“Fuck what people think about me,” I say. “Do you really think I care about that? I would rather my girl be safe, protected. Who knows what this lunatic has planned.”
Ottar drags his hand over his chin and says, “I just think it would look bad.”
“Once again, I don’t care how it looks. Has this been brought to Theo’s attention?”
“Not yet. I went to speak to him, but he was taking a little longer to get out of bed.”
“Is he okay?” I ask, my body on alert now.
“According to his esquire, Theo had a rough night last night and couldn’t fall asleep, so he slept in longer.”
“Well, let me shower and get dressed. Give me five minutes, we can talk to him together.”
* * *
Ottarand I are escorted into the king’s private sitting room where he’s enjoying a traditional Torskethorpian breakfast of oatmeal, Skyr with jam, and cod liver. I’ve never been into the cod liver, but Theo has always been a fan.
He glances up at us with a smile. “Hello, boys, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“How are you feeling?” I ask him, just wanting to make sure everything is good physically with him.
“Great,” he says. “My boy and my granddaughter are getting married tomorrow, nothing to complain about.” He points his spoon at me. “Are you digging a sword up from a grave tonight?”
“Uh . . . no,” I say.
“But it’s tradition,” he says with a sweep of his hand, truly in the jolliest of moods.
“I really don’t feel comfortable breaking into a crypt to retrieve a sword.”
Theo chuckles, a deep rumble lifting from his chest. “I get it. It was weird when I did it, and I felt haunted for months after.” He scoops up a solid bite of oatmeal and asks, “What can I help you two with?”
I let Ottar take the lead as we both sit on the couch across from Theo. “We were informed last night of a man who was talking about his plans to ruin the wedding last night. He was captured at the Crowned Cod and brought into custody.”
Theo’s brows lift in surprise as he sets his spoon down and dabs his mouth with his cloth napkin. “Really? Well, that’s great news. Why the morose faces?”
“Well, I’m to believe that maybe he wasn’t the person we were after.”
“Why would you assume that?” Theo asks Ottar.
“The dots aren’t quite connecting for me. The man was from Arkham, but I’m not sure where the connection to Keller comes in. I just believe there’s more to it,” Ottar answers.
I continue, “And we believe that something bigger will happen, that this man was a possible decoy to throw us off.”
Theo strokes his beard. “I see. But we have the best security out there right now. People are lining the streets. What do you suggest? To make it even tighter with protection?”
I glance at Ottar and then say, “Calling the wedding off.”
“Absolutely not,” Theo says, shaking his head. “That’s not an option. Calling off the wedding would be terrible for this country. Not only because of the money we put into it but also because it would give the perception that our monarchy is crumbling, and it’s not. It’s thriving.”
“I understand,” I say in a calming tone. “But we don’t know the grand scope of what could happen. Wouldn’t you want to be better safe than sorry?”
Theo shakes his head. “If you need to call in more troops, shorten the parade route again, do it. Do what you need to do to secure the safety that would make you comfortable. But calling off the wedding will not be an option. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Ottar and I say at the same time.
Theo picks up his spoon again. “Now, don’t you have a final fitting you need to get to?”
“Yes,” I say as I stand with Ottar. We both bow and exit the room. When the door is shut, I lean toward Ottar and whisper, “What the fuck do we do now?”
