Vicious King

“Well, you did create the biggest media uproar when you announced you were filing for divorce. None of us could believe it and I’m still a little shocked you have continued through with it to be honest.”

I push the stack of papers off the table into the bin and pinch the bridge of my nose. A tiny throb behind my left eye begins to pulse, lovely. “So you, like so many others, don’t agree with my decision to divorce him? That man broke my heart, Svea. Didn’t you see the kind of damage his charges and sentencing did to our rankings in the polls? The people were livid! Our people! They thought that their own royal leaders had betrayed their trust and evaded paying the very taxes that they themselves bend over backwards to pay each year. And yet, I am the cruel and heartless queen and he’s the poor disgraced ‘mad’ king, so beloved by his people.” I pause in my rant to take a breath. “I expect this from your brothers, since they seem to think the man walks on water, but for you to be on his side in all of this—”

“It’s not about sides, mother. He loves you and you love him. Those are facts. He made a mistake, yes, but I think you should consider the whole picture. You know he was framed. They proved that already. So why are you so adamant on trying to hate him?”

I bite back a curse. “I am not adamant on hating him, I just can’t trust him. I know he was framed, but the fact is, he wouldn’t have had a chance to be framed if he hadn’t mixed himself up with those criminals.” I sigh. The dull ache throbs harder behind my eyes, spreading to the other side. “And now the media has begun their speculation on everything. You know they will spin their stories to fit their narratives, no matter what I might say otherwise.” I rub my temple with my free hand.

“You know what you have to do then,” Svea says.

“What?”

“What you always tell us: give it time. Give it time with the media and with sorting out your feelings for dad. You’ll sort it out in the end. I know you will.”

I smile at my daughter throwing my own advice back in my face.

“I love you,” I say.

“Love you too.”

We disconnect and I sit there for a few moments considering how much Svea has grown. I’m just about to take a sip of coffee when the door to the study flys open and in stomps Aksel. I look him up and down—he’s wearing another crisp white button down with a pair of charcoal grey fitted wool slacks. Just the sight of him—biceps barely fitting the sleeves, tan skin a stark contrast to the crisp white, and even the little tell-tale bulge at the seam of his pants—sends that fire creeping up in my core, threatening to diminish me to nothing more than a drooling puddle. He looks good, really good. Memories of us in this study flash through my mind and the heat moves up from my core to color my cheeks. I hope he doesn’t notice how flustered he still makes me. I need to maintain my bearing—hold onto my control in this situation. But the light shines in, deepening those honey, green, hazel eyes of his that soften my resolve an inch.

“It’s early,” I finally managed to say. My headache is replaced by a different growing desire—one that has been neglected for nearly two years and trying to play catch-up the second Mads walked through the door. “Are you going back to work already?” I imagined he would want to get back to work as soon as possible, but this seems rushed.

“Yeah. I’ve got some business that Larz and I need to tie up the loose ends on.”

My temper flares at the mention of our son. “Please do not involve our children any more than you already have, Aksel.” He winces at my use of his given name.

“Don’t worry, I’m not. This is just one last thing we need to clear up before I strike out on my own.”

I glare at him but he doesn’t balk at the challenge. Instead, he swoops in close and takes my chin in his hand, tilting it so our eyes connect and I have no way of averting my gaze. I freeze, my skin heating under his touch.

His eyes dance across my face and a smile threatens the corners of his mouth. “You are so beautiful in the morning sunlight,” he whispers. His voice sent shivers down my spine and gooseflesh erupts down my arms. That fire explodes in my core, threatening to overpower my resolve to keep him at arms length.

I swallow a lump in my throat. “You always had a way with words,” I say. I don’t want him to stop touching me but I have to move out of his grasp or I will do something I regret.