Page 28 of Royally Drawn (Resplendent Royals #3)

Chef

KEIR

“ C hef, though? Why Chef?” Ingrid asked.

“I can cook… well,” I answered. “I got razzed a lot, even if everyone loves it. My mother didn’t let us get out without a proper culinary education. She wanted us to be useful people.”

“Betty really cannot cook.”

“Betty is just bad at cooking. We tried.”

She smiled. “Okay, fair.”

That satisfied her. Ingrid wasn’t into aviation. I’d have to convert her. She grew visibly nervous as we stayed far behind a fast jet bound for the Mach Loop. I wished I were going with him, but I sat this one out. Ingrid didn’t understand how anything worked—including the bit where we waited our turn like everyone else.

“It’s funny they’re all… lined up like cars,” she noted. “How do they not crash into one another?”

“First, most of these blokes fly in tight formation, so they are spatially aware. Second, the controllers are good. They make sure we aren’t in trouble.”

“Oh. How do they teach the guys to fly like that? ”

“It’s learned. There’s trust in it. You learn over time.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It’s not without danger, but I’d argue riding that horse of yours over what seems to be just a bunch of downed redwoods isn’t much better, Ingrid.”

She snickered. “I cannot fall out of the sky.”

“You can… just differently. But you are courageous. I admire that in you so much. There is a fearlessness there I relate to.”

I looked over as she grew quiet. She was blushing, trying to come up with words. I’d been too genuine, perhaps. I didn’t know how else to be with her. I didn’t like the idea of lying to her as she was too clever to fall for anyone’s bullshit. She gave as good as she got. Thankfully, my final clearance over the radio came to rescue us from awkward silence.

“Cleared for take-off,” I said.

“Do I just… hold on?” Ingrid panicked.

“You’re in the seat and fine,” I laughed. “Stay where you are. This is not going to be a rough ride. We have beautiful weather.”

I spun up the engines and released the brake. We were off running. The 601 was a pilot’s dream. It was zippy and fun to fly. It wasn’t as simple as a comparable Cessna, but who wanted to be bored? The only pain point was that this thing guzzled fuel like my mother inhaled iced coffee in summer. Which was to say you filled it up on every trip. The one time I got cocky with this beast and ignored my aunt’s advice, I ended up coming in mostly like a glider with a pan-pan call. To say she was disappointed in me for neglecting her would be a vast understatement. Today, we were full up. Nothing impressed a woman less than running out of fuel.

We took off, the wind lifting us, and headed southwest. We could do a visual flight without issue, as visibility was unseasonably good for Norfolk in May, and everything was coming up roses today.

“Are we done now?” Ingrid asked.

I tried not to laugh as I checked in. “Climbing to 5000.”

“Roger. You got it, Chef.”

“Don’t you have an official rank or something? Like a Colonel or Chancellor or something?”

I laughed at that, unable to hold back. “Oh, Ingrid, I’m sorry. Do you not have armed forces in Neandia?”

“We have not for years. I have never shot a gun, nor do I intend to. I consider myself a pacifist, so why would I care? I think it’s men with a small man complex blowing shit up. So, apologies if I don’t know any better. We’re a neutral country and have been for two centuries.”

She crossed her arms. I gathered her overreaction came from embarrassment, and I’d hit a nerve.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I promise we’re not up here to fire any missiles. I leave that to my daily driver.”

“Which is? Another old plane?”

She thought I was having fun at her expense. Unfortunately, I was annoyed she’d just shat all over what I did for a living as if it were silly.

“A bomber,” I answered. “That blows shit up. But I promise you I’m not going to do anything wild. This aircraft is near and dear to me. I do have a rank. Up here, I’m Squadron Leader Inverness. And you can disagree with what I do when we get down to the ground, okay?”

My voice was hot. I’d only wanted to impress her, but she wasn’t that simple. It seemed when I was in bed with her, she was easy to please. Now that we had to converse, I struggled. The playing field levelled. She tilted her body, resting her head against the window, ignoring me. Fuck, I needed to grovel again. Flying with a person that hated your guts wasn’t much fun. I dialled in the autopilot and sighed, thinking about what to do next.

“I don’t like people acting like I’m stupid,” Ingrid said. “I’m clever. Not like Astrid is, perhaps. I’ll never be Dr Deschamps, but… I am not just a walking pair of tits. It gets old. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but you’re acting like I’m an idiot. You do not get what my life has been like… okay? What it is. So, stop treating me like I’m an idiot. Also, English is not my first language. Don’t make fun of me for not knowing technical terms.”

I looked over at her, her voice calmer. “I am sorry, Ingrid. That wasn’t my intent. I… I don’t mean this in a bad way, but… you don’t know anything about aviation. You know less than pretty much anyone, and… I thought you were being silly.”

