CHAPTER 7: JUST DOING MY JOB
ELISE
“Prinsessan av Sverige found dead in her bed,” I mutter to my empty room, staring up at the ceiling. “Cause of death: boredom.”
Outside my window, the soft glow of the city lights cuts through the twilight, creating shadows on my walls. They dance softly, like a taunt.
Just like I advised my brother, it’s a perfect night to sneak out. But after Johan, the thought of going out makes me slightly nauseous, especially since I run the very high risk of running into him.
My chest tightens when I think of him, and I fight to keep the memories from pulling me into a pit of despair. But every time I close my eyes, I see his face, his warm brown eyes aglow with mirth. I hear the music he played every night when we were out together.
“Stop it, Elise,” I mutter to myself. No matter how good it was, I can’t forget how bad it got.
He didn’t care about me, not really. I knew I deserved better than him. His smug expressions, his cruel words, the way he walked out and didn’t look back.
He was awful and manipulative.
But after a month, my heart still aches. And I know the pathetic truth—I’m still in love with him.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. The urge to text him with my burner phone sears through me, but I smother it.
“Enough,” I whisper to myself, sitting up and running a hand through my tangled hair. I need to get out. I need to breathe air outside of the walls of this palace, dance to loud music, and just lose myself in the moment.
As long as I steer clear of our usual haunts, I should be fine. I just need my lucky sneak-out hoodie that I left in Kristian’s room.
A few minutes later, I’m opening my brother’s door. “Okay, I know you told me to leave, but—”
I frown; the room is empty. The bed is exactly as I left it earlier. Kristian’s laptop sits on his desk, and his jacket hangs neatly over the back of his chair. It’s like he’s been here all day, except that he’s not.
And my sneak-out hoodie is missing.
Then something catches my eye.
A folded piece of paper sits on the desk, partially tucked under a book. It’s blank except for a single word scribbled over and over again in Kristian’s neat handwriting: Södermalm.
I stare at it for a moment, my heart skipping. I read the word over and over again like it’s some sort of puzzle.
My chest tightens. Oh no.
The dumbwaiters still work. If you take one, it’ll lead down to the old servant’s kitchen.
No way. No. Fucking. Way.
He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have.
Doesn’t he know by now that I’m not to be taken seriously?
A grin spreads across my face as a mix of pride and exasperation bubbles up. I step back, shaking my head. “You sneaky little prince,” I mutter under my breath.
Leaving a note was stupid, though, because anyone else could have seen it. Although, the possibility of anyone entering the prince’s room without an invitation is really slim. Still, the best thing to do would have been to come to my room and tell me he was sneaking out.
We could’ve made a sibling adventure out of it.
Well, that seals it. I’m going to join my brother on the streets of Södermalm.
I head toward the west wing, my plan forming as I walk. It’s not the first time I’ve snuck out of the palace, but it’s been a while. The thought of slipping away unnoticed makes my pulse quicken with familiar adrenaline.
But as I near the hidden passage, a voice stops me in my tracks.
“Prinsessan Elise?”
I turn sharply, my heart leaping into my throat.
Standing a few feet away is a man I’ve never seen before. He’s tall, probably over six feet, with broad shoulders and a lean, athletic frame. His brown hair is neatly trimmed, and his jawline is sharp enough to cut glass. His navy suit fits perfectly, the kind that looks expensive but not flashy, and his green eyes are steady, assessing me in a calculating manner.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. His voice is smooth and warm—like hot chocolate.
“You’re not one of my regular staff,” I note, crossing my arms and trying to act natural.
“No, Prinsessan,” he replies. “I’m Oskar Lundgren. Your new bodyguard. I was assigned to you because of the summit.”
Ah gud.
Like all the other servants, his speech is formal, but a faint accent makes me wonder if he’s from a smaller town. He also has a rustic aura that feels out of place in the polished halls of the palace.
I straighten and hold my head high. “Hej, Oskar.”
“What are you doing here? This part of the palace is uninhabited,” he says, tilting his head slightly.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, my voice a little too high. “Just…exploring.”
His gaze doesn’t waver. He looks at me like he knows I’m lying but is too polite to call me out.
“Well,” he says after a moment, “this area isn’t exactly safe for…exploring.” He looks behind me, and then his eyebrows furrow in worry. “I will request that it be closed off. For your safety.”
What. The. Fuck?
I keep my cool and smile. “Thanks, Oskar, but that’s not really necessary,” I say in a tight voice. I brush past him and head toward my room. As I do, the scent of his cologne wafts into my nostrils, and I take a deep breath before I realize what I’m doing.
As soon as I shut the door to my room, I press my head against it and listen till the hall is quiet again, counting the seconds before I crack my door open. The corridor is dimly lit, shadows pooling in the corners. I step out carefully, holding my shoes in my hand.
Left. Right. The coast is clear.
I tiptoe down the hall, heading towards the west wing again, my pulse quickening. But just as I reach the passage, a figure steps out of the shadows.
Oskar fucking Lundgren.
“You again?” I say exasperatedly, stopping short.
He crosses his arms, one eyebrow raised. “And you, Prinsessan. What exactly are you doing this time?”
I square my shoulders, lifting my chin. “Jag är prinsessan. I can do whatever I want.”
“That’s true,” he says, his tone maddeningly calm. “As long as it’s within the rules. Outside of them, my job is to stop you.”
I gape at him. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all.”
His green eyes hold mine, unflinching. There’s no trace of a smirk, no hint that he’s enjoying this, which somehow makes it even more infuriating.
“You’re the most stuck-up person I’ve ever met,” I snap.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Just doing my job,” he says simply.
His calm demeanor only makes me angrier. I glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. The steady, unbothered look in his eyes sends a jolt of something through me—something sharp and unwelcome.
I don’t like this, not one bit. I’ve had free range around the palace for as long as I can remember. My usual bodyguards and I have an…unspoken agreement. I won’t stand for Oskar Lundgren to have me suffocated within the confines of this stifling palace.
He has to go. Or at least be moved to another duty that doesn’t involve him breathing down my neck.
“You’re impossible,” I say finally, spinning on my heel and storming back to my room.
Once inside, I slam the door and throw myself onto the bed. My chest heaves as I bury my face in a pillow and let out a growl of frustration.
Oskar’s calm, unbothered face flashes in my mind, and I clench my fist.
“Rövhål,” I mutter, sitting up as I run a hand through my hair. His face won’t leave my mind—those sharp cheekbones, his steady eyes, the way he stood there like nothing I said could faze him.
And in the quiet confines of my room, my heart beats wildly at the thought of the challenge my new bodyguard poses.
Prinsessan av Sverige (Swedish)- The Princess of Sweden
Prinsessan (Swedish)- Princess
Jag är prinsessan (Swedish)- I am the princess
Ah Gud (Swedish)- Oh God
Hej (Swedish)- Hey
Rövhål (Swedish)- Asshole