A Nordic King

by Halle, Karina

  “Nooo,” Lars cries out dramatically.

  “Well, then be quiet.” I turn back around. “Let’s see if that holds.”

  “I wish my own children gave me the same respect that my country does,” Aksel laments with an exaggerated sigh.

  “That’s what you get for putting more heirs out into the world,” I say. I glance at my children in the rearview mirror and even though they’re a lot to handle most days, having little princes and princesses, I wouldn’t change them for the world.

  There’s Princess Clara, who is now eleven years old, smart as a whip and endlessly sassy. She’s recently gone from vegetarian to full-on vegan, much to the agony of her father. She likes for me to dye her hair wild colors every Friday night with wash-out foam, wears a lot of purple and denim, and reads as much as she can. She’s recently started taking up pottery as a hobby and I like to think that it was that priceless Greek vase all those years ago that got her interested.

  Then there’s her sister, Princess Freja. Freja is ten and she’s both cheeky and devious as well as extremely sensitive and poetic. She likes to read too, but also write. She fills notebooks and sketchbooks up with poetry and drawings and short stories. She’s also in the boy crazy stage, is in love with all the K-Pop boys that she listens to non-stop, and she hates the fact that she has to wear glasses now. She’s one of the quiet ones but it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

  Of course, both princesses are stunning. They really do look a lot like Helena, with Aksel’s height thrown in. By the time they’re teens, they’re going to tower over me.

  They’re in the very back of the SUV, probably because they can hide and get into more trouble back there. Right behind Aksel and I, though, are the twins.

  Emil and Lars. Five years old. Born five minutes apart.

  Even though they’re identical twins, I swear Emil takes after me and Lars takes after his father. Aksel says I’m crazy and that they look the same and it’s more that Emil acts like me and Lars acts like him.

  I’m still not sure.

  Emil is charming. He’s all smiles, all day long. He’s a big goof too and loves music, always dancing around with Freja to her K-Pop obsession. He’s really into horses at the moment, but last week it was whales, and I’m sure next week it will be alligators or something. He’s curious, always wanting to know more about the world, and his favorite thing to do is jump on the bed in the morning and give me a hug. He’s my own bit of sunshine.

  Oh, and when he smiles, you can see his incisors, so that’s why I think he takes after me.

  When it comes to Lars, though he’s curious, he’s also serious. He rarely smiles unless it’s about a fart joke and then he can’t stop laughing. It might also be his laugh that’s the issue, since it’s loud and squeaky and he tends to fart when he’s laughing, which makes everyone else laugh and then he laughs more and anyway, who knew that having boys resulted in a palace filled with farts?

  His favorite thing to do is go sailing with his father (I like to stay on shore, thank you very much) and learn other languages. So far, he’s got English, Danish, and Swedish down but he says he wants to learn Italian next. I think it’s because his favorite meal is spaghetti and meatballs…with herring.

  So those are the major changes over the last five years. I’m Queen Aurora now (much better than Princess Aurora). Aksel and I were married within a few months of him proposing and by that time I was already pregnant. All that baby-making paid off.

  I honestly didn’t think I could be happier, feel this kind of joy, that I do nearly every day. We still have Snarf Snarf too, because that pig is going to live forever, but we also have a huge Newfoundland dog called Pilot, because one animal isn’t enough and Aksel still has a weak spot when it comes to his daughters.

  As for Nicklas, the ex-butler, well he did write his book in the end. No Danish publisher wanted to touch him, especially when it was leaked that he was the snitch in the royal palace, but eventually a British publisher picked him up.

  The book didn’t go anywhere. He was dropped.

  It could have just been about his life as a butler and the real involvement of Aksel in the accident and perhaps people would have believed it.

  But he went on and on about sordid, dirty details of the royal family, including a lot about Helena. Like, sexual stuff. Private stuff. It was pure drivel and malicious, with everyone assuming it was made up. All the publishers expected Aksel to sue for libel, so they didn’t want to take the chance. The guy even tried to go the self-publishing route, but the Danish royal family was quick to threaten a lawsuit.

