Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Which is when my phone rings, startling me. Some twisted part of me still hopes it’s Aidan for a brief moment. Then, Freja’s name appears on the screen.
Shit. I forgot to call her back earlier. I answer.
“Hi, sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier… it’s been a bit of a day.” My lips twitch.
“Hi.” She’s unusually curt, a slight edge to her voice.
Father’s passing last summer also meant my sister, Freja, moved from Crown Princess to Queen, with a large public celebration of her coronation scheduled this summer, following last year’s Proclamation.
I promised I wouldn’t do anything to embarrass her in the months running up to the coronation event.
That I’d be a model of comportment and dignified behavior.
To my credit, everything had been fairly smooth the last few months, thanks to falling for Aidan. And now, Aidan’s unraveled everything.
“Is everything alright?” I try breezily, gazing at the pale ceiling, the white coving trim that encircles the room. “You don’t usually call. Is Mamma okay?”
“She’s fine.” Still curt. There’s some strain to her voice.
“Are you fine?”
There’s no way this debacle with Aidan would have hit the Danish press yet. Or news of my alleged affair with Stefanos the cherry on top of Aidan’s tell-alls, like we’re on an episode of Renaissance Man.
“Yes. No. It’s why I’m calling.” Freja falters.
I can envision her fidgeting with her long blonde hair.
She doesn’t sound angry, at least. Maybe she hasn’t seen the news about me after all.
Or maybe it’s not about me. My shoulders relax a little.
Ethan’s called me out before for acting like the world revolves around me.
James’ counterpoint is that I just need a bigger orbit.
I draw in a deep breath, sitting up. “You’re pregnant?” Bit of a scandal, seeing as she’s unmarried.
“Theo! No. Of course not.”
“Sorry.” I’m not entirely sorry for this, because getting a rise out of her is a thrill as her pesky younger brother. “Well? Out with it.”
“I… I wish we could talk in person. Are you coming home soon?” She sounds nervous.
“Should I?” I ask, now wary. My jaw tightens.
Sitting up, I swing my feet to the floor, staring down at my pink-and-red striped wool socks.
“No, sorry. No plans to come home to visit in the next few weeks.” Though getting away from the pap—and Aidan—has a certain appeal to forget my troubles.
“I’m afraid you’ll just need to talk to me like this. We could do a video call.”
“No, no.” She’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know how to tell you this. But… I’ve fallen in love.”
I suck back a deep breath to the bottom of my lungs, hugely relieved. “That’s brilliant news! Fuck, you scared me. Why do you sound so worried, then? Do you need some dating advice from me? Which, I’ve got to say, is a first. But I’m happy to help you out.”
I can totally fake advice for her love life. Starting with: don’t act like an arse.
“I don’t need dating advice.”
There goes my opening. The frown returns, with adjacent brow-furrowing. “Then?”
“He’s… he’s American. He runs an animal rescue. We met at a charity ball some time ago. And then we fell in love.” There’s dead air for a moment that hangs sharp between us. “And… I’m moving to America, Theo.”
“You… what?” The frown deepens. Hopping up to pace, my mind races to make sense of this. “Freja, you’re about to be celebrated as the new Queen this summer. Have you forgotten? I’m sure there’s an app you can use to remind you if you need help—”
“I… we got married. In secret. Obviously.”
I splutter, stopping dead in my tracks, flailing an arm. “What?”
Freja’s the steady one.
The one you can count on. The one who never deviates off course. Maybe she’s drunk. I wish I were. I don’t even have it in me to make some smart comment about a Vegas wedding.
Any minute now, I’ll wake and find out it was some kind of weird dream—
“Theo, I’m very sorry, but I’m abdicating.” She gives a moment to let that weight crush me into smithereens. Then she stomps on them. “After all, I can’t possibly be the Queen from America. It’s totally unreasonable.”
Sense has officially left this conversation. My sister’s possessed, and I want the old Freja back. The one I could predict and wouldn’t pull something like this.
“And everyone thought I was the one to fucking worry about.” A headache thuds behind my eyes.
I stare at the shuttered windows in my front room, shutters that I carefully worked on bringing back to life when I bought this place, another project in a series I’ve filmed and built a name for myself leading the restoration works.
For once, I had direction, after the structural work was done and the plasterers had been through following upgrades to the plumbing and electrical.
Then came my world of projects, like the shutters.
Stripping off the old paint, sanding the wood smooth, new paint.
Shutters, at least, can be trusted to do what they should.
Like block out light. Unfortunately, they’re no help when a conversation’s gone utterly mad.
My stomach turns. I might vomit as an icy ripple runs down my back and my face burns. The room’s suddenly too hot, the collar of my shirt too tight.
“Wait. You’re not joking?”
“You heard me,” she says softly, so quiet I can barely hear her. “I can’t—won’t—remain Queen. And… you’re next in line to the throne. You know that. I mean, you could abdicate too, but we both know Lars is a total disaster and can’t rule.”
Lars is the third in line to inherit the Danish throne, our cousin, riddled with serious scandal following various arrests and charges.
It would be an even bigger scandal for the monarchy if he were to inherit the throne.
Something we always thought impossible, as likely as me to inherit the throne.
“Oh no. No, no, no. No fucking way, you can’t do this. Freja! Fuck.”
“We’ll talk soon, darling—I have to go. I haven’t told anyone else. You needed to know first. To give you some time to let the news sink in.”
I start to sweat, shock setting over me in a wave. Words escape me as I float, light-headed. The room reels. I sag hard into an armchair before my legs give out and rub my eyes with my free hand.
“Wait just a minute. You can’t just go and dump all this and hang up on me,” I protest loudly, gesturing as if she can see me. “Becoming Queen was your dream!”
Freja clears her throat. “I… I’ve dreamed of doing something else, Theo.
For a long time. Obviously, you know the pressure in the spotlight.
The truth is, becoming Queen wasn’t as much my dream as everyone else made it out to be.
And I love Avery, and he has this incredible family ranch with an animal rescue, and he’s all I can think about.
And… the perception of a Danish queen in America doesn’t follow. ”
Instant pounding headache.
“Freja. Seriously—”
“Yes?”
“Seriously, Freja.”
“The ranch can’t move to Denmark.”
“Can’t… uh, Avery, is it? Can’t he move?”
She gives a delicate cough. “He has the ranch. We can’t move the ranch. His family relies on him to run it and the rescue. And… there’re admittedly a few charges in Avery’s past, from when he was working for an environmental charity, chaining himself to trees and heavy equipment and things—”
“Freja.”
“I’m very, very sorry,” she says again, her voice faltering. “The charges were a bit of a surprise to me as well. Let’s talk again soon. I miss you.” And she hangs up.
I stare at my dark phone.
“What the actual fuck?” I sputter, breathless like someone’s kicked me in the gut.
My future plans in no way ever entertained the idea of becoming King.
When I wake up later, possibly face down in some strange man’s bed, it’ll be back to the usual scheduled scandal and the inevitable hangover. And all of this will be some kind of bad dream brought on by all-too-familiar poor life choices.