Page 20 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)

Chapter Twelve

Freya

I have learned some important things on this tour.

One, there is much more to learn about my country than what I can read in history books.

Two, Windgaard has excellent seafood, and I absolutely need to return for the next Great Fish Fry.

And three, I am far better at making friends than Elliot, something I take great pride in when it has always been a struggle for me.

Mr. Halevik ended the tour at a tiny café off one of the many piers along the coastline, where we enjoyed the most delicious fish and chips I have ever eaten.

I sat at the same table as the others despite my certainty that they would have liked me elsewhere, but now they are all talking and laughing with me while we drink tea after our meal.

I think Mr. Halevik would have joined us too if I had not worn him out with my many questions throughout the rest of the tour, and he bade us farewell before disappearing with the bus and its driver.

Elliot has not left the doorway once. Not even when Jason, one of my new friends, invites him to join us.

“Is he always so serious?” Jason asks as he comes back to sit with his wife again.

He and his wife, Laura, came to Candora for their first anniversary, and I hoped Elliot would respond better to a fellow American after the way he tried to bore a hole into Mr. Halevik’s head with his glare when we stopped in a place other than where we started.

It seems I was wrong, and Jason looks like he nearly met his demise by talking to my bodyguard.

I let out a wistful sigh. “Not always,” I admit. “But I think he’s nervous with me out on my own like this.”

“You are not alone,” Orla says, reaching across the table to grasp my hand. A woman in her late forties, she is from the northern mountains of Candora and has come to Windgaard to enjoy the seaside before summer ends. “We are all friends here!”

The others at the table agree with enthusiasm that makes Elliot roll his eyes. The restaurant is too small for him not to hear the conversation we are having, though he has yet to add to it.

I thought Elliot wanted me to befriend people—it is why I have been focusing hard on my manners of speech throughout this lunch—but he seems to think I have made the wrong friends.

I disagree. While Jason and Laura will not be able to vote for me, nor the teenaged Evert and his Swedish parents, the other two at the table can.

With the rate Grimstad’s popularity is growing, I will take every vote I can get.

Besides, I adore these new friends of mine.

It took a few minutes for them to warm up to the idea of eating lunch with royalty, but I am almost convinced they have forgotten that I am a princess.

I learned a good deal about life in Candora from Mr. Halevik’s tour, but I have learned more from sitting with these friends who were strangers only a few hours before.

Grinning, I squeeze Orla’s hand and pull mine from her grasp. “Yes, I’m so glad I have made so many friends today.”

“We are better than Derek Riley, right?” Evert asks.

I snort out a laugh. Sometimes I forget how far Derek’s fame reaches. “That is a wicked question,” I complain. “Derek has been my friend for far longer.”

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Derek Riley,” Laura says as she fans herself, while Jason raises an eyebrow next to her.

“If I were still single…” She squeaks when her husband pinches her side playfully, and she pats his face with an affectionate grin before turning back to me.

“Did you ever think about dating him, Freya?”

I notice Elliot’s head turning slightly, like his attention is on me now instead of the walkway outside.

I ignore him. “No,” I answer truthfully.

“While Derek is one of my dearest friends, my love for him has only ever been platonic, just as his affection for me has only been friendly. We are too stubborn to be anything more.”

“It’s a good thing you’re stubborn,” Orla says. “You’ll need it for this election, with the way Markham Grimstad is charging along.”

“Charging is an excellent way to describe his campaign,” I agree. “I wasn’t even aware he wished to run for office until a couple of weeks ago.”

“No one was,” Roarke says. He, like Orla, is here on vacation, though I do not know much about him other than his name. He seems nice enough, if quiet. “I think that is part of his appeal.”

I sit forward. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, he sips his tea and explains, “He obviously had the support of the House of Commons to begin with, but I think he purposefully waited as long as he could before making his intentions known so he can capitalize on the novelty of the idea. No one has ever gone up against an Alverra.” He grimaces a bit and takes another sip of tea, nodding at me to signify an apology.

At least, that is what I assume the nod means.

“Whether people really think his platform is a good one, I would guess they’re more interested in the idea of him.

