Fortunately, Viktor’s parents are quite accommodating with the kids and I would go as far as to say that they’re charmed by Callum, rather than terrified, which is nice for a change.
The kids love it, too. The palace would be jaw-dropping to them on a normal day but with Christmas decorations everywhere, the fancy kinds, like real gingerbread stars hanging from the tree and candy cane adorned wreaths, plus butlers walking around with trays of hot mulled wine and cider, they are in heaven. Even April is impressed and she’s hard to please.
Unfortunately, I still think his parents aren’t that impressed with me. Though his mother has warmed up a bit and has started to go out of her way to ask me opinions on things (even if it’s just “does this cardamom cake have too much cardamom?” to which you say, “you can never have too much cardamom!”) or to include me in conversations (usually about cake for some reason).
His father though, well, he acts like a king in every way. I think to him I don’t really exist and why should I. I’m nothing like the girl that he imagined would be sitting on the throne beside her husband. Because that’s what they have to be thinking, isn’t?
I’m not here with my brothers and sisters because Viktor is just a fling.
I’m here because we love each other.
And because we love each other, our relationship is serious.
Do I want to marry Viktor?
Of course I do.
God.
Yes.
If he asked.
Does Viktor want to marry me?
I hope so.
I hope that’s why I’m here.
He wouldn’t invite me all this way for nothing.
I’m here because this is the next step.
This is a trial, to see if we’re compatible in the real world, in this very big scary important world of Viktor’s, and not just one flirtatious week in Tehachapi, to see that we can work.
So…can we?
Honestly, before the paparazzi showed up, I had no doubts. Now, well, those doubts are in my head. And it’s not just the paparazzi and being in the middle of a media storm. It’s his parents too.
Yes, I know that he can marry a commoner.
But can a commoner like me ever feel welcome in this family?
Will I ever feel like I truly belong?
Will I ever fit in?
I used to hate working as a housekeeper, not because of the actual work, but because of the way people looked down on me. Now, here, it’s like that all the time. It’s not just the media writing shit. It’s the people who matter, who will matter if we stay together. The king and queen.
Viktor has always made me feel worthy of him.
But ever since coming here, my worth seems to be sliding through my fingers, like sand.
Viktor had told me once that his father dressed up as Santa every year. I didn’t expect that this time since they normally don’t have kids over for the holiday, but to my surprise there was a Santa sneaking through the house. Probably one of the butlers or servants, maybe even Dolf Lundgren. It was timed so that when the kids were leaving out risgrynsgröt (which is like rice pudding) for him (they do this instead of milk and cookies), they happened upon him finishing up with the presents.
I’ll never forget the sight of the kids running to the window to stare at the red-cloaked figure running through the snow and disappearing into the trees of the endless gardens. If I had actually seen reindeer flying through the air, I think I would have believed it myself.
All in all, the kids had a wonderful time, especially after opening their presents.
But when it was time for us all to go to bed, I was still in a nasty mood from earlier and all the sweet hot glögg didn’t help either.
Viktor and I retired to his old bedroom while the kids went to theirs and all I wanted to do was just pass out on that bed and sleep until noon. All the formalities, food, alcohol and being on my best behavior were bearing down on me.
“Do you think your parents had a good Christmas Eve?” I ask Viktor as I pull out my nightgown from my overnight bag. “They seemed to be doing okay.”
He sighs and walks over to his side of the bed, getting in. I hate how quickly he gets ready for bed. He just discards his clothes and walks on in, meanwhile I’m washing my face and putting on moisturizer and flossing and brushing my teeth and getting changed and I swear a million years seem to pass between us.
“My mother was crying in the kitchen,” he says simply.
“What?” I quickly slip on my nightgown and don’t bother with anything else. I get into bed. “I didn’t know that. Really, she was crying?”
“You think she isn’t human?” he says and his tone has an edge to it.
I should tread carefully here. We’re both tired and our nerves are frayed.
“Of course she’s human. This is the first Christmas without Alex for you guys. I think for us it all felt a little unreal being here but I’m sure tomorrow it will sink in that our parents aren’t here…”
“Yes, well she was upset. I could tell my father was as well. It’s harder on him in some ways because he can’t show any emotion.”
“Is that a rule?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “He’s the king.”
“Don’t kings have emotions?”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
“What? Just because you’re a king…”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he says. “It’s a tough job. Why do you think I go and see Dr. Bonakov once a week? You have to be strong at all times, never show weakness. Why do you think King Aksel has gotten even worse since his wife died?”
“Because he’s grieving?”
“Because he can’t show weakness.”
“Rule with an iron fist, that sort of thing?”
He cocks his head at me, jaw tense. “You know I will be king one day.”
“So you’re going to turn into an emotionless robot too?”
Fire flames in his eyes. “Did you just call my father an emotionless robot?”
