I wonder what they抎 have to say about everything and how different things would be if they抎 lived.
Teddy抯 talking again. I抦 not listening, but I don抰 have to梩he last few words are all I need to hear. 搮Lady Esmerelda last weekend??
I抳e known Ezzy since our school days at Briar House. She抯 a good egg條oud and rowdy. 揕ady Esmerelda and I are old friends.?
揓ust friends??
She抯 also a committed lesbian. A fact her family wants to keep out of the press. I抦 her favorite beard. Our mutually beneficial dates are organized through the Palace secretary.
I smile charmingly. 揑 make it a rule not to kiss and tell.?
Teddy leans forward, catching a whiff of story. The story.
揝o there is the possibility that something deeper could be developing between you? The country took so much joy in watching your parents?courtship. The people are on tenterhooks waiting for you, 慔is Royal Hotness?as they call you on social media, to find your own ladylove and settle down.?
I shrug. 揂nything抯 possible.?
Except for that. I won抰 be settling down anytime soon. He can bet his Littlecock on it.
*
As soon as the hot beam of front lighting is extinguished and the red recording signal on the camera blips off, I stand up from my chair, removing the microphone clipped to my collar.
Teddy stands as well. 揟hank you for your time, Your Grace.?
He bows slightly at the neck梩he proper protocol.
I nod. 揂lways a pleasure, Littlecock.?
That抯 not what she said. Ever.
Bridget, my personal secretary梐 stout, middle-aged, well-ordered woman, appears at my side with a bottle of water.
揟hank you.?I twist the cap. 揥ho抯 next??
The Dark Suits thought it was a good time for a PR boost梬hich means days of interviews, tours, and photo shoots. My own personal fourth, fifth, and sixth circles of hell.
揌e抯 the last for today.?
揌allelujah.?
She falls in step beside me as I walk down the long, carpeted hallway that will eventually lead to Guthrie House梞y private apartments at the Palace of Wessco.
揕ord Ellington is arriving shortly, and arrangements for dinner at Bon Repas are confirmed.?
Being friends with me is harder than you抎 think. I mean, I抦 a great friend; my life, on the other hand, is a pain in the arse. I can抰 just drop by a pub last minute or hit up a new club on a random Friday night. These things have to preplanned, organized. Spontaneity is the only luxury I don抰 get to enjoy.
揋ood.?
With that, Bridget heads toward the palace offices and I enter my private quarters. Three floors, a full modernized kitchen, a morning room, a library, two guest rooms, servants?quarters, two master suites with balconies that open up to the most breathtaking views on the grounds. All fully restored and updated梩he colors, tapestries, stonework, and moldings maintaining their historic integrity. Guthrie House is the official residence of the Prince or Princess of Pembrook梩he heir apparent梬homever that may be. It was my father抯 before it was mine, my grandmother抯 before her coronation.
Royals are big on hand-me-downs.
I head up to the master bedroom, unbuttoning my shirt, looking forward to the hot, pounding feel of eight showerheads turned up to full blast. My shower is fucking fantastic.
But I don抰 make it that far.
Fergus meets me at the top of the stairs.
揝he wants to see you,?he croaks.
And she needs no further introduction.
I rub a hand down my face, scratching the dark five o抍lock shadow on my chin. 揥hen??
揥hen do you think??Fergus scoffs. 揧esterday, o?course.?
Of course.
*
Back in the old days, the throne was the symbol of a monarch抯 power. In illustrations it was depicted with the rising sun behind it, the clouds and stars beneath it梩he seat for a descendent of God himself. If the throne was the emblem of power, the throne room was the place where that sovereignty was wielded. Where decrees were issued, punishments were pronounced, and the command of 揵ring me his head?echoed off the cold stone walls.
That was then.
Now, the royal office is where the work gets done梩he throne room is used for public tours. And yesterday抯 throne is today抯 executive desk. I抦 sitting across from it right now. It抯 shining, solid mahogany and ridiculously huge.
If my grandmother were a man, I抎 suspect she was compensating for something.
Christopher, the Queen抯 personal secretary, offers me tea but I decline with a wave of my hand. He抯 young, about twenty-three, as tall as I am, and attractive, I guess梚n an action-film star kind of way. He抯 not a terrible secretary, but he抯 not the sharpest tack in the box, either. I think the Queen keeps him around for kicks梑ecause she likes looking at him, the dirty old girl. In my head, I call him Igor, because if my grandmother told him to eat nothing but flies for the rest of his life, he抎 ask, 揥ith the wings on or off??
Finally, the adjoining door to the blue drawing room opens and Her Majesty Queen Lenora stands in the doorway.
There抯 a species of monkey indigenous to the Colombian rain forest that抯 one of the most adorable-looking animals you抣l ever see梚ts cuteness puts fuzzy hamsters and small dogs on Pinterest to shame. Except for its hidden razor-sharp teeth and its appetite for human eyeballs. Those lured in by the beast抯 precious appearance are doomed to lose theirs.
My grandmother is a lot like those vicious little monkeys.
She looks like a granny條ike anyone抯 granny. Short and petite, with soft poofy hair, small pretty hands, shiny pearls, thin lips that can laugh at a dirty joke, and a face lined with wisdom. But it抯 the eyes that give her away.
Gunmetal gray eyes.
The kind that back in the day would have sent opposing armies fleeing. Because they抮e the eyes of a conqueror卽ndefeatable.
揘icholas.?
I rise and bow. 揋randmother.?
She breezes past Christopher without a look. 揕eave us.?
I sit after she does, resting my ankle on the opposite knee, my arm casually slung along the back of the chair.
揑 saw your interview,?she tells me. 揧ou should smile more. You used to seem like such a happy boy.?
揑抣l try to remember to pretend to be happier.?
She opens the center drawer of her desk, withdrawing a keyboard, then taps away on it with more skill than you抎 expect from someone her age. 揌ave you seen the evening抯 headlines??
揑 haven抰。？
She turns the screen toward me. Then she clicks rapidly on one news website after another.
PRINCE PARTIES AT THE PLAYBOY MANSION
HENRY THE HEARTBREAKER
RANDY ROYAL
WILD, WEALTHY桝ND WET
The last one is paired with the unmistakable picture of my brother diving into a swimming pool梟aked as the day he was born.
I lean forward, squinting. 揌enry will be horrified. The lighting is terrible in this one梱ou can barely make out his tattoo.?
My grandmother抯 lips tighten. 揧ou find this amusing??
Mostly I find it annoying. Henry is immature, unmotivated梐 slacker. He floats through life like a feather in the wind, coasting in whatever direction the breeze takes him.
I shrug. 揌e抯 twenty-four, he was just discharged from service厰
Mandatory military service. Every citizen of Wessco梞ale, female, or prince梚s required to give two years.
揌e was discharged months ago.?She cuts me off. 揂nd he抯 been around the world with eighty whores ever since.?
揌ave you tried calling his mobile??
揙f course I have.?She clucks. 揌e answers, makes that ridiculous static noise, and tells me he can抰 hear me. Then he says he loves me and hangs up.?