A Nordic King(38)

She laughs. “Oh, Aksel. You can hardly be called lecherous, or old, for that matter.”

“Can I go play with the pig?” Anya asks politely. I glance at her and she’s obviously been dying to go out there and join her cousins.

I shrug and look at Stella. “If your mother says it’s alright. But we need to leave in five minutes.”

Anya runs off and Stella smirks, shaking her head.

“What?” I ask. Stella always has some opinion about something.

“I just never thought you’d have a pet pig running around the palace, that’s all. If our parents could see you now...”

I clear my throat, feeling guilt and unease creep up again. Always happens at the strangest times, just little jabs to knock me off balance.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, putting her hand on my arm. “I know it’s hard without Helena.”

“Yes, well. It is hard without her. It’s hard without Father and Mother, too.”

She nods slowly, looking around her. The greeting room is one of the more opulent rooms in the palace, with chandeliers and oil paintings and gilded furnishings, meant for impressing guests. “You know, it sure looks different when you’re older. Coming back here like this … it’s like I never grew up here at all and my childhood belonged to someone else.”

“Because it did,” I tell her.

“How so?”

I gnaw on my lip for a moment, wondering if Stella would understand things the way that I do. We had almost the same childhood, except I was groomed to be a future king and she wasn’t.

“I just feel like … childhood is where our true selves lie. Because we were given freedom to think and explore and be what we wanted, no matter what restrictions were placed on us. And as we got older, we lost that freedom. We had to become other people.”

She nods, frowning. “Maybe you’re right. But I think you feel that more than I do. Then again, I think any adult probably feels that way. Adulthood is a cage, the restrictions are slowly layered through the years, like bars. Family, jobs, spouses, children, expectations. It all adds up. It all changes us to become people that society wants us to be.”

“Look at us, examining the human condition on a fine Saturday morning.”

She lets out a soft laugh, then her expression fades. She says, “I really should be here for you more often.” Her voice is quiet.

I glance at her. “I should say the same about you.”

She waves at me dismissively. “No. We’re good. Really. Anya loves England and she gets to ride horses all day. She’s living the dream.”

“And you?”

“Me? I get to watch her live the dream,” she says brightly. “Isn’t that what every parent wants?”

I can’t disagree with her. “That’s most likely why I have a pet pig now. My girls are living the dream.”

She laughs. “I can see that.” She then looks me up and down with a discerning gaze. “You’ve looked better, though.”

My brows shoot up. “Ouch.”

“You’re too thin,” she says, poking me in the side.

I move my torso out of the way. “Thin? I’ll have you know I work out in the gym every morning for an hour.”

Stella only grins. “Better make it two hours then.”

“You’re a brat.”

“I’m just teasing. It’s what Mother would say to you. You need to eat more meat.”

“Right. Well the children are vegetarian now so I think we can blame them—and Aurora—for that.”

“It sounds like she’s made some positive changes.”

“The girls love her,” I admit. “And they’re happy. I can’t ask for much more than that.”

I’m surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. Three weeks ago, I doubt I would have said the same thing. I’m not even sure what changed.

“Vegetarians, pigs,” Stella remarks. “It sounds like your new nanny is turning this palace upside down.”

“Tell me about it.”

More like turning my life upside down.

Funny how I’m getting used to it.





Chapter 10





Aksel





Legoland is a Danish institution and a mecca for kids young and old from all around the world who love those irritating blocks of plastic that feel like murder when you step on them.

We haven’t been here since the girls were quite young and when we did go it was always more for publicity than for them. Helena was very conscious about being seen with them often, otherwise she said people would say she was a bad mother. So, when we went, we went during public hours, with a whole entourage of security with us. Helena always said that this would make us look more down to earth but there was no way the kids properly enjoyed it when they were being hounded and photographed all day long.

That was the thing about Helena. She only wanted the public to see us as down-to-earth—making sure they went to a public school, taking the kids to the park with “zero makeup” on, doing things for charity, but inside the walls of our palace, she was obsessed with our position, our status, our blood. She would sometimes drill that into the girls’ heads, which is probably why Clara can be a little snobby sometimes. She was always taught she was better than everyone.