“No, but it will make better time and is safer.”
“But we’ll be so cold.”
“You won’t be,” he promised.
She didn’t try to turn around and look at him to see if he was serious. She didn’t blast him with her questions yet either, because she had to concentrate on keeping her perch without having to hold on to him.
They passed through the palace gates and turned away from the city, leaving behind the streets that were kept free of ice and snow in the winter. Snow covered the countryside, including the roads, and no doubt there would be more of it in the mountains, which is where they were going, so she had to allow a sleigh, designed for such travel, might be the better choice—but not if she was going to freeze in it!
About ten minutes later, Christoph helped her into the vehicle waiting for them outside the large sleigh house. He did so by picking her up and setting her in it, it was so high off the ground. Two horses were already hitched to it, tall animals that could make it through snowdrifts without too much difficulty, she supposed. A wide, cushioned seat was in the back, with an elevated seat in front for a driver, which Christoph had also arranged for. The front of the sleigh curved up quite high for a windbreak, but it was still completely open to the elements.
“Just how far are we going that we might not make it by nightfall?” she yelled back at Christoph as he tied his horse behind the sleigh.
He came back around to place his rifle, the valise she’d packed, and a saddlebag on the floor by her feet. She hadn’t sat down yet, afraid she’d find the seat wet from a previous snowfall.
“Far enough to need these,” he said, taking the armful of blankets one of the sleigh-house workers handed him.
He tossed the pile up at her. She lost her balance trying to grab them all and dropped down on the seat behind her. She gave him a fulminating glare as he climbed in and sat beside her. He didn’t seem to notice, picking up the blankets she dropped and setting them out of the way, then taking the single one in her hands and spreading it across their laps. She would have preferred her own blanket rather than sharing one with him, but she couldn’t wait any longer to question him, so she didn’t mention it.
The very second the sleigh began to move, she turned to Christoph. “My patience has been extraordinary.”
“Yes, it has,” he agreed.
With her eye on the driver’s back, she leaned closer to whisper, “I was told my mother, Queen Avelina, died soon after my birth. Everyone knew it. This was a lie?”
“You don’t have to whisper. I requested this driver specifically because he’s deaf.” When she leaned away from him again, he shook his head. “I should have waited to mention it.”
She ignored that. “My question?”
“Frederick’s first wife died, yes, but she wasn’t your mother.” He put a finger to her mouth when she started to interrupt him. “We know who you are now. You were correct, your guardian Poppie did take you from the palace nursery. Everything he told you recently is probably true, even that he is Rastibon—everything except what he didn’t know: that it wasn’t the princess sleeping in the royal bassinet. It was the daughter of the nursemaid Helga Engel that he carried off that night.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
ALANA COULDN’T STOP LAUGHING. She laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. When she caught a glimpse of Christoph’s annoyed expression, she laughed even harder.
He waited until she wound down before he said, “You don’t believe me?”
“On the contrary, you have just taken an incredible burden off my shoulders. I can go home now. I certainly won’t be stopping any war if I’m not the king’s heir. Actually, do you still contend this country isn’t headed for war now that you know your theory, that the king’s enemies were going to use me for a coup, isn’t accurate?”
“War, no, we never thought it would come to that. The rebel ploy is to stir up enough fear that Lubinians are soon going to lose their beloved king through illness so the people would either demand a new king or rejoice at having a large family in power again, one with many heirs.”
“That sounds as if the Bruslans are setting the scene for my—er, for the king’s assassination?”
He smiled at her lapse and Alana realized it was going to take a while for her to stop thinking of the king of Lubinia as her father. But she still had a parent who was alive, one who wasn’t royal, thank heavens, and one she wasn’t the least bit nervous about meeting—well, she was too relieved to be nervous yet.
“Indeed,” Christoph answered. “I stopped three assassination attempts last year, so now they try to get rid of me as well.”
She started, yet she realized she shouldn’t be surprised. “They’d rather someone less competent was in your post?”
He grinned. “Or they’re just furious at me for foiling them on every front.”
She noted he didn’t seem the least bit worried about being one of their targets, so she guessed he’d just exaggerated, maybe to gain her sympathy. That wasn’t going to happen. Frederick Stindal’s difficulties were no longer her concern—and neither were Christoph Becker’s.
“What was I doing in the royal bed for Poppie to have made such a mistake?” she asked.
“Your mother switched the two infants prior to keep the princess safe in her own room.”
“So people suspected there was a plot to kill the heir?”
