Chapter 10
Sigurd
Anastasia is no dummy.
She knows I'm hiding, which means her price went up.
This means I am less compelled to send her on her way.
But it's the right thing to do.
It takes every ounce of strength, but I manage to avoid Stasi for most of the rest of the day until supper.
The fish cooks quickly over the fire. Meanwhile, there are delicious aromas emitting from the cabin.
Stasi insists on dining at the kitchen table and sets out a Caesar salad, baked potatoes, and a summer berry tart with a light crust that looks buttery and delicious.
"Food tastes better outside," I grumble for no reason as I take my place opposite her.
She is unfazed by my attitude and by my attempts to scare her off.
"Sure," she says, cutting up her fish. "It's all fun and games until someone finds a bug in their food."
I grunt at this, and then I'm entirely caught off guard by a moan that escapes her. At the sound, my fork slips from my grip and clatters against my plate.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"It's so good," she says. "I don't normally enjoy fish, but this is incredible."
My blood pumps hard. "Thank you."
"Where did you learn to cook like this?"
"It's not difficult. Please, eat."
She notices I'm not eating yet. Not a bite until Stasi has had her fill.
She shovels a smashed cheesy potato into her mouth and has more of the fish.
"I'm serious. You should be a chef," she cries.
The dismissive noise I give is followed with, "No."
Stasi seems to go still in the corner of my eye, and when I look up, she's staring at me apologetically. "Sorry. I forgot for a second that you're a prince."
I stare at her for a long moment and watch her nibble on her fish. After a while, she dares to sneak another glance at me. When I catch her eye, I try to focus. To not glance away out of anxiety or self-consciousness. "I prefer it if everyone would forget that fact," I say.
Especially her. If I weren't a prince or just a regular citizen, she'd have zero problem kicking me out. From what I've observed about her, Stasi would likely kick a trespasser's ass first and call the police later.
"Sorry, did you say you wish everyone would forget you're a prince?"
I give her a curt nod before taking her unused fork in my hand and filling it with food. "Eat."
Stasi gives me a sour look, but that quickly changes to ecstasy I can scarcely bear to look at. She's too beautiful for words when she's happy.
"I'm finished."
"That can't be. You've done nothing all day but drink alcohol on the dock reading your book."
We watch each other for a long moment, my words hanging between us.
"How do you know that?"
How should I answer that? I'm going to go with honesty. "I can see the cabin from my fishing spot."
"You…could see me?"
"Eat," I insist.
She puts her fork down and primly folds her hands in front of her on the table. "I told you. I'm full. And what about you? Why aren't you eating? I can only assume you've poisoned the fish to get rid of me."
I am not prepared for the barking laugh that escapes me.
"I wanted to make sure you had enough."
"I assure you. I'm stuffed. Now, you eat, and I ask questions."
"Still, say food tastes better outside," I mutter as I stab the fish and potatoes with my fork. She's not wrong. It is delicious. Especially her potatoes.
"Sorry, but you're living with an indoor girl now, buddy," Stasi says, leaning back in her chair and raising her arms for a wide stretch that pushes her tits up and out, exposing her pretty tummy in that half shirt she's wearing. She may as well be giving me a lap dance with the effect that has on me.
I wish I could respond to her flirty comments with anything other than grunts and shifting in my chair.
Lucky for me, I'm busy stuffing my face. "Indoor girl, my foot. You did well enough cleaning this fish. And bathing in the sun."
She pivots without warning.
"So, how long are you planning on staying here and hiding? Until someone else is crowned king?"
A piece of bread lodges in my throat, and I choke on it. Stasi pushes a glass of wine toward me. "Did something I say stick in your throat, Your Highness?"
Finally dislodging the piece of bread, I rasp out, "I told you to stop calling me that."
The way she tilts her head is too beguiling. The sorceress has me cornered. "Oh, but you're so cute when you're flustered. So? Out with it."
"I'll be here until I'm no longer in danger of being crowned king."
"Hmm," she says, tapping her chin. "I saw on the news today that the king announced the engagement of your older brother Etienne and that he's to be married in less than two weeks. Don't you want to go to the wedding?"
"No. It's a sham," I say. "I give it a month. Less than a month before they have it annulled."
Stasi rears back. "A sham?"
"You have to know that all members of the royal family are arranged in marriage to some degree or another."
"Torben's wasn't."
I sigh heavily. I'm starting to think letting her eat first was a bad idea. If we'd eaten at the same time, I could have cleared my plate and gotten up from the table, and busied myself with other tasks other than conversation.
Still, there's a tiny part of me that is enjoying this. Call me a glutton for punishment, but getting needled by Stasi isn't so bad. Callum Black and my sister Flora are the only other humans who get to needle me.
