“Don’t you dare say that,” he hisses twisting in the bed to grab me by the shoulders. “You are not nothing and never will be nothing. Do you understand that?”

“You are nobility. You are royalty. And the public, your country, they all look at you and they admire you and respect you and want to be you and who am I? I’m no one. I’m just some girl, just a girl.”

“You’re a girl but you’re the strongest girl I know. Strongest person I know. You should be admired and respected because of all the things you do and everything you’ve survived. Any other person in your shoes would be crushed but you rose up and you made sure that you would not go down without a fight. I don’t care if you don’t see it that way, that’s how I see it. That’s how everyone should see it.”

“But they all expect you to marry someone better. Richer, skinnier, prettier, more educated, more European. You’re the most sought-after man in this country, you’re the one who everyone wants, you’re—“

“I don’t care who I am to everyone else! All that matters is who I am to you. Who am I to you, Maggie? Please, tell me.” He shakes me lightly and I can see he’s struggling to keep his voice under control. “Am I your lover, your friend? Your boyfriend? Soul-mate? What? What am I to you?”

I sigh, my heart heavy. “You’re everything to me.”

He’s getting so worked up that I feel terrible about even trying to fight with him. We shouldn’t be doing this, not now.

And he looks like he doesn’t believe me. “And you’re everything to me. I’m not sure what I can do to convince you of that but it’s the truth, Maggie. Sometimes all I can offer you is the truth.”

I nod, pulling the covers over me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m being a pain.”

“You’re never a pain, Maggie,” he says, reaching over to kiss me on the forehead. “I guess this is just part of us trying to fit into each other’s lives. Everything you say and feel, I understand. Okay? I do. I don’t want you to ever think that I’m not on your side, because that’s exactly where I am and where I’ll always be.”

God. He has such a way of soothing me.

This man.

I give him a soft smile. “Merry Christmas, Viktor.”

“Merry Christmas, Maggie.”

The light goes off and he lies back in bed.

I hear him let out a long, disappointed sigh just before I fall asleep.

* * *

***

* * *

Even though Christmas Eve is celebrated in Sweden, there are a lot of activities and events going on Christmas Day, especially for the royal family.

For us, we had to wake up at the crack of dawn for Julotta which was something the kids really didn’t want to do. I didn’t want to either. Don’t get me wrong, though I’m not especially religious I do like church on Christmas and Easter but it was crazy early and I wasn’t feeling the best.

Julotta, Viktor explained, was a church service traditionally done in the middle of the night, though as the decades went on, and Midnight Mass became more popular, the old four a.m. wake-ups of Julotta were chucked in favor of more reasonable times.

Though to me, eight a.m. is not a reasonable time to be in church.

Luckily, the fact that it was so early meant the kids were extra sleepy (AKA quiet) and because the sermon is in the church located on the palace grounds, we didn’t have to hustle them too much.

It wasn’t just for the royal family either, there were a lot of people there (who were mostly upper class or perhaps related to the royal family), and actually, even though I couldn’t understand it all in Swedish, it was beautiful with lots of lights all over the church. There was a sense of respect and peace in the air that made me feel warm inside and with Viktor beside me, his strong and handsome face lit by the candle light, I felt like everything we argued about last night was being put to bed. It all had to come out but now it was out and we could deal with it and move on.

I hate fighting with him and I hate how much conflict there is in our lives now. I closed my eyes and prayed that I could take the peace I felt in that church everywhere.

When the sermon is over though and we exit the church, Viktor decides we should head right back to our place to get the kids ready for ice skating later in the day.

So instead of heading toward the palace, we follow the crowds of churchgoers out along the snow-packed path that leads to the parking lot.

Everyone is very cheerful and respectful, all wearing fancy hats and suits and pearls, bright festive colors that stand out against all the snow. There’s a nice feeling in the air and I don’t at all feel threatened by anyone. Sure there are some side-eyes I’m getting, especially from older ladies, who literally look like they’re about to clutch their pearls, but for the most part people are friendly to me. Maybe it’s the Christmas spirit. Maybe I’m finally being accepted.

