Oh. There’s no reason for that to surprise me at all and yet it does. Goes to show I probably should have had this on my radar. “Okay. Good to know.”

She shakes her head slightly, looking pained. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to discuss this with you before I signed the contract.”

“Why? What would you have done? Put a baby in there with one of the clauses? First house, then dog, then baby?”

“Oh, come on,” she snaps. “You know it would have been good to at least discuss it. I eventually want kids. Don’t you?” She quickly adds, “And don’t you dare shrug.”

I mentally will my shoulders to stay down. “To be honest, Ella, I never gave it any thought.”

“But you’re the heir to the throne. Your whole, I don’t know, business is based on handing down this position to the next in line. Who does it go to after you?”

I manage to get one shoulder up in a shrug before she spears me with her eyes. “I don’t know. Cristina? Irene? One of them.”

“Magnus.”

“What?” I throw my arms out. “What do you want me to say?”

“Didn’t you think you’d get married?”

“I never thought about it either.”

“You just assumed you would stay single for the rest of your life?”

It sounds dumb when she says it like that, but, “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe you,” she says softly, staring blankly down at the ties.

“Wait, what? I just never gave any thought about the future before, it was like it didn’t exist. Ella, you can’t get mad over things I thought before I met you. That’s not fair.”

She looks at me with forlorn eyes. “But you only met me six weeks ago.”

“Things change. They’ve changed big time. We’re getting married!”

“Because you have to!”

“No. No, because I want to. You should know that by now, please.”

She’s shaking her head, pressing her lips together until they’re a thin white line.

I sigh and come around over to her, grabbing her hands, making her drop the dress. “Ella. Look at me.”

Reluctantly she raises her head.

“We’ll get through this,” I tell her gently.

“Through what?” she asks, searching my eyes. “There is so much for us to get through already.”

“I know this has been really stressful and hard on you and you’re handling it so well, but you just need to handle it for a little more. In two weeks we’ll be married.”

“In two weeks I might be married to a man who doesn’t want children.”

“That’s not fair.”

She moves out of my grasp. “No, it’s not fair. I always thought I would have kids one day, especially if I got married.”

I bite my lip, staring at the carpet for a long beat. “Yeah, but…” I look back at her. “Didn’t you also see yourself having kids with someone that you loved?”

And there it is.

There’s the elephant in the room that has been following us from room to room to room throughout our entire engagement.

She doesn’t say anything to that, just moves away to the bathroom and shuts the door.

I sigh and sit on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. This is still so messy, still so complicated. I thought it would get easier with time but so far, it’s not.

And a part of me is afraid getting married won’t fix a thing.

We end up going to dinner not on speaking terms, which makes things fucking awkward as anything. Luckily, we’ve gotten so good at faking things so far, that any strain between us isn’t apparent to anyone else.

Well, except for Aksel. I can’t read that man very well, but I can tell he thinks something is a bit out of whack. I’m just not sure if he’s picking up on the fight or something else. The whole sham marriage thing.

It isn’t until after the guests leave and we’ve put on our last fake smiles that Ella says she has a headache and quickly excuses herself, going to the room.

Aksel and I are sitting in the lounge (one of them, anyway, there’s, like, ten in this palace) with glasses of aquavit and he’s staring at me curiously.

I look around the room, avoiding his eyes. “So which room out of all the rooms is your favorite? Must be hard to choose.”

“Why didn’t you go after her?” he asks.

I stare at him. “What?”

“Your fiancée,” he says. “She didn’t seem well.”

“She’s fine. Just a headache.”

He takes his time digesting that as he takes a sip of his drink. “How long have you guys known each other again?”

I can’t tell if there’s more behind that question than he’s letting on. “Why?” I ask carefully. I may have told Viktor the truth about us but I’m not sure how honest I should be with Aksel.

He shrugs with one shoulder. “I don’t know,” he says smoothly. “I know we don’t talk often but it does feel like this came out of left field. In other words, Magnus, this isn’t like you.”

