The Wild Heir

  Crying.

  I hear her sobs before I even see her.

  “Ella,” I whisper, coming right over to her. My heart is in my throat, slowly melting. I’ve never seen her cry before, and the sound of it is already doing a number on me.

  I put the phone down on the bedside table and flick on the light. She’s face down on top of the covers, her own phone beside her.

  “Ella, I am so, so sorry about earlier,” I tell her, hand on her shoulder, wishing I could make it stop. “I hate arguing with you.”

  She just sniffles and sobs and buries her face deeper into her pillow.

  “Baby, please,” I tell her, running my palm over her arm. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

  Silence. Then more sniffling.

  I take in a deep breath, trying to feel emboldened by Aksel’s words. Doesn’t stop me from feeling nervous as hell though.

  What if she doesn’t feel the same way?

  I have no choice but to ignore it.

  No choice but to solider on.

  It’s that moment before I make the jump.

  “Ella, I’m sorry about what happened. About what I said. It was the truth, but I could have handled it better. The real truth is, I needed a moment to think about it. I’d just never thought I’d meet someone like you, someone I wanted to be with, someone who wanted to be with me. Forever. But that’s you. I know that’s not what we were expecting from this when it first started, but that’s the truth of the matter now. If you want babies, Ella, I will give you babies, and I will do it gladly because I want that life with you. I want any life with you.”

  The sniffling stops. She’s listening, breathing hard.

  I reach over and gently smooth her hair against her head. “Sometimes I might seem brash or confused about things but it’s never to do with how I feel about you. That’s the one true thing that hasn’t faltered. Things are tough, and they’ll get tougher and our relationship and our marriage was never meant to be conventional and neither is the way I feel. Least not to me. Because I never imagined in a million years that someone could see me the way that you see me and make me feel that I’m worth something. And I hope, beyond all hopes, that I do the same for you.”

  Slowly she lifts up her head and rolls over to the side, blinking up at me with tears swimming in her eyes.

  “You mean that?” she whispers.

  I can’t help the lovesick puppy smile that I know is spreading across my face. “I mean it. I mean it with every beat of my Viking heart.”

  “A savage heart,” she whispers. “A warrior heart.”

  “A heart that’s all yours. Ella, I fucking love you.”

  I thought my words would hit her slowly, but instead they drop on her like a bomb.

  She bursts into the saddest, most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, the kind of smile that leaves a mark on your heart. “I love you too.”

  But those words take a moment to sink in.

  She loves me.

  I never really imagined anyone loving me, but it here it is.

  The woman that I’ve fallen for, stupidly in love with, loves me back.

  Loves my heart.

  She’s seen the real me and all my dark and devious places and she loves me.

  I swallow, my throat feeling thick with emotion. “You don’t have to say that because I did.”

  “I didn’t,” she says softly. “I love you.” She pauses. “Do you really think I would say that to make you feel better?”

  I smile. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” I sigh, feeling both elated and still terrible over our fight earlier, for making her cry. “I just want to apologize again, I know we like to fight sometimes, but I could tell that one cut deep.”

  She nods, holding onto my hand. “I know. And I overreacted. I want kids, I know I do. I was just so damn afraid that maybe you wouldn’t. It reminded me of things that I don’t want to be reminded of. Of how we started. And I know I need to stop thinking about that because it’s not about how we start, it’s about how we end. It’s about everything in the middle.”

  “I hate to be the one to make you cry.”

  She closes her eyes and blows a strand of hair off her face. “No, it wasn’t just you. I called my father, and, well, I got him on the phone.”

  Uh oh. “And?”

  “And he was short with me. I mean it was fine, he said he was coming to the wedding and that he’ll talk to your father about it. But he was off the phone with me so fast, it was like his castle was on fire or something. I really thought he would have been more receptive but…I dunno. Maybe this doesn’t change anything.”

  At this point I’m not sure what I’m going to say to my future father-in-law when I finally meet him because he’s put Ella through the ringer enough times by now.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “I promise.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t know, I just feel it. It’s a royal wedding. No matter what, everyone is going to be on their best behaviour.”

  “Great. So that means I’ll have my father there pretending that he cares about me.”

  “Ella, you can’t go into this like that. You’ll just set yourself up for disaster. It’s not about him anyway. It’s about us. And I promise you when that day comes, and we stand before each other at that altar, there will be only truth between us. Okay?”

  She nods. “Okay.” She sighs, and her eyes start to droop closed. “What happened to the old Magnus?”

  I stiffen. “The fun one?”

  “You’re still the fun one. I mean the man-child. I only now see the man.”

  I lean down and rub my lips along hers. “Oh, I’ll show you the man, all right.”

  Twenty

  Ella

  “Here comes the bride, all dressed in white!”

  Welcome to my new alarm clock.

  Apparently, it’s Jane, sneaking into my room in the wee hours and singing this song. But before I can laugh at how horrible a singer she is and how obnoxious she’s being and how much I want to keep sleeping, it all hits me like a hot frying pan to the face.

  Today is the day.

