The Wicked Prince

by Wood, Vivian

She tosses them on her desk and then kicks back in her chair. “I’m familiar, yes.”

  I clear my throat, unwilling to be shamed. Not for this, at least.

  “I think that this is a bad idea,” I say. “I’m not sure why the order came from the royal family… but I have a bad feeling about it. Why sign up for something when I know out of the gate that I am going to be manipulated in some way?”

  Anna glances at her watch and sighs. “This has honestly taken up more time than I care to devote to it. Either take the assignment or don’t…” She smiles coolly. “But if you don’t, you can kiss writing goodbye for a year. You can run research and get coffee for the office but bylines are saved for those who write whatever they are assigned.”

  My mouth falls open. “But... I mean…” I shoot to my feet, alarmed. “I… I don’t mean to be picky…”

  She stands up, folding her arms across her chest. “Yes or no?”

  I quail. “Uhh…”

  “Get out,” she says, making a sour face. “I have to call the press office at the palace and tell them that you said no.”

  A gray-haired man appears in the doorway of Anna’s office. He’s older, maybe in his late sixties, and impeccably dressed. From the way that Anna and Pippa straighten when they see him, I gather that he’s fairly important.

  “Is this Margot?” he asks, smiling widely.

  He sticks out his hand to me. I take it, not particularly understanding.

  “Hi. Margot Keane.”

  “Margot, I am Emil Dall. I’m the managing editor here at Politiken. I was told you are going to be handling the profile of our royal prince!”

  My face heats. “Well, I mean… Anna did bring it up, but I just told her that I don’t want— “

  He cuts me off, not even pretending to listen to my jabbering.

  “Great! Anna will give you all the guidance you need. Not that we will be seeing much of you… From what I gather, you will be assigned to shadow Prince Stellan for a few weeks.”

  “But— “

  “And did Anna tell you about what we are offering as incentive to finish this piece?”

  My eyebrows go up. So do Anna’s… which I think means she’s as in the dark as I am.

  “No…” I say slowly.

  Emil smiles even more widely, showcasing his teeth. “We are looking for someone to run the arts and entertainment desk. If you take the job, you would be editing all the pieces and pitching your own ideas. It would be a huge thing for your career. You would be at the bottom of the editors food chain but above all the reporters. Ja?”

  My eyes widen. Anna makes a choking sound, turning away and reaching for a glass of water on her desk. I glance at Pippa, who gives me a look that says duh! take it!

  I clear my throat. “Thanks. I guess… I mean, how can I say no?”

  “That’s the spirit!” cheers Emil. “You will do great, I’m sure.”

  He turns to Anna, saying something pointed to her in Danish. Anna’s face colors a little but she just nods and thanks him.

  “It was nice to meet you, Margot.” He smiles at everyone, puts his hands together, and bows. Then he marches out of Anna’s office.

  Pippa reaches out to me, her eyes wide. “He doesn’t even know my name. And I’ve worked here for over a year!”

  Anna glowers at us. “I’m glad that you changed your mind, Margot. You do realize that you will need to be extremely respectful when you are dealing with the royal family, ja?”

  I wrinkle my nose. My heart still gallops against my ribs. “I know how to act. I wasn’t raised by wolves or anything.”

  Anna’s eyebrows lift a fraction. “I don’t understand what you mean. What is raised by wolves?”

  Yikes. Everyone I’ve encountered so far has spoken flawless English; clearly, I need to brush up on my Danish, not the other way around.

  “I’m sorry, I— “

  Anna flicks her hand at me impatiently. “Go set up your employee email and further instructions about this assignment will be sent soon. Now if you would kindly get out of my office, I’ve got an actual job to do.”

  She makes a shooing motion with her hands as she sits down again, pointedly looking at her computer instead of us. I beat Pippa in the rush to get out of her office and out of Anna’s earshot.

  Pippa pulls me over to her cubicle, still agog. “I can’t believe this is happening. Emil is a really big deal in journalism here. There’s an award with his name on it given out yearly to the best journalist.”

