by Karina Halle
“Oh, Magnus,” he says to me. “You’re my world, you really are. My world, my son, my heir and you’re exactly who you’re meant to be and where you’re meant to be. I’m very proud of you for standing up to him, and her, and I’m grateful that you chose to tell me the truth when I probably would have had no idea. I don’t like to rule like that. Ignorance is no way to run your life, let alone a country.”
I give his hand a squeeze, feeling overly emotional for the second time today. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He smiles but his breathing suddenly becomes more labored and his face seems to pale.
“Are you okay?” I ask him, my pulse quickening.
He nods, takes in a few deep, shaking breaths and clears his throat. “I’m fine, Magnus. I just feel…anyway, I’m happy that everything is sorted.”
“Well, I still don’t have Ella.”
“I’m sure she just needed time to think.”
“I found her wedding band by the sink.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
I feel like if I mention it, it will come true, but I can’t ignore what’s really worrying me. “Father, the clauses she put in the contract. What if she’s going to use them?”
“And ask for a divorce?”
“Yes.”
“Over a fake pregnancy?”
“No. But she never really got to know me before we married. There’s so much baggage behind me. What if something else one day raises its ugly head? What if she discovers that she can’t handle being with me? What if she decides that marriage with me was a mistake?”
My father chuckles softly, which then turns into a wheezing cough. When he finally recovers he says, “That’s called divorce, Magnus, and it’s available for everyone. Not just you. Those clauses are there because Ella had to have some sort of control over this situation. You can’t blame her. And she’s young. She’s so young to be thrust into this new role, she has no idea how to handle this and neither do you. You just have to trust that what she feels for you is genuine and let everything else go.”
I look down at my hand on his. “What if she stops loving me after this?”
“She won’t. I promise. It’s a hurdle that will make your love grow stronger. Take it from me. You’re going to have a lot of hurdles.”
“What if…?” I trail off. I could go on and on.
“Ignore the what ifs,” he says. “Ella is complicated and passionate and fierce. Just like you. You have a fierce Viking heart, handed down from your ancestors. So, love fiercely, Magnus. Love bravely. Love her with everything you’ve got.”
It feels like I have a brick in my throat. It all sounds too simple and yet I know there’s nothing simple about love at all. But I can continue to be brave with my heart.
“Thank you for listening,” I tell him, taking in a deep breath. I glance up at him. “It means the…”
Something stops my words.
My father’s eyes are closed.
His face seems more ashen than it was seconds ago.
He’s not moving.
He’s suddenly so unnaturally, eerily still.
No. No. No.
I squeeze his hand. “Father?”
Nothing.
Oh god.
I lean over him, peering at him. “Father? Wake up. Wake up.”
No response.
“No, no, please!” I cry out, feeling his neck for a pulse, trying to see if he’s breathing. I can’t find it. His chest isn’t rising.
“Nurse! Someone! Help!” I start yelling, frantically grabbing his other wrist to check, lightly slapping his face.
No, this can’t be my father dead.
This has to be a dream.
This can’t be real.
“Help!”
The door bursts open and the nurse rushes in, followed by Sven and Tor. Tor pulls me out of the way while the nurse checks for vitals.
“We need an ambulance, now!” she yells, and Sven brings out his phone, dialing it.
Then my mother is in the room, panicking, and Mari, crying, and I’ve never felt so alone so suddenly before, like everything beautiful and light and joyous in my heart was suddenly sucked out like a vacuum, like my father was taken with it.
Mari comes to my side, tears streaming down her face and I put my arm around her, holding her close to me, holding on for dear life.
Soon the medics come, and the stretcher, and I’m escorted out by people I don’t know, and I’m lost and I’m surrounded by people but I’m alone and my father…
God, please don’t take him.
I’m not ready to lose him.
I can’t imagine life without him.
As he’s taken out on the stretcher to the ambulance, I lean against the wall in the hallway and slump to the floor, the sorrow inside me flooding up like a tidal wave.
For a moment the numbness and the confusion fades.
For a horrible moment I feel everything I have lost.
The tears that I had held back can no longer be tamed.
I cry, tear drops splashing to the palace floor.
I never had the chance to tell him how much I loved him.
My father.
My king.
Twenty-Three
Ella
“You’re not wearing your wedding band,” my father comments.
I look over to him in the same daze I’ve been trying to shed for the last twenty-four hours. “What?”
“Your wedding band,” he says again. “Where is it?”
I swallow uneasily. “Oh. It’s by the sink. It’s a bit loose so I always take it off to wash my face.”
“Here?”
“At home.”
Home.
It’s a word I’ve been trying to avoid. It’s a word that I’ve tried to lend to this place I’m in, the Vaduz Castle, the official residence of my father in Liechtenstein and the place where I grew up.
But now that I’m here, I know it’s not home.
As much as I’ve wished it could be since I was thirteen, as much as I’ve glorified and romanticized this place, it’s not at all what I remember it being. They say you can’t go home again, and it couldn’t be more true.
