“Your Majesty, just so we are clear, you must be in full agreement with my methods, no matter how counterproductive they may seem.”
“What methods would those be? Surely they cannot be too unusual.”
“Depending on the circumstances, unusual and unconventional methods may have to be employed. In your unique situation, I may have to resort to techniques that seem risky. Do I have your complete confidence and your assurance that you will not impede my strategy in any way?”
“Lady Willoughby, are you asking me to allow you carte blanche?”
“I believe we have come to an understanding.”
The king looked at her without blinking for a long time before answering. “It would appear that I have no choice but to agree to your terms.”
“Your Majesty, I’m glad we can see eye to eye on this matter, which is vital to the success of this monumental undertaking. Severe though my methods may be, they are quite effective and have served me and my clients well. Is now a good time to discuss salary and bonuses?”
* * *
Eric lay in the back of the limousine, partially unconscious. He shivered despite the heat being cranked all the way up. After months cruising around the South China Sea on his yacht during the hottest months in the southern hemisphere, he was unaccustomed to the brutal cold of his northern European homeland.
His eyes were closed behind his sunglasses and he tried to ignore the raucous laughter of his companions, Gunter, Hans, and Ben. As was their custom, they were having entirely too much fun at his expense, or at least that was how he understood it as they poked and prodded at him to wake up.
Eric soundly refused to cooperate and lay stoically slumped over in the corner of the seat. After several failed attempts to rouse him, his friends decided to take drastic action. A blast of frozen air hit him as Ben opened the sunroof and stood on Eric’s legs as he climbed partially out of the vehicle.
“Whoo!!! Hello Hoburg!!!” he yelled, as Eric opened his eyes and yanked Ben down out of the sunroof.
“Ben, you have got to get yourself together. My father doesn’t approve of things like fun.”
“Yes sir, Your Highness, I will be sure to put a stop to the fun when we get to the palace but until then, we are still free agents,” he replied with a smile, and climbed back up to hang out of the sunroof.
“You guys might be, but I am definitely not. Why doesn’t my father just leave me alone to do what I want? Why does he insist that I come home?” Eric asked no one in particular.
“Your Highness, if I may offer this simple answer, I would say it because it is your thirtieth birthday. That may have something to do with it,” Gunter suggested.
Eric ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t say that, the next thing I know you’ll be suggesting I get a job or something, maybe even settle down.”
Hans smiled and lifted his beer towards the man hanging out of the roof of the limousine. “Not me – I would never stoop to that level. Ben, on the hand, might.”
Eric looked up at his friend who was currently shirtless and waving his sweater at anyone and everyone he passed on the streets of the capital. He sighed and hoped his father wouldn’t hear about this as the car arrived at the gates of Hoburg Palace.
Less than an hour later, Eric and Gunter were sitting in the office of the king waiting for the tongue-lashing to end.
Eric slumped down in his chair while Gunter, his bodyguard, sat upright in his chair, at full attention. All Eric wanted was for his father to stop yelling so he could take a shower and sleep for twelve hours. Judging by the sound of things his father was just getting wound up. Eric sighed at looked at Gunter; Gunter stared straight ahead and looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“Furthermore, Gunter, you are well paid to protect my son and look after his interests. Is that what you call this? I’ve seen the headlines and I am appalled.”
Gunter turned pale and tried to insert a defense. “Your Majesty if I may…”
The king cut him off mid-sentence. “No you most certainly may not; you are fortunate I am not firing you. I am only retaining your services because my son is still alive and in remarkably good condition for someone who may be wanted for crimes in the South Pacific!”
“Father, I am not wanted for any crimes. I have paid all the debts and fines, so we’re good.”
“Eric, you would be wise to remain silent, do you hear me?”
“I can’t help it, can I?” said Eric in defiance.
The king turned a deep shade of crimson as he stood over his son. “Eric, when I was your age, I was already a husband, a father and a king – and you have achieved absolutely nothing. I regret that your actions have brought me to this point. I sound like the father of a rebellious teenager, and not of a prince with responsibilities to his family, his country, and his people.”
Eric’s head hurt and he was no mood to listen to his father berate him like a child. He stood and looked his father in the eye. “You’re right, Father, absolutely. I am a failure and can never equal your greatness; now may I go?”
The king looked at his son with disgust. “You may go. Just be sure you are cleaned up for dinner. Tomorrow is your birthday celebration, and you are expected to make several appearances in the capital. Be sober.”
Eric turned and walked out of the room. He did not reply, and as he shut the door, he could hear Gunter receiving the remainder of his father’s ire.
* * *
Astrid arrived back in Hoburg as the citizens were lining the streets to watch a parade honoring the prince on his thirtieth birthday. The limousine carried her through the old town towards the palace, and away from the throngs of people. It never ceased to amaze her that the most spoiled royal brats of the world were often admired in their homelands, and this prince was clearly no exception.
