A Nordic King(46)

His eyes rake over me appraisingly, like he’s sizing me up. “Hmmm. Perhaps you can take my place on the throne. I might want a day off.”

I hate the little thrill that runs through me because what he said is such a throwaway line. But for a split second, I imagine what that would be like. To be a queen. Even the fact that he said that with such ease.

“I don’t think that’s part of my job description,” I tease him. “You might have to pay me extra.”

“How about we start with the glass of port and see where it goes from there,” he says to me just as Karla comes out with the two small glasses, each with a generous pour.

She hands them to us and then leaves, shooting me a curious look before she goes. I wonder what that look meant. Probably the fact that Aksel isn’t one to share his time like this with anyone but the girls.

“Sk?l,” I say, tipping my glass at him before I take a delicate sip. It tastes expensive as hell.

He opens his mouth to say something just as we hear Clara yelling from downstairs. I turn to see Freja in the doorway to the room, tears running down her face.

“What happened?” Aksel says, quickly putting his drink down on the mantel as Freja comes running over to him. She immediately throws herself at his leg, wrapping her arms around him.

“Snarf Snarf, han er v?k,” she cries.

“Han er v?k?” I repeat.

“He’s gone,” Aksel says, frowning, glancing up at me.

I shake my head. “I told the girls they could say goodnight to him.” It’s then when I hear Clara yelling again and I realize she’s calling for the pig.

“Clara ?bnede d?ren,” she says, wiping her face on Aksel’s pajama pants. “She opened the front door. He ran outside into the snow. He’s going to be cold.”

Oh shit. Snarf Snarf escaped. It’s late and it’s snowing and he could be anywhere in the city by now, perhaps getting hit by a car. My mind goes to the worst scenario.

“I’m on it,” I tell Aksel, downing the rest of the port for courage and running out of the room.

“Aurora, wait!” I hear him say, but it doesn’t matter. I have to find that damn pig or the girls are going to be crushed, and the last thing they need is to lose something else they love.

I’m dressed only in my uniform, albeit with a light cardigan, so I slip on a pair of rubber boots from the downstairs closet and run to the front door. Clara is outside on the steps, yelling into the night, and of course to the people milling about in the square. They’re all looking at her, some even taking pictures. It’s so rare that any member of the royal family would use this door.

“Clara,” I tell her, pulling her back inside. “Stay inside.”

“But Snarf Snarf,” she says, and as I pull her into the light of the foyer, I can see the pure fear on her face. “I didn’t mean to do it. I thought it would be fun to see him in the snow and there wasn’t as much snow in the back and…” She trails off into a slew of mumbled Danish that I don’t understand.

“I’ll get him back. Just stay inside, okay? Go find your father.” I usher her further in before I step out and close the door.

Even though I probably should head over to the curious onlookers and ask them if they’ve seen a pig, I know that will get reported to the tabloids (“Hog Wild: Nanny Loses Royal Pig in Snowstorm”) so instead I just follow the tiny little tracks in the snow that his hooves have made.

The sight makes me feel sick to my stomach. I barely feel the cold itself, but as the wind and snow are starting to pick up, I just know that Snarf Snarf will get hypothermic fast, if I even find him at all. He may have grown a lot in the last month or so but he’s still a small pig with delicate skin. The more that I follow the prints, leading away from the square and toward Amalie Garden, the more I’m starting to panic. The snow is starting to cover his tracks and the garden is fairly large.

“Snarf Snarf!” I call out as I cross the street to the garden, the wind whipping snowflakes in my hair. I gather my cardigan close to my neck as the air starts to freeze over my skin, following his faint tracks until they stop altogether before a giant hedge. I don’t even know why I’m calling for him. The girls have been teaching him tricks but I’ve yet to see him respond to his name.

Still, it can’t hurt.

“Snarf Snarf!” I yell again in a high voice.

I listen. I don’t hear anything but the snow and wind and the occasional car driving past.

I shiver, my nose and ears now officially frozen and continue walking into the park. I don’t even have my phone on me to use as a light, and in the darkness the lampposts seem few and far between. I head toward the fountain in the middle, thinking maybe he went there to get a drink, but I only see a couple, hand in hand, taking an evening stroll.

They give me a funny look as I pass them since I’m obviously not dressed for the weather in my woolen mini-skirt. “You haven’t seen a pig, have you?” I say, teeth chattering.

They glance at each other and keep walking. Proof right there that not everyone in this city speaks English. Or maybe they do and the fact that I’m barely dressed in a snowstorm and searching for a bloody pig means I have a screw loose or two.

I can’t deny that either. I shouldn’t be out here. I’m getting colder by the minute, and the longer I look, the more my heart starts to break. I just know I can’t go back without the pig. I just can’t. To give up now means he’ll die and I…