I wince at the same time as the princess. That was too harsh, and Freya looks like she’s been slapped. I don’t blame her. She’s thirty-three, and while she may be naive about some things, she’s not a child.
Lifting her chin in a show of confidence that does nothing to hide her hurt, Freya looks me right in the eyes. “I will not be leaving my room tomorrow,” she says, her tone firm. “Therefore, your services will not be needed, though I am certain you will place guards around my every exit as you see fit. Goodnight.”
She doesn’t stomp off like I think she might, instead keeping her head high as she gracefully heads inside, two guards trailing behind her at Gregor’s signal.
The instant the princess is out of view, Queen Ingrid’s shoulders drop in weariness. “Why?” she breathes.
I don’t know who’s supposed to answer that question, but Sander steps forward. “Her idea was a good one.”
The queen presses two fingers to her temple. “Putting herself in danger?”
“She wasn’t—”
“What happened?” I ask, cutting him off.
He shrugs. “Nothing a round of drinks couldn’t fix.” Looking at his mother, he offers her a sheepish smile. “You’ll receive a bill tomorrow, Mum.”
“And you will pay it,” she replies coolly. “To bed, both of you.”
Hex and Sander go inside without argument, though from the looks on their faces, I’m probably going to have them at my door as soon as I’m done here. That could be a while.
“Tell me everything,” the queen says to me on a sigh. “And please tell me you have ideas for how to handle my daughter before she leads me to an early grave.”
I do, but she’s not going to like it.
Ingrid sees my hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she takes an umbrella from one of the guards. “You may speak openly, Mr. Reid.”
Even though Princess Freya was incredibly foolish tonight, I can’t help but admit there’s a part of me that admires her tenacity. She doesn’t needhandling. She needs opportunity.
Preferably in a way that doesn’t put her in danger and make my job harder than it already is.
Slowly getting off the bike, I approach the others with caution. The queen asked me to speak openly, so I do, even if a part of me knows this is likely to put my job in jeopardy. It’s not like I’m on solid ground to begin with. “Freya’s going to do what she thinks is right, whether you approve or not, and I think her heart was in the right place tonight.”
Ingrid’s jaw tightens. “Is that so?”
“I’m not saying I condone her methods.” I cannot stress how much I hate what she did tonight and the spike of fear that hit me when Hex woke me and told me what was happening. “But she’s right in that she won’t know how to oppose Grimstad’s popularity if she doesn’t know what the people are looking for in a ruler. She needs to be out there like he is.”
Whatever the queen expected me to say, it wasn’t that, and all semblance of composure leaves her as she gapes at me. “You think my daughter should travel the country andput herself in danger?”
Don’t smile, Elliot. I hold back a grin, but barely. This probably isn’t the time to provoke my employer and accuse her of being dramatic. “I think she shouldcampaign,” I argue. “Show Candora who she really is. I’ll be there to ensure there isn’t any danger.” My shoulder throbs, but I ignore the reminder of a past mission that didn’t end how I’d planned. Candora isn’t a war-torn country, and protecting a princess isn’t strategizing for an entire twelve-man unit. I’ll be fine.
“He has a point,” Stellan says, speaking for only the second time tonight. The king tends to keep to himself and defer to his wife, whichmight be the only reason Ingrid doesn’t shut me down immediately. He only speaks up when he truly believes something.
Taking Stellan’s hand, the queen stares at me as she processes what I’m saying with worry marring her usually controlled features. She knows her daughter better than I do, and if I’m convinced that tonight won’t be Freya’s only attempt to go out among the people, surely she knows it as well. It’ll be a lot easier to protect Freya if her adventures are sanctioned by the crown.
“Gregor?” Ingrid says softly.
The head of security steps forward, his gray head bowed. “I would arrange everything alongside Mr. Reid, Your Majesty.”
“You approve?”
A small smile plays at the corner of his lips. “I know Princess Freya as well as you do, and Reid speaks true. I do not believe tonight will be an isolated event.”
The queen turns back to me, her silence heavy in the humid night air until she asks, “So I have lost control of my daughter?” she asks wearily.
I stand tall, tucking my hands behind my back. “With all due respect, you taught her to be a queen, which means she is going to make decisions that she thinks are best and won’t always follow your lead.”
“I don’t like this,” she says, more to her husband than to me.
