CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 10

“Yet another party?” Mari asked. “Didn’t we just have one?”

“That was for your return and for Christian, who is supposed to be leaving,” Lillian returned.

“I am leaving,” Christian argued. “I was supposed to be gone already, but Dad insisted I stay until after the announcement. Trust me, my bags are packed,” he added.

“Well, tonight, we’re telling royal families from Northern Europe, so there’s no going back now,” Lillian replied.

“I’m leaving, Lil. God, act like you’ll miss me a little,” he huffed.

“How can I miss you? You’re still here,” Lillian teased, punching her older brother in the shoulder in jest.

“Erik will be here, Elin,” Christian said.

“Shut up,” Elin replied.

“What? Mom likes him for you,” he said.

“We’ve been over this,” Lillian reminded. “He’s a Prince, and he’ll be King someday. Elin needs someone without the high and mighty title. I’d even suggest someone without a title altogether.”

“Without a title? Why?” Christian asked.

“Why not?” Lillian asked.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing… I don’t care about titles.”

“That’s a good thing; you’re about not to have one,” Mari teased her brother this time.

Elin had to smile at that.

“So, about tonight?” Lillian changed the subject. “We’re supposed to present a united front.”

“Why can’t Dad just do this?” Mari asked. “Or Mom? Or both of them? He hasn’t retired yet.”

“Because we’re the new guard,” Lillian replied. “And so are our guests. We’re all basically the only hope that the constitutional monarchy will still be a thing for the next hundred years. We’re to smile and shake hands, kiss babies, and make it known that Norway is in good hands.”

“Fine,” Mari replied, shaking her head. “Does it have to require formal wear?”

“It’s a few hours,” Elin said. “You can stand to be dressed up for a few hours.”

“Says you – you chose pants. I’m in this dress, which is straight out of Cinderella,” Mari argued. “Who picked this thing out anyway?”

“You could have had a hand in choosing your dress, but you said you didn’t care,” Christian reminded her.

“Let’s just go,” Mari stated. “The sooner this dinner thing starts, the faster it ends.”

It had been two weeks since the party where they’d announced to their extended family about the changes to the order of succession. Elin had been working like crazy ever since then. Her father had been trying to pound every single lesson about being sovereign into her head. She knew he wasn’t dying, but he seemed worried that his mind wasn’t what it once was and that any day he could lose everything, so Elin paid attention; if not for herself then for her father.

Her mother walked her through what it meant to be Queen. Despite being one by marriage and not by blood, and even though Elin would be the sovereign – so, a different kind of Queen – her mother’s lessons still applied. Elin would be a female ruler, and her father had no idea what that meant. Her mother understood at least the female part, and her father had the ruler part down, so she’d made many, many notes and then attempted to combine them into something that could make sense when she took over.

Now, they were hosting a party for the next generation of royals. The Prince and Princess of Sweden had arrived the previous day. They were siblings, and Gretel was the next in line for the throne while her brother, Hugo, was two years younger. The Prince of Denmark had just arrived, and Erik would be King someday. Of course, they’d also invited Elizabeth and Palmer. Even though Sophia and Leif were technically the future of St. Rais, Elizabeth and Palmer were close to her age, currently held the crown of St. Rais, and were also gay, so Elin felt a special closeness to Elizabeth these days now that she’d been thrust into the spotlight as Elizabeth had been years ago.

“How are you?” Elizabeth asked her.

Elin had sat Elizabeth next to her at the table with Palmer on Elizabeth’s other side. Lillian was on Elin’s other side, and it was a strange feeling because Elin was sitting at the head of the table per her father’s instruction. He’d wanted people to start seeing her as monarch, which meant taking his seat in his absence, like her mother had done several times before and Christian, as well, when both of their parents were away and the occasion had called for it.

“I’m okay. How are you?”

Elizabeth smiled at her and said, “We’re doing well. Sophia and Leif are sad they weren’t able to make the trip.”

“They’re with their grandparents for a couple of weeks,” Palmer explained.

“Sophie loves cooking with Palmer’s mom, and Leif spends his time doing messy science experiments with Palmer’s dad. They love it,” Elizabeth added, looking over at her wife with such adoration.

God, Elin wanted someone to look at her like that. Instead, she smiled and looked around the table. Her brother had been relegated down to the end of the table and sat contemplatively, staring at his wineglass. Mari was talking to Erik, Prince and future King of Denmark. Lillian was engaged in a heated debate with Gretel about which was the best architect of the century. The two shared a love of architecture and design. Hugo seemed to just be kind of along for the ride. It reminded Elin of how she’d often sat at this table with little to contribute. Christian was next in line, much like Gretel, which meant Hugo and Elin were the spares and didn’t have much to do outside of the standard royal duties. Now, Elin was at the head of the table and felt very much out of place.

