Royal Affair Read Online Free PDF Page A

you to the ends of the earth,” he’d vowed.
    Releasing the crushed rose, he dropped it into the wastebasket. The conspiracy had taken all his time and attention during the next six weeks. His presence as king, in deed if not yet in name, had been required. Now that the trial and sentencing were finished, he could think of other things, like finding his rose.
    Quickly dressing in jeans and a T-shirt, he grabbed the phone and punched in his security advisor’s private number.
    Chuck answered on the first ring.
    â€œCan you come to my quarters?” Max asked.
    â€œBe right there.”
    No sooner had he hung up, than a knock sounded on his door. “Come in.”
    Bartlett entered with a serving cart. On it were a coffee urn, two cups, two plates and a platter of muffins, plus another with a variety of fruit. He didn’t know how the man knew exactly when to arrive, butit had been this way since Max’s earliest memories in the palace.
    â€œThanks, Bartlett. I’ll be going out for a hike in about an hour.”
    â€œVery good, sir.” The man left as quietly as he’d entered, leaving the door ajar and speaking to someone in the hall.
    Chuck Curland came inside and closed the door, then pulled the pocket doors from their hiding place and closed them, too. Two sets of doors had been built into all the king’s rooms when the palace was constructed to ensure privacy in conversation. Max, upon his father’s advice, used them.
    â€œCoffee?” Max asked.
    â€œPlease.” The American glanced around the room the way he did each time he entered.
    Once, Max had teased him about expecting a spy behind every curtain. Lately the idea didn’t seem funny.
    Chuck’s eyes were light blue and seemed to see everything that might be the slightest suspicious. His hair was brown with blond streaks from their hours of jogging on the beach. His frame matched Max’s inch for inch, pound for pound. In college they’d shared a room the first semester, then, finding they got along superbly, an apartment after that until they graduated.
    Chuck was five years older than Max and had been an Army Ranger before going to school on the G.I. bill. That the two had met at all was a demonstration of American democracy in action when they’d been randomly assigned to share a room.
    Max’s father, the late king, had suggested Chuck come to Lantanya and advise them on security matters. Perhaps the king had known at that early stage of their friendship that Max would need a friend in the palace. Chuck, with his all-seeing gaze, had detected the conspiracy and warned Max, thus bringing him home early.
    Max poured the coffee and filled a plate, then sat in his favorite chair. Chuck did the same.
    â€œThis reminds me of days with my father,” Max told his friend. “Except, the king sat where I am, in a big black leather chair, and I sat in this chair, which was located where you are.”
    â€œWhat happened to the king’s chair?” Chuck asked, taking a muffin and several spoons of fruit.
    â€œI had it placed in the royal museum along with his suit of armor and ceremonial outfits.”
    Chuck smiled. “Are you going to have armor made for yourself?”
    â€œNo. The bulletproof vest you insisted I buy is more than enough for my tastes.”
    â€œIt’s more effective when it’s worn,” Chuck said dryly.
    Max cocked one eyebrow. “I’m not going to sleep in it, and that’s final.”
    They smiled at each other with the ease of companions who’d seen each other puking their guts outafter their first—and last—overindulgence in beer, moaning over the fickleness of college girls who threw them over for the captain of the football team and cursing their professors for tests that were impossible to pass.
    â€œSpeaking of sleeping. Or not sleeping, as the case may be…” Chuck said, the words trailing off as he studied