But it’s not because the place you used to call home changes.
It’s because you change.
This place, this castle, it’s the same as it always was. It’s drafty. It’s dark. It’s both gaudy and opulent and dank and depressing. Jane always says this place suffers because men always rule here, not women, and that could definitely be the case. And after my mother died, I guess things just became a little colder.
But when I was growing up, it was the only home I knew, and I loved it as such. When I was sent to boarding school it’s not that my new life was awful, although it was a bit lonely, it’s that I associated home with love and if I wasn’t at home, if I was sent elsewhere, I wasn’t loved. I longed after it, after my family, like someone longs after a lover when they’ve been given no closure. You always wonder what if.
Now I’m here.
I came right here after I left Magnus because there really was no other place to go. The university was no longer my home, which meant this was the only place that hadn’t changed.
But I’ve changed and now I can’t fit my parameters of my new self around this place and it can’t fit around me. I came here looking for support and love, something to bolster me after losing the life I had planned with Magnus. But that just doesn’t exist here.
It only exists in myself.
It always has.
Now I’m sitting with my father at dinner and while I’ve appreciated how kind he’s been with me and how I’m able to talk to him now more than ever, that we’re relating to each other in a new way, as adults instead of a parent and child, I know that he can’t give me what I’m missing.
Only I can.
“I’m sorry your brothers couldn’t be here,” my father says, dabbing a napkin at his face while a servant comes and takes the plates away. �
��They’re rather busy.”
“So busy that they couldn’t come to my wedding?” I ask. I know I’m being blunt and judging from the expression on my father’s face, I know this is a new side of me too.
“Yes, well,” he says and then sighs. He gives me what can only be described as a wince. “I’m sorry about that too. I know if your mother were alive, she would have hit them all upside the head and forced them. Actually, I believe if she were alive, she wouldn’t have had to force them. They would have gone because they wanted to. I’m afraid it’s my fault.”
“Your fault?”
He nods slowly, tapping a finger on the table. “Yes. I suppose so. You see, I…never really learned how to become a father. I was always a ruler of this land first and a father second and it was your mother who kept me in line and accountable. After she died…that fell to the wayside. I know I wasn’t a great father to you, and I wasn’t a great father to the boys. I taught them how to be rulers, but I don’t think I taught them to be good sons, or brothers, or men in general. And you, well I didn’t know what to do with you. I just wanted the best for you. You weren’t like them and I knew you wouldn’t rule, so I sent you away. And for that, I’m sorry. So many years I’ve missed.”
I’m going to cry.
Again.
For the millionth time in the last day.
Somehow, I manage to hold it together. “So, there was nothing wrong with me?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Heavens no, Isabella. You’re such a bright and shining star in my life. I guess I just feel because I’ve missed so many years with you, I don’t know how to relate to you, I don’t know how to be a father. But I promise you…I’m willing to try.”
I know it’s not part of the proper etiquette or decorum, but I abruptly get out of my seat and walk around the long table to him on the other end, lean over and hug him from behind.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “I promise I’ll be a better daughter.”
He pats my arm and chuckles. “You can’t get any better, Isabella. Just be yourself. And for heaven’s sake, go back home to your husband.”
I let go of him and straighten up. “What?”
I hadn’t told my father I had come because of Magnus, but I guess it was a little more than obvious when I showed up with no luggage and no wedding ring. Though I swear I didn’t leave it behind on purpose.
He cranes his neck around to stare up at me. “I was married, you know. I know what it’s like. It’s work. Sometimes it’s fun work, sometimes it’s hard work, but a lot of the time it’s work. You just have to buckle down and get through it and come out the other side. Work makes a marriage stronger and more than that, it makes you stronger.”
Suddenly I feel horrible about missing all of Magnus’s phone calls, for turning my phone off. I still don’t know what we’re going to do, and it still eats me up inside and makes me sick to think about it. But I took a vow that said we had to stay together for better or worse. This is worse than worse, but shouldn’t I stand by his side through it all? Wouldn’t he do that for me?
“Well you’re being a father already,” I tell him, patting him on the shoulder. “Giving out marriage advice.”
“Sir,” Schnell appears in the doorway of the dining room with a mobile phone in his hand. “I’m afraid it’s an emergency.”
He rushes in and gives my father the phone, giving me a sympathetic look as he does so. The kind of look that makes my heart still.
I can’t imagine what it could be this time.
“Hello?” my father answers in German. “Yes,” he says, switching to English. Then he looks right at me. “Oh, no. I see. That’s terrible. Thank you for telling me. Yes. I will. Send my regards.”
He hangs up.
“What?” I ask, my stomach sinking fast.
“It’s King Anders. He’s on his deathbed.”
As soon as we got the news, I took the quickest flight back to Oslo. Luckily, already being in Liechtenstein, I was able to fly on my father’s private jet and he came along with me for moral support.
