bold print, I’d opted for simple yet elegant jewelry: a pair of pearl earrings and a platinum chain at my wrist.
A lavalava is not made for a concealed carry, so I had been limited in my weapons choices. Had I had the option of wearing a jacket it would have been easier, but Adriana had vetoed the idea, saying that this really wasn’t that type of an event. So I had a small gun in my evening bag, along with breath mints and a tube of lipstick.
“My parents are here this evening,” Gunnar said.
Adriana gave him a startled look that he ignored in favor of staring directly at me. Looking at him, I saw that despite his careful grooming, his face reflected the strain of the last few days.
“My father asked for a word with you, Celia. Apparently he has a message from my grandfather.”
Adriana’s gulp was clearly audible over the voices of the crowd and the muted background music. Apparently I was missing something important.
“Your grandfather?”
“Yes. You should be flattered. Odin doesn’t often take an interest.”
Odin? Oh crap. Thorsen wasn’t just Gunnar’s surname. He was actually Thor’s son? His father, the God of Thunder, was here at the party. Um, okay then. Wow. It was my turn to gulp. I suddenly wished I’d snagged one of the flutes of champagne that had been circulating around. I really needed a drink.
I managed to choke out a response, but it wasn’t easy. “Oh, I’m flattered. I’m also alarmed.”
Thorsen threw back his head and laughed.
“Shall we join my parents then?” He winked at me. “I promise they won’t bite.”
“Of course.” Adriana looped her arm through his. I couldn’t read her thoughts, but her expression was enough. She wouldn’t miss this for the world. Gunnar held out his other arm for me and I took it. Not just for show, either. I needed the support.
Thor, God of Thunder, son of Odin Allfather, looked great in a tuxedo. Like his son, he was big and blond. Unlike his son, he seemed to be having a marvelous time. He was all smiles as he introduced his wife. “Father, mother, this is Princess Adriana of Serenity, the daughter of Queen Lopaka.” They murmured their acknowledgment and greetings. “And this”—Gunnar gestured to me—“is Princess Celia Graves, granddaughter of Queen Lopaka’s beloved brother, Kalino.”
