Page 3 of Royally Rivalled

“And ride all the horses!” Ingrid beamed.

“I will,” I agreed.

I stepped out to the waiting car, past my security detail. It would be the last time I saw them until my next homecoming. On the other sideof the Channel, I was a free woman. For the first time in my life, I could be a normie. Thrilled and terrified, I climbed into the car. It was time for a new adventure and a fresh start in Shalebrook. At twenty-one, I would discover who Astrid Deschamps was and what she was capable of.

three

ASTRID

I burstwith excitement after arriving at my doorstep. I was on my own in the world—abroadand ingraduateschool. A cheerful set of rose bushes and a chalky white facade greeted me. I’d been charmed in pictures by the bright blue door to the row house. It was even better in person. This abode off a quiet street would be my home base for the next year.

As if I were a girl in a period drama arriving at the door of her long-lost relatives, I waited to meet my new roommates. Our communications began as emails and then, eventually, chat messages. We mostly shared memes, but that was fair material for bonding, wasn’t it?

Amara Ayedi, the daughter of a cabinet minister, greeted me exuberantly at the front door. She was almost as I imagined—perky and dressed in a fabulous fuchsia sweater dress with bell sleeves. Hair in tight curls bounced on her shoulders, adding to the excitement on her face, which was warmed by impeccable contouring makeup. Even her simple nude lipstick was chic. I took style notes.

“Oh my God! Astrid! You're here!”

She gave me a massive hug and kiss on both cheeks.

“Hello,” I said.

“Do you love it here?”

I didn't know how to answer. I only just arrived at the airport with all my luggage—brought here by a car service. It’s not like Iknewthis place or could form an opinion from my drive from Heathrow.

“I have no idea.” I laughed nervously. “I hope? I don't know yet. I want to go out and get to know the place.”

“Oh, go out and explore! I've got to meet with my business tutor, but I'll join you in town later.”

I nodded. She was probably right. I should take a walk and explore with my newfound freedom.

“Ole is in the kitchen. He's making some awful fish thing, though. Avoid, avoid!”

“Noted,” I said.

“I must run, darling, but have the best time! Let’s catch up later!”

She rushed out the door as I went upstairs to my room. It was lovely—a bright room overlooking the garden. I directed the driver to deposit my mountain of baggage by my bed. It wasn't a palace, but this space was mine. I valued liberty over luxury, and this allowed me the freedom to find myself. I was a single woman living her own life.

I left to explore, not wanting to deal with bags. I never unpacked for myself, but how hard could it be? Venturing downstairs, I found a tall, thin, blonde man in the kitchen. This was my outer housemate, Ole Jorgensen. Ole was the son of a Danish-born actor and a Danish model. He waslesshandsome than I expected but hadn't fallen from the ugly tree, either.

“Hello,” he said. “Are you Astrid?”

I nodded yes.

“Great,” he said. “You like it here?”

“Seems alright. I'm about to go out and explore.”

“Good, good. You want some fish?”

“No,” I answered. “Thanks.”

“You found the room?”

“Yes, thanks. Left my bags. I'll get to them later.”

He nodded. “Good, good.”

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