  That said, the Danish royal family now consists of just me, Aksel and Stella.

  Aksel and Stella’s mother, Queen Liva, died a couple of months ago. Luckily Aksel was able to get closure with her over the years, coming to terms with their relationship. Even though she rarely recognized him, on the days that she did remember, she was kind and remorseful. They never had the mother/son relationship that Aksel wanted, and she never gave him the love he needed, but at least in the end, he was able to salvage the distance that had grown between them.

  He gave a stirring speech at her funeral, which was televised across the nation. Every time I see Aksel give a speech in front of his country, I see him transformed into a king. It’s not that he isn’t, it’s just as the years go on, he wears his crown with pride. He’s become someone that people need and more than that, he’s started believing they need him. That he’s worthy of it. He rises to the occasion, born to be a leader and a ruler.

  Born to be mine.

  I’m so, so lucky that he’s mine. I’m so, so lucky that six years ago he agreed to hire me. And I’m so lucky that I didn’t give up when the going got tough—not on myself, not on the girls, not on him. I didn’t give up on love, even when it was drowning me. Being a queen isn’t an easy role and I have some very pretty and beloved shoes to fill, but I can do it with my king, with my love, at my side.

  I have no greater proof of his devotion to me than right now.

  We’re currently in an SUV, driving across the dry outback of Queensland, heading closer to the border with South Australia.

  Heading to Windorah.

  Behind us is another car with Maja, who is still spritely at her age, and Johan at the wheel.

  And behind them is Henrik, driving the royal attendants.

  Rich, red dust rises up behind our mini convoy, spreading across the desolate brushland.

  We’ve been driving forever at this point and my hometown seems to get further and further away.

  Of course, we could have flown in a little plane.

  And, of course, Aksel didn’t have to drive at all.

  But after what happened with his mother, I felt the need to make peace with mine. And even though my mother can’t be located by any means, and I know she’s no longer in Windorah, I figured I need closure in other ways. Just to see the pub, just to see the shack. Just to see the life I used to have and say goodbye to it. No more demons, no more pain. I’m moving on and the guilt can stay behind.

  So Aksel insisted on a family trip to Australia and then he insisted on reliving his ex-rally driving days and driving us there. Naturally I’ve been keeping him from going too fast since we have our little princes and princesses in the car and with there being no bends or turns in the road whatsoever, it probably doesn’t feel like racing at all.

  But to Aksel, it’s freedom.

  Window down, arm outside, the hot air blowing back his hair, Aksel feels free.

  And I will soon too.

  It’s another three hours until we finally hit the outskirts of town and thank god for that, because everyone has had to go pee and there hasn’t been a single rest station or even tree on the side of the road to do your business behind.

  The town is even smaller than I remember. It’s just a road with a few houses scattered about. There’s the petrol station/dairy and a farm and feed store and…the pub.

  It looks the same as
it did, all peeling paint and clapboard sides, dust that’s been permanently etched onto the windows. Aksel asks if I want to go inside but I don’t. I just want to see it in passing, to know it’s still there, to know it has no hold on me anymore.

  We keep driving, past a cattle ranch and then down an even worse dirt road and then suddenly we’re here. Both the cars behind us have stopped further up the road to give me some privacy.

  “Is this it?” Clara asks, peering out the window as we come to a stop in a dusty driveway.

  “Yes,” I say, breathless already, as I slowly step out of the car.

  I barely feel the cramps in my legs from being in the car all day, my eyes are focused on the shack.

  It looks a lot better now or maybe it was never that bad. About three rooms, single story, tin roof. There’s a porch with a sagging couch and a screen door that’s not shut properly.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Aksel asks, getting out of his side.

  I shake my head. “Take the kids to pee behind that tree.”