Just then, the staff brought out Elin’s favorite dessert on plates for everyone. Skolebrød was a Norwegian school bread, but it was more like a filled donut than a bread, which was how it had earned its name due to its popularity as a lunch treat for Scandinavian children. It was a sweet dough formed into buns, filled with vanilla custard, and baked. Then, they were glazed with sugar and dipped into sweetened shredded coconut. Elin had loved them since she was a child, but over the past few years, she’d noticed she’d loved them even more. The royal chef must have tweaked his recipe because they’d tasted even better than she’d remembered. They weren’t normally something to be served at a formal affair, though, so her father must have requested them for her tonight, knowing how much she loved them.

At the end of dinner, their guests retired to a sitting room where they could all share an after-dinner drink and conversation. That was when Elin told them of the change to the royal line of Norway.

“You’re stepping down?” Erik asked Christian.

“It’s what I want,” Christian replied.

“And Elin is going to be Queen?” Gretel asked no one in particular.

And on and on it went until finally, the topic of conversation had changed. Elin had chosen to wear a pair of black pants with a white button-down and black blazer over it since her parents wouldn’t be there to scold her over her attire, and she was grateful because she felt much more comfortable without the big, fancy dress. She did, however, need to undo one of her top buttons because it was getting hot in the room with everyone talking and the staff having lit the fire for them. After everyone was safely engaged in a conversation about something unrelated to the royal family, Elin stood and excused herself for a moment. She headed in the direction of the kitchen in order to snag an extra dessert for herself, which she knew she shouldn’t do in front of the others. In the kitchen, instead of the chef, she found her private secretary.

“Ingrid,” she said, nearly tripping over her own feet as the kitchen door swung forward and back and smacked her in the ass.

“Ma’am?” Ingrid asked as she stood there with a cup of coffee in her hands. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t fall this time,” Elin replied, taking a few steps forward. “What are you doing here?”

Ingrid looked around the empty kitchen and said, “Um… I was just getting myself a cup of coffee.”

Elin looked at her, feeling like something was off but not knowing what.

“Have you seen the Skolebrød Henri made by any chance? I was hoping to grab another one.”

“Oh, I don’t believe he made any extras, Ma’am. I think he made enough for the guests and planned on saving you a few, but the staff grabbed them before he had a chance.”

Elin squinted at her and said, “I thought you just came in here for a cup of coffee.”

“I did, Ma’am. And now, I’ll leave you to your guests. I can let Henri know you’d like him to make another batch if you’d like, but I believe he went home for the evening.”

“Never mind,” Elin sighed. “They’re my favorite, and I don’t know what he does to them, but they taste better here than anywhere else, and it’s just been a while since I’ve had them. I think I was craving something normal or familiar tonight.”

Ingrid placed her nearly finished cup of coffee on the stainless-steel counter and sighed, too.

“I can make them for you if you’d like,” she said.

“What? Oh, no. I–”

“Really, it’s fine. I don’t have Henri’s recipe, but I have my own. It should taste about the same,” Ingrid replied. “And it won’t take long.”

“Ingrid, you should have gone home hours ago,” Elin said. “Please, I can get by until he makes them again.”

“It’s no trouble. If you go back to your guests, I’ll have another batch out to you soon.”

“They’re fine without me,” Elin replied. “You know, I was talking to Elizabeth and Palmer earlier. They told me Sophia is learning to cook from her grandmother, and I realized I had no idea how to cook anything. I mean, you know me; I can’t even make a cup of tea for myself.”

Ingrid smiled at her, causing Elin’s legs to go weak.

“Do you think you could show me how?” she asked.

“What about your guests, Ma’am?”

“Christian and Hugo are talking about military strategy. Erik and Mari have been flirting all night. Lillian and Gretel are debating architecture. Palmer and Elizabeth have already gone to bed probably, to call their children and then have some alone time. Everyone’s paired off. It’s just me out there, trying to figure out where I fit in, like always.”

Ingrid nodded, reached for an apron that had been hanging on a hook, and handed it to Elin.

“If you’re going to help, you’ll have to dress the part, Ma’am,” Ingrid told her.

Elin smiled, removed her blazer, hanging it up on the now-empty hook, untucked her shirt, and put on the apron. Ingrid put one on herself, and then she pulled out bowls, spoons, the mixer, and the ingredients while Elin stood there watching her in awe. The custard was made with Elin helping stir things mostly, while Ingrid attempted to teach her how to bake.

