Epilogue
Maggie
Six Months Later
Gunfire erupts beside me, my ears blasted by the deafening sound. I scream but I can barely hear it, everything around me is being shaken up and my brain feels like I have rocks rolling around inside it.
I am beyond terrified.
“Get down!” someone yells and I immediately drop to my knees, covering the back of my neck with my hands. A flash bang grenade goes off and I’m blinded.
“Fuck!” I scream. “Make it stop!”
“Sorry Miss but you’re going to need to make it out of here alive,” the man dressed head-to-toe in camouflage, says to me, keeping his automatic rifle at the ready. “Are you able to run to safety?”
I shake my head. Hell no. I’ve lost a shoe somewhere along the way, maybe when I first escaped the kidnappers, and the stretch of gravel between here, where I’m hiding out by the side of an old, blasted building, and the military jeep that will take me to freedom looks like it will be murder on my feet.
I don’t think I have a choice though. This guy next to me looks like he’ll drag me through the gravel if he has to. Not a very nice way to treat a future princess but what can you do.
I quickly slip off my other heel – I hate that this happened while I was wearing heels, so impractical – and hesitate before tossing it behind me. They were nice shoes and I’m sure I can get another pair, but I’m still cringing at the idea of wasted money. Even being engaged to the Crown Prince of Sweden for six months doesn’t change the way I look at money.
I can tell we’re about to make a run for it when the man across from me lifts his gun and fires another round of ammunition in the air.
Totally unnecessary.
I plug my ears again. “He’s supposed to be on our side!” I yell.
“You need to get immune to the sound,” the guy beside me says.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sound!”
He stares at me, completely stone-faced. This is just a fun day on the job for him, isn’t it? Gets to rescue the princess from kidnappers and feel like a hero, all the while I’m screaming and yelling and acting like a loon.
Because, I mean, I’m sorry but if I were actually kidnapped, that’s what I would be doing.
I know they wanted me to try and make friends with the kidnappers and all but I think I just ended up annoying them. Which isn’t a bad strategy at all. Annoy them until they let you go. That kind of worked for Bette Midler in Ruthless People.
“Come on,” the guy says gruffly and takes me by the arm and ushers me across the gravel, the stones biting into my feet. A foot bath will be in order after this.
Then the gunfire erupts again, along with some more grenades and my ear drums are blown to smithereens. Thank god I’ve kept my sense of humor throughout this whole ordeal, otherwise I think I might be traumatized for life. In fact, that’s what they warned me of before I took part in the “terror training” and Viktor didn’t even want me to do it.
But his parents were very adamant that I do this. In this day and age, you just never know what’s going to happen, whether some crazy royal fan wants to kidnap the princess or queen or if a terrorist takes over the palace or attacks a royal event, like our upcoming wedding.
So for the last two days I’ve been part of this program that they promised would give me some skills and frighten the shit out of me and, honestly, it has. I’ve been fake kidnapped, I’ve been dropped alone in the wilds of the Swedish North for twenty-four hours so I know how to survive if I end up there for some reason (note: bring lots of mosquito repellent – this is more important than food), I’ve had to do drills around guns and grenades and all sorts of crazy shit.
It’s been intense but as I’m booking it across the gravel with Mr. Serious by my side, I know the moment I get in that military jeep and am driven away, that’s the end of it. They’re driving me right back to the palace.
To my home.
“Woo hoo!” I yell as I reach the jeep just before I’m pushed, rather brusquely, into the back of the vehicle. “I made it! I’m alive! Oh god, I am alive!”
Mr. Serious exchanges a look with the other two serious military men in the back. This wasn’t part of their job description.
“Hey,” I tell them. “You don’t want to know what I’d do if this were actually real. I’d probably kiss all of you, Viktor would find out, and you’d be out of a job. So let’s at least act fake happy for me being fake happy at my fake rescue.”
In unison all three men attempt to smile.
“Yaaaay,” Mr. Serious says flatly.
The moment I’m back at the palace, Viktor is waiting for me in the foyer with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a chocolate cake in the other. He knows the way to my heart.
“My god,” he says, looking me over, putting the stuff down on the cart and striding over to me with his arms out. “What did they do to you?” The shock in his eyes quickly turns to flames of anger and he’s getting that tick he gets along his jaw when he’s about to lose his shit over something.