"Torben wasn't supposed to run away and marry an American, especially one who's not been vetted by my mother," I say.
"And Etienne doesn't want to marry this Kala person?"
I chuckle ruefully. "No woman in her right mind would marry Etienne. I could see the wheels turning in my father's eyes when Torben abdicated. There's no way he's letting Etienne end up king."
Her eyes go wide. "So it's down to you, you think?"
"No one wants a king who can barely string a sentence together at a social event," I say.
She smiles. "You seem to be stringing sentences together very well right now. I had no idea you could talk so much."
She's not wrong. "I don't know…I like talking to you."
She cups her face with her hands and bats her eyelashes at me. "You do?"
"Quit kidding around," I say.
She sighs. "You can't live hide in the wilderness forever."
"You don't know me very well then."
Stasi picks up her spoon and pushes the tart toward me, urging me to take a bite. "You'll get lonely and start drawing faces on the kettle," she says.
I laugh, this time all the way from my diaphragm. It pleases her to see me laugh.
"I have you," I blurt.
There's the sound of a small intake of breath as she stares at me like she's just seen a ghost.
Ah, fuck. I screwed that up.
"I meant to say, stay if you want," I throw out.
A few seconds pass, and I feel like I'm under a microscope. Finally, she says, "Alright. Fine. I'll stay for the rest of my two weeks. And when it's time for me to go, I promise I won't tell a soul. I'll even sign a non-disclosure agreement if you like. I like being an insider into all this palace intrigue."
"Whatever floats your boat," I say, digging my spoon into the summer berry tart.
The taste of it makes me groan in pleasure. The dark berries burst in my mouth, and the crust is a kind of lemony, buttery business I've never tasted.
"Sorceress," I mumble, taking another bite.
I glance up, and Stasi is beaming at me.
"Glad you like it."
"What did you put in this?"
"The secret is lemon zest in the crust and berry mixture. And just a touch of salt."
"I'm kidnapping you and making you bake this same tart every night. Because I'm about to eat all of this, and I'm going to want more tomorrow night," I say.
"Excuse me?" She tilts her head as if not sure she heard me correctly.
And that's the extent of my unhinged, socially awkward flirting repertoire, so she'll be calling the cops any minute now.
Thank the gods, she laughs it off.
"You think I'm kidding. You'd better get in on this tart before it's gone," I say.
I watch her cheeks turn deep pink as she slow-blinks at me, the same flirty slow blink she gave me the night I first saw her at the pub when I was rounding up my idiot brother.
She digs in, and I watch the decadent dessert pass through her full lips. Every cell in my body roils and cries out to touch her.
"This is the only way to eat dessert," she says, "straight from the pan."
"Agreed," I say.
We stuff our faces, and then I clear the table.
"You wash, I'll dry," she says.
My intention is to wash all the dishes myself as thanks for the incredible potatoes and dessert, but I rather like the idea of standing next to her at the sink.
"Deal. Then we can go outside, and I'll show you how to start a campfire."
"I know how to use a fireplace," she says.
"I'm gonna make an outdoors lady out of you."
I hand her a rinsed, clean plate, and she takes it with a smile. "Good luck."
After several moments of charged silence other than the sounds of dishes in the sink, she asks, "So, why don't you just tell your parents where you are and that you want to be left alone? That you don't want the crown?"
I don't want to talk about my parents, but if she's sticking around for the next two weeks, I suppose I'll have to talk about the king and queen at some point.
"Because they would insist I stay in the palace until they arrange a wedding for me.
"I want to marry, but on my own terms. No one they choose will be happy with a match. I'm too different from the rest of them."
She takes another dish, and her blue gaze unsettles me.
Her fingers brush against mine, and she says, "You are different from the rest. You're everyone's favorite. And now I understand why."
I plunge my hands into the water. "I have no idea what you could mean by that."
I hand her a washed pan, but she isn't taking it. Not yet. Instead, I watch Stasi pull a wad of cash from her pocket. "This is leftover from a recent tip I received at the pub. I used it to pay for this trip."
"Stasi."
"No, let me finish. It's because of you that I'm here at all. Nobody else in the royal family would have made this possible for someone like me."
This makes me uncomfortable, so I dry the dish myself and put it away. "My parents and siblings donate to charity all the time."
She looks offended. "I'm not charity. I'm a human being. And a giant tip that facilitates a great vacation means more to me than you could ever know."
"Stasi," I growl, washing another dish. "Put that money away."
"Are you embarrassed? I thought it was a pretty amazing coincidence, don't you think? Almost like we were meant to meet each other again. It's almost like we were meant…to be friends. Don't you think?"
"Friends?"
"Sure."
"Stasi, I'm not sure you're aware of this, but I can't be friends with you."