Sadly, she knew his type well: over indulged, wildly wealthy, and entitled. Astrid had never met the prince personally, but she didn’t have to – she knew him better than he knew himself. Growing up the daughter of an English earl gave her a unique perspective that she brought to her work. It was her understanding that being royal was a privilege and an honor and it was her job to make the ungrateful heirs to the world’s last monarchies realize that.
The limousine arrived at the palace and Astrid was shown to her suite. In her contract with the king she had requested the same rooms as her previous visit; she was pleased to see that he’d kept that end of the bargain. A footman brought up the two large suitcases she’d brought with her. For the next few weeks, she would be living out of them.
She unpacked an evening gown and rang for the maid to prepare it for the evening’s festivities. A quick glance at her watch reminded her that she only had a few hours to unwind, answer email, and prepare to meet her latest assignment, Prince Eric.
After a relaxing bath and late lunch, Astrid was ready to meet her new charge. The maid helped her dress for the gala dinner honoring the prince. Astrid had chosen a deep emerald gown with teardrop emerald earrings, and wore her flame red hair in a messy updo. The effect was impressive, which is what Astrid wanted.
Astrid left her suite and strode down the corridors to the grand staircase. From her place at the top of the stairs, she watched the guests drinking champagne and making small talk in accents that clearly indicated an international origins. Walking down the stairs, she recognized several guests and nodded to them as she approached the king.
The king’s gaze fell on her as she walked towards him. Her gown was perfectly tailored to her body and was always appreciated by men, and some women, in any gathering she attended.
“Lady Willoughby, I am pleased to see you this evening.”
“Your Majesty, I would not want to miss this,” she answered.
Queen Gyda smiled and touched Astrid’s arm. “How is your mother? I miss her; do tell her that I asked about her, won’t you dear?”
The queen was a statuesque blonde who looked ten years younger than she was. Astrid knew there was a youn
ger version of the queen in attendance at the gala – her daughter. Astrid was actually more concerned about the princess than the prince, at least as far as her own plan went – although she would never confess that to the king.
Astrid scanned the crowd for the princess; she was hard to miss. Princess Eirinia was tall and blonde like her mother, with an aristocratic bearing that made her every move seem ethereal. From her extensive research, Astrid knew that the princess could potentially be a big problem. Hoping to avoid a great deal of small talk with her, she thanked the queen and went to speak to an old family friend.
At dinner, Astrid was seated beside Balder, the son of the Duke of Gothland. He was a charming man and one she knew she would see more of in the future, although Balder (or Ben as he called himself) did not know that yet. He flirted surreptitiously with her during most of the twelve courses. She smiled and listened to his stories, which were hilarious.
As she batted her long dark eyelashes at him, she realized it was likely that very soon, he would no longer be on speaking terms with her, as he was part of the reason the prince continued to act like a juvenile delinquent. It was an unfortunate fact that if surrounded by fun, freewheeling types like Ben, then a prince would act the same way. Astrid had been hired by the king to put a stop to all of that, and she intended to do just that, as soon as possible.
During dinner she glimpsed the prince seated at the head of the table by his father. Between laughing at Ben’s anecdotes and casually prodding him for information regarding Eric, she studied her new charge carefully from a distance.
This evening he wore a tailored black suit with tails and a white shirt and tie, with a gold sash across his chest emblazoned with the royal insignia of the house of Gunborg. His blond hair was almost to his shoulders but it was brushed back away from his face. The prince shared his father’s aristocratic features and his mother’s high cheekbones.
Watching him move and interact with the guests, she noticed he had a natural ease about him that was a trait of some royals who interacted well with nobles and commoners alike. Unlike his sister, the prince was less regal in his actions, more approachable.
Astrid was easily able to discern why the king wanted Eric to straighten up and assume the throne one day – the prince’s personality and temperament were more suited for a position of leadership. Now it fell to her to whip him into shape and make a king out of him.
In person, Prince Eric was handsome in a way she had not expected. She’d seen pictures, but they hadn’t prepared her for his…magnetism. Watching him at dinner made her feel self-conscious. It was a feeling she was not familiar with, as she was always sure of herself and her every action. Returning her attention to Ben, she reminded herself that this prince was a spoiled, entitled man who squandered his money on women and drink, and was not in any way deserving of her respect or her admiration for his striking countenance.
After dinner, Astrid and the other guests made their way to the ballroom for the presentation of the cake. A gigantic white sugar confection that resembled an icy castle was carefully brought in and presented to the prince. Astrid noticed that he tottered slightly as he handed an empty champagne glass to footman. It was obvious he was a little tipsy, but then so was nearly everyone else, except her. The abhorrence she felt for rich, spoiled grown children such as Eric returned with a vengeance. She was certain she would never be lured in by his brilliant blue eyes and dashing good looks.
Chapter 4
The music from the ball could be heard through all the rooms of the palace, but especially in the library. Astrid momentarily escaped from the party and the incessant small talk that often went with such events. The music booming through the walls she could handle, but the dull conversations of the upper class, she could not. It was not her party and she was not being paid to socialize – she was here to work.