  I walk toward the shack, slowly, as if in a dream. In fact, I have to pinch myself a few times.

  Is this real?

  Am I really here?

  Who am I?

  But then the screen door is pushed forward, and a black and white cattle dog comes bounding out, tail wagging.

  “Hey boy,” I say to him as he comes over to me, happy and excited. I have no idea who this dog is, but I do love dogs and they do love me. I still have a sweater that says so.

  I crouch down to pet him, and he starts licking me up the side of the face just as someone else comes out of the screen door.

  It’s a woman, younger than me, and a little bit pregnant.

  “Hi,” she says warily. She’s pretty, white teeth, very tanned. She’s in dirty work boots and a brown floral dress. “Can I help you?”

  The dog runs over to her and now the woman is distracted by my kids, who all come running forward, and Aksel in the background, pissing on a tree.

  “No,” I tell her, smiling big, hoping she doesn’t think we’re here to rob her or pee on her trees. “Sorry to just show up like this but I used to live here.”

  She’s taken aback and walks off the porch, wiping her hands on her dress.

  “You used to live here?”

  “I did. Long, long time ago. I haven’t been back here for, maybe, fifteen years.”

  “I hear your accent now,” she says, nodding. “It’s getting stronger as you talk.”

  “Anyway,” I say, shrugging. “I just wanted to look at it and see if it’s still here. It is. Sorry to bother you.”

  The kids are now running around with the dog, and Aksel comes over, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  “Hi,” he says to her with a nod.

  “Hi,” she says, then sticks out her hand. “I’m Meredith.”

  Aksel shakes it. “Aksel. This is Aurora.”

  “Aurora,” Meredith muses. “I can’t say I remember your name being mentioned.” I almost say I was Rory back then, but I don’t. Rory is gone. “We actually moved in about four years ago. My husband, Jim, he started up an emu farm.”

  “Emus!” Emil yells, abandoning the others and the dog and running over to us. “You have Emus.”

  “Yes, he’s out there with them right now.” She gestures with her head to a small hill I used to climb when I was young. She peers at us. “You have very interesting accents. Where are the rest of you from?”

  “Denmark!” Emil exclaims. “My name is Prince Emil and that’s my brother, Prince Lars and we’re twins.”

  “Oh, really,” she says, smiling at them, completely amused.

  “They’re going through a phase,” I lean in and say under my breath, not needing for her to know who we really are.

  “Well I’m having a little prince myself,” Meredith says, putting her hands on her belly.

  “You don’t have royal family in Australia,” Clara yells over at us.

  “It’s a figure of speech, Clara,” I yell back.

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Listen,” Meredith says. “You’ve come such a long way to see this place. Would you like to come in for some supper? Maybe a spot of tea?”

  “Oh no, no,” I tell her. “Please, we just wanted to see it, that’s all.”

  “But I insist.”

  “You’re cooking for three, not for nine,” I remind her, stunned by her generosity.

  “Thank you for the offer but we couldn’t impose on you.”

  “I could help cook,” Aksel offers.

  I stare at him, trying to shoot what are you doing messages with my eyes. “You can’t even heat up soup!”

  “I’m a good cook,” Freja speaks up. “Karla taught me how to make sous vide the other day.”

  I can tell Meredith does not know what to make of us. “I must say, I’ve never had sous vide and I’m not sure what it is. But we do have a bloody lot of ground emu, some chicken too. And my veggie garden has really taken off. Lots of aubergine and courgettes.”

  “Good, because I’m vegan,” Clara announces, coming over to us, hands on her hips.

  Oh, please, no lectures, I think.

  “I used to be a vegetarian,” Meredith says to her, “before this baby of mine started craving meat. Come on, come inside and have a rest. I’ll fix you all up something.”

  “Yay! Emus!” Emil yells, running around, pretending to flap his wings.

  Aksel leans into me. “Someone ought to tell him it’s what’s for dinner.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Okay, well thank you so much,” I tell her. “Kids, why don’t you stay out here, out of our hair. Just don’t touch anything except the dog.”