“Calm down, I’m fine,” I tell him. “I can’t hear very well and I need a footbath,” he looks down at my bare dusty and dirty feet, “but I’m fine.”
He’s speechless, shaking his head, that anger not dissipating. “I knew this was a mistake. You shouldn’t have gone. I have been worried sick about you these last few days. They wouldn’t even let me get any updates on how you were.”
It’s touching to see Viktor so concerned. Not that he normally isn’t but we’ve both been so busy lately with the upcoming wedding that we’ve been taking each other for granted. Now, with me gone for two days and getting the wits scared out of me, it feels like this might bring us even closer.
“I told you,” I tell him. “I’m fine.” I pause looking around to see if any of the kids or Bodi are lurking and listening. “Though if you want to help me clean up, I’d be more than grateful.”
Heat flares in his eyes again, this time born of lust and desire. He swallows hard, practically has to loosen his tie. “I –“
“You’re back!” April says from the top of the stairs before running down them.
As much as I love my sister and as much as I’m glad that she’s this happy to see me, she’s also being a bit of a royal cockblocker at this second.
She’s about to give me a hug but she stops and looks me over. “You look like shit.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get kidnapped,” I tell her. I then notice that she has a purse with her. “Where are you going?”
“Out,” she says, shrugging one shoulder, back to teenage one-word answers.
“My mother is taking her, Rosemary and Thyme dress shopping,” Viktor says.
“Your mother?” I repeat.
“I know,” he says. “But the ball is tomorrow night and this is the first time they’re all going to be officially exposed to high society.”
“I understand that,” I look over at April who isn’t even listening anymore, “but your mother. That’s the part that’s nutty. I can’t imagine the queen going shopping, she must have to close down the whole department store.”
He nods. “That’s exactly what she does.”
“Well, shit,” I say, crossing my arms. “I want to go shopping now.”
“You already have a very lovely gown,” he says, reaching over and picking a piece of plaster or maybe shrapnel from my hair.
“Yeah but it’s like a childhood dream to go shopping in a department when it’s all closed down. Didn’t you ever want to be locked in IKEA over night?”
He frowns. “To do what?”
“I don’t know, bounce on the beds?”
He just grins at me like I’m the most adorable little sprite. “You are far too cute for words. English words, anyway. I have many Swedish ones.”
“You guys are gross,” April mumbles just as Rosemary and Thyme start coming down the stairs.
“Maggie!” Rosemary says as the twins run up to me and give me a hug. “You’re alive.”
“Barely,” Thyme comments as she looks me over. I do a double take with her. Instead of her usual overboard goth eyeliner, her face has been scrubbed clean and her black hair is pulled high into a smooth top not. She’s still all in black but she looks presentable. She looks like a soon to be twelve-year old and not the future bassist for a death metal band, which I know she is at heart.
“You look nice,” I tell her.
“She wants to look nice for the queen,” Rosemary says.
“We should all look nice for the queen,” I tell them and look down at myself. “Obviously I’m in no state to go shopping with you.”
“And anyway,” Viktor says, grabbing my hand. “The girls deserve some one-on-one bonding time with her. You’ve had a lot of that lately, yes?”
He’s so right. Even though it’s late June now and the wedding isn’t until next April, I’ve been having weekly meetings with his mother at the palace. I had never put any thought into getting married before and I have a feeling a normal wedding is super stressful as it is but a royal wedding? It’s insane how many details there are and how big it’s going to be.
Frankly, I would rather concentrate on my Swedish lessons and helping our nanny, Ingrid, with the kids, or continue going with Viktor to all the public events, than give another minute of thought to the wedding. I would like to pick the dress and see what roles my siblings can play in the ceremony (I do not trust Callum to be the ringbearer, that is just a disaster waiting to happen) but other than that, I want to push all decision-making to the queen.
But she really wants to include me and she’s so excited about the whole thing, that really, even with all the bonding we’ve been doing, it’s been worth it. It pains me to think that my own mother won’t be here for this and I often wonder what she’d say or do (probably “Fuck it! Elope!”) but I’m grateful that my future mother-in-law and are getting along. It’s nice to feel like I have a motherly figure in my life again, even if she’s a motherly figure to a whole country as well.