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“Sorry I was late,” he says to me, eyeing me in the rearview mirror. “I run on Magnus’s schedule, and that can be off at times. You’ll find out soon enough.” He pauses. “I really didn’t expect them to hire someone this fast.”
I give a light shrug, looking out the window at the passing scenery. Farm fields covered in white and orderly forests of pine fly past in the dying light. It’s pretty here, I’ll give it that much, even if I feel a bit discombobulated about the whole thing.
See, Ottar’s not alone in thinking everything had gone so fast. It’s literally been a couple of weeks since my former employer, Prince Eddie of England, told me that he and his wife, Duchess Monica, were taking their daughter, Madeline, back to Canada.
Now, I’d gone with them before. Four years ago they’d moved to a tiny island off the very wet west coast of British Columbia to prepare for Duchess Monica’s pregnancy and escape the rubbish media of the UK, and I went along with them as one of their personal protection officers. We did our time there on the island, enjoying the much-needed peace and quiet, then came back to London for baby Madeline’s birth.
Then Eddie and Monica decided that they didn’t want to raise Madeline in the same environment that Eddie was brought up in, so they decided to move back to that tiny island and asked if I would go with them.
I ended up saying no. As much as I loved working for them, the island felt like early retirement. Suffice to say, I opted to stay behind, which then meant I was out of a job. And being a PPO or bodyguard, it’s not like you can start perusing the job listings on Craigslist and hand out applications.
Thankfully Eddie helped out. He nosed around and found out that Prince Magnus and Princess Ella of Norway were looking for a bodyguard, specifically for Ella and their children. Supposedly, one of the kids, despite having his mother and a nanny, is quite the troublemaker and is hard to keep an eye on. One thing led to another, and Eddie arranged for Prince Magnus to hire me without even meeting me. I guess Eddie’s word goes a long way in the royal world—enough so that I only found out I had the job just the other day.
“I’m grateful that Prince Eddie was able to put in such a good word with Prince Magnus, especially on such short notice,” I tell Ottar. “But from speaking to Prince Magnus on the phone, I got the impression that the role won’t be too dissimilar from what I was doing before.”
“Yes,” Ottar says, rather uneasily. He gives me a crooked smile. “I can see how you would think that.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” he says, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “Let’s just say that I’m sure when you worked for the duke and duchess that they ran a pretty tight ship.”
“I suppose,” I say. “Not as uptight as the rest of his family, though.”
“Right. Well, Magnus…does not run a tight ship. Ella tries to, but it’s hard when she’s trying to balance her children and running her environmental group…the palace can be chaos on even the calmest days.”
“I see,” I tell him. This doesn’t really surprise me. Prince Magnus is famous for being the wild prince, especially before he settled down and married Ella. Some media outlets even report that their marriage was an arranged one to try to counteract a slew of bad publicity the prince had gotten. Extreme sports, sex tapes, being a drunken idiot—it was hard to go a week without reading something about Magnus in the papers.
Now, since he got married and had children, he seems to have calmed down. He’s become a public spokesperson for ADHD, which he has, and runs an organization devoted to eradicating the stigma attached to being neurodiverse. He’s actually one of the most-liked royals there are because of how open he is with the public.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ottar quickly says, “I think you’ll enjoy working here. Everyone is super friendly. Just…be prepared for the unexpected.”
“Is the unexpected what happened to your face?” I ask.
He nods, looking chagrined. “The other day Magnus wanted to go cross-country skiing. I’m an awful Norwegian because I’m not the best on skis.”
“You don’t say,” I comment wryly.
“It’s true. It’s like I have two left feet. Anyway, Magnus then decided to turn it into a downhill skiing expedition, and wherever he goes, I follow.” He gestures to his face. “I had a run-in with a tree. Or two.”
“You’re not his personal protection officer, though,” I point out.
“No, but it’s my job to try to keep him in line. When I can. I’d never let him go off and do something like that on his own, even when Einar is with us. I’ve even been BASE jumping, if you can believe it.”
I’m not sure that I can believe it. “Sounds like you have your hands full.”
He smirks at me. “I do. But so will you.”
“Princess Ella? Every footage I’ve seen of her, she seems as calm and collected as they come,” I tell him.
“She is, thank god. But you’re not just protecting her. You’re protecting her and her children, Bjorn and Tor, and they are a handful. Bjorn especially. Takes after his father in every single way. Then there’s Ella’s lady-in-waiting, and the nanny, and they both take the term headstrong to the next level. Now you see? You’re not just protecting Ella but the rest of them too. In some ways, at least there is only one Magnus.”
I mull that over. Suddenly everything seems a lot less simple than it did a few days ago. But I’m nothing if not adaptable. I’m sure everything will be just fine, and it’s not like I don’t know how to handle a few headstrong ladies.
Ottar takes the car off the road and down a long driveway covered by trees.
“Where are we going?” I ask, staring at the frozen fields beyond the trees.
“To Skaugum,” Ottar says.
