26. 26
26
Bo
I almost kissed Hettie last night.
Holding her in my arms after so long almost broke me. The way she looked at me, how soft her skin was against the roughness of my palm…
I’ve never felt a physical pain from wanting someone so much. But I’ve never wanted anyone like Hettie.
I didn’t give in to the want. Hettie hasn’t said how she feels about me, despite the way she might look at me. And there’s still Timothy in the picture.
Timothy.
However much I dislike the thought of another man sharing her life, I respect Hettie too much to put her in that situation.
Even though I didn’t kiss her, she haunted my dreams after I finally went to sleep. It was our wedding and Hettie walked through the trees toward me. It’s not the first time I’ve dreamt of that day, but it was different this time.
Tema was there.
Tema danced beside her, with flowers in her hair and a huge smile on her face like she was the happiest she’d ever been .
I wake up, still full of emotion. Heck, my cheeks are even wet. There’s love and pride, and so much gratitude, and all I want is to go to them. Go to Hettie and tell her I’ll do whatever she needs me to do.
But I don’t. I give her space, and I take some for myself.
It’s good to know it’s not just me, that there are feelings for both of us going on, but it’s not as easy as it should be.
Eight years apart, and everything that’s gone on in that time makes things complicated.
And because of that, I tell myself not to rush Hettie, for fear of her making the wrong decision. Or one she’ll regret.
After a quick breakfast and a much-needed cup of coffee, I head to the fitness centre to blow off some steam. Years ago, Dad suggested I not take my ax into the forest around the castle in case any environmentalists catch wind and take offense.
It has happened in the past. Actually, I think it might have been Hettie’s uncle who caused a fuss when I was sixteen, penning an editorial for the newspaper announcing how the king and his family don’t care about the land and their carbon footprint. All because someone took a picture of me cutting down a tree.
It was a dead tree, but that was left out of the article, which got picked up by the American press.
I start with weights. When Kalle was ten, he was already big into sports and asked for a set of weights for Christmas. Dad did one better: he took out the large space where the Viking lords used to hold court and made it into a fitness centre for us. There’s a weight room, bikes and treadmills, as well as an empty room for Odin to spar, or Lyra to dance .
It’s one of the few things I miss about living in the castle when I’m in Wabush.
There may be more—like my brothers and Lyra—but the duty of being a prince weighs too heavy on me to give anything else much thought.
Odin finds me when I’m halfway through my second set. “Brother,” he calls, startling me out of my thoughts. “You’re up early.”
“I’m always up early.” I set the bar down and wipe my hands. “I thought you were heading back to Camille today.”
“Not until later. I’ve got a couple of meetings. I wanted to check on how you thought dinner went last night.”
“Other than Kalle going after Hettie?” I snort. “It was great up to then.”
Odin waves away my concern. “You got to give him credit. He’s new to this I’m the next king stuff, and for you to show up with a ready-made princess—”
“Is he threatened by a seven-year-old?”
“Maybe. I don’t always know what goes on in Kalle’s head. I do know he has to work on his diplomacy.”
I laugh at that. “Just a little.”
“So do you.”
My laughter stops at the seriousness in Odin’s tone.
“Bo, this is going to be a storm when it comes out, and you can’t go around shouting at everyone who looks sideways at Hettie. I’m sure she’s got her reasons, but the truth is that she left her husband and didn’t tell him about their child. There’s going to be many out there who won’t believe Tema is yours, too.”
My hands fist. “What are you trying to say? ”
“That the next few weeks aren’t going to be easy, and you both need to be ready for it. If she’s planning on staying.”
I pick up a dumbbell and start bicep curls. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. She wants me to talk to someone first.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” He nods as I switch hands. “Finish up and come spar with me. It’s been a while.”
If I can’t swing an ax, then a sword is the next best thing. I set down the weight and follow Odin to the training room.
Because Lyra’s dancing days are long past, the space has Odin written all over it. He’s taken a few of his swords to his new place in Saint Pierre—he’d definitely have to fly private for that—but most of his training weapons hang on the wall, from light to heaviest.
We both pick up the big ones.
“Dad set up an appointment for me this morning,” I tell Odin after we picked our swords and agreed on rules. “With a therapist.”
Odin chuckles as we touch blades before backing away. “That’s got to be fun for you.”
“Yeah.”
Odin feints left and skips back as I take a swing. It’s been a while since I’ve wielded a sword, and it feels clumsy in my hand. He parries my second thrust and then swings for my throat. I manage to block just in time.
“So how do you really feel about Hettie being back?” he asks over the clashing of metal. The blades may be for training—without a point and with dull edges—but they’re real steel and heavier than they look.
“I’ve agreed to talk to this doctor, not you.”
Odin blocks my reckless swing with a grin. “You can practice with me. It’ll do you good. ”
“Always such a know-it-all,” I grumble.
