A Nordic King(3)

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.