Page 27 of Royally Drawn

“It’s a different type of famous. The press doesn’t have to be kind to Leah,” Lars explained. “They don’t have to worry about Queen Natalie’s wrath with her wild, non-royal niece. You get special treatment due to a status Leah doesn’t have. We all do.”

I’d never considered that celebrities differed from royals. But I supposed we weren’t mere celebrities. At one point, all of us were believed to be ordained by God to command nations. Now, we were just dependable, unelected figureheads. Even as sixth-in-line—soon to be seventh—I was protected and in many ways beyond criticism.

“Even more, the British press is merciless,” Ollie said. “They’re dreadful there. Just the worst. This is why I prefer America and Norway.”

“It’s true. They hate the royal women. Thankfully, right now, there’s little going on there,” Lars said. “Duncan, Keir, and Nate aren’t doing shit on that front. No girlfriends to throw to the wolves.”

Thrown to the wolves? Was it that dire?

“So, do you consider yourself more Norwegian than British?” I asked Ollie. “You realise you are British, right?”

He looked back at me in the mirror. “On paper, but I don’t remember living there. Bestemor and Mamma raised Win and me with Lars and Betty in Oslo. Keir and Nate left to go to school in the UK. Do Itechnicallyreport to Aunt Natalie? Yes. But who do I defer to? Uncle Olav and Aunt Kiersten. London doesn’t feel like home to me.”

Lars patted my knee. “You’re headed there next. You’ll get it after some time. Doesn’t your sister complain?”

“Astrid is a nerd, and Parker is a handsome hermit,” I laughed. “They prefer books to parties. She’s not exactly getting up to much in Edinburgh.”

Astrid and Parker had a lovely house in the Scottish countryside, complete with a beautiful garden and a herd of horses. The crown jewel of their listed Georgian house was the library—their most lived-in room. I loved to visit them there to escape the world. Compared to the highlands, London felt a million miles away.

“We’re not going to be in London anyhow,” Betty said. “We’ll be in Norfolk… wherever that is. I find the geography of that small island confusing. I go where I am told to and do not question much.”

Ollie answered, “Aunt Kiersten’s house is north of London, but it’s a quick train journey to the action. London is alright. It’s got everything. Norfolk is boring as hell.”

When we left this place, our marching orders sent us to a Scandinavian-owned training facility in the British countryside. The dressage, showjumping, and eventing riders converged. Cici called it Summer Camp. It must have felt as much. The massive stately home that occupied the place and its cottages was perfect for hosting large gatherings—including scrimmages with the British riders. It gave little teams and riders from tiny countries a leg up.

Cici’s mother was a full-fledged eventer-turned-dressage-queen. She’d competed only once in the Olympics—held back not by talent but status. She qualified but never attended her second Olympics because she was Norway’s newly crowned Queen. Instead, she devoted all her time to coaching Cici, her only child, and breeding horses to attend international competitions. Her breeding operation allowed riders to compete on horses they’d never be able to afford. There was ajoke that Kiersten was Britain’s best gift to Scandinavian equestrians—its most prolific turncoat.

“I am looking forward to it,” I said. “But I will enjoy going back to Oslo off and on.”

“You’ll have to come sail with us,” Lars said. “We have big plans before the wedding. I assume you can come out?”

I smiled. “Yes, I think so.”

Secretly, though, I wished it was with the other brother—not Lars.

We arrived at the elusive waterfall. Unfortunately, only a few were brave enough to jump after staring down at it. After my tragic bikini experience on the yacht, I’d decided to wear my one-piece suit this time. I was going to jump off that waterfall, and my boobs weren’t goinganywhere.

“I promise I won’t throw you off,” Duncan joked. “Truce?”

“Truce,” I agreed. “If you try something, I will put you on blast.

Cici stood atop the cliff, ready to dive in. She gave a little flourish.

“Just fucking jump, bitch! You’re not a fancy diving girl!” Leah shouted from down below.

“You shut up!” Cici said, hands on her hips.

She then took a moment and dove in flawlessly. Cici was so athletic. I wished I was anything other than a gigantic disappointment at sport. Edina came next. One Crown Princess refused to be outdone by another.

“See, Isak, your sister can do it, can you not?” Cici called up to her fiancé.

Isak was the calm dressage rider to Cici’s insane eventing persona. His expression suggested fear, not excitement.

“I love you, but I cannot,” Isak said in Dansk.

His sister taunted him. I didn’t understand the words, but the context was clear.

“Nei!” Isak shook his head. He left, walking down the stone path to get into the pool the longer way.

---