You barely raised me at all, I think bitterly. But he has a point. A horrible point.
“What do I do?” I ask him. “About the paper. About all that.”
“There isn’t much you can do.”
“Can’t you threaten to stop them?”
“We can only do that if they are defaming her, or us of course, and if intrusive photos are taken, photos that breach privacy laws. Until then, though, we have no power.”
“You are the king!” I practically yell.
He gives me a dry smirk. “Yes. I am the king. And we’ve been fighting the free press for a long time. You should be grateful we aren’t in England. We have it good compared to them.”
“When I’m king, I’m changing all the laws.”
He lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh my boy. When you are king, I won’t have to worry about any of this anymore.” He sighs noisily. “Let’s head back now, shall we? The cook has a wonderful mushroom soup on the stove.”
We ski back and I have the soup. My father has to go off to attend to some business as usual so it’s just me in the big kitchen and all the while I’m trying to think how to break the news to Maggie and how we can deal with the inevitable. We very well knew that this would eventually happen, that the secret world we built between us would be exposed to the public. I am a prince which means that I serve the country and the people and that sometimes that comes at the cost of relationships, of peace, of privacy.
Sometimes, as in with Alex, it comes at the cost of lives.
The other night though, when Maggie asked me what my parents had talked to me about, I lied and said it was nothing to worry about. I didn’t tell her their concerns, nor what they said. For all she knows, they like her. In fact, every time she brings up her pronunciation of Chopin (which I thought was adorable) or the fact that she offered her hand to my parents first, I tell her that it only endeared her to them.
That was a lie, of course.
And now I think I have to lie again.
By the time Nick takes me back to the palace I take one look up at the building and see all the lights on, making the place look so warm against the snow, I know what I have to do. It glows because Maggie is happy. She’s my warm glowing candle in the cold dark night.
I decide to keep my father’s information to myself.
“How was skiing?” she says to me as soon as I walk in the door, Bodi trailing behind her. She stands on her tip toes to place a kiss on my cheek, her own cheeks rosy.
“It was nice,” I tell her, handing Bodi my coat. “Cold, but nice. You look all warm. The place looks so inviting and liveable with all the lights on.”
“I’ve had so much fun getting everyone’s room’s ready,” she says, her eyes shining. “I’ve been buying so many souvenirs lately that I finally have a place to put them. Everyone gets a Viktor moose, except for Pike of course. He just gets a bottle of aquavit.”
“I picked out a good one for beginners,” Bodi says, looking rather proud that he’s been a part of this.
Looking at Maggie’s smile, the joy that’s coming out of her, I realize I can’t do anything to dampen it.
“Well, show me what you’ve done,” I tell her, offering her my arm. She leads me upstairs.
* * *
***
* * *
The next morning I get up an hour before Maggie usually does and slip quietly out of bed. I make my way downstairs to the kitchen and pull out of my phone as I sip a cup of coffee.
I nearly spill it on myself, my hand is shaking so hard.
There it is on the cover of Sweden’s Hänt Extra.
A picture of Maggie with a bottle of wine in her hand, raised in the air, tits hanging out of her shirt. Her hair is a bit lighter and it’s obviously taken in New York and probably yanked from her Facebook page.
The headline says “The Secret is Out! Prince Viktor Has Fallen in Love with an American Party Girl” and the little headlines underneath say “Her Tragic Past” and “The King and Queen Disapprove” with little cut-outs of my parents’ heads looking distraught.
It won’t let me scroll through the article and read it unless I buy a subscription and like hell I’m going to support this vile piece of shit journalism. But I have to know what it says about her, if it says anything about the kids.
I call for Nick who appears dressed and ready to go in a few minutes.
“Listen,” I tell him. “Something has happened. Are you able to go to the nearest store and get me a copy of this?” I show him the screen.
His eyes widen. “Of course.” Then he shakes his head. “We tried so hard to be careful, sir.”
“I know you did, Nick, this isn’t your fault. I knew this would happen sooner or later, I just didn’t want it to happen with the kids arriving today and everything.”
He nods. “Should we make extra precautions in case there is a mob at the airport?”
“Maybe have a decoy car ahead of us, just in case. It can’t hurt.” I pause. “But please, keep it to yourself for now. Maggie doesn’t know.”
“She doesn’t know? Pardon me sir, but you have to tell her. She has to know exactly what she’s getting into. It could be dangerous otherwise.”
I sigh, running my hands down my face. “I know. I know. Okay. I’ll go tell her now.”
“Good,” he says. “I’ll get the paper.”
He takes off and I gather up the courage to wake up Maggie with bad news. I pour her a cup of coffee and cream to soften the blow, then grab a small bottle of vodka from the cupboard, just in case she needs it softened a little bit more.
But by the time I open the door to the bedroom, she’s already awake
She’s sitting up in bed, staring at her phone.
She looks up at me and I know she knows. Her face is drawn and pale, her eyes red, her expression contorted.
“What is this?” she whispers. “Did you see this?”
