A Nordic King(98)

She sticks out her tongue in disgust.

“But listen,” I go on. “There’s one more thing. You might hear about it from other people and so we wanted to tell you first.”

“When I was young,” Aurora explains, “older than you are, but still young, I got in a lot of trouble.”

“Was it because your dad died?” Clara asks.

“Yes and no. It’s because I didn’t have a lot of love in my life, not like you two. I did some bad things. I stole things.”

“Toys?” Freja already looks like she’s plotting her next move at the toy store.

“Uh, kinda. Anyway, I was bad, and it was wrong, but I was also sick at the time. So I went to jail for a night or two, to teach me a lesson.”

Both girls gasp.

“And,” she goes on, “I learned my lesson. I never did it again. I just wanted to tell you so that you knew the truth.”

“She wasn’t always perfect,” I add, to which Aurora laughs.

“No, I wasn’t perfect, and I’m still not, and that’s fine. I made mistakes and I learned from them, as everyone does. But we wanted to tell you because people might talk about it.”

“Okay,” Clara says simply. “Can we go back to our games now?”

Damn, I wish adults were as easy as children when it came to judgment and forgiveness.

Something tells me we’re in for a rough one when we land.

I can only hope that with us telling the girls the truth, that we have less to hide. I know people will be ruthless and I know that our love is both fragile and new and strong all at once, but after the events of last night, I still have doubts that Aurora is one hundred per cent on board.

But it’s a gamble, like she said. I have to gamble with Nicklas, gamble with the press and gamble that her heart is still mine, that she’s not going to up and run when it gets tough.

Though, I know, even if she did run, I wouldn’t stop running after her.

This woman is my queen.

And she already has my love for a crown.





Chapter 23





Aurora





I was right.

We landed right into a shitshow.

No matter how prepared I was for it, I wasn’t prepared enough because the moment we got off the plane at the private airstrip, we were bombarded by the press. Flashbulbs in my face, shielding myself with my purse and Aksel’s arm, that total celebrity thing.

Meanwhile they were yelling at me.

“Why did you lie?”

“Were you an accessory to murder?”

“Will you be let go from the royal family?”

The only way we got them to back off was for the royal attendants to start pushing them back, while I scooped Freja and Clara up in my arms (Lord, they are heavier than Snarf Snarf).

Thankfully, once we were in the car, Clara and Freja didn’t seem traumatized. I guess they liked the attention.

I, on the other hand…

But the press and the ambush weren’t what I was the most worried about.

No, that would be stepping foot in the palace.

Seeing everyone.

Seeing on their faces how their opinions of me have changed.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that,” Aksel says beside me, taking my hand and turning it over to kiss my palm.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, trying to smile, trying to remain upbeat. He seemed a lot more hopeful than me up in the air, and I couldn’t tell if it was a mask or not. To be honest, I don’t know how he’s going to deal with Nicklas, but I guess it’s one thing at a time.

One horrible thing at a time.

We pull into the palace gates but instead of feeling relief at being home, I’m on edge. Normally at this time everyone moves to the Danish summer palace but because we went away, we postponed it to next week.

I wouldn’t have minded going elsewhere. Moving into another palace. Getting another fresh start.

But that’s the thing with second chances. Unless you put that first one to bed, it’s going to keep following you around.

Aksel holds my hand as we step out of the car and head into the house and this is already raising some eyebrows, especially as we run into Henrik in the foyer.

“How was your trip?” Henrik asks, smiling but cautious. He won’t even look me in the eyes.

“It was fine until the end,” Aksel says, pulling me along the hall. “By the way, Henrik, I want the entire staff gathered in the living room, now.”

“As you wish, sir,” he says warily before he scampers off, heading into one room before changing his mind and running into another. I bet he thinks they’re all getting fired.

Clara and Freja are following us and Aksel tells them to go and check out Snarf Snarf, which they do so happily.

Aksel then takes me to the living room, sits me down on the couch, and heads straight to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of port I knew he was saving, and two glasses.

Then he comes back to me with a corkscrew, gives me the glasses to hold, and proceeds to open it.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” he says, getting the cork most of the way out and pulling the rest with his teeth. “Better than ever.”

I frown, my hand starting to tremble as he pours a large splash of port into the glass. Despite his frantic mannerisms, his hands are steady. They’re always steady. He’s my rock.