A Nordic King(32)

What kind of woman would Aksel even be interested in? Obviously, she would have to have royal blood. I believe Helena did in some way or another. She would have to be as beautiful as she was, too. In her pictures she looks a bit like a modern Grace Kelly. Sleek blonde hair, sparkling eyes, elegant swan-like neck, slim limbs that looked good in any clothing. In the news clips I’ve seen, she moved like a dancer and was always so charming and witty.

I can see why he fell for her. Whoever he ends up with will have to be just like her, or better, if that’s even possible. Basically, she’ll have to be the opposite of me. I’m not selling myself short, it’s just a fact. I know my limitations.

Why are you even entertaining this thought? You and Aksel? Your boss? A bloody king?

I rub my forehead, trying to get sense into my head. Perhaps this day has messed me up more than I thought. All Freja had to say was that I should marry her father—a man that detests me above all else—and suddenly my thoughts are becoming warped. How ridiculous. Not just the whole boss and king part, but that it’s Aksel.

I sigh, grabbing my messenger bag and getting up. “Come on girls,” I call over to them as they’re still talking excitedly with the farmer. I start gathering up our plates and throw them in the trash bin just as they saunter over to me with big smiles on their faces.

“We should go home now,” Clara says in a tone I can’t quite place. “Right now.”

“Fine with me,” I tell them. I could sleep for weeks.

We approach the car, them trailing behind me, and I say to them in a low voice, “Let’s not tell your father what happened today. I think it would only worry him.”

“We won’t,” they both say at the same time, though they sound distracted.

I feel bad that I’m asking them to keep something secret from their father but honestly the last thing I need right now is for Aksel to lose his mind. Unless something pops up online or in the tabloids—and I pray it doesn’t—it’s best if all three of us just move on.

My nanny life doesn’t need any extra complications.





Chapter 8





Aurora





I must have looked like a wreck the moment we got back to the palace because Maja took one look at me and told me I could have the rest of the night off. I didn’t even have to eat dinner with them if I didn’t want to—instead I could have Henrik drive me wherever I wanted to go in the city.

But while all of that sounded nice, and I’d been itching to get away from the palace for a night and have some me time, to act like a twentysomething, maybe even flirt with a hot Danish guy since the girls reminded me of my lack of love life, I was so tired that I went straight up to my room and didn’t come down for the rest of the night, not even for food.

I mean, I have a small fridge now in my bedroom where I have some yogurt and craft beer, and I’ve got my kettle for instant coffee and tea, so I’m all set. I could hermit up in this place for eternity if need be.

I probably fell asleep pretty early because when a strange noise pulls me out of my dreams, I open my eyes to see that the lights in my room are on.

I stare at the ceiling, blinking and listening.

There it is again.

It’s like … a squealing. Not one of the girls, I don’t think. Maybe it’s Johan, sleepwalking. I’ve already had the privilege of running into his scary ass in the middle of the night.

I sit up slowly and strain my ears, trying to pick it up again. A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s only 11:30 p.m.

Then I hear the squeal again, followed by giggles and a mini stampede of bare feet against the wood floors.

This can’t be good.

I get up, slip on a robe, and cautiously open my door, peering out into the hall. I manage to see Clara’s hair flying behind her as she runs into their room and shuts the door.

I look back down the hall toward Aksel’s, but aside from the girls’ giggling, there are no other sounds, no one else around.

I sigh and make my way to their door, knocking quietly. “Girls. What’s going on?”

I hear them both shushing each other, then something falling over, and then a door slamming.

“Clara, Freja,” I hiss. “I’m coming in there.”

I open the door expecting to see that their room has imploded or is perhaps on fire, but instead both girls are standing in the middle of the room in their nightgowns, smiling at me.

Something is so wrong.

“What’s going on? I heard a noise.” I look around suspiciously. The room is messy but no more so than usual.

“Nothing. Go back to bed,” Clara says.

I frown and step inside, shutting the door behind me. I fold my arms. “What’s going on?” I say again. Suddenly there’s that squeal again, followed by a snort. I jump and look around me wildly.

“What was that?” I cry out, hand to my chest. It sounded like a demon creature.

“Don’t worry, it’s just Snarf Snarf,” Freja says.

I stare at her with wide eyes. “What the hell is a Snarf Snarf?”

Is it Danish for Demon Creature?

“Don’t swear,” Clara chides me.

There’s no time to watch my mouth. “Freja, what is Snarf Snarf?”

Suddenly the door to their closet starts to rattle with a thud and there’s another high-pitched squeal.