The Wild Heir(72)

“I do? What? Why can’t she come?”

“It’s nothing to do with her, just things to be read and some papers to be signed. About you starting to sit on the high council meetings soon. To get you up to speed.”

Shit. Forgot about all of that. My first steps to becoming a king.

I’ve really tried not to think about that, no matter when in the future it happens. But my father reminded me on the phone the other day that it’s time to start learning.

I give Ella an apologetic look. “You’ll be all right at the estate by yourself?”

“I’ll have Jane, and you know she won’t give me a moment’s peace.” She smiles, so damn beautiful. “I’ll be fine.”

I won’t be. I won’t even be able to concentrate on what I’m supposed to be learning when all I can think about is her.

She’s become my focus in this crazy world.

And I don’t mind that one bit.





Sixteen





Ella





“Ella, darling, you are looking radiant,” the King says to me as he enters the sitting room where I’ve sequestered myself with a cup of tea.

I immediately attempt to get to my feet but he puts his hands out. “No, sit. Don’t get up. I know you weren’t expecting to see me.”

The truth is I wasn’t. I’ve been at the royal palace all morning for the sake of trying on wedding gowns. The Queen told me that it would be impossible to go into stores to get it done, so last night I scrolled through my phone and picked off all the dresses I liked.

Then the Queen had to approve them all, because apparently this isn’t really my wedding but hers.

In some ways it’s not a real marriage either, but I digress.

Ottar drove me out to Oslo early, before Magnus was even awake, and I’ve been trying on dress after dress after dress here, with the Queen insisting she inspect each one, no matter how horrible it looked on me.

But none of them have been right, so now I’m allowed to take a little break while she sends out for more dresses and all the while I was told that the King was upstairs sleeping and no one was to disturb him (that was more for the staff than me. I know my place).

But now, the King is awake and on his feet, though he seems a little bit unsteady and has to lean against the back of the couch. I haven’t seen him in a few days and I’m relieved that he hasn’t gotten any worse.

That said, he’s deteriorated a little bit since the first time I met him at dinner almost a month ago. The Queen hasn’t mentioned it and neither has Magnus for that matter, but it makes me uneasy to see him getting thinner and paler with time.

“How did your interview go yesterday?” he says, slowly walking around the couch and taking a seat in the deep armchair across from me.

“I think it went great,” I tell him.

I hope it did. I can barely remember the whole thing. After what happened between Magnus and I in his bedroom, it was like my brain was permanently scrambled and everything else after that was a blur. In fact, it’s still a blur.

When the interview was over, Magnus was sequestered by Ottar for something or other and I was taken back to the estate. I don’t think Magnus got home until quite late and I was feeling too vulnerable after what happened to go to his room and check on him.

I’m still surprised it happened. Not that I hadn’t thought about it before, but even so, I was shocked that my body craved him that much. All the shyness and inexperience I thought I had that would hold me back from enjoying it had vanished. It was like some other Ella came out to play and she knew exactly what she wanted.

His cock more than anything. His head between my legs…

If only we hadn’t been interrupted.

“Are you excited for the gala tonight?” the King asks and I blush, ashamed that I’ve been thinking about his son like that when I’m sitting here in front of him. Not to mention the fact that he’s the freaking King of Norway and soon to be my father-in-law.

Another one of those moments where I realize just how much my life is about to change.

“Yes, the gala,” I say with a stiff smile, and of course this is either news to me or it’s totally slipped my mind because what the hell, what gala?

He raises his bushy brow a touch and I think he’s on to me.

“It’s been a busy week, I know that,” he says gently. “Tonight’s gala will be easy, I promise. It’s your first appearance together at an event and it’s only for the social elite.” He chuckles. “Okay, I think I made them seem pompous, but I promise you that you’ll have a good time. Everyone is just so excited to meet you.”

I’m starting to remember something about a gala at some museum. Honestly, with the on-camera interviews and the magazine interviews and the photos and the meetings and the wedding stuff, I feel like I’m being spread too thin and barely hanging on. This gala is just another thing to add.

“So,” he clears his throat and adjusts himself in his seat, “if you don’t mind me asking…how are you and Magnus?”

“We’re good,” I tell him.

“You know, dear, that we’re one of the few people who know the truth. You don’t need to pretend with us. We know everything and we certainly know Magnus.” He pauses. “He is not an easy man to live with.”