Page 47 of Royal Rising

14

Kalle

I’ve had a lotto drink tonight.

The beer with my brother, and another one when I was getting ready.

There was a little shot of whiskey before I left. Okay, maybe two. And now, most of the bottle of wine is gone, and I don’t think Fenella had more than a glass.

I’m fine though—I am an Erickson and Vikings can handle their alcohol. It just helps get Edie’s expression of disappointment out of my head.

And hurt. That one still sticks.

I can honestly say it’s not the best night to take Fenella to dinner, but it’s the least I can do. I look at it as if I’m doing her a favour because while the intrigue is there, the interest in Fenella has definitely dwindled.

And that’s a me thing—nothing to do with her.

So while I sit across from here, trying to pull out the charm and make conversation, there’s a wholewhat am I doinghere vibe going on for me. I’m a little stunned that I’m there, but I wager being with Fenella would stun most men.

She’s like my sister—Lyra is a force of nature as well, but unlike her, Fenella has the billions to fix the destruction she leaves in her wake. At least her father does.

Halfway through Nonna’s finest lasagna, I have a flurry of thoughts, wondering if I should be thinking of Fenella as a potential queen.

Edie said no. She doesn’t want to marry me.

And now—it’s not like I’m fixated on the idea of getting married, but it’s something to think about so I don’t have to think about other things.

Like me being king. And how crappy I’ll probably be at it. If I think about who I would want to become my queen, I don’t have to think about me being king.

Do I need to give every woman I date the queen test? Or should I go with the arranged marriage route, like Odin? It worked out pretty well for him.

No. That’s not for me.

I never thought marriage was for me until my father shoved the idea into my head and now that’s the only thing I can think about. So maybe I am fixated on the idea.

It’s hard to imagine Fenella with Mom’s emerald and diamond crown on her head when I look at her across the table. She’d look pretty good in it though.

I brought her to Nonna’s Ristorante because I had a hankering for the lasagna, and the light from the tiny candles in the glass jars gives her face a softness it lacks in the daylight.

It also makes her prettier, a more approachable prettier.

I chew on a piece of bread and try to pay attention to Fenella’s story about the last Met Gala; something about a dress that resembled someone else’s and what was said in the ladies’ room.

I don’t do a very good job paying attention. At least I seem to nod in the right places as I continue to mull over the fact that Edie turned me down.

She said no to marrying me.

Edie said no.

Not that I would expect her to ever want to marry me, but hearing the no come out of her mouth was a shock. I thought she’d give a reason, argue a bit but a flat-out, no? And like I offended her with the question?

I wasn’t expecting that.

I don’t hear no very often.

“Earth to Kalle.”

I glance up at a pair of bemused eyes. Purple eyes, because of course Fenella Carrington would be the only woman I know with purple eyes.

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