The reason this is interesting—the Winterbourne family of Bretaria have become almost isolated from the various branches of the family who’ve moved off the island. There are no royal houses stocked with blue bloods in Bretaria. The founding charter doesn’t even confer titles upon those who are in line to inherit because the actual monarchy is not the most essential function of the family.
Yes, the throne works in conjunction with a governor and small parliament to rule over the island and its outliers, but the majority of the king’s responsibility is in the business of mining rubies. As such, ascendancy to the throne isn’t an overly formal thing; it’s not as important to the citizens of Bretaria as it is to the people of the UK who revere and almost worship their royals.
There has never been major fighting over the throne since the entire family, no matter how distant, shares in the wealth generated by the mines. There’s not a member of the extended Winterbourne family who doesn’t live in high style because of the rubies. This fortune has assured a peaceful reign for every monarch who has ever presided over the Bretarian Islands.
It doesn’t mean King Thomas is completely safe, however, as evidenced by the chatter Interpol picked up. While the king spreads his wealth among those with shared blood, it doesn’t mean there’s not someone out there who wants more. Dmitri made a wise decision to stay by the king’s side and trust Camille’s care to others. An assassination of the king would be far more detrimental to the city-state than a kidnapping of the princess, which would ultimately result in money being handed over for her safe return.
Of course, if someone really wanted a direct line to the throne and got too close to Camille’s twenty-fifth birthday when she has the right to ascend upon her father’s death, she could be at the same risk of assassination. The goal right now is for the global security agencies to share information and try to figure out exactly who is planning an attempt on King Thomas’s life, and take them down, thereby ensuring his safety and the throne’s legacy.
It’s another reason Dmitri is staying behind so that he can monitor the investigation with the other outside agencies. It wouldn’t surprise me if he pulls on former KGB contacts for information as well.
“What did you do before joining Jameson?” Paul asks as he removes his seat belt and settles deeper into his chair. We’ve been so busy planning we haven’t taken the time to get to know one another.
“Navy. Third generation.”
He nods, a knowing smile. “SEALs, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah, although my dad and grandfather were both captains at retirement. They liked to drive the boats that carried people like me around.”
“What did they captain?” he asks.
“My grandfather an aircraft carrier, and my dad a destroyer.”
Paul whistles through his teeth in respect. In his late thirties, Paul has had plenty of experience with military operations given his background in the French Foreign Legion. He most likely has done training ops with our military.
He appraises me before saying, “You obviously chose not to make a career in the navy, but I’m guessing as third generation, you failed someone’s expectations.”
Savvy man.
I give a mirthless nod. “My grandfather died before I left the navy, but my dad isn’t overly happy that I didn’t reenlist. My brother is still in, and he’ll be the golden child for choosing to carry on our family’s service to our country, an obligation I don’t quite understand. I fought and bled for this country, and I saved lives during my enlistment. I’m satisfied with what I accomplished and the reasons why I left.”
Paul nods sagely. “Money and control.”
“Bingo,” I agree with a laugh. “And I’m okay with that.”
“As you should be. Doesn’t mean that what we do isn’t worthwhile.”
Exactly.
I firmly believe that my work with Jameson in its totality is honorable and has immense value to the people we help.
Just wish my dad saw it the same way.
CHAPTER 6
Jackson
Lifestyles of the rich and famous.
This wedding is over-the-top ridiculous. The ceremony itself was in a massive, old cathedral with over five hundred people in attendance, and my understanding is they had to cap that amount for lack of space. The reception, however, is expecting seven hundred and fifty. That extra two hundred and fifty people are the second tier of the bride’s and groom’s friends who weren’t quite close enough to witness the religious nuptials but were in high enough regard to be given access to the decadent food and expensive liquor.
The wedding cake is seven tiers high and tops me by about four inches. The hotel opened two massive ballrooms which are side by side and separated by a retractable wall to make an enormously vast room. Tables that seat eight have been positioned strategically around the perimeter and set with translucent fine bone china, Waterford Crystal, and luxury linens to serve a seven-course meal over two hours. A full orchestra plays mood music throughout the meal, only to be replaced by a live band—one I learned is a chart-topper in the UK, but I’ve never heard of them—for continued partying. The alcohol flows more freely, changing from the finest champagne to an open bar stocked with top-shelf booze. The swell of the crowd doesn’t diminish, and at 1:00 a.m., the party is still going strong.
Dmitri gave me strict orders, by way of King Thomas, to allow Camille to “let her hair down” and party her ass off, if that’s what she wanted. Dmitri explained that the princess has had a rather reclusive life, given she’s lived on a closed-off island on a royal compound surrounded by a wall. Though the social scene in Bretaria is apparently quite good, given her duties and responsibilities, Camille has had little time to hang out with friends.
It was during that conversation that I learned the man who was with her at the amphitheater gala was truly just a friend. Her best, actually, although everyone who was anyone were holding out for the two to marry. Dmitri was convinced that was never happening as over the years, he’d watched the two grow up as more brother and sister.
Knowing that Camille has to meet high royal expectations and has heavy responsibilities, it’s no wonder she sometimes takes chances that perhaps she shouldn’t. Dmitri told me about finding Camille and Marius outside the wall, about to jump off a cliff into the sea below. Part of me was horrified she would break rules designed for her protection, but part of me admired her desire to fly free.
And yes, that means I feel a bit sorry for her. The one thing I am starting to understand is that Princess Camille’s tiara seems a lot heavier than I previously thought.
So yeah… Dmitri is right. Let her have fun and party hard at this reception. I don’t mind watching her like this, hanging with her girlfriends while laughing hysterically and dancing her ass off to wild punk music that grates on my ears.
Admittedly, Camille hasn’t had as much alcohol as she has the leeway to drink. During the long dinner, she sipped on two glasses of wine. When the band struck up, she switched to martinis and has had two of those. Although I haven’t spoken with her, I’ve been monitoring her carefully, and I can’t quite determine how much of her joyful abandon is from the alcohol or sheer happiness at being out with her college friends.