I shrug, regretting that but feeling stubborn for some reason. “Can you blame me? He seems to hate me.”
“He doesn’t hate you, he doesn’t know anything about you,” he says. Our voices are starting to rise. “And no, I hope I won’t turn into an emotionless robot but you of all people should know what that’s like. You said you were surviving this last year. You did everything you could to not feel. Don’t be a hypocrite.”
“I am not a hypocrite,” I snap. “I’m calling it as I see it. And your parents don’t like me at all, just admit it! Admit that I’m not princess material! Get it out in the open and not this buried wedge between us.”
“They like you Maggie…”
“Then how come when they look at me, all I see is their wish for me to be something else.”
“You’re seeing what you want to see. You’re amazing and you know it.”
“You’re a prince!” I cry out. “You’re a prince and I’m nothing.”
“Don’t you dare say that,” he hisses twisting in the bed to grab me by the shoulders. “You are not nothing and never will be nothing. Do you understand that?”
“You are nobility. You are royalty. And the public, your country, they all look at you and they admire you and respect you and want to be you and who am I? I’m no one. I’m just some girl, just a girl.”
“You’re a girl but you’re the strongest girl I know. Strongest person I know. You should be admired and respected because of all the things you do and everything you’ve survived. Any other person in your shoes would be crushed but you rose up and you made sure that you would not go down without a fight. I don’t care if you don’t see it that way, that’s how I see it. That’s how everyone should see it.”
“But they all expect you to marry someone better. Richer, skinnier, prettier, more educated, more European. You’re the most sought-after man in this country, you’re the one who everyone wants, you’re—“
“I don?
??t care who I am to everyone else! All that matters is who I am to you. Who am I to you, Maggie? Please, tell me.” He shakes me lightly and I can see he’s struggling to keep his voice under control. “Am I your lover, your friend? Your boyfriend? Soul-mate? What? What am I to you?”
I sigh, my heart heavy. “You’re everything to me.”
He’s getting so worked up that I feel terrible about even trying to fight with him. We shouldn’t be doing this, not now.
And he looks like he doesn’t believe me. “And you’re everything to me. I’m not sure what I can do to convince you of that but it’s the truth, Maggie. Sometimes all I can offer you is the truth.”
I nod, pulling the covers over me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m being a pain.”
“You’re never a pain, Maggie,” he says, reaching over to kiss me on the forehead. “I guess this is just part of us trying to fit into each other’s lives. Everything you say and feel, I understand. Okay? I do. I don’t want you to ever think that I’m not on your side, because that’s exactly where I am and where I’ll always be.”
God. He has such a way of soothing me.
This man.
I give him a soft smile. “Merry Christmas, Viktor.”
“Merry Christmas, Maggie.”
The light goes off and he lies back in bed.
I hear him let out a long, disappointed sigh just before I fall asleep.
* * *
***
* * *
Even though Christmas Eve is celebrated in Sweden, there are a lot of activities and events going on Christmas Day, especially for the royal family.
For us, we had to wake up at the crack of dawn for Julotta which was something the kids really didn’t want to do. I didn’t want to either. Don’t get me wrong, though I’m not especially religious I do like church on Christmas and Easter but it was crazy early and I wasn’t feeling the best.
Julotta, Viktor explained, was a church service traditionally done in the middle of the night, though as the decades went on, and Midnight Mass became more popular, the old four a.m. wake-ups of Julotta were chucked in favor of more reasonable times.
Though to me, eight a.m. is not a reasonable time to be in church.
Luckily, the fact that it was so early meant the kids were extra sleepy (AKA quiet) and because the sermon is in the church located on the palace grounds, we didn’t have to hustle them too much.
It wasn’t just for the royal family either, there were a lot of people there (who were mostly upper class or perhaps related to the royal family), and actually, even though I couldn’t understand it all in Swedish, it was beautiful with lots of lights all over the church. There was a sense of respect and peace in the air that made me feel warm inside and with Viktor beside me, his strong and handsome face lit by the candle light, I felt like everything we argued about last night was being put to bed. It all had to come out but now it was out and we could deal with it and move on.
I hate fighting with him and I hate how much conflict there is in our lives now. I closed my eyes and prayed that I could take the peace I felt in that church everywhere.
When the sermon is over though and we exit the church, Viktor decides we should head right back to our place to get the kids ready for ice skating later in the day.
So instead of heading toward the palace, we follow the crowds of churchgoers out along the snow-packed path that leads to the parking lot.
Everyone is very cheerful and respectful, all wearing fancy hats and suits and pearls, bright festive colors that stand out against all the snow. There’s a nice feeling in the air and I don’t at all feel threatened by anyone. Sure there are some side-eyes I’m getting, especially from older ladies, who literally look like they’re about to clutch their pearls, but for the most part people are friendly to me. Maybe it’s the Christmas spirit. Maybe I’m finally being accepted.