I sigh and slowly walk toward her with the coffee, not sure how to handle this.
“I made you coffee,” I say.
“Did you see this!?” Her words roar out of her.
I swallow my heart. I nod. “I just did this morning.”
“How did this happen? How?”
“There was a snitch at the dinner party, that’s our best guess.”
“Our? Who is our?”
This is going to hurt.
“That’s what my father told me.”
Her eyes blaze. “When did he tell you?” she says through gritted teeth.
“Yesterday.”
Boom. The realization explodes in her eyes.
“You knew about this since yesterday? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I guess I wanted… I saw how happy you were and –“
“Oh fuck my happiness!” she yells. “Did you read this thing!?”
“Did you? I just sent Nick out to get a copy.”
“Oh fuck, he knows now too? I guess the whole world does. I used Google translate on the cover so I know exactly the kind of shit that’s going to be inside there, and my god, Viktor, the picture! I was at a dorm party! This makes me look like the biggest piece of trash!”
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, putting down the coffee by her.
“It’s going to be okay?” she repeats bitterly. “Fuck that! And fuck your coffee!” She hits the cup and it goes flying across the room where it smashes on the hardwood floors. “That’s just you trying to butter me up, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
I’ve never seen Maggie like this before. Uncontrollable and angry as hell. I guess anyone would be in this situation.
I take in a deep, steadying breath and ignore the shattered porcelain. “I came up here to tell you. To prepare you.”
“Oh god.” She puts her head in her hands, her dark hair falling over her face. “Oh god,” she mumbles. “All of my life is for the world to see now. They know. They know.”
“It’s…”
> “Don’t you dare tell me it’s going to be okay,” she says, her head snapping up. “You have no idea what this feels like.”
I balk at that. “I have some idea,” I tell her sharply. “I grew up in this role, maybe not as it is now, but I saw firsthand what it did to my brother. I know the dangers, okay.”
“Then how come you can tell me that it’s going to be all right,” she cries out, throwing out her arm.
“Because I choose to believe that!” I yell at her. “I knew this was going to be hard on you, hard on them, hard on us but I chose to believe that it was worth it. I chose to believe that we would be able to deal with it. And I’m choosing now to think that this is a test that we’ll pass and that it’s going to be all right.”
“A test. This isn’t a test. This is just…it’s just…” she trails off and looks away at the broken coffee up. “Fuck. How am I going to deal with this? I hate that the world knows everything about me now. I hate it. It’s so gross, it’s icky, I’m…ashamed.”
“Maggie, please,” I say softly, her words are breaking my heart. I come over to the bed and wrap my arms around her. “I made a mistake and I should have told you. For what it’s worth, my father gave me the information to protect us and I know he would stop them if he could but he can’t. You’re fair game and it’s unfortunate but it’s the reality now. Maybe they’ll grow bored of you eventually but for now, you’re new and exciting and sadly, I’ve been such a bachelor all these years that I think they’re just excited that I’ve finally found someone to love.”
She snorts into my arms and I can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying.
I place my hand on the back of her hair and hold her tight. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy but we’re just going to have to take each day as it comes and remember why you’re here. And if there is any silver lining here, it’s that now the worst part is over.”
“Do you really believe that?” she mumbles.
“I know that I was expecting this day. And yes, maybe this matched my expectations because, I know, it’s horrible, but at least the waiting is over. The suspense. You know?”
“So diplomatic,” she says after a few beats. “Spoken like a true prince.”
I sigh and pull back enough to cup her face in my hands. “We’re going to be okay because we’re two pretty amazing people if I do say so myself. We can do this. You have to believe me and you have to try.”
She swallows hard, wincing. “I hate that they know everything, Viktor,” she whispers. “Everything I’ve tried to hide.”
“Everything you’ve had no reason to hide. Being poor isn’t a crime. Having a big family in a small town isn’t a crime. Having a blue-collar job isn’t a crime. The only crime here is that your parents were murdered but that’s a tragedy that you’ve all faced head on and come out stronger for it. There is absolutely nothing for you to be ashamed of in the life that you have lived. You should be proud. I’m proud. I’m terribly proud of you, Maggie.”
Now tears spill out of her eyes and onto my hands. I kiss the sweet salt of her tears and then place a kiss on her forehead. “Maybe this is what it takes for you to believe it but whatever truth they’re saying is a truth you need to own,” I murmur against her skin. “You’re Maggie Mayhem McPherson and the world isn’t going to forget you.”
At that she laughs, a soft, fluttery little laugh and I know she’s pulling in her reserves and trying to be strong.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
“For what?”
She looks over at the coffee. “For breaking that. I bet it was a priceless heirloom from the 1600s or something.”
“I think it’s just IKEA.”
She nods. Smiles. “Of course it is.”
“Now I know that this isn’t the best start to the day but let’s not forget the big picture here. The fact that Pike, April, Rosemary, Thyme and Callum are in the air right now, on their way here. That’s something worth concentrating our energy on.”