With things being as they have been for a long time, people are eager for change. ”

“But I would be a change,” I argue. I would never speak against my mother, but there are many things she and I do not agree on. Things I planned to do differently when I took the throne.

Roarke shrugs again. “People probably don’t know that.”

“That is precisely why I am going around the country, to understand what the people need and want and to show that I am willing to listen.” I deflate a bit as I remember yesterday’s chaos.

In my frustration, I forgot to shift my words, and I remind myself to talk less formally.

“But so far I’m not accomplishing much.”

“We’re listening!” Evert says brightly.

I smile at the teenager. “I appreciate that.”

“I think this was a good way to go about things, going out and about without all the pomp and circumstance” Orla says, and then her expression turns mischievous. “Even if your handsome bodyguard disagrees.”

Elliot huffs out a breath without looking back. “This is dangerous,” he grumbles.

“This is Candora,” Roarke argues. “Nothing dangerous ever happens here.”

Elliot scoffs again.

“I have very much enjoyed today,” I tell my new friends with all the sincerity I can muster. “But two votes from new friends can only get me so far, and that is me being presumptuous. You are allowed to vote however you wish, and I will not take offense.”

“You have my vote,” Orla says kindly.

Roarke grunts, which could go either way.

“I’m afraid I know how to run a country but not win one over,” I admit, even if I hate how insecure that makes me sound. “No matter how determined I have been to be a good queen, I never thought I would have to prove it so quickly.”

“What has this Grimstad guy been doing to prove he can be a good king?” Jason asks.

Grabbing hold of my hair, which is a tangled mess that will likely make Runa cry when I return to the hotel, I pull it over my shoulder and start running my fingers through it, hoping to keep my nerves from showing.

“That is an excellent question, one I don’t have the answer to.

I know his policies, but there is more to his platform than that. ”

“He talks to people,” Roarke says in a measured tone. “Boots on the ground. I’ve heard he talks to people in the queue at the grocer and at the bank, that he joins cricket matches in the park. He’s a regular person, but he knows his politics too.”

I get the sense that Roarke is one of Grimstad’s followers despite his assertion that Grimstad’s popularity is more of a fad than anything. I am glad he is still willing to talk to me and share insights. A friend, indeed.

If I am to mirror Grimstad’s strategy, I need to come up with specific ideas rather than choosing the first thing I come across, like I did today. Spontaneity does not suit me well, and I work better with a plan.

Thinking back to my friends’ suggestions yesterday, perhaps they were more astute than I realized.

Bonnie suggested cleaning up a park; if I did it without any fanfare or cameras, I could talk to people while also serving them.

A children’s story-reading event would introduce me to parents who want the best future for their children.

Derek said I should do things that put me on an equal footing with my people—my reasoning for taking a tour bus—and Derek is usually right when he has an idea. It certainly worked today.

All of those things could accomplish both my goals—observation and interaction.

“I want to meet and speak to as many people as I can,” I say, letting go of my hair and dropping my hands into my lap. I look at Orla across from me. “I am open to suggestions. If I had not forced myself into your lives by taking the tour with you, how would you have liked to meet me?”

She gives me a warm smile. “It would have been fun to see a princess walk into my antique shop.”

An interesting idea. More importantly, it is a good one. I cannot step into every business in Candora, but I could choose a few in every city and town we stop in. That would not be too difficult.

As if he hears my thoughts, Elliot glances back and meets my gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. Anything I do will require him to adjust security measures, though I agree with Roarke that nothing dangerous ever happens in Candora.

The man who grabbed me in Invem was a fluke. A lone issue in the biggest city in the country.

“I once saw the King of Sweden on a bicycle in Stockholm,” Evert says. “It was strange.”

The Swedish king does not have the same power as a Candoran monarch—he is only a figurehead—but I still value the boy’s input. “Do you think it would be strange to see me riding a bicycle in Candora?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Maybe? But it would make you seem more normal.”

“Am I not normal now?”

Turning a bright red, he ducks his head and mumbles, “You’re too pretty to be normal.”