Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,30

second time around.

Urmas looked dubious. He lifted his chin and studied the mark with frank curiosity. “Did you have Ingel bring you something for it?”

“No. It's just a bruise.” Chey decided it was a good thing she'd gone into photography instead of stage make-up, where she would have obviously failed spectacularly.

“Hm.” Urmas hummed, then pivoted and guided her toward a tall arch at the beginning of a broad hallway.

Chey forced herself not to squirm under his scrutiny, and breathed a sigh of relief when he led her on. Adjusting the camera case strap on her shoulder, she finally absorbed the detail of the off limits third floor.

And what detail it was. White walls accented by gold trim provided a pristine backdrop for paintings taller than she was. Opulent chandeliers hung from the hallway they turned into, the ceiling inset with crown molding and hand paintings reminiscent of Michaelangelo. The atmosphere was somewhere between a museum and a cathedral, with archways leading into private parlors, a huge library and other formal sitting areas. Smaller hallways branched off left and right, with gilt doors leading into what Chey assumed were the private suites of the Royals.

Shocked all over again that people actually lived like this, Chey tried to fathom the money, the responsibility, the centuries it must have taken to ascend to this seat of power. Every so often she was struck with a sense of the surreal, like she might wake up from a vivid dream in her tiny apartment back in Seattle.

“Remember, no pictures of anything up here besides the formal sitting room we'll be using,” Urmas reminded her. He turned into an archway between two marble statuettes of draped cherubs wearing solemn expressions.

Following, Chey entered the sitting room of the King and Queen. One wall was nothing but windows, the panes alternating between clear and stained glass arches. All the furniture matched the white-on-gold theme of the walls. Modern looking divans with gold scroll sat next to sleek sofas with gold tasseled pillows and ottomans with burnished gold buttons. Two high backed chairs situated near an enormous fireplace was the spot Urmas led her to.

“This is where you'll set up. Decide how you want the furniture and a few staff members will be in shortly to move it for you,” Urmas said with a gesture.

“All right. Thank you.” Chey set down her camera case. Urmas stepped away, cell phone already in hand.

Chey got down to work, more than glad to put her troubles from her mind.

. . .

The session with the King and Queen went exactly as Chey expected. Urmas, the go between, transferred new sitting positions after Chey snapped the angles she wanted. Aksel and Helina made little fuss, moving and posing as directed. Helina looked about as bored as she might have watching grass grow for an extended period of time. Chey struggled to snap shots that didn't convey her boredom to the public. Or her indifference. Aksel was a little more animated with the few people he deigned to speak to during the ordeal, once even laughing over this comment or that.

After, when the Royal pair had left the room and Chey was breaking down her equipment, Allar surprised her with a question.

“A cabinet door, hm?”

Straightening, Chey turned to meet his inquisitive gaze. “I see good news travels fast in these halls. Yes, an unfortunate accident.”

He quirked his lips and studied the injury with as much doubt as Urmas. “You should be more careful, Miss Sinclair,” he said in a quiet voice. “Next thing we know, you'll be falling down the stairs.”

Chey sucked in a breath. For a moment, she wondered if Allar had been behind the event. What were the chances he would suggest exactly the same circumstance the attacker had?

He arched his brows and cocked his chin like he was waiting for her to say something.

“...yes. Of course. I'll be more careful. Excuse me.” Chey stepped around him, snagged the camera case strap and exited the sitting room. Urmas stood in the hall, ready to escort her back to the lower level. Back to the territory she was allowed to roam.

Along the way, Chey ran through the reasons Allar might do such a thing. Unfortunately, they weren't many. In fact, she couldn't come up with a single explanation that would motivate him to threaten her.

Unless—unless she'd unknowingly snapped a compromising picture. But of what? She'd only gone out on her own twice, once inside, and once out. Oh, and the walled garden, which turned