She nods and I can see her wrestling with wanting to be excited and wanting to fret over the evil tabloids. “Is it going to be safe to get them?”
“I think so,” I say. “We’ll have a decoy limo just in case but this story just broke. It will take a few days and a few more tabloids and newspapers, unfortunately, before people start recognizing you. If we’re lucky, they might not even recognize the kids at all.”
Of course it was impossible to say how that luck would turn out.
* * *
***
* * *
“Herdy schmerdy bork bork!” Callum yells as he zooms around the kitchen and out into the hallways, running at the speed of light with a wooden spoon in his hand. He must have grabbed it off the counter when I wasn’t looking.
I exchange a look with Bodi who is trying not to laugh.
“He’s doing an impression of the Swedish Chef,” I explain.
“I gathered that much, sir,” Bodi says, eyes twinkling. “Very enthusiastic young child.”
“He’s something all right,” I comment.
Pike snorts.
I look over at him as he leans against the counter scrolling through his phone, a glass of the aquavit we got for him in his other hand. “You can say that again,” Pike says, not looking up. “I’ve had to take care of him for the last two weeks. Just be glad you don’t have a tricycle in this place because he’ll be re-enacting scenes from The Omen pretty quickly.”
“Ah, that’s who he reminds me of,” Bodi says, snapping his fingers.
I laugh. “Damian?”
Bodi doesn’t look the slightest bit reprimanded that he called Maggie’s brother the anti-Christ. “And a little bit of myself when I was younger.”
That I can believe.
Pike and I are helping Bodi in the kitchen with some cocktails and late-night snacks. The kids got off the plane earlier today and they’re all fighting through jet-lag and no one feels like eating a large meal. In fact, I think the twins are already in bed asleep. I have no idea where April is but I probably should find her.
I’ve been drinking. I probably shouldn’t since I have a breakfast tomorrow morning at the Ethiopian embassy, but it’s been a stressful day. The fact that Maggie’s identity was blown has thrown a wrench into our original plans. Originally, Maggie wanted to take them to Gamla Stan tomorrow and show them around the old town but with the press reporting what they are, it’s not such a good idea anymore.
We’re just fortunate that when we went to the airport, they weren’t harassed. Airports are so busy and chaotic anyway, I’m sure Maggie and crew blended right in as everyone got into the limo without a problem. Of course I stayed in the limo waiting for them and it was such a nice surprise to see all their faces again, even April’s who seems to have softened just a bit. Or maybe that’s the jet lag.
“Where is April?” I ask them as Bodi arranges cheese on a platter. “Is she with Maggie?”
Pike shrugs. “I don’t know. I think Maggie went to bed.”
“What? She’s not the one with jet lag.”
Pike finally looks up, his brows pinches in disapproval. “I think this whole thing with her life story being flashed on the cover of every newspaper is a little overwhelming for her.”
And I think her brother just put me in my place.
He goes back to looking at his phone and I exchange a look with Bodi. Then I grab a bottle of scotch from the counter and head out of the kitchen.
I can hear Callum running around on the second floor and even though it’s only eight at night, I wince thinking of anyone who might be trying to sleep.
Including Maggie.
Poor girl.
I have never been one to pity her because Maggie never wants anyone’s pity but I know how hard this has to be on her, how violated she must feel. There is no guidebook for this and we’ll have to take it as it comes and this is just day one of it all but all I can do is hope and pray that we’ll be able to get through this.
The thought
of it becoming too much for her, the thought of her leaving…
Because she might do that, won’t she? Leave with the kids when it’s time to go. I thought my chances of convincing her to stay were slim, but I always assumed she would eventually come back. That we could make this work as a long distance relationship if nothing else. If it became official.
But now…now the fear is building in my chest, one brick on top of the other, getting higher and higher until I can’t breathe.
She might leave me and never come back.
No matter how I ask her to stay.
Even if it’s forever.
And remember forever isn’t enough.
At that I slug back some of the scotch and make my way into the library.
The lights are off so I flick them on and I’m surprised to see April sitting in an arm chair in the middle of the room, a glass of something beside her.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” I ask her suspiciously.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Felt like it.”
“You’re not tired? It’s late enough now, you can go to bed.”
Another shrug. “I’m not tired.”
I pause, take another swig of the scotch which catches her attention.
“Can I have some?” she asks.
I peer at her glass. “What’s in there?”
“Some Swedish apple drink,” she says, eying my bottle pleadingly.
I exhale heavily, feeling like I’ve already fucked up today so why not.
I walk over to her and she holds out her glass and I pour the smallest amount possible into the remains of her drink. “It’s scotch,” I tell her. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“As long as it’s not too peaty,” she says, taking a small sip. “Probably better on its own but it will do.”
I frown at her, taken aback. “Not too peaty? May I ask how you know all these things? You’re fourteen.”
If looks could kill. “Just because I’m fourteen and I’m from a small town doesn’t mean I’m not worldly. I know my scotch.”
Jeez. Okay.
“I guess I had you pegged wrong,” I tell her.