The Wild Heir_A Royal Standalone Romance

by Karina Halle

  I’ve also started going to the high council meetings with my father. It’s an adjustment for sure—I stick out like a sore fucking thumb among all the politicians and officials—but I’m just trying to soak it all in.

  What I’m not trying to do is let myself focus on my father’s health. It’s hard. Even though he’s going to these meetings, I can see him slowly deteriorate and I think the others can too. He’s putting on a brave face and thankfully his wit and warmth is as bold as ever, but it takes a lot out of him. One meeting, and he has to sleep for the next two days.

  He hasn’t been doing any public appearances either, though he assured me he will for the wedding. That scares me the most. I don’t want the world to speculate about him, because I know, once they see him they will, and my father doesn’t deserve that. Sure, it comes with the territory of being the king but I’m the one people should gossip about. I’m used to it.

  “So, have you talked to your father yet about him walking you down the aisle?” I ask Ella just as the plane’s wheels touch down. Another part of our engagement blitz is having to go to various nearby countries and meet with other royals and leaders. It’s all just public relations, but apparently it must be done.

  Thankfully, today is our last day of doing that, and we’re actually visiting a man I call a friend, King Aksel of Denmark. Actually, he might be greeting us as we step off the plane.

  “I’ve tried,” Ella says with a heavy sigh, staring out of the plane’s window at the runway. “Schnell said to try again tonight.”

  Ella has been having some issues getting in touch with her father. Even though he’s repeatedly talked to my father on the phone about the wedding and everything, he hasn’t talked to Ella. Of course, given their history, Ella is taking it all very personally.

  Actually, we did attempt to make a stop in Liechtenstein to say hello to her family and make a public appearance before her own people, but we weren’t able to set anything up in time. I just hope, for her sake, she gets to talk to him tonight because I know this wedding is extremely stressful and hard on her, and all she really wants is her father to be there and show a bit of love and support.

  It’s funny, sometimes I completely forget why this is happening. Things with Ella, our actual relationship at this point, has felt so easy that I trick myself into thinking that I had actually proposed to her because I was in love, that we met under normal circumstances and this is how our lives are naturally playing out.

  But of course, that’s not the case at all.

  It doesn’t matter what I feel for Ella at the moment, I still can’t forget that this whole upcoming marriage is a publicity ploy to make me look good in the public eye. And that fact looms over me, looms over us, whenever I take a moment to think about it. It’s a heavy weight to carry.

  What we have is based on a lie, and it’s a lie that the both of us will have to take to our graves. I’m trying not to think about it too much because it honestly does scare me, but I worry that whatever real feelings I have toward her will be overshadowed by how fake everything else is.

  I used to be so fearless.

  Then I met Ella.

  Then I realized how much I really stand to lose.

  “Are you okay?” Ella asks me, placing her hand over mine. I hadn’t noticed that I was gripping the arm rest. “We’re here. We’ve landed.”

  I give her a quick smile and pass it off as nervous flying.

  We head out of the plane and onto the private air strip outside of Copenhagen. It’s as cold as a polar bear’s balls (I don’t need Einar for that one), but there’s no snow yet.

  King Aksel stands beside a row of official vehicles, flanked on all sides by his royal guards. He’s wearing a long black coat and a black hat, and I’m reminded of some emperor or perhaps a villain from Game of Thrones.

  “Wow,” Ella whispers from behind me as we go down the stairs. “He looks so impressive.”

  I won’t let myself get jealous over that remark. King Aksel is pretty impressive. Aside from the dramatics of his clothes, he’s got that classic Danish face that is both sharp-jawed and austere and rough at the same time. He’s also forty, which is pretty damn young for a king.

  We approach him, and he gives me a nod as I bow to him.

  “Magnus,” he says to me, holding out his hand. “Glad you could make it.”

  I shake his hand. “I’ve been looking forward to this. You’re the only royal on this continent with a decent scotch collection.”

  He nods. “I brought some aquavit in just for you.”

  Oh yes, that’s the other thing about him. He doesn’t smile. At least, I haven’t seen him smile in years. He’s got his reasons though.

  But I step back and introduce Ella to him.

  She, of course, has that smile that brings me to my knees if I’m not careful.

  It has zero effect on him, which puzzles her, but she takes it in stride.

  We get into his SUV and I do what I do best, which is to talk everyone’s ear off because I can’t stand uncomfortable silences. Aksel listens because that’s what he’s good at (and probably why we get along so well), and Ella interjects a little here and there.

  I’d warned her ahead of time not to mention the Queen or a wife since his wife died suddenly last year, and it’s a sensitive subject. You’d think that would be the reason why he’s so emotionless and quiet, but he was like that before she died. Now it’s just increased ten-fold.

  During the winter the King stays at the Amalienborg Palace, which is absolutely huge and way more opulent and grandiose than my family's. Sometimes I think the Danes and the Swedes are always trying to one-up us. I guess that’s what we get for getting all the Viking love and recognition.

