Chapter 28
28
TORE
I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom, watching raindrops race down the glass panes. The lush gardens of the royal estate stretched before me, a sea of green dotted with colorful spring blooms, appearing early this year due to an unseasonably warm spring. Inside, luxurious furnishings surrounded me: antique mahogany furniture, silk drapes, priceless artwork. But none of it brought me comfort.
My fingers traced the cool surface of my phone screen, hovering over Farron’s name in my contacts. I ached to hear his voice, to see his crooked grin. But the memory of our last conversation, of the hurt and anger in his eyes, made my chest tighten painfully.
A soft knock at the door roused me from my brooding. “Come in,” I called, my voice hoarse from disuse.
My mother glided into the room, elegant as always in a pale-blue dress. Her eyes softened with concern as she took in my disheveled appearance. “ Oh, min kj?re ,” she murmured, sitting beside me on the window seat. “You look terrible.”
I attempted a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “ Takk, Mamma. Just the boost my ego needed.”
She smoothed my messy hair, her touch gentle. “Talk to me, Tore. What’s troubling you?”
For a moment, I considered brushing her off with a vague excuse. But the weight of my secrets felt unbearable. “I’ve made a proper mess of things,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
“How so?” she prompted, her hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.
I took a shaky breath. “There’s… someone. At Hawley. Someone I care about very much.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “Ah, I see.”
“It’s a boy, Mamma. And I’m in love with him. Really in love.”
She quirked one well-groomed eyebrow. “A boy? Farron Carey, perhaps?”
I gasped. “How did you know?”
“You’re not exactly subtle, Tore. You’ve been talking about him nonstop since you got back, and every time you do, your eyes light up… only to turn sad again. I told your father to expect your coming out. You know him. He doesn’t handle unexpected news very well, and what with him still grieving Ragnar, I figured now wasn’t a good time for another shock.”
“I’m sorry, Mamma.”
“Sorry for what? For being yourself? For falling in love?”
I made a vague gesture. “I know it would’ve been easier if I’d fallen for a girl.”
“Easier for whom?”
“For you and Dad. For the country.”
She put a strong hand on my shoulder. “You can’t choose who you love, min s?nn . But tell me what happened.”
“He didn’t know who I was until he saw the news about Uncle Ragnar and my picture popped up. He’s furious that I lied to him. And he’s right. I kept it from him, from everyone. And now…” My voice cracked. “Now I’ve lost him.”
“Oh, child.” She pulled me into a warm embrace, and I allowed myself to sink into her comfort. “Love is never easy, especially for those in our position. But if this boy is truly important to you, you must fight for him.”
I pulled back, wiping my eyes. “But how? He won’t even speak to me now. And I feel so guilty for lying to everyone. I loved playing for the Hawley Hawks, Mamma, being part of a team again.”
“Then why did you come home?”
“It was too much, seeing him every time. It hurt too much. Plus, Pappa told me to.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Your father said you needed to come home?”
“Yes. He said the family needed me, that the country needed me.”
She took a deep breath, then cupped my face in her hands, her gaze earnest. “Your father is wrong, Tore. I know it’s harder for him to see since he’s known nothing but a life of duty, but the times have changed. Your happiness matters more than anything else. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself to be a prince.”
“No?”
“No. Also, Ingrid is pregnant, so soon, you’ll be fourth in line again. It’s not been officially announced yet because we’re waiting for her to pass the fourteen-week mark, but once we do, that’s one more step away for you.”
Ingrid was my cousin Gustav’s wife, now the queen of Norway. “That’s wonderful news.”
My mother smiled. “She’s only twenty-six, Tore. I expect her to have at least two more kids, and every single one will mean more freedom for you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “That makes me feel so much better.”
“As for your boy…”
“Any advice?”
“Be yourself. Allow him and your friends there to see the real you. Open your heart to him. And if he’s worth it, he’ll understand. If he can’t accept all of you, then he’s not the one for you.”
I nodded, feeling a small spark of hope ignite in my chest. “Thank you, Mamma. I… I’ll try.”
She pressed a kiss to my forehead. “That’s my boy. No worries, I will talk to your father and sort things out with him.” She clicked her tongue. “That man worries too much. Now, come downstairs for dinner in an hour and eat with us, okay? You’re far too thin.”
I managed a genuine chuckle this time. “ Ja , Mamma.”
As she left, a resolve washed over me. My mother was right. I needed to be honest, not just with Farron, but with everyone. The Hawley Hawks deserved to know the truth about who I really was.
I grabbed my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I opened our team group chat. For a moment, I hesitated, the cursor blinking accusingly at me. What if they hated me for lying? What if they thought I was some entitled, rich kid playing at being normal like Farron did? But even then, I owed them the truth.
