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He didn’t look convinced. ‘Yet you took precautions in case you disappeared.’
So she’d had a moment of uncertainty and fear. But her fear had more to do with her turbulent reaction to him than any true belief he’d harm her.
She lifted one stiff shoulder. ‘I was going into battle. I couldn’t take risks.’
Was that understanding in his gaze? ‘Especially given what happened to your father.’
Her heart jolted. ‘You believe now that it wasn’t an accident?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt we’ll ever know, given how much time has elapsed. But there are discrepancies in the reports.’
For the first time Annalena noticed lines of tiredness around his eyes, worry imprinted on his forehead and bracketing his mouth. She’d sensed yesterday that he wasn’t close to his father. But to confront the possibility Karl had been a killer…
‘Where do we go from here?’
His mouth kicked up at one corner, like a tick of approval. ‘Charming as this place is, I vote we move to somewhere we can be more comfortable.’ He gestured for her to walk with him. ‘Shall we?’
Annalena cast a glance around the clearing. Personally, she’d rather have their discussion here. She found the palace oppressive. But admitting that would hand him an advantage. He mightn’t want to harm her but she needed her wits for this negotiation.
A quarter of an hour later they entered a large walled garden. Unlike the topiary garden, this wasn’t regimented. Paths meandered and there was a riot of colour from flowering trees, shrubs and annuals.
‘Let’s talk here,’ she said impulsively. He paused mid-step, and she hurried on. ‘Surely you’ve had enough indoor meetings?’
‘Why not? I know just the place.’
He led her around a circular path to a summerhouse surrounded by scented, climbing roses in shades of cream, yellow and bronze. Opening the door, he invited her to precede him.
A few paces in Annalena stopped, breath catching. The octagonal room was filled with light from the many full-length windows, despite them being half obscured by roses.
White-painted furniture looked comfortable with an abundance of cushions in pastel gelato colours. The ceiling was wallpapered with a vivid print of a lavish garden from which peeped exotic birds and animals. Suspended from the ceiling was a chandelier, not antique crystal, but of glass in a multitude of colours, creating rainbows across the room.
The place was whimsical and welcoming and lifted her spirits. She’d never thought to see anything so delightful in the palace.
Between two windows was a tall cabinet crammed with books, drawing Annalena. The titles weren’t organised alphabetically or by size but by some arcane logic, presumably known only to the owner. They seemed well read and most were about plants and gardening.
She swung around, taking in the lovingly tended pot plants. The small tables strategically placed beside the seats. She could imagine afternoons here with friends. Or curling up on that long sofa with books from the cabinet and a piece of cherry torte. It would be a cosy place to work on her laptop.
‘This is marvellous! Just…perfect.’
In the doorway, Benedikt’s expression was inscrutable. Finally he stepped inside, looking around as if he hadn’t seen the place in a while. ‘I’m glad there’s one part of the palace you approve of.’
Apparently she hadn’t hidden her dislike for the place well. ‘I’m not really into gilding and formality.’
‘You grew up in a castle. Your grandmother still lives there.’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘Some of the rooms there are very grand but not all the spaces are formal. It’s old and quirky and…comfortable.’
‘And this palace isn’t?’ Before she could answer he continued. ‘You don’t have to be polite. No one in their right mind would call Prinzenberg’s palace cosy.’
‘But you have this. Whoever designed it knew how to create a welcoming, relaxing space.’
‘My mother’s talent. You should have seen our New York penthouse.’
‘Your mother designed this?’ Annalena looked around with new eyes. It couldn’t be any more different to the parts of the palace she’d seen. ‘She could have been a professional designer.’
‘I agree. But it wasn’t seen as compatible with her royal obligations.’
Annalena’s gaze sharpened. Was he telling her a queen wouldn’t have time for another career? That if she took the throne, she’d have to give up her profession?