“I know Roy.”
“Then you know he’s not giving her up even if she wants to stay gone.”
“So London—Mystique—is now head of the Black Swans?”
They entered town, slowing as they drove through neighborhoods that looked very much like Old Town Krakow, with twists and turns and opulent Renaissance-, Romanesque-, and even Baroque-style buildings, most with tall windows and grand balconies with ornate balustrades, the building numbers carved into decorative plaques.A representation of centuries of architecture all in one small footprint, although recently built.All part of the deception to keep their cybersecurity safe, probably.
“Yes,” Shep said.“I’m not thrilled, but it’s in her blood.She can’t let go until she finds someone else to take over.”They drove past the square, along the row of embassies, and pulled up to a creamy-white five-story hotel that hugged the base of the mountain.Over the door, a blue-and-gold flag adorned with a royal crest rippled in the wind, and a crest with a crown at the apex was imprinted over the ornate entrance.
“The Royal Guardhouse,” Shep said as he took a parking ticket and drove down, under the mountain.“It’s connected to the palace via an underground tunnel.They converted it after the earthquake.It has a few surprises.”
He parked in what seemed to be a cavern, half concrete, half mountain, and they got out.“The Swans lease the top floor.”Shep pushed the elevator button.“Prince Luka has a soft spot for London.”
They got on, Shep keyed in a code, and the lift rose to the penthouse suites.
They entered a small domed foyer with deep-blue carpet and a gold chandelier.“This used to be full of prison cells where they kept people waiting for execution.It survived the earthquake, as did the palace.”
“Thanks for the history lesson.I’m not going to be haunted by the voices of old prisoners, am I?”
“The view from the cells is worth it.”Shep smiled and opened the double oak door.They entered another room, this one expansive, with plush white carpet, two dark-blue velvet sofas, and a polished-stone coffee table.Along one wall ran a dark mahogany table with chairs for twelve, and a built-in buffet stocked with white china.The other wall held a number of television flatscreens.
But the view ahead caught Steinbeck—the oversized French doors leading to a balcony that overlooked the town, the river, and the snowcapped mountains.
“Offices are to the right, guest rooms to the left.”Shep pointed down a hallway.“You’re in the first on the right, facing the view.”
“Is Emberly staying here too?”
“Last door on the end, facing town.”
“I’m grabbing a shower.”
“I have a better idea.Drop your gear—I’ll meet you here in five.”
“As long as it involves food.”
“Trust me.”
Stein dropped his backpack on the bed of a room that rivaled the King’s Inn and headed back to the lobby.
Shep waited with a couple towels and tossed him one.
They took the elevator back down and got off one level above the garage, a tunnel burrowed through the stone.Electric lanterns lit a pathway, splashing luminescence on the rock, an eerie walk back in time.
It felt like Stein was back in the dungeon in Portugal.Which only made him think about Emberly.Maybe he shouldn’t have left her on the tarmac.
“Welcome to the private hot springs of the royal family,” Shep said.They strolled along the corridor until it opened to a cavern, more lights bathing a series of steamy pools.
“There’s also a cold plunge—” Shep pointed to a man-made grotto.“And a sauna.”A glass-walled room with wooden planks was built into the side of the mountain.
“This is...”
“A perk of being one of the Cobs.”
“Cobs?”
“They’re male swans.I’m not a fan of the term either.”Shep opened a wooden door and entered a dressing room.Handed Stein a bathrobe.“It’s coed, but I reserved it for us for an hour.”
Stein showered, then donned the robe and found Shep in the sauna, already sweating.
