Page 21 of Guarding the Princess
* * *
“Charlotte. Sweetheart, we have to get going.”
I wake Wednesday to the best alarm clock ever invented. Ryker, crouched down by my bedside, his smiling eyes telling me he finds me adorable despite the morning breath I’m sure I’m puffing right into his face. I roll onto my back and stretch my arms above my head, an easy smile in place despite today being the day I’ve dreaded for almost three years.
“Morning. Ready to see my home?”
Ryker perches on the bed next to me, those eyes more blue than gray lately. The serious expression on his face wakes me up faster than my special latte from Hit Me.
“I know we said we’d talk about it, but we got a little distracted yesterday with all the packing. Charlotte, I can’t be your bodyguard forever. I’ll go with you, but when you get your own bodyguards set up, I’ll be coming back here.” He splays his hands out. “My job’s here.”
He didn’t say his family is here, which I find odd. He could do his job anywhere, right? But it is asking a lot of him to move his whole life to another country when we’re just friends. I sit up and scoot so my back is resting against my headboard. My hair must look a mess, so I try to push it all behind my shoulders.
“Sure. I really appreciate you being willing to travel overseas to help me get settled into my new life.” I can figure out a way to entice him to stay later. For now, at least he’s agreed to make the trip with me.
I lay my hand on his, needing to touch him now while I still can. He flips his hand over and interlaces our fingers. My stomach melts and I wonder how I’m going to survive without him. How I’m going to survive being back in my old life when home feels like Ryker.
“Let’s get going so we’re not late. I’d hate to see Nora upset with us so early on in our journey. She’s kind of frightening.” He grimaces and I can’t help but laugh. I’ve known Nora since I was a child.
“That’s because she deals with my mother. You have to be tough to survive that many years as her assistant.”
Ryker squeezes my hand and ramps up the grimace. “Oh, joy. Can’t wait to meet mommy dearest either.”
I burst into giggles. I can’t help but find his reactions to the people I’ve known all my life quite charming. Most people, when they find out my mother is the Queen, start complimenting her and trying to talk their way into my good graces. Not Ryker. I love his honesty.
Reluctantly, I let go of his hand and shoo him out of my room. I laid out an outfit last night I planned to wear today. It isn’t my normal style, at least not since I’ve been in California. Black slacks, high heels, and a silk blouse are hardly dressy according to the palace standards, but they feel constricting and stuffy compared to what I’ve been wearing the last three years. As I step into the heels, I feel like I’m putting on a new skin, one that doesn’t quite fit.
Ryker has all my rolling Louis Vuitton luggage by the front door ready to go. A few years in America and I feel conspicuous using the designer luggage I’ve grown up with. His own nondescript black duffel bag sits by his feet. He lets out a low whistle as I walk into the room.
This outfit suddenly feels exactly right if I get that reaction from him. I kept the makeup at a minimum, not wanting to fly for eleven hours trying not to mess it up. I haven’t worn much of it since being here and going back to a full face of makeup doesn’t sound good at all. I’ll wait for my first press conference back in Regora to pile it on.
I glance around my apartment, now stripped of everything personal I’ve collected the last three years. Nora will arrange for someone to take back the rented furniture and close out the lease. Nothing left for me to do except say goodbye.
But as Ryker holds out his hand for me to take, it feels less like a chapter closing and more like a new beginning.
We get to the private airstrip in Burbank in record time. We’re allowed to drive right up to the jet after we pass through a security checkpoint with our identification. Ryker unloads all my bags out of the back of his truck for me, despite my arguing that I can do it just fine on my own. My motto is you pack it, you haul it.
“You’ve got three-inch heels on. What kind of guy would I be if I made you get your own bags?”
“A really handsome one who knows I can handle my own things?” I quirk an eyebrow at him. His returning look could be irritation or exasperation, I’m not really sure which. Either way, he gets my bags while I stand and look pretty. I don’t like just standing around. I’d rather be doing something worthwhile. The life of a royal requires lots of standing around so I better get used to it.
“Ma’am?” A gentleman with a button-down shirt, slacks, and graying hair approaches. “Are you Charlotta?” His accent makes him sound just like me. It’s been so long since I’ve heard anyone else with the same accent, it makes me smile.
I reach out to shake his hand. “Yes, that’s me.”
He shakes my hand and looks at me inquisitively. “I’m the family pilot, hired on just after you left. I’m Jakob, at your service.” He bobs his head in our traditional way of giving respect.
“Lovely to meet you, Jakob. This is Ryker, my personal bodyguard.” I gesture to Ryker as he comes up next to me and shakes Jakob’s hand. “We’ll both be heading to Regora.”
Jakob reverts to Swedish, our native language. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t have him on the travel itinerary.”
The air seems thicker as I’m faced with the first evidence that soon, my life won’t be my own. I respond in English so Ryker can follow along, my words a bit more clipped than necessary. “The Queen was not informed, but I assure you, Ryker is coming with me. Please see to stowing his belongings on board.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jakob bobs his head again and spins to make the plane ready for two passengers, not one.
Ryker looks over at me and raises an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes and nudge him with my elbow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
