CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Glen
Norwegian.
Ain’t a language I ever thought I might learn.
I’ve got stacks of language books, a dictionary, and even audio guides.
Olav has told me to learn as much as I can, and I want to impress the king.
Orange and red flames dance in the hearth, unencumbered by the need to learn grammar.
Olav has installed me in the living room, and my heart jumps when I see the king. I don’t want him to think I’m going teenage crush on him, like the people who buy the magazines with his pictures in them, just to get a proper look at him, even if it’s the 2-D, non-talking version.
The king steps inside the room, and I scramble for what to say, flipping through my notes. “Jeg heter Glen. Hva heter du?”
“My name is Erik.”
I frown. “You were supposed to say that in Norwegian.”
“Jeg heter Erik.”
I beam at him, then look at my notes for the right response. My head is foggy in his presence.
His eyes soften. “I brought you some hot cocoa. Gunnhild gave it to me. She likes you a lot.”
I take the mug, and if my hands brush his, I try not to dwell on the sudden warmth and sudden zing. I sip my cocoa hastily. My throat floods with chocolate and whipped cream. “This is delicious.”
“Naturally. Everything in Solberg is delicious.”
“You’re an excellent king.”
He smiles, but there’s something melancholic about it.
“I’ll...um...” He shifts his legs.
I’m not ready for him to patter away to another room. Even when he’s not in my presence, I’ll be thinking about him.
I gesture to the spot next to me on the sofa. “Sit.”
He settles down tentatively, perched on the end of the sofa. He’d be shocked if he saw how I generally sit on sofas, feet up on one armrest, head perched on the throw pillows.
“What’s troubling you?” I ask, though I reckon I know the answer.
People can tell I’m not your normal royal fiancé. I want to learn as much Norwegian as I can for him. I want to study up on Solbergian culture. I want people to think the best of the king, and for that, I must be the best.
“I’ve shocked my people,” King Erik says finally.
“I’ll try to be a good fiancé,” I promise. “I will. Olav told me you have a big Christmas ball in a few days. I can handle it, I swear.”
Erik glances at the textbooks piled around me. “You’re trying to learn Norwegian?”
“Ja.”
He smiles. “Is that why you left dinner early last night?”
“I left after the others,” I say, wondering if I did something wrong. I’ve tried hard to do things correctly. “Should I have...?”
But I guess I should have stayed.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t want you to have to make conversation with me.”
“I enjoy conversing with you.” He averts his gaze, and for some reason his cheeks are rosier than before. Maybe it’s the fireplace.
“How are people taking the engagement?” I ask.
“Better than I expected.”
“I’m glad. So bi, huh?”
King Erik looks down, staring at the melting whipped cream. “Yes. Not that I’ve ever...”
His eyes round, like he’s said too much.
I return my gaze to the fireplace. I’m not in the habit of forcing people to reveal things they have no interest in revealing.
“You were married a long time,” I say finally.
“Anders is sixteen, and we didn’t have a shotgun wedding.”
“I’m sorry your wife passed away.”
“I’m sorry your husband passed away.”
“Tell me about Christmas in Solberg.”
“It’s Christmas. I know it’s a pain...”
My eyes widen. “Christmas is never a pain.” I laugh. “You must be doing Christmas wrong.”
He moves back.
Oh, no.
I’m not supposed to tell a king that he’s doing things wrong. Olav would disapprove.
In the next moment though, the king laughs. It comes out more like a guffaw, and his eyes round.
I chuckle. “Reckon I’m not supposed to insult your Christmas habits.”
“That’s quite fine,” he assures me. “Just unexpected.”
“What do you say we go to the Christmas market?”
He stiffens. “I never go to the Christmas market.”
“It’s right at your doorstep.”
“Yes, but...” He frowns. “It’s not kingly.”
“How’s that?”
“Normal people visit the Christmas market. The types of people who have first and last names, and not titles and first names.”
“Ah, I know you have a last name,” I say. “Olav was teaching me about that.”
“No one uses it,” King Erik says.
“You want me to call you Mr. Solbakken?”
“You have been studying.” He utters a sort of gaspy laugh, then his gaze darts to the open door.
“Don’t worry about what anyone thinks,” I murmur, keeping my voice low, because I know the king is shy, no matter how much he hypes himself up to make bold proclamations.
“I have to be royal,” he says. “To represent Solberg.”
“You don’t think they’ll like that they’re being represented by a happy man?”
He tilts his head, and I know those royal gears are moving.
“All the people in the other countries will be jealous, because their royals look glum and serious,” I tell him. “It’s practically a matter of national pride.”
“I suppose we could go to the Christmas market,” he says finally. “Since it is in a very convenient location.”
I clap my hands. “Yee-haw!”
I high-five him, and his eyes round.
“We’re going to have a great time,” I promise as the king examines his hand. “Maybe you’ll find a new hot chocolate flavor you like more.”
“I always get this kind,” he says. “It’s Solbergian tradition.”
“You haven’t drunk any.”
“They’ll be sad if they think they were giving me something I didn’t like.”
“That’s awfully thoughtful of you,” I say, because it sure as heck is. “They’ll just think you’re expanding your palette.”
He frowns.
“I know you want to break from your royal mold,” I say, and pink spreads over his pretty cheeks, and he looks down.
The king needs a distraction.
I look around. “Where’s your TV?”
“We have a royal viewing room.”
“Does the royal viewing room play Christmas movies?”
He smiles. “It can.”
“I’ll tell Max, you can tell Anders.”
We separate, but when I go to Max’s room, it’s empty. I’m glad he’s no longer upset about being here, though I wonder where he is.
King Erik joins me in the corridor. “They’re in Anders room.”
“Truly?”
“They fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake them.”
“Oh.” I grin.
“Want to watch a movie by ourselves?” His fingers fidget, like I’ll only want to be around him if our children are present.
“Yes,” I say. “I’d like that very much.”
He beams, then after I carry Max to his bedroom and help him get ready for bed, I join Erik in the movie room and tell myself I’m not in deep trouble.