A Nordic King
Karina Halle
Metal Blonde Books
Copyright © 2018 by Karina Halle
First edition published by Metal Blonde Books
September 2018
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by: Hang Le Designs
Photography by: Wong Sim
Model: Lucas Bloms
Edited & Proofed by: Kara Malinczak & Roxane Leblanc
For Sandra (you better freaking read this one)
Contents
Preface
Prologue
1. Aurora
2. Aksel
3. Aurora
4. Aurora
5. Aurora
6. Aksel
7. Aurora
8. Aurora
9. Aksel
10. Aksel
11. Aurora
12. Aurora
13. Aksel
14. Aurora
15. Aurora
16. Aksel
17. Aurora
18. Aurora
19. Aksel
20. Aurora
21. Aurora
22. Aksel
23. Aurora
24. Aksel
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Karina Halle
Preface
Though there is a very lovely Danish Royal Family in real life, it must be noted that I’ve taken complete liberty in this story and all characters and situations are completely fictional. With regards to the language, while I did have a native Danish speaker go over the book, any mistakes you may find in here are mine.
Also, it may help for you to know that the “J” in Danish is pronounced like a “Y.”
Ja!
Happy reading,
Karina Halle
Prologue
Aksel
Two Years Ago - Madeira
Everyone remembers the moment they fall in love.
That moment where seconds seem to slow down and for the first time you realize you’re not just living life but feeling it in the biggest, grandest way possible. Like you’ve been let in on a secret that the whole world has known about but you.
Maybe it’s a look, the flirty downward cast of the eyes and a sly smile after you’ve told a painfully bad joke.
It might be the moment when you’re finally vulnerable, a gaping wound of a human being, and they take you all in with open arms and without question.
Perhaps it’s wrought from you after a couple of orgasms, all that sex and pleasure culminating into something more than just physical release but a total takeover of your soul.
There is no one way to fall in love.
It may scar you, make its mark, but that fall, that impact, is different for everyone.
Yet, despite all the various ways you fall in love, there is a distinct, singular feeling in that very moment you realize that someone you love no longer loves you back.
The moment you realize the love you had is gone, having slipped through your fingers when you weren’t looking.
It doesn’t come at you fast, with a blow to the senses. It’s not a bolt of lightning striking you, or a tidal wave crashing over you, or the rug pulled out from under you.
Instead it’s slow and insidious, slinking through you like ink through water, until it permeates every inch of your soul.
It’s a shallow wound to the gut, the kind where pain takes its sweet time to arrive, where you end up on your knees, wondering why you didn’t address it sooner.
Because you thought it would go away.
By then your ruptured heart will slowly bleed you to death.
There’s only one feeling when you know you’ve lost love.
I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
Except, right now, as I sit in my chair in the sitting room, my eyes locked with the roaring fire, I do wish it on them.
My enemy right now is my wife.
The very woman I so reluctantly fell in love with years ago.
The woman that chased me and hounded me until I agreed to be hers. The woman that promised me that she would be a perfect queen, and that we would raise perfect children, and I’d have that life I thought I missed out on when I was young.
A life where you are loved.
I was wrong.
I know my place in this world. I know I became a king far too young, far before I was ready. And I know how this all works, that marriage for love rarely exists for royals like us. But that didn’t stop the disappointment when I found out about Helena’s…indiscretion.
Instead the anger got stronger. Kindling to a fire.
Disappointment fueling the flames.
I can’t ignore it anymore.
I can’t be that person, that King.
I’m supposed to lead this country and yet I can’t even face the hard truths.
My wife doesn’t love me.
And I don’t think she ever did.
It was all just part of the game, the game of bringing a man like me to my knees, head into the guillotine. She wanted the glory. She wanted to win.
I think about Clara and Freja and I wonder when they’ll realize that everything between their mother and I is a lie. I think about how old I was when I discovered my own parents hated each other. Pretty young, I’d say. It wasn’t hard to miss. You know when there’s a lack of love in the house, a fracture in the family. I don’t know what it’s like to grow up with all of that intact but I know I’ll do whatever I can to ensure my girls don’t have the same upbringing as I did.
Which is why I’m here in the royal estate on the island of Madeira.
Waiting for her.
It’s April, just after Easter, when the two of us used to come here as a kick-off to the summer season. It’s too wet in Denmark to go sailing but Madeira is just warming up. The nights can be cold where the estate is, high up on the slopes of the central mountain range, hence the roaring fire. Helena always complained that we were too far from the beaches but with most of Scandinavia spending their winters here, this site was chosen for absolute protection and privacy.
She doesn’t know I’m here.
You’d think she would but that would require her actually talking to me on a daily basis. We might share the same palace but we don’t even share a bedroom anymore.