  I pull a chair over from an empty desk and sag into it. Pippa sits in her chair, biting her lip. I lean back, looking up at the ceiling as I let out a sigh.

  “What in the world am I doing?” I wonder out loud. “Other than upsetting the natural order of things by getting orders from the royal palace or what the fuck ever.”

  Pippa sucks in a breath. “Oh god. Do you think…”

  I glance at her. “What?”

  “Do you think that Stellan asked for you?”

  For a foolish second, my heart clatters around in my chest. Did he? Could it have been him?

  Then I frown and shake that thought from my head. “I don’t know. My guess would be no. But then again, I clearly have no idea who is pulling the strings around here.”

  “Hmm.” She puffs out her cheeks. “I can try to find out whenever I talk to Lars next.”

  Her familiarity with the royal family makes me give her a crooked smile. “Sure, Pips.”

  She bites at her fingernail, swiveling toward her computer. “All right. In the meantime, let’s get your email set up…”

  I bob my head, sighing.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stellan

  “But what if instead of going to this factory and doing a tour, we all just commit suicide instead?” my little sister says, sighing as she looks out the window of the car we’re being shuttled in. Annika is only eighteen and the baby of my family. She’s also the weirdo.

  I say that with love, as the twenty six year old black sheep of the family.

  I cock a brow. “That doesn’t sound particularly productive.”

  She brightens. “Maybe, as the royal family, we should declare that the nuclear threat to our nation is viable. And that we should, as a nation, move underground. We can all become mole people. Ooh! This factory can be the base from where we start the revolution!”

  She wiggles her delicate blonde eyebrows and grins. She looks classically Danish: light blonde hair, bright blue eyes, with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She’s always full of her unique sense of humor, although it is a bit morbid.

  “Mole people, huh?” I repress a sigh and look away, out the window as the city falls away behind us.

  My best friend Erik looks back at both of us from the passenger seat of the SUV.

  “Annika, we will be at this factory for a grand total of four hours, tops. I don’t think we will have the time to overthrow the government.” He runs a hand through his dirty blond, close cropped hair, shifting in the passenger seat. All six and a half feet of him is barely confined in the front seat and he doesn’t look comfortable.

  Coming in just an inch shorter than him, I can sympathize. Annika is tall for a girl, but when she walks between Erik and me, she looks downright dainty.

  She throws Erik a grin. “You don’t think that’s enough time? Maybe you’re just not as efficient as I am.”

  Erik rolls his eyes. “I’m much more efficient than any of you Løves. That’s what being raised as a non-royal amongst royals does to a person.”

  I frown a little. “Erik, when we were growing up, you went to the same palace tutors as I did. You played the same sports. You even joined the same military regiment as me. Don’t act like you’re exactly a normal person.”

  He smiles coolly at me. “And yet… one of us will be a king and the other will not.”

  My neck heats. He has always had a funny knack for putting his finger right on the pulse of the issue.

 
; Annika wrinkles her nose, looking at me. “All I know is that you both owe me big time. Momse wanted to send Lars or Finn along with you on this little trip, even after the disastrously bad way they handled things at the Easter egg hunt. I convinced her that I am the superior choice.” She grins, showing her teeth. “You’re welcome.”

  I ignore that. Of my four siblings though, she is unquestionably my favorite. It doesn’t hurt that Annika knows exactly when to put on the saccharide smile and when to keep her mouth shut.

  Unlike Finn, Lars, and Anders…

  “How are my little brothers doing these days?” I ask, looking at her out of the corner of my eye. “Is Anders back from Malaysia or Madagascar or wherever he went?”

  “Morocco,” Erik chimes in. “He’s been in Casablanca.”

  “He’s just come back.” Annika looks bored. “Lars and Finn have been relatively quiet too. I think Finn is doing some survival fitness thing in the Swiss Alps… and you should know better than I where Lars is. Didn’t he go to New York with you two?”

