Free The Wrath of the King by Danielle Bourdon Page B

frantic and nervous, to tell--”
    “Gunnar,” Paavo said, taking a step forward. “Do not speak of those things.”
    “Why?” Gunnar shouted. “So no one else will hear the truth for what it is? So they'll look at you and know your hands are bloodied?”
    Without warning, Paavo snatched Gunnar by the front of his clothes and yanked him into the room. The door closed on Natalia's surprised face with a hard bang. Paavo threw the lock, then bulled Gunnar deeper into the elaborately decorated chamber.
    Gunnar knocked Paavo's hand from his person. “You killed him.”
    “Not true. Belmar took his own life for reasons I can only guess at. Now then, you need to calm down.” Paavo stopped within inches of Gunnar, face to face.
    “He wanted very badly to live earlier this afternoon, and now he draws breath no longer. You were the one who told them not to say anything to anyone, and now Belmar is dead. I am not so big a fool, Paavo, to overlook the obvious.” Not quite as tall as his brother, Gunnar was nevertheless unbothered by it. He did not allow Paavo's aggressive stature to diminish his righteous indignation nor his belief that Paavo ordered the strike. The longer he thought about it, the more positive he became of the truth.
    “You have two choices,” Paavo said, voice gone low and persuasive. “You can stand with me and take control of your empire, the land I will give you to rule, or you can find yourself in the other camp, the one where I make your life as difficult as possible until you see reason. There can be no other way going forward, brother.”
    “That is as good as an admission of guilt.” Gunnar clipped the words out, furious all over again. Belmar, a decent man with a family, hadn't deserved to die.
    “I think you fail to understand the seriousness of the situation, Gunnar. You're young, with the least experience of us all. Trust me when I say—you want to be on my side right now.” Paavo slid his hands into the pockets of his silk pajama pants.
    Gunnar spun away, not trusting himself or his actions. He paced the room, oblivious to the splash of masculine colors, all in browns, reds and cream. Gleaming gilt accents flashed by in periphery as he faced Paavo from a different vantage.
    “Tell me, Paavo. Were you behind Dare's 'accident', too? Have you planned this the whole time? During the months of summer, pretending to be over your ideas for dividing the country? Hm?” A muscle flexed in Gunnar's jaw. He didn't know what he might do if the answer was yes. It was too nefarious, too treasonous.
    “I'll caution you once more, Gunnar, to have a care with the accusations you're flinging around. My tolerance, even for beloved siblings, has limits.” Paavo's expression shifted from cajoling to stony.
    “Or what?” Gunnar had a fleeting thought that he should heed Paavo's warnings. His anger was getting the better of his judgment. Dare would be playing the game right along, he reminded himself, hiding any fury he felt in favor of not allowing his adversary—and that's what Paavo was at this moment—to be privy to his emotions.
    Paavo looked at the ground, then at different points in the bedroom. When his gaze landed on Gunnar again, something cold and hard lurked in his eyes. “Things we hold precious cease to be.”
    Rocked by the implication, Gunnar opened his mouth to blast Paavo for the mere thought of bringing harm to Krislin. But he closed it again, swallowing down the anger. This was more serious than he realized. He needed time to think, to plan. To get Mattias back in Latvala. He needed to wake Dare from the coma. Taking an extra moment to get control, he crossed the room. Standing before Paavo, Gunnar pretended to think about the threat and the 'offer'. He made a big show of it, too, careful to make it appear an agonizing decision.
    “You give me no choice,” he finally said. “But don't think for a second that I approve, or that I like it. I'll do my duty, I'll take over my