“I lived under lock and key until I was thirteen,” Ingrid said. “And even then, I was still quite sheltered. My first flight came when Rick and Alexandra took us to Lundhavn for the first time. I don’t have brothers, and Rick’s a dandy. What was he going to do? Talk to us about planes. No.”

I snickered at that characterisation. “Ah, that’s not totally fair to Rick the Prick. He’s quite the mariner. If he taught you about those things—and you know quite a bit about sailing—he’s not too much a dandy.”

She looked at me, then giggled. “The nickname never dies.”

“No, Velcro, it doesn’t.”

She softened. “Okay, so tell me about the plane. I’m sorry I insulted him… or her… or it.”

“I will stick to basics because you do not care about everything, I could tell you. This plane was the first one I ever worked on. My grandfather flew it for years. It sat disused and was destined for a museum. When I turned twelve, my aunt decided to refurb it. In the span of a summer, we rebuilt the engine and put it back together. I learned a lot. I got my instrument rating in this thing before I could even drive, of course.”

“Your aunt… the Queen?”

I chuckled. “Yes. She has a hangar and rebuilds things. She’ll hide away there if she wants to be left alone. You know those people you hate for being gifted at all things?”

Ingrid nodded. “In our case, that’s Astrid.”

“Well, she’s like that. She taught me much about flight, and we still sometimes rebuild things.”

“That’s sweet,” Ingrid sighed, turning her body back towards me.

“I didn’t want to fight with you, Ingrid.”

“Do you really admire me?” Ingrid asked. “Because I’m going to sleep with you. You don’t have to continue to puff up my ego or sell me?—”

“I’m not. And I do,” I said. “You already made your mind up?”

“I climbed on a potential death trap with you to get some, yes,” Ingrid said. “It’s probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve done—maybe second to riding a pony through a flaming hoop.”

“I am sorry, what?”

“Oh, I had a pony. He was a real knob at times. He loved to bite you or even lay a sucker punch or a kick on you. However, he was brilliant over fences. Point-and-shoot and would jump anything. I was with my schoolmates. We all rode, you know? We decided to rig up a jump and set a ring on fire. None of the horses were dumb enough to manage it, but Chance did. And that is a story I never tell anyone because I will get told off still to this day.”

“That’s the bone-headed bravery I appreciate, Ingrid,” I laughed.

“Well, it’s what you’re getting. I am a loose cannon.”

“Same.”

We flew on until we got to pick up the tower from Valley. We were entering restricted airspace, so I had to do a couple more things than if we were just on a pleasure cruise.

“Hello, you old bastard, what are you doing?”

The voice on the radio was more than familiar.

“Ah, Wales, you are on desk duty today,” I said.

“All weekend. You knew that. And yet you decided to go out and fly around?”

“I didn’t know that,” I protested. “I thought you were in Surrey.”

“Shortage. Stuck here.”

“Well, put me down. I’ve got the 601 out.”

“Mum’s favourite, yeah? Lucky bastard. It’s a nice day to fly, and I’m stuck here.”

“Is that Duncan?” Ingrid mouthed silently.

I nodded back.

“I’ve got you in the rotation. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you come up. I thought you were doing something else.”

“Like what, Duncan?”

“Golfing?”

“I don’t golf.”

“At your age, it’s time to start.”

It must be slow as fuck if he was going to take the piss like that. If I’d been his CO, I’d have written him up for the chatter.

“You’re cleared whenever you want to enter the pattern,” Duncan said. “At your discretion, Chef.”

He gave me a vector. We got the plane down as smoothly as ever, even if Ingrid looked like she was preparing for a mid-air breakup. I tried not to take offence. She had no frame of reference.

“How did he end up on that side and you out here?” Ingrid asked.

“Duncan is the heir and an only child—a miracle baby. Auntie Nat didn’t want him hurt. So, he got stuck with ATC. I get to do the fun stuff. And now you can see one of the reasons we struggle to get on properly,” I said.

“He’s jealous?”

“He is, and I don’t blame him. If the roles were reversed, I’d be just as cross.”

“But now he knows—or will know?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Fuck my life.”

“And mine.”

“Duncan will not stir the pot.”

“Uh-huh.”

I lied to myself. I’d need to beg and plead with Duncan to ensure we weren’t under extra pressure. I would owe him massively, but hopefully, it would be worth it. I looked at Ingrid as she adjusted the hem of her skirt. I thought about what it might be like to get her out of that sundress. And I realised no matter what, it was worth it. We’d have a few hours to shag like teenagers whose parents left town for the day before Duncan came and ruined it all.