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“He’ll take good care of you, I promise,” Magnus says. He sounds serious and looks grave, but with him I can never tell if there’s some not-so-hidden meaning behind his words.
I take it at face value, thank him profusely, then head off after James.
It’s another cloudy day here, with even the snow having lost some of its sheen, yet this is the brightest I’ve felt in a long time. I know I need to keep my wits about me, that going to Todalen with James might not be the best idea in hindsight, but at the moment I really don’t care. I’ll take anything that will distract me from the loss I feel inside, that missing piece of me that I don’t think will ever be whole again.
I get in the back seat of the VW, surprised to see James sitting beside Olaf. Putting distance between us.
“Thank you,” I tell him as the car pulls away and starts down the driveway.
James turns to look at me, an affectionate gleam in his eyes that makes my heart skip a few beats. God, the effect he has on me sometimes makes everything seem extra unfair. “You really thought I’d let you go to your grandmother’s funeral alone?”
I shrug, looking out the window. “Yes. I mean, you have your job here.”
“I do. But my job is to protect everyone, you included. There might be a nanny snatcher on the loose, and what would happen if I weren’t there to protect you?”
I laugh softly at nanny snatcher. “That’s true.”
“Magnus thought it was a good idea too,” he goes on. “Not just for protection, but because I’m your friend and you need a friend right now.”
I look to him, feeling grateful all over again. “Then I’m glad you’re my friend.” If I can’t have anything more from him, his friendship is still a pretty special thing to have.
The tiny private airfield isn’t too far from the estate, and soon we’re piling inside the royals’ private jet. It’s small, but it’s swanky, and even though I’ve been in it a few times, it feels completely different when it’s just me, James, the flight attendant, and the pilots. Like we’re some rich, jet-setting couple off on a luxurious vacation, not a lowly nanny and a bodyguard off to a funeral.
I sit in a window seat, expecting James to sit next to me. But of course we have the whole plane, and he sits on the other side of the aisle.
I don’t like this distance between us. I never have. I’ve fought for it, I’ve done what I could to enforce this distance, to keep us in our roles, but deep down, I hate it. I hate that there’s that wall separating our rooms.
“James,” I say quietly as the plane starts up its engines.
He looks at me. “Yes?”
Suddenly I feel so shy, so vulnerable, like I’m seconds away from crumbling. “Do you…” I look down at the empty seat next to me, afraid to ask for what I want.
He nods, recognition flashing in his dark eyes. “Of course.”
He undoes his belt and comes over, sitting down next to me and buckling up again. Then he takes my hand in his, his skin so warm against mine, and raises it to his mouth. He places a light kiss on my knuckles as his eyes bore into mine. “I’m right here,” he says.
I nearly burst into tears. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, but somehow I manage to keep them at bay, blinking fast, looking out the window.
James doesn’t let go of my hand the entire flight.
Fifteen
LAILA
The plane lands in a private airfield outside Trondheim, and Magnus arranged a rental car for the two of us. With James behind the wheel of a black Mercedes, we drive south of the city, through valleys and villages surrounded by rounded peaks. Everything looks so beautiful and pure, yet there’s an emptiness about it too. Like even these places are touched by the same loss that I am.
Eventually the road swings through a mountain pass and the fjord appears before us, the mountains on the other side towering like overlords.
“Shit,” James swears under his breath, trying to keep his eyes on both the road and the view. “This is incredible. And you grew up here?”
“I sure did,” I tell him as the road winds along the water, the surface dark and reflecting back the mountains. Eventually we come to the end of the fjord and the base of the village, which spreads out into a stunning valley, the patchwork quilt of farms and houses now covered by unifying snow. All the houses here are in primary colors—red, orange, yellow, white—the same colors they’ve been since they were built, having been passed down through generations.
Home. This is and always will be home to me. It doesn’t matter that I’ve lived in London or Oslo—this is where my heart feels most at peace. The funny thing is, there’s nothing really here for me anymore. My grandmother is gone. I’m friendly with my cousin, but he’s literally my only family left now. And I’m friendly with some of the villagers too, but there’s nothing keeping me except the sense of belonging. They say you can never go home again, but I hope, deep down, that one day I can.
“So this is the town,” James muses as we drive past a handful of stores, rounding the bend of the fjord. “What a journey you’ve been on, Laila. From fjord farm girl to being employed by royalty. The people here must be very proud of you.”
“Turn right up there,” I say as we head over a bridge, a frozen river beneath. “And I’m not too sure about them being proud. They’re pretty down-to-earth here. I don’t think most of them have an opinion either way about the royal family. And anyway, you’re the one with the journey. From the foster system of Glasgow to becoming Prince Eddie’s and Prince Magnus’s bodyguard.”
