A Nordic King(8)

“There is a small yard in the back. It is enough. And as it is, we’ve only just come back last month. We use this as a residence for autumn and winter. We spend the summer elsewhere.”

All I know is that if I were royalty, I wouldn’t be in a palace surrounded by tourists peering up at all the windows. I’d be holed up in a castle somewhere. Preferably on a beach. With a margarita in hand. And a shirtless butler that looks like Jason Momoa.

“Here we are,” Maja says as the car stops in a small lot behind the palace, a heavily guarded gate closing behind us.

Okay, enough crazy daydreams. I’m here. And I’m bloody nervous.

I get out of the car and Maja escorts me in through a large wooden door.

We step inside a small foyer and I’m led along intricately designed Baroque floors toward a grand room.

“Have a seat,” Maja says as we step inside, gesturing to a teal velvet chair beside an antique desk.

I do as she asks and look around. The room is long and filled floor-to-ceiling with books between fancy moldings, with a comfy looking couch down toward one end.

“Is this the library?” I ask, itching to take a look at all the spines. They’re probably all written in Danish but I don’t care. Books are one of my addictions.

“This is just a study,” she says, waving her hand at the room like it’s a linen closet.

Oh. Just a study.

“I’ll go and get the girls.”

“The girls?”

“You’ll be meeting with Clara and Freja first,” she says, and I swear I see a smile crack on her face. “They can be a better judge of character than the King.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

Great. Maja seems to think well of me, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. But now my job rests in the hands of two little girls. In general, girls tend to like me better than boys, and most kids warm up to me right away. But there are always a few outliers who need a lot of convincing. Candy usually works in those situations but I’m not sure if bribery is within royal palace protocols.

Just as I’m mulling over what kind of lollies the Danes might have, the door opens and Maja appears with a girl on each side of her, holding their hands.

I’m not sure what the etiquette is around princesses but I err on the side of caution and get to my feet, then immediately curtsey. Makes me wish I was wearing a pretty dress like they are instead of my black dress pants and navy wrap shirt. Makes me wish I knew exactly what I was doing. My version of a curtsey makes me nearly fall over.

One girl looks amused by it, the slightly taller one. The other girl stays closer to Maja’s side, avoiding eye contact.

“Miss Aurora, may I present to you Her Highness Princess Clara and Her Highness Princess Freja of House Eriksen,” she says.

“Pleased to meet you,” I tell them, trying not to let my voice shake, to show fear. I have no experience with legit princesses and even though these girls are young, it’s oddly terrifying. “I am Miss Aurora of House James.”

“You have an accent,” the taller one, Clara, says in perfect English.

“So do you,” I point out with a smile.

“We do?” she asks and looks up at Maja for confirmation.

Maja gives a slight nod. “Miss Aurora is from Australia.”

“Like with the kangaroos?” Freja asks quietly. She’s the spitting image of her sister except a bit paler and with blonder hair.

“Oh yes, I have many stories about them,” I reply, and I realize I’m talking in the same tone as Mary Poppins. Where did that come from?

“You’ve come such a long way,” Clara says. “That’s the other side of the world, in the other hemisphere.”

“You’re right,” I tell her. “But I was already here in France. I’ve been in Europe for seven years looking after many boys and girls just like yourself.”

“Oh,” Clara says with a raise of her brow. “And what royal house did they belong to?”

I exchange a glance with Maja and she suppresses a smile. This girl is a clever one.

“I’ll let you three get to know each other,” she says, going for the door. “I will be back shortly.” Then she says something to Clara and Freja in Danish and they both nod obediently.

The door shuts and now I’m alone with them.

I take in a deep breath and keep smiling.

Since Clara has been doing a lot of the talking I thought she would be chatting away and asking me questions, but the two of them just stare at me, rather expectantly. Like I’m supposed to do tricks or something.

Luckily I’m good at icebreakers.

“So your name is Clara,” I say to her, then look to her sister. “And your name is Freja.”

They nod in unison.

“Did you know you’re a goddess, Freja?”

Freja just blinks.

“A goddess?” Clara repeats. She looks her sister up and down discerningly.

“Freyja, of course. She’s the Norse god of love and beauty.”

“Ew,” Clara remarks, wrinkling her nose.

I’m glad I didn’t mention the part about sex and fertility.

“As well as gold,” I add. And war. And death. “And she drives a chariot pulled by cats.”

“Cool,” Freja says in a hush.