“Nope. I shut my phone off for a reason.”
“How’s your security detail going to find you, then?” James points out helpfully. “Or your Danish family, who are conveniently in Denmark and not here? They’ll be worried if they can’t catch you soon. Might cause another international incident if you’re not careful.”
I scowl darkly. “Fuck. I need to talk to Miles.”
“He’s probably calling you right now. Also, quite possibly the Security Service too.” James polishes off the rest of the strudel and wipes his fingers clean on a napkin.
“The Security Service?” I echo weakly.
“Oh, you know, MI5, MI6, that sort of thing.” He gestures.
A whimper escapes me.
“Let me call Eddie,” James urges.
“No!”
James already has his phone out of his pocket and his screen unlocked, but he obligingly stops to peer at me as though I’m quite unwell. Which isn’t far off from the truth.
“Please don’t,” I try in a much more restrained, and I’d like to think kingly, manner. I sit up fully and try to pull myself together, rubbing my face, then getting up to pace. With a sigh, I take out my phone and turn it on again, which resumes its tantrum of notifications. “Oh my God, I can’t even,” I splutter indignantly.
“Ringer off,” advises James as Ethan comes back with a tray of mugs and a teapot.
I obligingly shut off the ringer and put the phone on the scarred wood worktable and gingerly back away while it buzzes nonstop. I click shut the pair of laptops.
“Well, that won’t do, will it?” James frowns, considering my phone as it continues its noise. “Turn off the vibration function too.”
“I don’t want to touch the thing.”
“Unlock your phone, and I’ll tell you if there’s anything important,” James instructs me, plucking my phone from the table. “Also, you have 10 percent battery, by the way.”
“Good. That’ll put it out of its misery,” I mutter.
“Theodor, as a king, you can’t just go dark.” James looks personally affronted. “It’s not how things are done.”
“Watch me. Also, I don’t know for real yet I’m actually a king. Right now, it’s hearsay.”
James rolls his eyes, unlocking his phone and bringing up a video of Freja’s abdication. We all gather to watch. She speaks in Danish, of course, but there’re also English subtitles. To her credit, Freja gives a passionate speech about her love of Denmark and her loyalty to its people, but she tells everyone she has fallen in love and married and will instead support the new King.
“That,” James tells me most helpfully, in case I missed it, “is you.”
“Could you please bring some whisky, Ethan? Thanks.” I shake my head, still staring at the video, as Freja answers a few prepared questions from two trusted reporters. Freja’s charming and professional, and excuses herself after a few minutes of questions. Then the stream goes on to other news stories. James shuts it off while Ethan distributes tea and, in short order, whisky. I pour a dollop into my mug and drink.
“You’re partway to a hot toddy,” Ethan says wryly. “I have cinnamon and cloves upstairs if you like.”
“Nah.” I put in some honey. “I’ll pretend.”
We all look at my phone, which continues to spasm.
“At least they have the right number,” James observes.
I give him a dark look. He shrugs. Reluctantly, I snake out a hand for my phone and start to skim notifications, of which there are approximately a billion. “Fucking hell.”
I gulp down some whisky tea and rise, calling Freja on video so it will hasten the demise of my phone as I pace away from the table to the other side of the room. To her credit, she answers after the third ring.
“Theo. Thank God, finally. I’ve been trying?—”
“Hey. I’ve got like five percent battery. I, um, saw the news…?”
