Page 63 of Royally Drawn

“I’ll miss you,” Ingrid said. “Try not to die in that bucket of bolts, okay?”

“I will try to stay in the air,” I promised. “If you will try not to fall off one of your beasties.”

“I promise to be equally reckless for all my days,” Ingrid giggled.

Ingrid climbed into the waiting car and sped away. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wanted more than this but couldn’t commit right now. I looked around at the planes in every direction. Having someonelike Astrid meant giving up my vagabond life for something more straightforward. I wasn’t prepared to be that guy—not yet. So, much as I wanted to lock her down and call her mine, I would settle for friends who had white-hot sex.

How long would that be enough?

The Hot Goss

INGRID

Astrid and I flew north in Parker’s private plane. While he sat listening to an audiobook in the corner, she and I caught up on gossip. We were headed to Cici’s wedding along with most of the young royals in Europe, and I was much more connected to the scene than Astrid. She was too busy planning her royal wedding while living in the Scottish countryside.

The Norwegians did up their weddings big—not as big as the Brits, but historically excellent. The Norwegians almost always married other royals—at least nobles—much like our fair Neandia. The press saw this as harkening back to a simpler time. Cici’s nuptials garnered similar attention to her parents’ wedding and their swoony royal love story.

I was one of Cici’s six bridesmaids. Crown Prince Edina, the groom’s older sister, remained head bridesmaid. Then there was Betty, two university friends, Leah, and me. Cici saw Betty and me as little sisters and was dying to include us in the fun. I appreciated her welcoming heart even if the idea of being a royal bridesmaid frightened me—not that I hadn’t done it for Alexandra’s wedding and wouldn’t do it again for Astrid’s later this year. Serving abroad challenged me.

“So, what is going on with the man?” Astrid asked.

I sipped champagne and played dumb. “Which man?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Your prince! What is going on with your prince?”

I groaned.

“Oh, come on, Ingrid! Be honest! I know you two are up to something. I can smell it on you.”

“I’ve long washed him off of me,” I laughed. “So, you can stop.”

“Uh-huh. Yes, I’m sure you just scrubbed him off like you disliked it. God, he’s gorgeous. What is going on?”

“We slept together on the trip,” I said.

She raised her eyebrows. “You… does he know…”

“He had to know!” I giggled. “Oh my God, it was an epic disaster. We did the deed and discovered that, yes… apparently, I still had at leastsomeof my hymen. He stayed to help me clean up the murder scene.”

“That bad? I barely bled.”

“He’s… large,” I admitted. “Not to say anything disparaging about Parker, but I think Keir’s huge. And, if I may, without oversharing?—”

“What are sisters for if not an overshare, sweetheart?”

I laughed and kept my voice low. “It’s… pretty… and not what I expected up close. I suppose I have limited experience.”

“I had none, and don’t apologise. Parker was wonderful—amazing!” Astrid said. “I bled a little. At least he didn’t freak out. Or did he?”

“No, he was like, ‘Use hydrogen peroxide,’ and helped me make the bed. He held me all night.”

“Oh, so sweet,” Astrid swooned. “What a good boy.”

“He’s good in many ways. He knows what to do to me. Like, I had no clue how. He flew me to Wales for the weekend, and all we did was lounge around and fuck. And Duncan was there but was… not an asshole. He left us alone. I think I’m his friend now. The Lyons kids are… too much.”

“They are wild. Oh, but I can’t wait to see Leah and Cici!”

“Same. And Betty. They’ve all been up there, and I’ve been in their house alone.”

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