But when we go through the gates and into the lot, we’re ambushed by a frenzy of paparazzi, dozens of them with their cameras out. They actually burst through the crowd toward us and I don’t know where the other agents are and Nick seems too far ahead.

I’m scared.

I’m actually scared.

The flashbulbs are flying, they’re yelling in Swedish and English, stuff like “Are these all your children?” and “Who is the father?” and “The Swedish people don’t want an American princess.”

Viktor does his best to make sure they back off and I can tell from the way his fists are curling that he’s very close to punching someone out, which is probably a bad move for a prince.

Then April starts to run away and a paparazzi steps right in front of her, taking her picture. The flash blinds her, the camera collides with her head and she’s down.

One minute she’s there, next I can’t see her through the crowd anymore.

“April!” I scream and push through everyone to find her lying on the snow, trying to get up, the churchgoers helping her. She’s holding her head and from the looks of it, trying hard not to cry.

“You bastard!” I yell at the photographer and I fling myself at him, pounding him with my fists.

“Maggie!” Viktor yells from behind me but I am a pit of rage. I am an angry mama bear and no one hurts my babies! Not even the snarky ones.

I feel strong hands grip me by the shoulders and arms and pull me away and Viktor is pushing me back so I’m behind him and now he’s ripping the photographer’s camera out of his hands and throwing it on the ground, stomping on it with his boot.

With April on her feet I grab her hand and pull her toward me. “Are you okay?” I cry frantically searching and feeling her head for any bumps.

She nods quickly but doesn’t say anything.

From behind us, poor Callum is crying at the whole scene, red-faced with big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

Rosemary and Thyme are holding onto each other.

And Pike is doing his best to become a wall against the other photographers, shielding us from them as they try and take pictures of the aftermath.

Then in seconds, the crowd is swarmed by agents and we’re whisked away through the crowd to the limo where we’re ushered in.

We’re all breathing hard as the car peels away, Nick apologizing for not being quick enough, Viktor looking like he wants to punch a hole in the wall, the others looking scared.

“We should take her to the hospital, she could have a concussion,” I tell them.

“Will do,” Nick says.

“I’m fine,” April says. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

But it does hurt.

The fact that this happened hurts.

And I know there’s only more hurt to come now.

I know that this was the last straw.

This is a life that I don’t want, a life that endangers the ones I have been sworn to protect and watch over.

This…is it.

This is when it all changes.

“Please don’t cry,” April whispers to me. “I’m okay.”

I sniff, not realizing that a tear had escaped my eyes.

Even if April is okay, I know I won’t be.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Viktor

My fists clench and unclench.

There’s a stinging small cut on the inside of my fingers, perhaps from grabbing that guy’s camera and it’s not enough. I should have split my knuckles open on his face. I should have made it so he could never operate a camera again.

But these damn rules. It’s one thing for Maggie to attack him, which, considering he technically didn’t attack anyone, can be considered assault if the court wanted to rule it that way. It’s another if I do it.

It looks like that won’t be the case. The press was in the wrong. They were in the very wrong. There were a bunch of witnesses to tell them what fucking garbage it was for them to ambush us after a Julotta service. Especially when you factor in a fourteen-year old girl had to be taken to the hospital.

I’m ashamed.

Deeply ashamed.

I know this wasn’t my fault but at the same time, how could it not be? I’m the one who had the idea to fly everyone over here. I knew the risks. I knew that the kids would be subjected to shit like this. I knew that things could go horribly wrong and they have gone horribly wrong.

I’ve been in the military. I’ve seen my brother, dead. I’ve seen countless horrible things but what I saw this morning was something uniquely horrific.

I saw the woman I care about and the children that I now consider to be family, be attacked by a bunch of hyenas with cameras.

This isn’t anything new.

This has happened before.

But today, Christmas Day of all days, this crossed the line.

I saw them all in this extremely joyous, open, vulnerable state, having just come out of a church. The perfect picture of their smiling faces and rosy cheeks from the cold and all the color of their outfits against the soft white. We all felt the peace, the sense of acceptance that I know Maggie didn’t feel last night.

At that moment, I knew that Maggie was letting her guard down.