  Even though this is a friendly visit, it's also one that my father and mother set up to try and facilitate a more professional relationship with the Danish public. When it comes to Scandinavian countries, all the royals are fairly close with each other and can treat each other like family, hence my relationship with Viktor as well as Aksel.

  The thing with Aksel is, he is a king, and he is a bit older than me and because of that, I don't quite have that same dynamic with him as I do with Viktor, who is a prince my age. In the past, that would sometimes put distance between Aksel and I, depending on how much I was hating formalities and authority at that time. But now, now I feel like I can learn a lot from him.

  But that will come later. For now, there's a fancy dinner at the palace with Danish politicians and officials, so the moment we arrive, Ella and I are shown to our room where we get ready.

  “He certainly is the silent type,” Ella says as she pulls her dress out of her suitcase and inspecting it for wrinkles.

  “He’s not so bad when you get him going,” I tell her.

  She cocks a brow. “Is getting him going another way of saying getting drunk?”

  I laugh. “Pretty much.”

  “I feel awful for him to lose his wife like that.”

  “And leave him with his two young daughters.”

  Her eyes go round, and she lets out a soft gasp. “Daughters? You never told me he has kids.”

  I take out an assortment of colored ties. “Yup. Sweet girls too. You know, as far as children go.”

  She pauses, putting down the dress for a second. “You’re not a fan of kids?”

  I shrug because I haven’t thought about it either way, and then I realize who I’m talking to.

  My wife to be.

  “You just shrugged…” she says.

  “Sorry,” I tell her, giving her a quick smile. “I’ve honestly never thought about it.”

  “You’ve never thought about it?”

  I shrug again, and I can tell that’s driving her crazy. She’s getting that fiery look in her eyes.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I tell her. “It’s just never been on my agenda. What, has it been on yours? You’re only twenty-two.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “What’s that supp
osed to mean?”

  I frown. “That you’re young, and you shouldn’t be thinking about shit like that.”

  “Shit. Like. That?” she repeats slowly, and now I know I’ve entered the danger zone.

  No choice now but to back away slowly.

  I pick up a purple tie and start waving it around. “This is a white flag. I surrender. Let’s not argue.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s too late for that. The door has been opened and I am stepping in.”

  I give her an odd look. “That’s not the wittiest saying you ever had…”

  “Magnus, just because I’m young doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about having children, because I have.” I open my mouth to speak, and she raises her finger to cut me off. “And before you say anything ignorant, it’s not because I’m a woman either. I just happen to want them, and I know that already.”

  Oh. There’s no reason for that to surprise me at all and yet it does. Goes to show I probably should have had this on my radar. “Okay. Good to know.”

  She shakes her head slightly, looking pained. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to discuss this with you before I signed the contract.”

  “Why? What would you have done? Put a baby in there with one of the clauses? First house, then dog, then baby?”

  “Oh, come on,” she snaps. “You know it would have been good to at least discuss it. I eventually want kids. Don’t you?” She quickly adds, “And don’t you dare shrug.”

  I mentally will my shoulders to stay down. “To be honest, Ella, I never gave it any thought.”

  “But you’re the heir to the throne. Your whole, I don’t know, business is based on handing down this position to the next in line. Who does it go to after you?”

  I manage to get one shoulder up in a shrug before she spears me with her eyes. “I don’t know. Cristina? Irene? One of them.”

  “Magnus.”

  “What?” I throw my arms out. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Didn’t you think you’d get married?”

  “I never thought about it either.”

  “You just assumed you would stay single for the rest of your life?”

  It sounds dumb when she says it like that, but, “Yeah.”

  “I can’t believe you,” she says softly, staring blankly down at the ties.

  “Wait, what? I just never gave any thought about the future before, it was like it didn’t exist. Ella, you can’t get mad over things I thought before I met you. That’s not fair.”

  She looks at me with forlorn eyes. “But you only met me six weeks ago.”

  “Things change. They’ve changed big time. We’re getting married!”

  “Because you have to!”

  “No. No, because I want to. You should know that by now, please.”

  She’s shaking her head, pressing her lips together until they’re a thin white line.

  I sigh and come around over to her, grabbing her hands, making her drop the dress. “Ella. Look at me.”

  Reluctantly she raises her head.

  “We’ll get through this,” I tell her gently.

  “Through what?” she asks, searching my eyes. “There is so much for us to get through already.”

  “I know this has been really stressful and hard on you and you’re handling it so well, but you just need to handle it for a little more. In two weeks we’ll be married.”

  “In two weeks I might be married to a man who doesn’t want children.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  She moves out of my grasp. “No, it’s not fair. I always thought I would have kids one day, especially if I got married.”

  I bite my lip, staring at the carpet for a long beat. “Yeah, but…” I look back at her. “Didn’t you also see yourself having kids with someone that you loved?”

  And there it is.

  There’s the elephant in the room that has been following us from room to room to room throughout our entire engagement.

  She doesn’t say anything to that, just moves away to the bathroom and shuts the door.

  I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. This is still so messy, still so complicated. I thought it would get easier with time but so far, it’s not.

  And a part of me is afraid getting married won’t fix a thing.

