FREYA

"Now that you have returned, Freya. You must ascend the throne of Pretoria," he blurts out. My stomach tightens.

I knew it would come to this, but why now? I just returned.

"I know. I gave it some thought. But, then, it would take at least a couple of months, right? I have to get to know the country again. Affiliate with the people and all of that." I sound reasonable, but even I know that I'm treading on thin ice.

He groans out, but keeps his eyes narrowed.

"There's no time for that. You will learn on the job," he says strictly.

"But!..." I started to protest. His eyes narrowed again, pressing on me with heated intensity.

"Wait, doesn't the Constitution say that I have to be married first? I just got divorced. There is no way I can become Queen." I smile, feeling coy and smart.

However, grandfather smirks, something he has never done before.

"Don't worry about that." He mumbles and rises.

"What?" I ask.

"I already took care of it. I've arranged a suitor for you. You are getting married in two weeks." He replies and walks out of the room.

You know that part of a movie where the character is so stunned it feels like everything reverses back to them in speed?

That is what happens to me now. Standing there, my limbs go weak, and my breathing slows. Everything falls back to me like a weight I did not bargain for, and I slouch onto the couch.

He planned an arranged marriage for me?

It takes a minute, but my fury kicks in rather quickly. I rose from my seat and stormed into his office.

"Freya! Where are your manners?!" Grandfather reprimands me. There are a couple of men seated in his office, but I don't pay them any attention.

"I'm sorry, grandfather, but I am not getting married," I say in a firm tone.

He frowns at me disapprovingly and tosses down the folder in his hand.

"We'll talk about this once I'm done with my meeting," he says dismissively, and it ticks me off even more.

"I am not leaving until I make my point clear," I retort.

He cocks his eyebrows at me, knowing that I am boldly defying his order, and in the presence of guests, too.

He smirks again, and I wonder if that is something he just recently learnt to do. Does he even know how and when to do it? Or does he just throw it around when it's convenient for him?

He lets out a sigh, and I have his full attention.

"I don't want to get married to a man I have never met," I say.

"You will meet him in a week." He replies calmly, as if trying his best to be level-headed about it.

"That's much worse. I don't know him, Grandfather! I won't marry him!" I repeat.

"That is not for you to decide, Freya. In this country, you do exactly what I tell you to, no arguments needed." He bites each word as if that is suddenly supposed to change my mind.

"No! I refuse to marry some charlatan you picked up from heaven knows where and expect me to spend the rest of my life with!" I retort.

"Who would you rather have it with then? The scumbag who cheated on you and threw you out of his house?!" He shouts out, and I hear the gasps of the men in the room.

My heart clinks, and I suddenly feel vulnerable. That was a low blow. How could he even use that?

"I'm not a child, and I am allowed to make my mistakes," I say defiantly through gritted teeth. Not this time, I am not going to allow him to dictate my life for me this time around.

"Please, by all means. Make the decision you think is best for you and your country, Freya. Marry another man who will end up treating you like garbage."

"Enough!" I yell, as tears begin to swim around my eyes. "You don't get to choose." My stomach tightens, and the tears drop one after the other.

"This is my life. MINE! Why don't I get a say in it?" I cry out loud.

"But you do. The moment you get married and ascend the throne, you get to make tons of decisions with the guidance of counselors and the elders," he says flatly.

"What is that even supposed to mean? I don't want to be Queen!" The room seems to freeze the minute I utter those gut-wrenching words.

It is almost like I have uttered a taboo. Grandfather's eyes glide over me as if to tear me apart from the inside out, and then he sighs.

"Get out." He mutters in a low, growling tone.

"Grandfather..."

"Out!" He bellows, and I am startled into taking several steps back. Without another word, I bolted through the door.

I had never seen him so furious before. As I rushed out of the office, I heard my grandfather issue a command.

"Make sure she stays locked in her room until morning."

"Yes, Sir," the guards replied.

I rushed back to my room, followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps behind me. I know they are coming and will be stationed by my door until tomorrow.

As I rush into my room and lock the door, I hear their footsteps settle directly outside.

"No, not this time," I mutter.

I looked around the room in search of an escape route. As far as I know, we are about twenty feet off the ground, with no other exits except... the balcony.

I rush out the door leading to the balcony and assess my chances of surviving a broken bone. The fall is long, but I don't intend to jump.

There are soft beds of rose bushes just beneath my balcony, and it sprawls out to a large field, towards the far second exit of the Palace, which has little security, because it is where the palace staff use as their exit.

I can manage it. I need a night off and so I wait until it is dark. Nanny Vera is not allowed into the room, and so, the guards slip my food through the small open space. I cover it and leave it on the center table, untouched.

As soon as I have freshened up and changed into something camouflaged, yet sexy, I tie a string of clothes into a long twist and let it down from the balcony.

Easing myself down my twisted vine, I pulled it down and folded the length into a knot, and threw it behind the rose bushes.

Raising a middle finger to the building, I raced towards the large field, already basking in my freedom.