  I’m getting married today.

  It’s actually happening.

  I open my eyes to see Jane holding a tray of food and coffee.

  I slowly sit up. “What is this?”

  “Well, since this is the first morning in over a month that you’ve slept in this bed here and not with your husband-to-be, I decided to take advantage of that and bring you breakfast in bed.”

  She places the tray down on the bed and then hustles over to the windows, opening the curtains. It’s been snowing for the last few days, though today the sun is out, and everything is blinding and bright.

  This should be a good omen.

  As is Jane bringing me food.

  I stare down at the tray, eagerly going for the cup of coffee and slice of cake. I turn my nose up at the pickled herring strewn bread in the corner. “Jane?” I gesture to it. “I’m not eating that.”

  “Sorry,” she says cheerfully, snatching it up and cradling it in her hand like it’s a precious gem. “This is for me.”

  “Since when do you eat pickled herring?”

  “Since I decided to become as Norwegian as possible,” she says, taking a large bite. I grimace and turn away. “Today I’ll stand before the public as your maid of honor, and I want them to know I’m fully embracing their culture.”

  “Well, then I’m sure they’ll appreciate your culinary sacrifice,” I tell her as I take a sip of coffee. I close my eyes. It’s bliss. I feel like I’ve gotten no sleep these last few days and it was only last night when I went to bed early that I was able to get some shut-eye, AKA my beauty sleep.

  It helps that Magnus stayed at the royal palace in Oslo last night as part of the tradition of the bride and groom not seeing each other before the wedding. I love that man, but my god does he tire you out sometimes, especially in the bedroom. He can go all night. I can go once, o
kay, usually twice when he’s working his magic. But then I need to sleep.

  “Are you nervous?” Jane asks. “How do you feel?”

  I give her a dry smile. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re handling all of this rather calmly. The last few days with all your fittings and that damn drama with your tiara, you’ve been taking it in stride. I’m impressed.”

  That damn tiara. It’s customary for those marrying into the royal family to wear their own tiara at the wedding, given to them from their own country or family. I’m not sure what the protocol is if you’re not of royal blood but in any case, I had to get Schnell to send it from Liechtenstein. Only it was never sent.

  Now, he and my father arrived in Oslo last night and are also staying at the royal palace and apparently have the tiara with them. I just hope I get that thing on my head before I’m walked down the aisle.

  I really should just be grateful that my father came at all. I know it would have been in very bad taste if he didn’t—he really does care about a better relationship with Norway—but I hate the feeling that I was pulling teeth with him. I mean, my brothers aren’t coming, and they were invited.

  I sigh. I’m not upset that they’re not coming, per se, but I do feel slighted. They’ve never given a damn about me and maybe it’s because I was sent away from them so young, it was easy to forget I existed, but even so it brings back all those feelings of being not wanted and not good enough.

  “Oh, come now,” Jane says, coming over to me. “Keep your chin up.”

  I look at her fearfully. “I am nervous, obviously. It’s not just this whole family drama. It’s the fact that this is a wedding, my wedding, and there’s a lie underneath this whole wedding and then there’s the fact that it’s going to be televised! I mean, people in Norway have the day off today because of this! This lie is a fucking national holiday!”

  “Calm now,” she says, taking the coffee from my hands and putting it on the tray. “You’re spilling your drink.”

  “I am calm,” I try to say, but the words come out shaking.

  “Yeesh, I shouldn’t have asked you. But listen, now that we’re talking about it I just want you to remember one thing. This isn’t a lie anymore, Ella. You love Magnus. He loves you. You are getting married now because you love each other. It may have not started that way, but that’s what it’s become. There is no shame, no wool over the public’s eyes. Maybe you have to lie about how you met, but you will never ever have to lie about the way you feel about him. You got that?”

  I nod. I know she’s right. I know we love each other. Ever since he opened up and told me how he really felt while at King Aksel’s in Copenhagen, I’ve fallen even more madly in love with him. And he, well, he loves me with the same kind of focus and intensity I’d come to expect from him. Every day we’re together he’s making sure I’m a part of his world, a part of his heart. Even now, being away from him this morning, feels unbearably wrong.

  But even with all that, there are some things I’m having a hard time letting go of. The fear that the truth might one day be exposed. The fact that I’m about to enter a life that I’ve had no preparation for. And, unfortunately, his mother’s words to me. That there already seems to be a time limit to this relationship, and it’s not a question of if, but when, his intentions begin to wander.

  “I suppose this isn’t the time to tell you some bad news,” Jane says.

  “What?” I whisper. My heart feels like it’s getting a workout lately. “What bad news?”

  Oh my god. Today? She’s giving me bad news today?

  “It’s about the guest list,” she says, cringing as she looks at me.

  “What about it?”

  I didn’t have a hand in the guest list. I mean, I did but there’s really only my father, my brothers who declined, some cousins who I think are showing up, and Jane. It’s sad that my side is so lacking, but that’s the way it is. The rest of the list was handled by the Queen.

  “I only found out this morning while talking to Her Majesty,” she says. “But Heidi will be there.”