“Always. So? Happy? Sad?” He punctuates each word with a swing, forcing me back a step.
I give myself a shake. I used to be pretty good at swordplay, but Odin has continued to work at this, and it shows. “Confused. It’s complicated.”
“Must be, especially when you’re not talking about why she left in the first place.”
I miss my block and Odin’s sword brushes against my bicep. “Gotcha.”
“Once. And you’re distracting me. Go again.”
“Why did she leave?”
“Is this your way to find out stuff? Maybe you should work on your diplomacy.”
Odin laughs and feints left again before coming at me with a forward thrust so strong that I almost end up on my butt on the floor.
“I got a second chance with Camille, remember?” Odin pauses to let me find my balance again. “I’m rooting for you.”
“Glad someone is.”
We spar for a while. Odin has a better technique but I have strength on my side, so I like to think we might be evenly matched. Until Odin calls it and throws me a towel. I’m dripping with perspiration whereas my big brother doesn’t seem to have broken a sweat.
“Good match. You need a little practice to get back to where you were,” he points out with a grin.
“It’s not fair when you try to talk to me,” I grumble .
“I did want to ask you about Tema. Don’t get all uptight,” he warns when I start to bristle. “It’s just…” I wait until he collects his thoughts. “You’re a father .”
“Yeah,” I say in a heavy voice.
“That’s… wow. You’re the first of us. Camille and I are talking, but she wants to wait a year or so. And Kalle—”
“My money is on Edie being pregnant within the year.”
“Has he said something?”
“No, but I can tell. He’s not going to waste any time.”
Odin hefts his sword to rest it on his shoulder. “You really didn’t know that Hettie was pregnant?” he demands.
“I had no clue.”
“I have to ask because you seem to have jumped into the idea with both feet. I think it would have taken me some time to process. Not to mention get used to the idea. It took me long enough to find my footing when I saw Camille again.”
My brother’s second chance worked out for him. Am I an idiot to think it might for me as well?
She’s happy there.
I wipe down the blade and hang it up. “I didn’t really have a choice,” I admit. “If I got angry about her not telling me, it would take away my time with her. I know she had her reasons. And I don’t know how much time I’ve got with them.”
Odin puts his sword on the rack. “You really think Hettie will leave with her?”
“I don’t know. I get why she didn’t tell me—I don’t like it, but I get it. Things weren’t good between us when she left, and that was on me. ”
“What happened, Bo?” Odin faces me, his expression one of concern.
Odin has always had his life together. Even when he abdicated his position as second in line to the throne, he ended up smelling like roses with Camille, running things in in Saint Pierre while the rest of us scrambled. We’re close, but I’ve never had much in common with him. We both like books and weapons with sharp edges; he’s able to communicate, and I have problems with that. But when I need to talk to someone, Odin is always one of the first on my list.
“I know I didn’t know about the wedding, but anyone who saw the two of you together could tell how much you loved her,” Odin continues.
“I’m the reason Mom died.” I don’t mean to tell him. The words just popped out and now I can’t take them back.
Odin whirls around. “What?”
“I’m the reason Mom died.” I don’t need a deep breath of courage; I just say it. After keeping the secret for so long, it’s surprisingly easy to confess. It’s like I want people to know. To blame me so I have more of a reason to feel guilty.
“No, you’re not.” Odin shakes his head. “It was an accident. You weren’t even there. There was that freak storm and the bridge was slippery and she—”
“I told her I married Hettie and then she left to pick up Lyra. She was upset. She shouldn’t have been driving.”
“Why would she be upset?” Odin’s expression of concern is gone; now he’s only confused .
“Because I’m a prince and I got married without telling anyone.” Odin shrugs. “She was upset ,” I say loudly. “I got married and no one knew about it.”
“Maybe?” I can tell Odin isn’t convinced. “But Bo, I can’t see her being that upset to make her lose control of the car. This is the woman who taught our brother to race cars, remember?”
“I—”
I did forget. I forgot all about the fact that it was Mom who taught us all to drive. Duncan and one of the drivers did most of it, but Mom would take us out on the back roads behind the castle, laughing as the speedometer went higher and higher. She taught us what to do when we swerved, how to drive in the snow.
She took us to deserted parking lots and let us do donuts until we were dizzy. She could be going eighty and pull the parking brake; a sweet move that would have her going in the opposite direction before you’d know what was happening.
Our mother had liked speed, had liked to drive fast, and she was really good at it.
How could I have forgotten that?
“She was ready for one of us to meet someone and get married,” Odin continues, unaware of the flurry of my thoughts. “Maybe she was mad that you didn’t tell her, but she would have been happy if you were happy. It’s stupid to blame yourself. If talking to a therapist has taught me anything, it’s that it was an accident. It’s no one’s fault.”
For the first time, the words start to sink in.