“Maybe I’m growing up,” I say, wincing as I take a sip. Good lord it burns, it burns. “You know, I got diagnosed with ADHD and I’ve been learning to handle myself better so maybe that’s what you’re picking up on.”

“You don’t say,” he says wryly. “And don’t change the subject. When did you meet her? How long have you known her?”

“I’m not changing the subject,” I counter. “I just want to know why you’re so suspicious of my fiancée.”

“I’m not suspicious of her,” he says. “But it’s obvious you two don’t know each other.” He pauses. “Is she pregnant? Is this a shotgun wedding?”

“Maybe you should slow down on the aquavit there, Hamlet. She’s not pregnant. In fact, we were just arguing over kids upstairs.”

Oh, I think I’ve said too much.

“You do know Hamlet was the Prince.”

“And he was also the father. King Hamlet. Hey, I paid attention to Shakespeare in school. I thought he had the lowdown on what the real royal life was like.”

“Why were you arguing over kids?”

“Why are you suddenly Mr. Talkative? What happened to Mr. Quiet and Mr. Brooding?”

“Nothing happened to him,” he says. He grows quiet and then seems to brood into his drink right in front of my eyes. “I haven’t really talked to anyone in a while.”

Well, shit, now I feel bad. And I certainly don’t want him to feel worse.

“What happened with your nanny? I thought you were getting a new one.”

For the first time I see a smile creep on his face. A small one, invisible to the naked eye, but it’s there. “I did get a new one. She’s actually more of a governess. From Australia. The girls love her.”

I raise my brow and take a drink before I ask, “What’s her name, this Australian governess?”

“Aurora,” he says.

“Pretty,” I comment.

“She is,” he says. Then he clears his throat. “So, you don’t want kids…?”

“I never said that. I told her I’d never thought about it.”

“You never thought about having kids and yet you asked this woman to marry you? Magnus, you have to come up with a better story than that.”

“It is not a story,” I say in overblown defensiveness, like how dare you insult my sensibilities.

But I don’t have the energy to keep this up around him.

“Okay fine, here’s the truth. Ready, King Hamlet?” I exhale loudly. “I fucked up with that sex video. Everyone hated me. Pretty sure that included my own family. I had to get married to someone royal and nice to improve my image. I was arranged to meet Ella. She reluctantly agreed to marry me. Now we’re getting married, everyone has forgotten about the video, and appears to love us all again, and that, my friend, is that.”

“Uh huh,” he says slowly, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers together. “You left out the part where you’ve fallen in love with her.”

I stiffen. “That’s neither here nor there. And damn you for assuming that.”

“I don’t know how you can possibly be ashamed of it.”

“Who said I was ashamed of it?” I look at him sharply.

“Look. I was married to my wife for a very long time. Over those years I learned a lot about being in a marriage. I learned how…easy it is to fake love. I also learned how easy it is to spot the real thing, or at least the lack of it. For heaven’s sake, Magnus, you’re marrying this woman and you love her. Go and tell her.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“Because she thinks whatever you’re putting out there, you’re faking it. I’m telling you, I know. Don’t let her become a fool.”

Hold on. Does this mean that there was a lack of love between him and his ex-wife, the do-gooder Queen that captured the hearts of the nation, of the world?

But of course, I don’t ask him about that. This isn’t about him. This is about me. And I’m afraid he has a point.

I get to my feet. “Well, then I’m sorry to love you and leave you, Aksel. But I think I have something to tell my future wife.”

I leave the room and head up the many stairs to our floor, get lost a few times, and then finally find our bedroom.

I open the door to a darkened room and use the flashlight on my phone to shine the way forward.

Ella is lying on the bed, still in her dress from earlier.

Crying.

I hear her sobs before I even see her.

“Ella,” I whisper, coming right over to her. My heart is in my throat, slowly melting. I’ve never seen her cry before, and the sound of it is already doing a number on me.

I put the phone down on the bedside table and flick on the light. She’s face down on top of the covers, her own phone beside her.