But when we go through the gates and into the lot, we’re ambushed by a frenzy of paparazzi, dozens of them with their cameras out. They actually burst through the crowd toward us and I don’t know where the other agents are and Nick seems too far ahead.
I’m scared.
I’m actually scared.
The flashbulbs are flying, they’re yelling in Swedish and English, stuff like “Are these all your children?” and “Who is the father?” and “The Swedish people don’t want an American princess.”
Viktor does his best to make sure they back off and I can tell from the way his fists are curling that he’s very close to punching someone out, which is probably a bad move for a prince.
Then April starts to run away and a paparazzi steps right in front of her, taking her picture. The flash blinds her, the camera collides with her head and she’s down.
One minute she’s there, next I can’t see her through the crowd anymore.
“April!” I scream and push through everyone to find her lying on the snow, trying to get up, the churchgoers helping her. She’s holding her head and from the looks of it, trying hard not to cry.
“You bastard!” I yell at the photographer and I fling myself at him, pounding him with my fists.
“Maggie!” Viktor yells from behind me but I am a pit of rage. I am an angry mama bear and no one hurts my babies! Not even the snarky ones.
I feel strong hands grip me by the shoulders and arms and pull me away and Viktor is pushing me back so I’m behind him and now he’s ripping the photographer’s camera out of his hands and throwing it on the ground, stomping on it with his boot.
With April on her feet I grab her hand and pull her toward me. “Are you okay?” I cry frantically searching and feeling her head for any bumps.
She nods quickly but doesn’t say anything.
From behind us, poor Callum is crying at the whole scene, red-faced with big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
Rosemary and Thyme are holding onto each other.
And Pike is doing his best to become a wall against the other photographers, shielding us from them as they try and take pictures of the aftermath.
Then in seconds, the crowd is swarmed by agents and we’re whisked away through the crowd to the limo where we’re ushered in.
We’re all breathing hard as the car peels away, Nick apologizing for not being quick enough, Viktor looking like he wants to punch a hole in the wall, the others looking scared.
“We should take her to the hospital, she could have a concussion,” I tell them.
“Will do,” Nick says.
“I’m fine,” April says. “It doesn’t even hurt.”
But it does hurt.
The fact that this happened hurts.
And I know there’s only more hurt to come now.
I know that this was the last straw.
This is a life that I don’t want, a life that endangers the ones I have been sworn to protect and watch over.
This…is it.
This is when it all changes.
“Please don’t cry,” April whispers to me. “I’m okay.”
I sniff, not realizing that a tear had escaped my eyes.
Even if April is okay, I know I won’t be.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Viktor
My fists clench and unclench.
There’s a stinging small cut on the inside of my fingers, perhaps from grabbing that guy’s camera and it’s not enough. I should have split my knuckles open on his face. I should have made it so he could never operate a camera again.
But these damn rules. It’s one thing for Maggie to attack him, which, considering he technically didn’t attack anyone, can be considered assault if the court wanted to rule it that way. It’s another if I do it.
It looks like that won’t be the case. The press was in the wrong. They were in the very wrong. There were a bunch of witnesses to tell them what fucking garbage it was for them to ambush us after a Julotta service. Especially when you factor in a fourteen-year old girl had to be taken to the hospital.
I’m ashamed.
Deeply ashamed.
I know this wasn’t my fault but at the same time, how could it not be? I’m the one who had the idea to fly everyone over here. I knew the risks. I knew that the kids would be subjected to shit like this. I knew that things could go horribly wrong and they have gone horribly wrong.
I’ve been in the military. I’ve seen my brother, dead. I’ve seen countless horrible things but what I saw this morning was something uniquely horrific.
I saw the woman I care about and the children that I now consider to be family, be attacked by a bunch of hyenas with cameras.
This isn’t anything new.
This has happened before.
But today, Christmas Day of all days, this crossed the line.
I saw them all in this extremely joyous, open, vulnerable state, having just come out of a church. The perfect picture of their smiling faces and rosy cheeks from the cold and all the color of their outfits against the soft white. We all felt the peace, the sense of acceptance that I know Maggie didn’t feel last night.
At that moment, I knew that Maggie was letting her guard down.
And that’s when it happened.
The laughter turned to screams.
The peace was eradicated by flashbulbs.
Our privacy and space were intruded viciously, without care.
And April got knocked down.
An accident, I’m sure, but I will go to my grave making sure the laws change here, so that stuff like that never happens again.
But what good will changing the laws do if the person, the people, that I’m trying to protect leave me?
I know that’s what Maggie is thinking.
She won’t even look at me.
All day the distance I tried so hard to fight against last night increased until the line between us became a chasm.
I think I lost her in plain sight right outside that church.
I think I lost them all.