Her father gave her an indulgent smile. “Don’t you?” He walked through the door, a wall of guards surrounding him and blocking him from view.
Elle closed the door and surveyed the room she’d never thought she’d occupy in a country she’d never thought she’d see again. Being queen wasn’t a choice, it was her destiny, her duty, but it wasn’t all she was. She was still Elle, and she wasn’t alone anymore. She flung open the door.
“Major Bendtsen,” she called.
He appeared immediately. “Yes, Your Royal Highness.”
“I have a mission for you.”
…
Dom glanced down at his watch. The jet should have taken off ten minutes ago. Instead it was frozen on the airstrip, and damn his mutinous heart, he was more than a little glad to still be breathing the same air as Elle, knowing that as soon as the plane took off he’d never see her again.
The pilot opened the cockpit door and headed toward Dom.
“What’s the holdup?” Dom asked.
“Sir, you might want to look out the window.”
Annoyed at the cryptic response, he shoved up the shade covering the window next to his seat—a line of Humvees bearing the royal seal surrounded the jet. Fear twisted his heart in two. Elle. The Fjende. He should have stayed. He should have watched over her.
Major Bendtsen got out of one of the Humvees, a bullhorn in his hand.
“The princess requests your presence at the Kronig. She says…” Bendtsen paused, a smile curling his normally taciturn expression into one of humor. “One kidnapping deserves another.”
Chapter Sixteen
The garden was filled with Elskovian aristocracy, dripping with diamonds and the finest bespoke tailored tuxedos, drinking champagne in honor of the country’s new queen, but the one man Elle wanted to see wasn’t there. Standing on the dais, the Elskovian crown firmly atop her newly blond hair, she listened with half an ear to a foreign diplomat paying his respects.
Murmurs of surprise lifted above the chatter, drawing her attention toward the entrance guarded by men in full royal dress uniforms of blue and silver. Thirty men and women in black fatigues walked through, looking as deadly as she knew them to be. Some she recognized from the chalet. Others had been passing figures in the crazy moments after Dom had burst into her room and killed the Hulk twins and Walther. The Resistance, her guardian angels watching over her even when she hadn’t known they’d been there.
The crowd parted for them as they made their way to the dais, a silent testament to the bravery and determination of her people. They’d fought for a decade to restore the monarchy and return her to Elskov. She owed them her loyalty and her life. Major Bendtsen stood at the head of the line, his face a neutral mask, but Dom wasn’t anywhere in the group.
Her stomach folded up inside itself. She’d been too late. He was gone.
Another rustle of chatter, then Dom walked past the royal guards and into the garden. Even though he was dressed in his personal uniform of a dark blue suit that set off the crisp blue of his eyes and his light blond hair, he couldn’t disguise the Viking warrior hidden inside. He’d fought for her. Now she’d fight for him.
As soon as he joined the other Resistance fighters in front of her, she withdrew the ceremonial sword from the silver sheath slung around her waist.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Elskov, before you stand the bravest among us. Today marks a new beginning for me as your queen and for Elskov as a country, thanks to the actions of these dedicated few who sprang into action when I was threatened.”
There was more, so much more that they’d done, but she’d agreed with the major to stick with the cover story of an assassination attempt instead of the whole truth of ten years of lies and royal impersonators. “In honor of their courage and valor, I bestow upon these citizens of Elskov the rank of silver knights. It has been centuries since our fair country has had a council of knights watching over her, and we are in good hands with these protectors.”
Starting at the opposite end from Dom, she walked down the line of Resistance fighters, tapping each on the shoulders with the sword and granting them admittance into the circle of aristocracy. When she got to the major, she paused.
“Of course, every council needs a leader. There is none I can imagine as being a better one than you, Major Bendtsen, the Earl of Moad.” The title came with a country estate north of the capital and the responsibility of being in charge of the country’s security.
Her hand shook as she lowered the sword to her side and walked the final two steps to stand in front of Dom. While the others had bowed before her, he stood tall and powerful with those thick lips that begged to be kissed, sucked, devoured, and the muscular body of a man who could stand up to any challenge and win. She could look at him all day and never grow tired. Even in front of all of these people, she couldn’t help but drink in her fill. His blue-eyed gaze clashed with hers, and he gave her a slow wink that made her thighs clench.
“Queen Eloise.” He executed a perfect bow before standing straight again. “That won’t work on me. I’m not a citizen.”
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. They’d had their Roman Holiday, but she wasn’t about to let him gallantly walk away like the reporter had done. This was their destiny, and together they’d seize it.
“True, but being queen has its privileges—conferring citizenship and titles being one of them. It hasn’t happened since my great-grandmother Queen Margriet bestowed the honor on the man who would later become her king.”
He raised an eyebrow, cocky as always. “And is that what you had in mind for me?”
“Yes,” she said.