  “What?!” I nearly knock over the tray. Jane quickly removes it before I can do any damage. “Heidi Lundström, that crazy bitch of a prime minister’s daughter?!”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “No!” I cry out, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. “She can’t be there! She’s going to try and ruin the wedding! Why would the Queen invite her after everything? Doesn’t she know how that looks?”

  “I guess she didn’t really have a choice. Heidi is the prime minister’s daughter and he will obviously be there.”

  “But the sex video! Everyone will be talking about it!”

  “Everyone will be talking about how gracious you all are for allowing it. The Queen thinks it will make us look like there are no hard feelings, and we’re taking the high road.”

  “Fuck the high road! And there are hard feelings. Jane, that bitch leaked that sex tape, I know it was all her. She’s crazy, she’s obsessed with him, she’s going to do something.”

  “Your language has really become quite colorful after meeting Magnus.”

  “Jane!” I point at her. “This is serious.”

  Jane tries to smile. “I know. I know she’s daft and I agree she shouldn’t be there after all that. But there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “I can talk to the Queen.”

  She gives me a caustic look. “Oh really. You know this is more about the Queen today than it is you? It’s about her son getting married and stepping up in his role as heir apparent. You aren’t going to win arguments today.”

  I growl angrily, snatching the cup of coffee off the tray and downing it. I think I need something a lot stronger than this.

  “You know I’m right, Ella. So instead of being angry about the things you can’t control, why not just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  “Enjoy the ride? This is a wedding, not a theme park.”

  “Actually, I’d say it’s closer to a rollercoaster.”

  “Closer to a shitshow.”

  “I mean it,” Jane says sternly, taking my hand and squeezing it. “Look, you’ve got me, and I’ve got you. You’ve got Magnus. You’ve got the man you love and you’re about to become the Princess of Norway, a title you can wear proudly. You’re about to embark on a new life, one that you do have control of. So just sit back and relinquish what little control you have over today. Let everyone else worry about everyone else.” She cracks a smile. “You don’t think that the Queen hates the idea that Heidi will be there? Believe me, it’s going to eat her up. Today all eyes are on the Norwegian royal family, on Magnus. They know nothing about you, so you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. So just let it play out and have faith knowing that everyone else is trying to make this the best day possible. For crying out loud, you get to be paraded in a horse and carriage around the streets of Oslo.”

  “I’m going to freeze my ass off,” I tell her.

  “And I’m sure you’re going to look very chic while doing it,” she says. “Now come on. We have to make you into a blushing bride, not an angry one.”

  This is surreal.

  I’m standing in my wedding dress in an ornate and gilded room in the royal palace staring at myself in the reflection of a floor to ceiling mirror.

  I’m alone.

  I requested I be alone.

  I needed a moment to just let everything sink in. Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll remember a single moment of the day. It’s hard when there are a million people rushing about you like there has been all morning.

  There were copious amounts of hairdressers and makeup artists and wardrobe ladies. Photographers who captured every moment of the getting ready process. Well-wishers whom the Queen led into the room just to get a peek at me and say hello.

  I felt like a mannequin on display, nodding here and there, especially as a lot of the time they were speaking in Norwegian and I couldn’t understand
a word that they were saying. I can only hope it was good.

  But now, now I have a moment to breathe.

  A moment to take it all in.

  I have to admit…this is the best I’ve ever looked.

  There was a team of beautifiers, so I can’t take any of the credit, but my skin has never glowed like this before, my eyes have never looked so sensual and expressive, my lips never been so supple. My hair is piled into an updo with a few strands framing my face. My dress fits me like an absolute glove.

  The only thing missing is the tiara.

  I take in a deep breath.

  Was there even a back-up plan in the event that he didn’t show, or he forgot to bring it? I mean neither my father or Schnell are getting any younger, it’s possible they forgot to even dig that crown out of storage.

  Breathe, I remind myself. Remember what Jane said. Go along for the ride.

  I take in a deep breath.

  Let it out.

  There’s a knock at the door.

  I give myself one last look, smoothing out my dress, and say “Come in.”

  “Ella?”

  The door opens a crack and my father sticks his head in.

  Oh my god.

  It’s him.

  “Father?” I say, taking a step forward.

  I can’t believe it.

  Surreal indeed.

  My father opens the door wide, a tentative smile on his face, the tiara shining in his hands. He’s wearing a black tux with a long jacket and a red sash across the front, his most formal outfit.

  I know I saw him about a year ago, but somehow, he looks different and it’s not just the formal garb. He somehow looks less intimidating, if that’s even possible.

  My father isn’t as old as Magnus’s is, he’s in his early-sixties, but I’ve always built him up in my head to be this aging overlord or something. Perhaps because all of his official photos seem to take this sinister slant and when you spend half your life living away from him, those photos become default memories.

  But here, as he stands before me, he looks spritely and younger.

  And kinder.

  Maybe it’s because he’s looking at me with a tenderness I’ve never seen, maybe it’s because he’s holding a tiara in his hands, one meant for me.