She’s flying here, landing in about an hour.
It’s dark already, eight p.m.
If she thinks of me at all, she probably thinks that I’m in Norway still, having a meeting with King Arvid, which is where I was this morning. But in the air on the way back to Copenhagen, I told my advisor Ludwig and the pilot that I didn’t want to go back home.
I wanted to come to Madeira, to surprise my wife.
I hadn’t been with her on a proper holiday in some time, so naturally everyone thought it was a romantic gesture.
“Sir,” the voice of Ludwig breaks through my thoughts. “It’s almost time. Should I have Edward pick her up?”
Edward is the sole caretaker of the estate here, which means he doubles as a driver.
I turn in my seat to see Ludwig standing by the door, his posture rigid as always. Ludwig was my father’s advisor until he passed away, and now he’s mine. I like the old man, even if he seems too formal at times. I’ve always been taught to never treat your staff like friends, but it would be nice to have a friend sometimes.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “I’ll drive.”
“Sir?” Ludwig says, somehow standing even
taller.
I ease myself up off the chair. “It would be a better surprise, don’t you think, for her to see me at the airstrip?”
“Your Majesty, it’s dark and it’s a terrible road, you know this.”
“And you know that I’m a more than capable driver.”
I’m not being modest. Back in the wild child days of my twenties, I was one of the top rally drivers in Denmark. Then I suffered a terrible crash and at the demands of my parents and the public, I switched from cars to boats. Less collisions on the water, less chance of losing the heir to the throne.
“It really isn’t right to let you drive. The risks…”
“But I’m the King,” I point out as I stride toward him.
He sighs, looking down at his feet. “Precisely.”
“You can’t stop me, Luddie.”
“I won’t, sir,” he says. He gives me a wary glance. “Just … you’re the only king we have. Promise me that you’ll let Nicklas drive the way back.”
Nicklas.
I can’t help the sour smile on my face. I pat Ludwig on the back and move past him.
No one has any idea, do they?
Or if they do, they’re incredibly good at keeping Helena’s secrets.
I ought to have a secret of my own one day, one that’s better than faking a loveless marriage.
Because that’s the truth now. She may have fallen out of love with me but I was soon to follow. How can you let your heart beat for someone when they’ve already torn it in two?
I grab a light jacket from the hall and head out towards the black SUV. Normally Helena insists on riding in a Rolls Royce or Town Cars but with the rugged terrain here on the island, a Land Rover is better.
I get in and start heading down the long winding driveway past the dormant rows of our own on-site winery and out the gates.
I’m struck by a vague memory, of being a child when we used to come here as a family. Running through the vineyards with my sister Stella, hiding from my nanny when it was bedtime. I was so young and so free, only because I didn’t know any better. I didn’t realize the trap of royalty, that having money and privilege came at a terrible price that you could never ignore.
I was groomed to be a king from the day I was born.
I just never knew what that meant.
I never knew what it would take from me.
My hands tighten on the wheel as I drive through the dark, under old oak trees. The road twists and turns like an artery.
I’m trying to think about what I’m going to say to them.
But whenever I form words in my head, rage takes over.
So I let my mind go blank for the rest of the drive until I’m pulling up just outside the airstrip, thirty minutes later. Normally I wouldn’t go anywhere without Ludwig, or a royal attendant such as Edward, but as King, I can make my own rules and tonight I needed to be alone. Besides, no one would even suspect that it’s me behind the wheel at this tiny private airstrip at the base of the mountains.
I keep the car running, peering over the steering wheel to see one of our small private jets. Helena and Nicklas are walking away from the plane. She’s a little ahead of him, keeping up appearances. For now.
They walk through the gate in the chain-link fence, Helena spotting the car.
But as they get closer, her gait slows, her brow is furrowed as much as the Botox will allow. Rain has started to fall, blurring her image through the windshield. She knows it’s me.
I get out of the car and nod to her and Nicklas.
The look on her face is priceless. I wish I were a bigger man than to relish such petty desires but it’s the truth. She’s looking at me with pure disappointment, realizing now that she can’t spend her trip fucking Nicklas. Followed by fear. Fear that she’ll be found out, fear that I know something—why else would I be here?
“Did you have a nice flight?” I ask them, keeping my voice steady and light. It’s amazing how well I can do that. My features rarely betray the inferno inside.
“What are you doing here?” Helena asks, her voice coming out in a breathless hiss.
I keep the fake smile on my lips and gesture to the car. “I wanted it to be a surprise. We so rarely get to spend time together. I can’t remember the last time we were here. Usually it’s just you and Nicklas, just the two of you, isn’t that right?”
