“Should I?” I ask, now wary. My jaw tightens. Sitting up, I swing my feet to the floor, staring down at my pink-and-red striped wool socks. “No, sorry. No plans to come home to visit in the next few weeks.” Though getting away from the pap—and Aidan—has a certain appeal to forget my troubles. “I’m afraid you’ll just need to talk to me like this. We could do a video call.”
“No, no.” She’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know how to tell you this. But… I’ve fallen in love.”
I suck back a deep breath to the bottom of my lungs, hugely relieved. “That’s brilliant news! Fuck, you scared me. Why do you sound so worried, then? Do you need some dating advice from me? Which, I’ve got to say, is a first. But I’m happy to help you out.”
I can totally fake advice for her love life. Starting with: don’t act like an arse.
“I don’t need dating advice.”
There goes my opening. The frown returns, with adjacent brow-furrowing. “Then?”
“He’s… he’s American. He runs an animal rescue. We met at a charity ball some time ago. And then we fell in love.” There’s dead air for a moment that hangs sharp between us. “And… I’m moving to America, Theo.”
“You… what?” The frown deepens. Hopping up to pace, my mind races to make sense of this. “Freja, you’re about to be celebrated as the new Queen this summer. Have you forgotten? I’m sure there’s an app you can use to remind you if you need help?—”
“I… we got married. In secret. Obviously.”
I splutter, stopping dead in my tracks, flailing an arm. “What?”
Freja’s the steady one.
The one you can count on. The one who never deviates off course. Maybe she’s drunk. I wish I were. I don’t even have it in me to make some smart comment about a Vegas wedding.
Any minute now, I’ll wake and find out it was some kind of weird dream?—
“Theo, I’m very sorry, but I’m abdicating.” She gives a moment to let that weight crush me into smithereens. Then she stomps on them. “After all, I can’t possibly be the Queen from America. It’s totally unreasonable.”
Sense has officially left this conversation. My sister’s possessed, and I want the old Freja back. The one I could predict and wouldn’t pull something like this.
“And everyone thought I was the one to fucking worry about.” A headache thuds behind my eyes.
I stare at the shuttered windows in my front room, shutters that I carefully worked on bringing back to life when I bought this place, another project in a series I’ve filmed and built a name for myself leading the restoration works. For once, I had direction, after the structural work was done and the plasterers had been through following upgrades to the plumbing and electrical. Then came my world of projects, like the shutters. Stripping off the old paint, sanding the wood smooth, new paint. Shutters, at least, can be trusted to do what they should. Like block out light. Unfortunately, they’re no help when a conversation’s gone utterly mad.
My stomach turns. I might vomit as an icy ripple runs down my back and my face burns. The room’s suddenly too hot, the collar of my shirt too tight.
“Wait. You’re not joking?”
“You heard me,” she says softly, so quiet I can barely hear her. “I can’t—won’t—remain Queen. And… you’re next in line to the throne. You know that. I mean, you could abdicate too, but we both know Lars is a total disaster and can’t rule.”
Lars is the third in line to inherit the Danish throne, our cousin, riddled with serious scandal following various arrests and charges. It would be an even bigger scandal for the monarchy if he were to inherit the throne. Something we always thought impossible, as likely as me to inherit the throne.
“Oh no. No, no, no. No fucking way, you can’t do this. Freja! Fuck.”
“We’ll talk soon, darling—I have to go. I haven’t told anyone else. You needed to know first. To give you some time to let the news sink in.”
I start to sweat, shock setting over me in a wave. Words escape me as I float, light-headed. The room reels. I sag hard into an armchair before my legs give out and rub my eyes with my free hand.
“Wait just a minute. You can’t just go and dump all this and hang up on me,” I protest loudly, gesturing as if she can see me. “Becoming Queen was your dream!”
Freja clears her throat. “I… I’ve dreamed of doing something else, Theo. For a long time. Obviously, you know the pressure in the spotlight. The truth is, becoming Queen wasn’t as much my dream as everyone else made it out to be. And I love Avery, and he has this incredible family ranch with an animal rescue, and he’s all I can think about. And… the perception of a Danish queen in America doesn’t follow.”
Instant pounding headache.
“Freja. Seriously?—”
“Yes?”
“Seriously, Freja.”