I opened the group chat and took a deep breath, then started a video recording.
“Hey, everyone. Maybe you’ve heard by now that I have left Hawley College and I’m back home in Norway. My time with you has been one of the best times of my life, and I owe you all so much for making me feel part of your team.
“Because of that, I need to tell you something. My real name is Tore Haakon Anders von Glücksburg… and I’m a prince. My cousin Gustav has just become the king of Norway after my uncle passed away unexpectedly. I kept this from you all because I wanted to be treated like a normal student, a normal teammate. I was afraid that if you knew, you’d see me differently. That you wouldn’t want me on the team or that you’d only befriend me because of my title.
“I realize now that wasn’t fair to any of you. You’ve all become such important parts of my life, and you deserve to know the real me. I’m still the same Tore who loves literature, struggles with American idioms, and occasionally scores a decent goal. I just… have a slightly more complicated family tree.
“I understand if you’re angry or feel betrayed. I’m truly sorry for not being upfront from the beginning. I hope you can forgive me and that this doesn’t change things between us. You guys mean the world to me, and I’d hate to lose your friendship over this. If you have any questions, I’m here to answer them honestly. No more secrets.”
I pressed send before I could second-guess myself, and a mix of relief and anxiety washed over me. The truth was out there now, for better or worse. All I could do was wait and hope my teammates—my friends—would understand. And maybe Farron would see it and change his mind?
I flopped back onto my plush bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling of my bedroom. The weight of the secret I’d carried for so long had been lifted, but in its place settled a gnawing ache in my chest. Farron’s face flashed in my mind, his dark eyes and cocky grin making my heart clench.
My phone buzzed, and I scrambled to check it, hoping against hope it might be Farron. Instead, I saw a string of notifications from the team. My stomach churned as I opened the group chat.
Holy shit, dude!
A prince? For real?
This explains so much…
The messages kept coming, a mix of shock, confusion, and… acceptance? A small smile tugged at my lips, but it faded quickly. There was one person whose reaction I cared about most, and his name was conspicuously absent from the chat.
Desperate for a distraction, I called Andor. We talked for a while, Andor trying his best to cheer me up with his wild college stories and bad jokes, but even his usually infectious optimism couldn’t penetrate the cloud of melancholy that had settled over me. I appreciated his efforts, but nothing could fill the Farron-shaped hole in my heart.
Dinner was a quiet affair with my mom, Astrid, and me. Anna, my other sister, was at a friend’s, and my dad had a meeting with Gustav. My mom didn’t mention anything we had discussed, which I was grateful for, and dinner was a good distraction. No phones were allowed at the dinner table, so I’d left mine in my room.
After dinner, Astrid persuaded me to watch a couple of episodes of Ted Lasso with her, so by the time I went back to my room, it was almost ten. My phone was blowing up with notifications from the team chat, and I smiled as I scrolled. Then I froze.
A Snapchat notification glowed on the screen, and I nearly dropped the device when I saw the name: Farron .
With trembling fingers, I opened the app. His message was simple, yet it sent my mind reeling:
Can we talk? Call me when you can.
I stared at the words, reading them over and over. My pulse raced, hope and fear warring within me. Did he want to reconcile, or was this a final goodbye?
Out of habit, I checked his location. He’d never turned that off, so I could still see where he was, which was usually one of three locations: his dorm, the gym, or Walmart. I should probably feel guilty about this since it could be seen as invasive, but if he hadn’t wanted me to see, he should’ve turned it off, right?
The map loaded, and I searched for Farron’s Bitmoji. My eyes widened in disbelief as the map zoomed in on a familiar city: Oslo. Farron’s Bitmoji stood proudly in the center of the Norwegian capital, right next to a hotel icon.
He was here. In Oslo.
I blinked hard, certain I must be hallucinating. But when I looked again, there he was, his little cartoon avatar grinning at me from the screen. My mind raced with questions. How? Why?
My heart hammered against my ribs, a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through my veins. Farron was here, in my city, mere kilometers away. The realization hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me breathless and dizzy. Surely, he hadn’t traveled all this way to end things once and for all. If he was here, if he wanted to talk, that meant there was still hope.
I paced my room, my fingers hovering over the call button. Should I ring him now? It was late, but he had asked me to call. What if he was jet-lagged and already asleep? Or worse, what if he answered and I made a complete fool of myself?
Bloody hell, I was overthinking this. But the weight of the situation bore down on me. This wasn’t a casual call to a teammate or a friend. This was Farron, the man who had turned my world upside down, who had made me question everything I thought I knew about myself. And now he was here, in Oslo, presumably for me.
I needed to see him. In person.