Freya’s heart pounded in her chest, joy a sparkle that started at the floor and rose up to surround them both in light and love and hope for the future.
‘Viscount Fjalir, it would be my honour.’
And then, as if he refused to miss a single second now that he knew they could be together for ever, he pulled her into a kiss that promised so much joy and so much wickedness her heart didn’t know whether to roar with need or love and Freya finally settled on feeling them both at the same time, as befitting the way her solider, her love, her protector made her feel, then, now and always.
EPILOGUE
Five years later...
THESOUNDOFchildren’s laughter danced on the warm summer breeze flowing into the cabin through the open windows. Freya was talking on the phone, finalising the details of a meeting following her return to Svardia at the end of the month. And while her mind quickly provided the necessary information, her heart was calling her down to the lake, to where her husband was teaching their three children to swim.
‘Your Highness?’
‘Just make sure that the delegate’s husband is invited on the tour too.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Are we done?’ Freya asked, unable to keep the childlike impatience from her tone. A gentle laugh and an assurance that they were indeed done was enough to have Freya hanging up and grabbing the sunscreen she had come to find when the phone had rung. As she followed the steps down from the deck wrapping around their cabin and through the well-trodden path of trampled grass bisecting the large wildflower meadow towards the lake, Freya paused.
She could just make out the sounds of Kjell’s voice, the tone he used for their children so full of love that she almost couldn’t contain her reaction to it. She could just about see their eldest, Alarik, who they had adopted at the age of six, standing knee deep in the water, all skinny limbs and sharp angles. His thick dark hair, soaked from the lake, swept back from his forehead as he laughed when Kjell was attacked by the much smaller, blonder forms of Mikael from one side and Malin from the other.
Freya inhaled slow and deep, relishing this moment. Years ago, she had promised herself that she would take the time to process her emotions, the reality of her diagnosis and her feelings about it and herself. And—she nodded to herself—she had done. It had become part habit now that when she felt the need sweep over her she would take that pause and recognise all the good that had come into her life with a sense of welcome that was joyous.
So much had happened since her first visit to Dalarna and she wouldn’t change a single thing. All the assessments and meetings needed to ensure that the adoption process for Alarik first, and then later Malin and Mikael, who had come together as siblings, was successful had been worth it. At first Freya had feared that, given her position, the public nature of her life and role and what that would mean for her children, it might have been an outright ‘no’ from the agency they had approached. But the amazing team of people there had given Freya, Kjell and their children all the help and support they’d needed in the transition into a family.
In the early years, a lot of effort had been put into working with the press rather than against them and without it Freya genuinely believed it would have been a much harder road. But it had been Marit’s suggestion to see them as collaborators rather than adversaries. And now the Svardian press, and increasingly the international press, were ferociously protective of their children and what was written about them.
Freya smiled in anticipation of Marit’s arrival in a few hours with her husband and their children and felt her heart expand with happiness. The love she had for her sister had developed in the last few years from one that bordered on maternal to one that was now balanced and firmly based in sisterhood. It felt right and good, and Freya knew without a doubt much of that was due to Marit’s husband, who had given her sister the space and love she needed to be confident in who she was and it was one of the things that Freya was eternally grateful for.
Excitement swirled in her chest as she thought of Aleksander and his family, also joining them the following day. With their parents in Svardia, prepared to handle any royal duties, the siblings would soon all be together. Although it had been difficult for their parents to adapt to the changes that Aleksander had made during his rule, they had come to see the benefits of his decisions. And although it was highly unlikely that the love between their parents and her and her siblings would ever be relaxed and free, it was beginning to get easier.
‘Daddy!’ screamed Malin as he picked her up, cradled her in his arms and dropped down into the water, splashing Mikael and Alarik in the process.
Freya’s breath hitched, as it sometimes did when she realised just how close she had come to not having all of this. If she’d let fear overpower her love for Kjell, if she’d given into the darker side of her grief, she would have built barriers that kept the world out and walked her path alone, never knowing the true contentment and peace that came with loving and being loved.
Kjell looked up at that exact moment, his gaze locking onto hers as if he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts. As if to tell her that he never would have let that happen. He had promised to protect her, and had for her whole adult life. He was the soldier of her heart, the warrior of her soul.
He had once told her that he couldn’t have stayed a soldier, that he hadn’t believed in it any more, and at the time she hadn’t been so sure. But Freya had watched as he had negotiated the most appropriate roles for him to assume as consort, with her brother, who clearly had respect for her husband. Over the years they had spent hours in discussions, long into the night sometimes, and Kjell had become a confidant to her brother. Just as Marit’s husband had. The three men had formed bonds nearly as close as their wives. Each couple had gone through their own journeys, deep, painful sometimes, but ultimately it was that which formed the glue that held them all together.
Kjell’s bear-like growl bellowing out across the lake to the delighted squeals of their children, drew Freya’s eyes back to her family and her feet onward. Kjell hadn’t lied when he’d said that the view of the lake was breathtaking in the summer. It was a deep sapphire-blue that sparkled as the sun glinted off the ripples of water like the facets of a jewel. The rich emerald-green forest that framed the lake was full of wildlife that the children both loved and respected. Although their life was in Svardia, Freya’s role and duty to her country’s people a fierce beat in her heart, her true home was here, in the months they were able to gather with family and friends.
A car’s horn beeped and the sudden cry of, ‘Far! Far!’ from a chorus of children’s voices announced Brynjar’s arrival with his wife Anita. The first time Freya had met Kjell’s father she had been struck by the contrast between the joyous and freely affectionate Anita and the conservatively spoken Brynjar. But she would have to have been blind not to see the love contained in that restraint, as if the ferocity of it was so great he needed to hold it back. She had worried that their children might see it as reticence, but they instinctively responded to his quiet, fierce kind of love. It seemed to balance out the effervescent affection from his wife, to an evenness that filled everyone with a sense of calm and love that was utterly unshakeable.
Brynjar and Kjell had used the last five years to transform the building that Kjell had used as a gym into a cabin with accommodation enough for two families. Using as many traditional methods as possible, what had started as a practical necessity had become a labour of love for the two men as they’d provided home and hearth for their families and future generations to come. Throughout, Freya had watched in wonder as the bond between her husband and his father became stronger and stronger with each passing day and year and, although some wounds were deep and would always be there, the healing was powerful enough to soothe that historic hurt.
Freya was still standing in the wildflower meadow when her children ran past her, focused solely on greeting their grandparents—and whatever treats Anita might have brought with her. She couldn’t help but laugh as they raced each other to the cabin, Alarik showing all the restraint of an older brother. Looking back to the lake, her breath caught in her lungs to find Kjell, thigh-deep in the water, his hair slicked back, rivulets of water trickling down his firm muscled torso glinting in the sun, and a gleam in his eyes that was pure heat.
He crooked his finger at her, beckoning her to him, and her cheeks blushed under the weight of his gaze. She shook her head, teasing them both, but his raised eyebrow was a taunt and a promise. He would chase her, she knew, to the ends of the earth if needed, and she would never tire of being caught by this man—her husband, her consort, her one true love.
It was as if she were tied to him by an invisible thread that connected their hearts so, no matter how far apart, they always came back to each other. Now he tugged on it, pulling her to him, and she walked straight into the lake and into his arms, uncaring of the summer dress that was plastered to her skin by the water, and marvelled as he pressed kisses to her lips, her neck and her shoulder, that the once always perfect Princess had finally got her forbidden love.