The Wild Heir(73)

“Actually, he’s been fine,” I tell him truthfully. “Better than fine. No, it’s been good. Really. I think we get each other in ways that other people don’t.”

His eyes seem to brighten. “Really? That’s great news.”

I give him a reassuring smile. “Magnus is different. And he can be difficult. But I think I like that about him. There’s a reason I said yes to all of this. I think if we keep leaning on each other, we’re going to be okay.”

“Good, great,” he says, grinning. I guess he was expecting the worst. “That makes me incredibly happy to hear, especially from a girl such as yourself. I can see you keep him on his toes.” He averts his eyes for a moment. “You know, I know this was Magnus’s problem to get out of and it had nothing to do with you, so I just want you to know how much we appreciate you. You’ve been so poised and thoughtful and warm with us all despite everything you’ve had to give up. The fact that you’re willingly wanting to become a part of this crazy family, well, it means the world to us. To me. To Magnus.”

Oh. Damn. I didn’t expect that level of sincerity to come out of him and suddenly I feel hot tears picking at the back of my eyes. It’s not exactly something to cry over, but I have to say it feels so bloody good to be validated like this.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “Honestly. It’s my pleasure.”

The funny thing is, the conversation I’ve just had with Magnus’s father is more than the conversation I had with my father the other day when I told him that the wedding was officially happening. He sounded happy, of course, but there was none of the warmth and elation that I’m getting from the King.

No, my own father still sounded so distant and far away, like the joy and thrill of me being married to the Norwegian royal family had worn off much earlier. It made me feel relieved that, in the end, I was no longer marrying Magnus to make him happy. Yes, it was still a part of it, but that wasn’t all of it. It’s more for me than anything else at this point.

Soon after the King had his talk with me, the Queen appeared with the next batch of dresses and gently shooed him away. I tried on a million of them—I don’t know why royal families are so partial to sleeves—and it wasn’t until I put on the last dress that I really, truly fell in love.

It’s white, obviously, and has sleeves, except the sleeves are wide and transparent with flowy lace overlaid with small gold beading that comes to my elbow. The rest of the dress is in Grecian style, more form-fitting and drapey with hints of the same gold overlay. It’s sexy, it’s romantic, it’s demure.

It’s perfectly me.

“You look beautiful, dear,” the Queen says to me as I’m admiring the dress in the mirror. She comes forward and touches my elbow. “Though sleeves this short will be breaking the rules.”

“What rules?”

She waves me off. “You don’t want to know. I swear, some of the protocol we’re supposed to follow seems like it comes from the middle ages. And don’t look at me. Remember I married into this family. Sometimes I’m the only one with a damn brain.”

She reaches over and touches my hair, wincing. That’s definitely not how Magnus touched my hair yesterday.

“Are you going to wear it down or up?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” I tell her.

“Well, you better hurry up and decide. We have people to book and the wedding is two months away.”

Ah, yes. Another thing that she picked was the wedding date. December 23rd. An almost Christmas wedding.

Which brings me to a question I’ve long since wanted to ask her.

“Your Majesty, Else, if I may ask and I promise I mean no disrespect by it…”

By the flare in her eyes I can tell she’s ready for a bunch of disrespect.

“Why the rush for the wedding? Why not take our time and plan a year out? A winter wedding in Norway doesn’t seem all that ideal and if we did it in the summer…”

“Ella,” she says rather sharply. “This is the way it is. The sooner the better. Trust me. Especially with you two.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, dear, I know my boy far better than you do at this point. I am sure that will change as your marriage goes on but for now you just have to take my word. He…has issues. Problems. And one of his problems is that he can’t seem to stay focused on much for long and that includes women. We’ve got him to agree to this wedding right now and he’s in it and he’s focused, but what happens in a year from now when his attention strays?”

I can’t explain how much this hurts to hear but it does. Maybe because I know it’s the truth and it’s a truth I’ve tried to ignore.

“Surely you’ve seen him take interest in one thing and drop it the next?”

I think back to the billiards table he wanted, then the dog—which we still haven’t gotten—then his brief obsession with gin and wanting to open a distillery.

“And he does this with women too. I just don’t want you both to get engaged and have all this planning go into it and then have him change his mind. He’s fickle and he doesn’t always make the right decisions, and I would hate for you to be a casualty of that.”

“But what if he changes his mind after we’re married?” I say softly, barely finding my voice. Suddenly the dress feels two sizes too small.