Vicious King

I shake my head, but pause and wonder about my mother. She was never happy in the palace, that much is true. Even in the photo on my desk, her smile is pinched. But, after father died, she passed the buck to me and moved to the mountains where she smiles more than I can remember. What if I could retire to the mountains and live by the shore? A life filled with laughter and barefoot grandbabies playing in the sand and splashing in the water of the fjord? I sigh, fantasizing of things that cannot be, not yet at least when my ruminations are interrupted by the intercom on the palace phone.

“They have arrived, your grace,” Gerrie announces on the speaker.

I pick up to respond. “Thank you Gerrie. See them in will you?”

“Yes, your grace.”

I stand up and move to the window to look down at the car pulling in with my ex-husband, the disgraced king, and our second born son, Larz. Larz is so much like his father, in so many ways—something I have never been too thrilled about. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then open them again.

Mads steps out of the vehicle and my heart drops. It’s evident he’s been working out, the way his biceps fill the sleeves of his button up, which is open to reveal his solid chest. Aksel had always maintained a healthy body, that’s never been an issue, but his business choices and affiliations have definitely been one of the driving factors for the strain on our marriage. Still, he does look very, very good. And tanned. When did he get a tan? Last I saw him, oh that dreadful day, was to serve him papers. I had never seen him in pain, until that day. It killed me a little inside to hand him the signed divorce papers. He’d pleaded for me to reconsider, of course, but my lawyer insisted it was the best move to maintain my image with the people of Denmark.

And yet, I’m fighting every notion to race right out there and jump into that man’s idiotic arms. Looking at him, my heart jumps, and my stomach flutters to life for the first time in ages—with, butterflies? Stop acting like a silly school girl, Mykaella. Remember, you are going to kill him, not snog him. Just the thought of pressing my lips against his sends a wave of heat through my core and I brace myself against the windowsill for support. Dammit, I curse myself and gather my bearing before marching out to meet them. My body can deceive me all it wants, but my mind will be heard first!

Chapter Three—Mads

I’m in trouble and have no idea how to climb out of this fucking pit I’ve carved out for myself.

I climb out of the car and close the door a little harder than intended. The courtyard of the palace is prettier than I remember. Mykaella, no doubt, ordered more flora and fauna in my absence, I smiled and shook my head. That woman, she’ll be my complete undoing. I catch a glimpse of a disturbed curtain, the ugly green ones in the study. Well, if she’s going to castrate me at some point, now is as good a time as ever.

“I’m going to leave you to it.” Larz said from the driver’s door. He winced and gave me a half smile before adding “good luck” and a thumbs up.

Yeah, son. I think my luck has run out this time, but I can still try.

As I walk into the main entry and foyer, I’m taking back so many years ago—to when I was just a dusty-nosed kid, running around on the street, picking fights and hustling to bring in a pocket of coin. Mykaella is the royal, not me. I grew up in squalor and, if I am not careful, will return to it just the same.

I weave through the corridors, well aware that I will have to face the woman that gave me children, laughter, love...and a home. What do I say? Sorry I fucked up so bad? Please take me back? I love you so much it hurts? Sure, those things work in books and movies, but this is the real world, and I have made some really real mistakes.

I stop at a painting and gaze at it momentarily. It has always been my favorite; a portrait of Mykaella and I when we were still too young and dumb to know what real hurt looks like. She’s in her fancy riding ensemble, holding a crop in one hand and patting a mare with the other while smiling over the mare’s head at me in the same outfit. The artist had captured our love and encapsulated for all of eternity—how do I fix what I’ve wronged and make her smile like that again?