Page 112 of Royally Drawn

“I need to go deal with Chris before he knocks the dessert table over,” Ingrid said, chasing after her nephew.

“You need to grovel more than that.”

Betty approached.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Wait her out. She’s stubborn, brother. But she’s also my best friend. She’s still in love with you. It’s what makes everything so fucking confusing for me.”

“She’s been learning Norwegian.”

“We only speak to her in Norsk, she insists. I think secretly, she thought she’d privately eviscerate you in it.”

Only someone as clever as Ingrid perfected her language skills to spite her ex. People didn’t waste energy like that on people they didn’t care about.

“I appreciate that level of dedication.”

“Just don’t fuck it up. Try to be your most charming self. Lars and I will try to help you. I cannot promise we will be successful. But when it works, you owe me forever,” Betty said.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and squeezed her tight. “Betty, I will owe you gladly if I can win her back.”

Celebration of Death

INGRID

“Oh my God, fuck her for that!”

Astrid’s voice boomed through the stone walls of the crypt under the chapel at our country house. I followed her voice until I found her there with Alexandra. They were sitting on the floor laughing. I didn’t know what this was about.

“What is going on?” I asked. “Odie and I have been looking for you all day.”

“Sit, sit,” Alexandra said, clearly drunk. “Drink with me. It’s a Celebration of Death, darling!”

She held out a bottle of whisky.

“This is costly stuff. Where did you get it?” Astrid asked, passing it to me.

“Her Majesty Queen Natalie. Keir’s auntie,” Alexandra said. “Good stuff. I stole it before Rick and his brother pilfered it.”

I took a big swig. “She has good taste and an absolutely awful nephew.”

“Oh, fucking stop it! You love thatman!”

“I do not, Asti!”

“You two have been eye-fucking all night. I’m stone-cold sober, and it’s painful to watch.”

“I am not interested,” I said. “I am focused on returning to Kentucky to ride in the Three-Day. Even from the grave, Celeste may have sunk me as an Olympic hopeful. I am not interested in annoying princes.”

“Fuck her,” Alexandra said. “Live your life. Fuckallthe men—out of spite. I hope that every time I have non-procreative sex from this point forward, it stabs her in hell or something.”

“Alexandra!” Odette groaned. “She was awful, but that’s… more awful.”

“Quote me to The Pope. I could give a fuck,” Alexandra said. The woman wasgone.

Odette took a swig and coughed. “Bless you, but I cannot manage that garbage.”

I snickered. “You’re such a sweetheart, Odette. Why can’t I be more like you?”

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