Page 7 of Royal Reluctance

He was the first person who I saw when I got off the plane, almost like he knew I was coming.

He didn’t; I asked.

But he recognized me right away, even before I was off the tarmac. Now that I’ve seen more of the world than just Laandia, I realize just how small the Battle Harbour airport is. The one in Wabush is even smaller.

But it’s the quickest way to get to Bo. Driving across Laandia would take at least a day when the weather is good, and that’s only because one of King Magnus’s first priorities when he took the throne was to create a trans-Laandia highway.

It’s one country, but there’s a lot of land to travel from Battle Harbour to Wabush. Hence, me being on the first flight out of Battle Harbour this morning.

With any luck, I can sort things out with Bo and be back on the four o’clock flight back home.

Not that Battle Harbour is home. It hasn’t been for a long time.

Almost as long since I’ve seen Buck.

Bo used to bring me to Wabush as often as we could get away, to stay at the cabin in the middle of the woods. Buck Marsden and his wife Jean lived next door, looking after things for the royal family.

They were at my wedding.

So it wasn’t a big surprise when Buck came up to me as I crossed the tarmac and took my small bag from me. He said he’d run me over to “the prince’s.”

He let me hug him, and didn’t fuss when I held on too tight.

I hadn’t thought much further than getting to Wabush but I knew I’d be able to find someone to give me a ride to Bo’s. Buck is perfect because he doesn’t say a word during the thirty-minute drive. And he agrees to let me off at the end of the road so I can walk in through the woods.

I need to figure out what I’m supposed to say to Bo.

Maybe being around the trees will help. I know the forest has always calmed Bo when he was upset. He’d disappear into the trees for hours at a time when he was thinking about something, ax over his shoulder and a pair of leather gloves tucked into his belt.

When I left Laandia eight years ago, I never really expected that it would be the last time I’d speak to Bo. I was angry and hurt, but I never thought that would beit. I waited for a letter or a phone call. I honestly expected him to come and find me.

He didn’t.

Days turned to weeks, and then months. I knew Bo was dealing with the loss of his mother but I didn’t think he’d forget about me. I was his wife, the woman he loved.

After the accident, it was like I never existed. And it hurt.

And because the hurt was so all-encompassing, I couldn’t reach out to him.

Regrets? There are a few, but we were kids. Things have changed. Maybe Bo is a completely different person now. I know I am.

The path through the woods to the house is the same, however. The trees are still as dense, the leaves in the summer blocking out the heat of the sun. But now, in the middle of March, the dead leaves are covered by a crust of snow and only the pine trees offer a burst of colour. The sap is already flowing inside the trees, and tiny bubs will be showing soon, but on the outside, the forest is still winter bleak.

The path runs alongside the driveway of the cabin, veering off into the cleaning where I married Bo. If I kept walking past it, I’d get to Buck’s place.

Bo wanted to get married in the woods because he loved the trees, and back then, I would agree to anything that made him happy. He escaped among the trees when he was upset, and retreat to the cool shade along the path when he was happy.

He kissed me in the woods, my back against the bark of a tree, leaves falling in my hair.

I hear thethwockof the ax hitting wood when I get close.

The trees might soothe Bo, but they donothingfor me. My stomach is nauseous with nerves and I still have no clue what to say to him. How do you begin a conversation after eight years?

Shoulders hunched with dread, I exhale loudly, my breath visible in the cold air, and I pause just before I step into the clearing.

This is where I got married.

It had been early October; the leaves were turning, but that day had been as warm as summer. It made it more magical, a surprise just for us. We planned it for the end of the day when the shadows lengthened, just before the air chilled. I had come from the cabin; Abigail and I had spent the afternoon giggling as she curled and braided and set flowers in my hair, turning me into a wood nymph worthy of Prince Bo.

---