I’m a little bit nervous over the fact that I’m seeing Magnus again, that I’m walking back into a messy, horrid situation that I have no control over, but for the most part, that is buried by my absolute worry for the King.
According to Mari, whom I talked with on the phone on the car ride to the hospital, his organs have started to fail, and he went into shock, apparently right in front of Magnus.
My heart breaks for him, it breaks for his whole family, for the country. I know how well-loved the King is. He’s been so welcoming and good to me, and even though we didn’t see eye-to-eye at the beginning, he’s more than made up for it. He’s the type of person who reigns effortlessly and with a lot of love and that’s how he conducts his life as well. He’s always coming from a good place, even if you don’t agree with his tactics.
And at this point, how could I ever be mad at him for what he did. If he hadn’t told my father that Magnus had proposed, that would have never forced me into this situation with his son.
Which means that no matter what happens, no matter what has happened, having Magnus in my life means more than anything else. He is my life now and I know I’m his and whatever is thrown our way, I know it’s better to stay by his side and weather it, support him, love him, stand by him. I won’t walk from this marriage, I won’t run from him, even if it gets harder from here on in.
We get into the hospital and are quickly escorted to the private ward. It’s both heartening and horrifying to see so many people, including hospital workers, crying over the news. The further we get into the situation, the more I think that all hope is lost.
And then we’re shown to the ICU ward where he’s being treated, and I see the family at the end of the hall. Mari, Cristina, Irene, and Britt. The Queen. They’re all sitting down, some of them crying and leaning against each other, others, like the Queen, looking in total shock.
And then there’s Magnus, halfway between us and the rest of them. Slumped against the wall, his back to me. Even though it’s just his back I can see a range of emotion in it. His devastation devastates me.
I break free of my father’s arm and run down the hall to him.
“Magnus!” I call out.
He turns his head to look at me, his blank and bloodshot eyes blinking a few times until he realizes it’s me and that I’m here.
“Ella,” he cries out hoarsely, opening his arms for me.
I run right into him and he envelopes me into a long, hard hug.
“Ella,” he says again, his face buried in my hair. Then he starts to shake. He starts to cry. He breaks down.
Everything breaks inside me.
To see him like this.
To hold him like this.
My beautiful man is suffering, ravaged by loss and sorrow.
I keep my hold on him, tears falling from my eyes now, feeling his body pressed against mine, wanting him to know that I’m here and though I can’t take away his pain, his heart is safe with mine. It always was.
“I am so sorry,” I tell him, meaning his father, meaning everything.
He nods but continues to cry and I continue to hold on to him as tight as I can.
I’m not sure how much time passes in that hospital hallway, but grief and shock have a way of playing with it. It feels like minutes and hours and days.
But at some point, Magnus calms and regains his breath. By now my father is at the end of the hall, talking to the family.
“I am so sorry,” I tell him again, running my hand over his head. “I know it doesn’t matter right now, but I want you to know I’m here for you. I should have never run away. I’ll never run away again. I’m sorry I said terrible things and I should have behaved more like a lady, like a wife.”
“Ella,” he whispers against me. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” I tell him. “It’s not. I realize I have a lot of growing up to do.”
“So do I.”
“Then we need to do it together, not apart. No matter what happens, I’ll be by your side. I’m standing by my marriage and my man.” I take in a shaking breath. “How is your father? Is he…?”
He glances up at me with pained eyes. “They’re doing everything they can,” he says, his words cracking. “It happened so suddenly. One minute I was talking to him, the next…I guess he went right into shock. Ella, it was horrible. I can’t get it out of my head. All the things I could have said to him.”
“He’s not gone yet,” I tell him. “You can still say all those things.”
“I knew he was sick and I knew that one day this day would come, no matter what, but…I’m not ready. I’m not ready to say goodbye. I can’t imagine living a world without him in it, and fuck, I am such a fool for wasting so many years just being selfish and doing whatever I wanted.”
“You weren’t selfish, you were just dealing with yourself. We all go through that. Don’t hold yourself accountable.”
He shakes his head, his hair flopping in front of his eyes. “I should have been more involved in my role. I should have been learning from him. Ella, I’ve missed so much.”
His words remind me of my own father’s words.
“Magnus, it’s never too late to make things better. It’s never too late to learn. No matter what happens, you can still learn from him. My mother died when I was young but through my father I’m learning all there is about her, life lessons, other lessons. How to be a better daughter. This doesn’t mean the end of that relationship.”
He exhales a shaky breath. “I’m hurting, baby.”
“I know.”
We stand like this, holding onto each other, feeling that hurt and that pain because there’s no use running from it. It will find you anyway.
Then a couple of doctors step out of the room and everyone gets to their feet.
Magnus and I break apart, holding each other’s hands tight as we face them all.
The doctor says a bunch of something in Norwegian. There’s a pause and then he continues, and everyone gasps.