“Now, most people add cardamom to the dough because it’s so prevalent in Norwegian food. It’s citrusy, minty, spicy, and herbal, all at the same time, which makes it adapt to all sorts of food well; savory or sweet. However, I like to add a combination of a little cinnamon and nutmeg.” She passed Elin a small container of cinnamon. “Here; add just a dash.”

“How much exactly is a dash?” Elin asked.

“A dash. It’s not a measurement.”

“Then, how much do I add?”

Ingrid laughed, stood behind her, and took Elin’s hand holding the cinnamon. She was close. Ingrid was too close, and she smelled like freshly baked bread, vanilla, and now cinnamon, and Elin was going to lose herself in that scent if Ingrid didn’t move away from her soon.

“Just tip it over for a second; that’s a dash,” she said, moving Elin’s hand until the cinnamon was tipped over and a small amount had been added. “There. Now, do the same with the nutmeg.”

Elin did, and they finished the dough together. Once everything was formed, Ingrid put them in the oven, and they stood there, now nothing left to do but wait for them to cook and then top them with the sweetened coconut Ingrid had already pulled out and prepared.

“How did you learn the cinnamon and nutmeg thing?” Elin asked.

“My mother,” Ingrid replied. “We didn’t have much growing up, and cardamom was more expensive than nutmeg and cinnamon. We usually at least had cinnamon around, so she would use that, but around Christmas, she’d make pies and Skolebrød for us, and she’d add the nutmeg. My sister is probably a good chef because of my mother. She was taught to think outside of the box from a young age because we didn’t have the fancy ingredients recipes called for.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Elin said. “Where are your parents now?”

“They’re here, in Oslo. Well, my mom is. She and my father divorced when I was very young. Then, she remarried, and along came Sarah Anne. I don’t know where my father is, but my stepdad is my father.”

“This might be too personal, but your father… was he bad, or did he do something?”

“I was so little. My mom doesn’t talk about him much, but I know he was allowed to see me and chose not to. I looked him up when I was younger, and he’s remarried now. He has a son and two daughters.”

“You have more siblings?”

“I do, yes. My sister, who I mentioned, her name is Sarah Anne,” Ingrid said, smiling at her warmly. “I’ve never met his other children, though, and I don’t plan on it. I don’t even know if they know about me. I’m not going to disrupt their lives, and I certainly don’t want to disrupt my own. Tea, Ma’am?” she asked.

“Sorry?”

“Would you like some tea?” Ingrid asked.

“Oh, yes. But I can make it.”

“No, please don’t,” Ingrid suggested. “I don’t want to have to bandage another burn tonight.”

Elin watched as Ingrid prepared her tea for her and then placed the cup in front of the stool she’d been sitting on. Moments later, the timer went off.

“These are supposed to cool first, but you seem rather impatient,” Ingrid said, placing the tray on the counter.

Elin ran her hands together rapidly in anticipation.

“Just let me top them first so that you can get the full experience.” Ingrid laughed at her. “If you can wait five minutes, the blast chiller will cool them enough by then.”

Elin thought about the fact that outside of this kitchen, she had guests likely wondering where she was. She knew she should tell Ingrid that she had to get back and would have to enjoy her treat later, but she also knew that no one had come in search of her, so maybe she had a little time.

“I can wait,” she replied, removing her apron and watching Ingrid take the tray to the industrial blast chiller.

“So, how did everyone take the news?” Ingrid asked upon her return.

“Shocked, but fine.” Elin shrugged a shoulder and sipped her tea. “You need coffee,” she said. “I’ve got it.”

“Ma’am, do you even know how to use that machine?” Ingrid asked, laughing.

“No, but I have a law degree; I think I can figure out a coffee machine, Ingrid.” She approached the machine and stared it down. “Why are there so many buttons?”

Ingrid laughed and moved to stand next to her.

“For regular coffee, just press this one.” She pointed. “The rest are for the fancier drinks.”

“Do you want a fancy drink?” Elin asked.

“No, Ma’am. Just a coffee for me,” she replied.

“Does this thing add the sugar for you, too?” Elin asked after pressing the button.

“The button on the right.”

“For two, do I press it twice?” Elin asked.

She turned to Ingrid when Ingrid didn’t answer right away.

“Yes,” Ingrid said after a moment. “Sorry, sometimes I forget that you know how I take my coffee.”

“Why?” Elin asked after the coffee cup filled and she moved it to the side, pressing the button twice and watching sugar drop into the cup.