  Erik chuckles, which earns him a glare from me.

  “We had to leave him there in our rush to get back,” I say evenly. “Duty called back here at home.”

  Annika smirks and rolls her eyes.

  “Speaking of being the heir to the throne… I hear that we are going to meet Margot today.” She purses her lips. “You remember Margot, don’t you? Pink hair? An ass that won’t quit? Hooked up with you and somehow everybody in the world found out about it?”

  My eyes narrow to slits. “Yes, I remember.”

  Erik adjusts his mass in the front seat, sliding a look over at the driver. The driver doesn’t even look at him, just keeps his eyes on the road. Erik shrugs.

  “I would rather we deal with the situation like this than have some royal fixer have to go clean it up afterward.”

  He makes eye contact with me when he says the last bit. My neck heats again.

  He’s referencing the same thing that my grandmother did. The time when I was nineteen and acting out, drinking a lot and doing a lot of cocaine. I called Ida while I was strung out on drugs and desperate because I’d ended up in a motel with a girl who lost consciousness.

  The royal fixers swept in and cleaned everything up. I was sent to dry out in Spain; Mathilde, a hard-core party girl and sometimes friend, ended up in a coma that lapsed into a vegetative state.

  I look at the driver, my mouth twisting. There are a ton of things I feel on the topic of Mathilde, but I’m not willing to risk saying any of them out loud in front of the driver. Besides, Annika doesn’t even know.

  No one does, outside of my grandmother, Erik, and the royal fixers. I clear my throat and rub my temples.

  “Are we almost there yet?” I grit out.

  Erik sighs, looking at his phone. “Ja, we’re only a minute away.”

  When we arrive at the large factory, I look up at the two-story slab of cement. I’m strangely nervous, though I would guess that has more to do with Margot being here than the public nature of my visit. “What does this place make again?”

  Erik consults his phone. “Porcelain plates.”

  “Mole people will probably make porcelain plates their first form of currency,” Annika says, straightening her aquamarine dress.

  I shake my head as I stride up to the factory. I mirror her, shaking the wrinkles out from my light gray suit. Adjusting my powder blue tie, I shake hands with the owner of the plant and several other people that are deemed important.

  “God morgen.” I smile and shake hands with another man whose name I will not remember. “Det er godt at være her. Ja tak, hvis det ikke er til besvær.”

  Good morning. It is good to be here. Thank you so much for taking the time to show me around.

  Smile, shake hands, repeat until I’m sick with it. Just part of being the crown prince, I guess.

  All the while, I’m scanning the small crowd that has gathered by the front doors to meet me. Annika is all smiles and zero sarcastic comments as she shakes hands to my left. Erik is his usual brooding self as he hovers by my right side, shaking hands only when they are thrust at him.

  As I am ushered inside, I spot Margot standing in the entryway there, just out of the way. Her hair is still pink and long, pulled up in a messy bun. She’s still petite, her face still sweetly heart-shaped.

  But this time instead of her short plaid skirt and a Hole t-shirt ripped in a dozen places, she’s wearing a pair of sensible black dress pants and a black blazer. She still rocks her pink Converse and what looks like a band t-shirt under the blazer.

  And looking at her still makes my heart lurch and stutter.

  God, if she even hints at feeling the same way about me, I will be so completely, utterly fucked. All I have known up until now is duty.

  But one look at Margot, at her beauty and her unbridled enthusiasm for life, and that all falls away. I can’t ever let her know that she makes my heart race; if she has the slightest idea what is going on in my head right now, she could close her fist and crumple me like a sheet of paper.

  It’s time to put on my mask.

  Tamping down on my facial expression, I turn my head away and pay closer attention to what the factory owner is saying to me now. Something about the plates his factory makes… something dull, no doubt.

  But out of the corner of my eye, I watch Margot turn around and lay eyes on me properly. Time slows down. Her eyes widen, her breath catches.

  There is something magical about the effect we have on each other, even from thirty paces away. Something electric. For just the briefest moment, we are the only two people in the whole world.