  We end up going to dinner not on speaking terms, which makes things fucking awkward as anything. Luckily, we’ve gotten so good at faking things so far, that any strain between us isn’t apparent to anyone else.

  Well, except for Aksel. I can’t read that man very well, but I can tell he thinks something is a bit out of whack. I’m just not sure if he’s picking up on the fight or something else. The whole sham marriage thing.

  It isn’t until after the guests leave and we’ve put on our last fake smiles that Ella says she has a headache and quickly excuses herself, going to the room.

  Aksel and I are sitting in the lounge (one of them, anyway, there’s, like, ten in this palace) with glasses of aquavit and he’s staring at me curiously.

  I look around the room, avoiding his eyes. “So which room out of all the rooms is your favorite? Must be hard to choose.”

  “Why didn’t you go after her?” he asks.

  I stare at him. “What?”

  “Your fiancée,” he says. “She didn’t seem well.”

  “She’s fine. Just a headache.”

  He takes his time digesting that as he takes a sip of his drink. “How long have you guys known each other again?”

  I can’t tell if there’s more behind that question than he’s letting on. “Why?” I ask carefully. I may have told Viktor the truth about us but I’m not sure how honest I should be with Aksel.

  He shrugs with one shoulder. “I don’t know,” he says smoothly. “I know we don’t talk often but it does feel like this came out of left field. In other words, Magnus, this isn’t like you.”

  “Maybe I’m growing up,” I say, wincing as I take a sip. Good lord it burns, it burns. “You know, I got diagnosed with ADHD and I’ve been learning to handle myself better so maybe that’s what you’re picking up on.”

  “You don’t say,” he says wryly. “And don’t change the subject. When did you meet her? How long have you known her?”

  “I’m not changing the subject,” I counter. “I just want to know why you’re so suspicious of my fiancée.”

  “I’m not suspicious of her,” he says. “But it’s obvious you two don’t know each other.” He pauses. “Is she pregnant? Is this a shotgun wedding?”

  “Maybe you should slow down on the aquavit there, Hamlet. She’s not pregnant. In fact, we were just arguing over kids upstairs.”

  Oh, I think I’ve said too much.

  “You do know Hamlet was the Prince.”

  “And he was also the father. King Hamlet. Hey, I paid attention to Shakespeare in school. I thought he had the lowdown on what the real royal life was like.”

  “Why were you arguing over kids?”

  “Why are you suddenly Mr. Talkative? What happened to Mr. Quiet and Mr. Brooding?”

  “Nothing happened to him,” he says. He grows quiet and then seems to brood into his drink right in front of my eyes. “I haven’t really talked to anyone in a while.”

  Well, shit, now I feel bad. And I certainly don’t want him to feel worse.

  “What happened with your nanny? I thought you were getting a new one.”

  For the first time I see a smile creep on his face. A small one, invisible to the naked eye, but it’s there. “I did get a new one. She’s actually more of a governess. From Australia. The girls love her.”

  I raise my brow and take a drink before I ask, “What’s her name, this Australian governess?”

  “Aurora,” he says.

  “Pretty,” I comment.

  “She is,” he says. Then he clears his throat. “So, you don’t want kids…?”

  “I never said that. I told her I’d never thought about it.”
r />   “You never thought about having kids and yet you asked this woman to marry you? Magnus, you have to come up with a better story than that.”

  “It is not a story,” I say in overblown defensiveness, like how dare you insult my sensibilities.

  But I don’t have the energy to keep this up around him.

  “Okay fine, here’s the truth. Ready, King Hamlet?” I exhale loudly. “I fucked up with that sex video. Everyone hated me. Pretty sure that included my own family. I had to get married to someone royal and nice to improve my image. I was arranged to meet Ella. She reluctantly agreed to marry me. Now we’re getting married, everyone has forgotten about the video, and appears to love us all again, and that, my friend, is that.”

  “Uh huh,” he says slowly, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers together. “You left out the part where you’ve fallen in love with her.”

  I stiffen. “That’s neither here nor there. And damn you for assuming that.”

  “I don’t know how you can possibly be ashamed of it.”

  “Who said I was ashamed of it?” I look at him sharply.

  “Look. I was married to my wife for a very long time. Over those years I learned a lot about being in a marriage. I learned how…easy it is to fake love. I also learned how easy it is to spot the real thing, or at least the lack of it. For heaven’s sake, Magnus, you’re marrying this woman and you love her. Go and tell her.”

  “How do you know I haven’t?”

  “Because she thinks whatever you’re putting out there, you’re faking it. I’m telling you, I know. Don’t let her become a fool.”

  Hold on. Does this mean that there was a lack of love between him and his ex-wife, the do-gooder Queen that captured the hearts of the nation, of the world?

  But of course, I don’t ask him about that. This isn’t about him. This is about me. And I’m afraid he has a point.

  I get to my feet. “Well, then I’m sorry to love you and leave you, Aksel. But I think I have something to tell my future wife.”

  I leave the room and head up the many stairs to our floor, get lost a few times, and then finally find our bedroom.

  I open the door to a darkened room and use the flashlight on my phone to shine the way forward.