“Because I’m you’re employee, Ma’am. How many employers know how their employees take their coffee?”

Elin passed Ingrid the cup and said, “I pay attention.” They stared at one another for a long moment before Elin needed to do something to pull her attention from Ingrid’s amazing eyes. “Has it been five minutes yet?”

Ingrid laughed, placed her cup on the counter, and walked to the chiller. She removed the tray and returned with it.

“Can you stop at just one?”

“I’d be lying if I said yes,” Elin replied with a smile.

“I’ll do them all up for you then, but take the rest to your rooms and put them away there, or the staff will think they’re leftovers from tonight and fair game.”

“No problem,” Elin said, watching as Ingrid coated the first one in the coconut and passed it to her. Elin couldn’t wait and instantly took a bite. Not only was it delicious, but it tasted oddly familiar. “Ingrid, this is amazing! It tastes just like Henri’s.”

Ingrid just smiled at her as she continued with the coconut.

“No, they’re not just like Henri’s; they are Henri’s.” Elin took another bite and knew it now. “Ingrid, I haven’t been eating Henri’s, have I?”

“No, Ma’am,” she replied, looking up at Elin now. “When I first started, I’d made a batch of these and brought them to my office to give away.”

“And I saw them,” Elin nodded.

“Yes, when you came in, you saw them and just assumed they were made by Henri and the staff to welcome me to my new position. I didn’t correct you.”

“Ingrid, have you been making these for me this whole time?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” she replied.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Elin asked.

“I don’t know. Does it really matter who makes them if it’s something you like?”

“Yes,” Elin stated. “Ingrid, seeing these at dinner tonight… I don’t know… made me feel safe. I’m sitting in my father’s chair, about to take on a job I was never meant to have, when I see a plate of Skolebrød, and I’m warmed inside because it makes me think about all the other times I’ve had them, how good they are, and how something so simple can just make you feel safe and at home. And now, I find out you’ve been making them for me this whole time.”

“Well, just the past few years.”

“Yeah, they’ve been the best these past few years. In fact,” she reached for the one Ingrid had just coated in coconut.

“Elin!” Ingrid yelled and slapped her hand playfully.

Then, Ingrid’s face went white, and her eyes widened as well.

“Oh, my God! Your Royal Highness, I am so sorry. I– ”

“What? Why?” Elin asked, picking up the dessert and holding it in front of Ingrid. “Ingrid, it’s fine. You just baked me my favorite dessert; you can call me Elin and smack my hand when I’m being impatient. But I was grabbing this one for you. Did you even have one of these tonight?”

Ingrid swallowed and said, “No, but I really should be going, Ma’am.”

“Ingrid, it’s–”

“I’ll wrap these up for you to take with you and head home.”

“What? You don’t have to go,” Elin told her. “I mean, you can go, but you don’t have to go.”

“Sarah Anne will be home soon. She’ll have something from the restaurant for me to eat for dinner.”

“You haven’t had dinner yet? Ingrid, you–” Elin stopped herself. “Take some of these home, at least. Give one to your sister.”

“She’s a chef. Besides, she knows the recipe; it’s our mother’s.”

“All the more reason. These are already made; she doesn’t have to make them herself.”

“I’ll wrap up a couple for us and the rest for you, then,” Ingrid said, sounding like she was just giving in.

“Okay,” Elin replied, also giving in.

“There you are,” Lillian said. “Why are you always in the kitchen? I thought you’d been in the bathroom for, like, an hour.”

“What? No,” Elin said, turning instantly red in the face.

“You’ve been gone forever. You know this is basically your coming out party, right?”

“What? Coming out? I’m not–”

“Oh my God, Elin – you’re about to be Queen. These people out there are just like us. You should be spending time with them. You’ll need them when you’re on the throne. Erik and Gretel will both rule their countries one day, and Elizabeth and Palmer already do. Why are–” Lillian stopped when she finally noticed Ingrid. “Oh. Hi, Ingrid.”

“Your Highness,” Ingrid said, bowing her head.

“Oh, knock that off,” Lillian told her and turned back to Elin. “You needed a break, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Elin admitted to her sister.

Lillian looked back at Ingrid, who was still wearing an apron, and then back at Elin.

“I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well and needed to get some rest. Just go up the back stairs when you leave here, okay?”

“It’s okay; I’ll go back out there.”

“Elin, take this gift. Once you’re Queen, it’ll be harder. Just give me one of those things before I go; they’re really good.”

She pointed at the Skolebrød. Ingrid smiled at Elin, who smiled back at her, feeling instantly better.