As I say his name, my eyes are fixed on his and I have to control the rage inside me as much as I can. Even looking at him makes my blood boil. He’s a lot younger than me, early thirties, with these blank eyes and a perpetual sneer to his lips. On first appearances, he doesn’t talk much and seems to be there strictly to obey. But I know better. He may act like a dutiful butler but he’ll be the first one to throw you to the sharks. For helvede, he is the shark.
Helena just nods. She can’t even smile. She gets in the back seat and tells Nicklas to drive.
“I’m driving,” I tell her. “Nicklas is tired from traveling, I’m sure.”
“It’s not a problem,” he says but I wave him off and get back in the driver’s seat, letting them figure out where they want to sit.
Outside a breeze is picking up, and bigger drops of rain are starting to pool on the windshield, illuminated by the dull glow of the airplane hangar. The blood in my ears is a steady whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
Finally, Helena gets in the backseat, with Nicklas in the passenger seat. Either she’s so used to being driven around that sitting in the front seems uncouth, or she can’t stand me that much. I’m guessing it’s a bit of both.
The drive is silent. I have to force the conversation at the start, asking about the children, asking about the weather. I know for a fact that my aunt Maja is taking care of Clara and Freja right now but it’s funny how little Helena seems to know. Or maybe it’s not funny at all. Perhaps it’s just sad.
My heart clenches at the thought of what I’m about to do.
How I’m about to ruin it all.
I know what my father would say.
I know that he’d tell me that love was never part of the deal. Fuck, he’s the one who warned me from the start about Helena and how her school-girl crush was never quite what it seemed. That’s the one reason I was so hesitant about her to begin with. But she was beautiful and so devoted and made me feel like a king well before I ever became one.
This is my role, to pretend. This is the throne I sit on, one carved from lies, old as the ages.
But not anymore.
The last reasonable thought I have is of my children and how their world would be infinitely happier if I just pretended and pretended and pretended.
I should do it for them.
Everything for them.
Yet it doesn’t stop the words that grind out of my mouth.
“I know about the two of you,” I say.
We’re about halfway to the palace, the road climbing, the rain falling wildly in front of the headlights.
I’d think that neither of them heard me, judging by their lack of reaction, but Nicklas stiffens up just a bit. I eye Helena in the rearview mirror but can barely make out her profile. She seems to be staring out at the passing dark.
I can’t say I’m surprised. Denial is her favorite word.
“You heard me,” I say again. “I know.”
Finally, Nicklas says something. “Know what, sir?”
I let out a caustic laugh. “Sir? Really? You pretend to revere me as your King and yet insult me at the same time by fucking my wife.”
“Aksel!” Helena cries out. “Stop this nonsense. You’re crazy!”
“Crazy? I’m not fucking crazy. I’m not fucking stupid either. Everyone knows, Helena. Everyone. I suppose I was the last, and maybe that makes me crazy in your eyes, but everyone knows you’ve been a lying whore.”
“How dare you,” she seethes. “You crazy, jealous fool.”
My smile feels like acid. “I dare. I dare because I’m no longer the fool. I finally know the truth and I can’t ignore it anymore
. I can’t pretend anymore.” Then something inside me feels like it’s breaking. The betrayal. The destruction of my heart that I know will never recover. “Don’t you feel the same?”
“I’m not discussing this,” Helena says, looking away, arms crossed in a huff. “And if that’s why you bothered to pick me up, then you’ve started the wrong war because I will fucking destroy you. You hear me? I will destroy you and take everything you love. Even the girls.”
“Motherfucker!” I yell, pounding my fists on the steering wheel, the car nearly going off the road. “You don’t give a shit about anything, do you? Just your image! Just what you can take! All you’ve ever done is take, take, take!”
“Aksel, please,” Nicklas says, his voice growing louder, nervous.
“Please?” My eyes bore into him just as I correct the car back onto the road. “Please? Your manners forsake you. You don’t give a shit about any of this. You’re only fucking her because you think it will spite me, that you’ll take my place. Guess what? She’ll ditch you as quickly as she ditched me! You think I’m some one-off victim, a fool she gets to blind? She went after me from the start! She pretended to want me, pretended to love me, all to get the crown. Now she has it. Now she has the crown and she’s pretending to want you, only to flaunt what a shallow, lying bitch she is!”
“The fuck you’ll talk to her that way!” Nicklas yells, punching me in the arm, trying to go for my face. It’s now that I know for sure that I’ve hit a nerve. You can’t hide love when it’s been insulted, threatened. He thinks what they have is genuine and real. Who’s the fucking fool now?
“Nicklas!” Helena yells, unbuckling her seatbelt and coming forward between the seats, trying to break us apart. “Stop it!”
A Nordic King Page 1