That thought comforted her as she casually scanned the bookshelves while she sipped a glass of champagne. These were the last few moments of relative peace and quiet she was to know before she officially clocked in.
The sound of laughter suddenly grew louder as the door to the library opened and in slipped Prince Eric. He hastily shut the door, leaned against it, and sighed. Astrid stood motionless, waiting for him to realize that he was not alone.
She watched as he opened his eyes and looked right at her. She waited for him to speak.
“I must not be the only one who has had too much to drink and can’t stand the insipid conversations,” he said as he walked slowly across the handmade Persian rug.
“I suppose not,” she answered.
The prince threw himself on the settee by the fireplace; the light from the fire gave his skin a golden hue and made his eyes sparkle. Astrid slid the book she was holding back onto the shelf and turned to face him. “Which one was it that sent you looking for a place to hide from your guests? Let me guess…it was too much to drink. The conversations I am sure you could manage.”
He sat up on his elbows and looked at her in the same quizzical way that dogs do when they are confused. “No, it wasn’t just that. I’m tired of smiling and speaking to everyone, and in general, I’m tired of pretending to be what they want me to be.”
“It can’t be that bad, you’ve only been home for less than a day. Surely you can find a way to give your adoring audience what they want for such a short period of time?” she asked.
“Have you ever tried it? It’s not easy; not easy at all.”
Astrid was unable to sympathize with this man laid out so casually on a couch that cost more than most hardworking citizens of his country would make in a decade. He was whining about how hard it was to smile at guests at his own birthday party, while out there in the cold, his subjects were policing the streets, or saving lives, or even working on a fishing boat. She found it hard to offer him any real compassion, but for now she smiled and left him to his own company.
Astrid left the ball early and returned to her suite. Changing into her comfortable clothes, she enjoyed a book and a cup of tea. Tomorrow morning, she was expected to be at an important meeting and she wanted to be well rested.
The following morning, Astrid arrived at the king’s office early and waited patiently outside in the corridor. A life-sized painting of the king hung on the wall across from her, and she noticed that the prince had the same dashing smile. On closer examination, she saw the same blue eyes with their devilish sparkle, and wondered if the king may have once been a little wild himself, before shouldering the responsibility of leading a nation.
A footman announced her arrival at precisely nine and Astrid walked into the office to be greeted by the king alone. The prince was conspicuously absent.
The king calmly ordered the footman to bring the prince at once, and he didn’t care what state of dress or disarray he found him in.
“Lady Willoughby, would you care for coffee?”
“Your Majesty, thank you, no. I have already had my daily quota,” she answered as they waited for the arrival of the prince.
The king returned to his laptop and Astrid sat patiently waiting for the prince to come. She smiled at the fairytale notion of waiting for her prince to arrive, and reminded herself once more that he was not her prince, just her responsibility.
Twenty minutes later, the footman returned with the Prince looking far worse than she remembered from the previous night. His hair was disheveled and unbrushed, and he was dressed in his suit pants and a crumpled button down shirt, although it was unbuttoned.
The king looked at his son and said, “Eric, we have a lady present; can you show some respect? Button up your shirt and greet her.”
The prince looked from his father to Astrid as he slowly buttoned up his shirt. Astrid could tell from his bloodshot eyes that he was hungover and appeared to be operating on almost no sleep. A white stain of toothpaste was on the corner of his mouth.
Eric slowly walked towards the desk and sat in the chair beside her. He held out his hand. “I’m Eric, prince of
Rogandal. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He looked at her closely and then said, “Wait, I met you last night. Didn’t I see you in the library?”
“Yes, Your Highness, you may have. I am Lady Astrid Willoughby.”
“Nice to meet you, again.”
“Your Highness, you have toothpaste on your lip.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised, darn footman insisted I come right away. What seems to be the crisis this morning, and why are you here?” he asked, looking at Astrid.
“She is here because I wish it, Eric. You are now thirty years old and it pains me to have to say this, but you are no longer a child – or even a young man.”
“Father, before we continue, do we have to do this now? I could use a cup of coffee and several hours of sleep.”
“We will do this now, your coffee and your sleep can wait,” said the king.
“Does she have to be here for this? It’s bad enough I have to sit here and listen to it, but does she?”
“Yes, she does. As I was saying, Eric, you are a grown man who will inherit the crown and all the wealth and responsibility that comes with it. I have been generous regarding your allowance and have indulged you while you wasted several years of your life acting like a rock star. I was hoping you would grow up and take responsibility on your own, maybe show some initiative, but that does not appear to stand the slightest chance of ever happening.”
“So you want me to grow up and start acting my age, is that it? Got it – consider it done. Can I go now?”
“Absolutely not. From this moment forward, you are under the direction of Lady Willoughby. Your allowance, your every move and action will be at her discretion and under her scrutiny.”
“What? Are you serious? What is she – some kind of psychologist or something? I don’t need anyone telling me what to do!” The prince stood and turned to walk out the door.
Taming the Rebel Prince: The Royals of Rogandal Page 3