  “His name is Otis,” Meredith says as she starts toward the house.

  “Otis,” I tell them. “Everything else you come across out here, ignore it. It will probably kill you.”

  But the kids aren’t listening to me because they never do. They go back to chasing the dog around the driveway.

  Aksel leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m going to grab my phone and text Maja and the others, let them know we’ll be having dinner here. There’s food at the pub for them, right?”

  I let out a dry laugh. “There should be. But if Henrik can convince Maja to eat anything on the menu, I want a picture.”

  He grins. “You’re handling all this so well.” He brushes a strand of hair off my face. “I’m proud of you.”

  I nod. “It feels like this place has another life now. And it’s a good one.”

  “A second chance.”

  “Another life and a second chance. It doesn’t get better than that.”

  I look around at the red dust and the shack and the life I have now colliding with the life I had then. And I was right.

  It doesn’t get better.

  THE END

  Thank you all so much for reading A Nordic King!

  Reviews of this book and others are much appreciated!

  —> If you leave a review of A NORDIC KING on Amazon, drop me an email at KarinaHalleANK@gmail.com until October 5th 2018, I’ll send you a signed Nordic King postcard as a thank you (open only for US addresses, only valid until October 5th). <—

  If you’re wanting to check out any of my other romances, I have TOO MANY to list, but here are some of my favourites (and all are available on Kindle Unlimited):

  - THE WILD HEIR (Prince Magnus of Norway’s story)

  - THE SWEDISH PRINCE (Prince Viktor of Sweden’s story)

  - BAD AT LOVE (a quirky friends-to-lovers romance)

  - BEFORE I EVER MET YOU ( young single mom falls for her father’s best friend)

  - LOVE IN ENGLISH (the ultimate forbidden romance with the sexiest Spanish soccer star ever)

  - THE PACT (two best friends agree to marry each other by the time they’re thirty)

  - THE NORTH RIDGE SERIES (A trilogy about three rugged mountain men from Canada with very dangerous and thrilling jobs and the w
omen who love them)

  -> If you want to connect with me, you can always find me on Instagram (where I post travel photos, fashion, teasers, etc, IG IS MY LIFE and the easiest place to find me online)

  -> or in my Facebook Group (we’re a fun bunch and would love to have you join)

  -> Otherwise, feel free to signup for my mailing list (it comes once a month) and Bookbub alerts!

  Acknowledgments

  Some stories haunt you until you give them power.

  I’d been dreaming about King Aksel and Aurora for most of the year, these characters occupying my head, heart, and soul even as I wrote other books, even as I took a long (much needed) break from writing.

  Finally, I sat down and got serious and let these two characters come out to play.

  What a seriously beautiful and romantic ride A Nordic King was for me, and I hope for you. Endlessly inspired by Jane Eyre and classic fairy-tales, I wanted a tale of redemption beneath all the agonizing sexual tension and banter.

  I wanted to show two people who were wearing masks, what it’s like to finally let them slip, to show each other who they are.

  I wanted to show King Aksel falling to his knees and giving into real LOVE for the first time ever.

  And he falls hard. That wonderfully obsessive love that only first loves have, a lot that he has for Aurora.

  Who doesn’t dream of stripping away the layers of a cold and rigid man to find a pure heart pumping underneath?

  Anyway, this book was such a delight for me to write, a story I wanted to wrap myself up in and live in, and I really hope it spoke to you too. Thank you for being so patient and waiting for Aksel and Aurora to arrive.

  I have so many people to thank:

  My sweet Nina who forces me to talk to her on the phone even though I hate talking on the phone but I’ll do it to hear that Southern drawl of hers, THANK YOU. You are the mustard paste to my rye bread and I couldn’t do this without you.

  Same goes for Chanpreet, you are a super-star lady! And we’re so alike, only I’m not organized and you are, so really you complete me.