  This, this is the reason that she had me teetering on the edge of falling for her.

  “Stellan,” Erik says, elbowing me. “The plant manager just asked if we would like a tour. I think we would, don’t you?”

  I pull my gaze away from Margot and zero in on the people I’m supposed to be talking to. “Ja, ja. Hvis du venligst.”

  The plant manager beams like this is the most exciting thing that has ever happened in her whole career. She ushers us all down the hall and through a series of doors.

  For the next half an hour I put on a thoughtful face, sometimes switching it up for an astonished one. Everyone’s eyes are on me, making sure that I’m pleased with the porcelain plates.

  I honestly couldn’t give half a fuck, but I nod and smile. Annika nods and smiles too, and interjects questions where they are appropriate. We are more than just ourselves to these people, after all…

  We are two members of the royal family and the rulers of Denmark. I don’t even have to remind myself to keep up a cool and aloof veneer around normal people.

  I think they are as alien to me as I am to them, honestly.

  When we are done with the shaking hands and smiling portion of the morning, Erik wordlessly offers me a squirt of hand sanitizer. And I take it; this gesture is repeated so often on days like today that it’s almost second nature for me.

  Margot is at a table by herself, admiring a stack of plates. I clear my throat, adjust my tie, and walk over. When she looks up, she bites her lip. Her dark blue eyes are full of unanswered questions.

  “Haj,” I greet her.

  Her eyes tighten on my face. Then she actually curtsies, a tiny smirk on her perfectly pouty lips. “Your highness.”

  For some reason, that throws me off balance. I frown. “I take it you survived the media vultures that circled you, looking for any little scrap of information?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. I mean, they drove me out of New York City, if that’s what you mean by survived.” She tilts her head, her eerily blue eyes pinning me. “It would’ve been better if the whole situation hadn’t ever happened though.”

  I push my tongue out into my cheek. Part of me wants to apologize for everything that happened. But the wiser part of me insists on being thorny. She won’t get close if I am just a complete jerk to her.

  “Ja, it would’ve be
en better. I like to keep my private life exactly that… private.”

  She turns to me, folding her arms across her chest. “You threw me to the wolves, Stellan. You packed up and fled New York and then I was just there, unable to leave my house.” Her expression turns sour. “I guess that will teach me to go home with people who I don’t know anything about.”

  She’s right. Absolutely, completely right. But I’ve decided to go this direction, to throw up my walls. There is no stopping now.

  I heave a silent sigh, my eyes wandering to the rest of the people at the factory. “I’m sorry. I did try to warn you…”

  A laugh bubbles up from her chest. “Yeah, once the media already knew about me. You could’ve told me who you were when I met you.”

  A cold smile curls the corners of my mouth. “And you could’ve asked. But you didn’t. And I had no choice but to turn tail and run. The paparazzi in your city are merciless. At least now that you are here, you are getting something in return for spending the night with me, ja?”

  Her eyes widen and her mouth opens. “Are you serious? It’s not like I did this for any kind of fame! And to accuse me of… of riding your coattails… it’s ridiculous!” Her voice drops as she leans closer. “I made the best of a very bad situation. That’s it.”

  My voice lowers. “Well, you signed a nondisclosure agreement. Which basically means that the royal family has complete control of anything you write and anything you say about me.” I smirk. “So I would suggest that you keep it professional, okay?”

  “Ugh!” she says, looking offended. “As if I would write about our… fling. You are so… so…. arrogant! And spoiled! And full of yourself to boot.”

  Drawing myself up to my full height, I scowl at her words. I’m not a monster, though of course she can’t know that. But still… the fact that I have some sort of feelings for her only makes her barbs all the sharper.

  I cock a brow, throwing it right back at her. “Ja? I bet you would do anything to get your name in the papers again.”

  Margot draws herself up to her full height, which isn’t very tall at all. “You wish. I bet you have entire fantasies about being one of my conquests again.”