Royal Wedding Threat. Rachelle McCalla
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once she’d sat down. And she didn’t say thank-you, because she didn’t feel thankful at all. In fact, she quite resented needing his help.
To her relief, the captain ignored her as he got the boat started and pointed them out to sea. Ava watched carefully, still not completely trusting him to take her to the forbidden island of Dorsi.
The Lydian capital city of Sardis sat on the Mediterranean coast, on the tip of the tiny kingdom nestled between Greece and Albania. The island of Dorsi was the most remote of the dozens of islands that formed an archipelago extending out from the mainland. Once a peninsula connected by land to Sardis, the islands had been washed free by centuries of storms.
Dorsi had once been known as Castlehead, but after hurricanes and crumbling shorelines had rendered the former Lydian palace uninhabitable, the royal family had relocated to the palace in Sardis. Because of the island’s history and Princess Stasi’s own adventures there with her fiancé, Kirk Covington, the affianced pair wanted to be married in the ruins of the palace cathedral.
In Ava’s mind, the island was the perfect spot for a private wedding, which was what the youngest princess wanted. And Ava always gave her brides what they wanted—that promise, and her ability to fulfill it, made her one of the top wedding planners in Seattle, before she’d left everything to come to Lydia.
Kirk Covington had warned her of the supposed dangers of the island. Dorsi was said to have been contaminated by land mines during the World Wars, though Ava had never heard explained what enemy had placed them, since Lydia had remained neutral throughout those conflicts. Besides that, the massive blocks of limestone that teetered in ruinous towers were rumored to fall at the slightest provocation, especially when disturbed by those who didn’t belong there.
The island itself was such a formidable rock that there didn’t seem to be any decent spot to anchor, and if that weren’t deterrent enough, the periphery of the island was dotted every twenty feet or so with fearsome signs, warning potential visitors of certain death should they venture there.
But no rocks had fallen when she’d visited the island with Kirk and Stasi. Indeed, the peaceful Mediterranean shores had looked to her like the perfect location for a private wedding, just foreboding enough to keep the paparazzi at a distance. She only had to convince Jason Selini to agree with her. Perhaps if she cooperated with his investigation questions, he’d be more willing to see things her way.
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