Glass Castle Prince

by Nicole Williams

  “Do you have a doctor on staff?” I asked, ignoring the surprise casting across Edward’s face. When the king nodded, I continued. “Maybe I could shadow her or him while I’m there. I’ve considered becoming a doctor, and maybe living the life of one might make my decision easier.”

  The king and queen exchanged another look. They seemed as skilled at carrying on a conversation with their eyes as they did their mouths.

  “I think we could arrange that,” the king answered.

  “Great, thanks.” I smiled.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” Edward twisted in his seat toward me. “I thought that was what your parents wanted you to become, not what you wanted.”

  “Heaven forbid what one’s parents want come into play when making plans for the future,” Queen Helen interjected.

  King Henry cleared his throat.

  “I wasn’t sure, and I’m still not entirely, but I’ll never know if I don’t make a concerted effort to figure it out, right?”

  “I’m sure you’d make a fine physician.” The queen nodded at me. “They’re forecasting a physician shortage in the southern part of the country within the next five years. The timing would work out well for you.”

  The southern part of the country, also known as not the northern part where the royal family resided.

  “Very well. We’ll set you up with Doctor Fleming when we get to the castle. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to answer all of your questions, as well as let you shadow him through his daily routine.” The queen retrieved a book of her own from her purse. “That will keep you busy until this blows over.”

  “Until it blows over,” Edward repeated, as though he’d heard something different than I had.

  “Once the castle makes a statement, the media can have their field day running every imaginable headline pertaining to you two, then things can return to normal once the public is bored with the topic.” The queen opened to her bookmarked page.

  “What statement is the castle intending on making?” Edward asked slowly.

  Queen Helen was quiet, either reading or working on her answer. “Well, we certainly can’t say it was a one-night stand.”

  His hand tensed in mine. “Because it certainly wasn’t.”

  “A prince who falls for the wrong girl is more forgivable than a playboy who falls into bed with any girl,” the queen continued, not stymied by the storm churning in her son’s eyes. “So we’ll spin it as a hot and heavy romance, a case of young love that strikes suddenly, burns bright, and perishes just as abruptly.”

  Beside her, the king flipped the page of his book. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I sat there, hoping Edward would.

  “This is not some careless romance.” Edward motioned between the two of us. “And we are not going to set some arbitrary date in the immediate future for it to end.”

  “I’m sorry, Edward, but you should have thought of that before bringing her into your life. Everything you do comes with a price, some sacrifice.” Queen Helen’s face softened when she looked at her son. “You were with her on borrowed time, and now you have to pay the price.”

  My jeans squeaked against the leather seat when I adjusted, trying to get comfortable.

  “You can’t force us apart or insist we make a public statement that we’ve called things off. I am not a child anymore, Mother.” Edward glanced at his father, but he was doing a good job of pretending to be distracted by ancient Norland history.

  “Yet you still make your choices as if you were one.” The queen’s unblinking stare stayed directed at her son. “I will treat you like an adult when you prove to me you understand that the happiness of your people is more important than your own. When you acknowledge that hard choices must be made, and sacrifices must be paid.”

  Chapter 17

  “You’re standing inside the royal castle as we speak?” Anne’s voice on the other end of the line was almost unrecognizable.

  I looked around, in the event I’d woken from a dream, but I was still inside the same bedroom the queen had shown me to after our arrival. “It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around too.”

  “Insane.”

  “Totally agree,” I replied.

  “Now. Moving on to something more insane than my best friend standing inside of the palace walls . . .”

  I preemptively winced.

  “Why would you keep something like this from me?”

  I paced beside the bed I’d be spending the next indefinite number of weeks sleeping in. It was the kind of bed, along with the rest of the room, meant for royalty . . . not some girl from a farm in Lubrock, like me.

  “A lot has happened today. Can you be more specific as to what you’re upset I kept from you?” I asked.

  “Does that mean there’s more than one thing you have?”

  “Anne. The inquisition? The queen beat you to it already.”

  She gave one of those never-ending sighs. “Why would you keep the fact that you and Prince Edward were an item from me?”

  “I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you. It’s just . . . we agreed to keep it a secret. We really only became an actual item last night.” I tugged on the neck of my sweater, the wool feeling extra itchy today.

  “No way. So that picture was taken during the once-in-a-lifetime deflowering of Charlotte Everly?” She made a grunting sound. “And what you said just processed, so am I to assume that you actually fell into bed with him the same night you two made it official? For being a virgin, that was a trampish move, Everly.”

  I moved toward the bathroom attached to my room, praying there’d be some kind of headache reliever stashed in one of the cupboards.

  “There were a lot of questions and accusations in that statement,” I said, rummaging through the cabinet mirror. “But yeah, that picture was from last night, my first time, and nobody under the age of ninety says deflowering these days. And Edward and me . . . that’s more complicated. We’ve been something for a while, but neither of us really had the courage or stupidity to say it out loud.”

  “I thought you said he’s been gone, like, for the past month.”

  “He has been.” I paused, thinking of the cabin. “Sort of.”

  “So let me see if I’ve got this straight.” She cleared her throat. “When you first started at Valmont and met Edward, you liked some other dude whose name I can’t remember right now.” She paused as though she were waiting for me to say the name or confirm it, but I stayed quiet, continuing my search for headache relief. “Then Edward suddenly leaves, guy-whose-name-I-can’t-remember turns out to be a giant loser, a month goes by, and our prince magically reappears and the two of you wind up doing the nasty together for the first time while some creeper snapped photos?”

  “I’m not really sure how to address any of that.” My face relaxed when I found the right bottle. I twisted it open and popped two pills in my mouth, swallowing them without water. That’s how desperate I was. “But who said every love story has to have the same beginning, middle, and end?”

  “Love? Now you’re attaching the word love to whatever it is you and Edward have going on?” From her voice, she wouldn’t have been more shocked if I’d just confessed to capital murder.

  I leaned into the bathroom wall, my head feeling like it was going to burst from all of the confusion. “I meant it more as a euphemism than a literal translation. Calm down.”

  “Calm down? Calm down after everything I’ve learned in the span of this ten-minute phone conversation? Sure, I’ll go ahead and calm down. Next decade.”

  My hand went to my forehead, rubbing it.

  “Have you talked to your parents yet?” The hysteria was mostly gone from her voice, concern in its place.

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you think they know?” she asked.

  I physically winced, thinking of my parents seeing the photo of Edward and me on the front page of their morning paper. Or pulling up as the top headline in their newsfeed on their phones.
“Based on the number of missed texts and calls I’ve gotten while talking to you, yeah, they know.”

  “What are you going to tell them?”

  My fingers rubbed harder at my forehead. “The truth.”

  “Which is?”

  When I opened my eyes, I caught my reflection shining back at me. “In progress.”

  “What time are you leaving in the morning?” I asked Edward as he led me down yet another hall, insisting on giving me the grand tour himself. I’d managed to get turned around inside Valmont several times when I first started there, and the only way I’d be able to navigate Stratford was if it came with a GPS map.

  “First thing.”

  “And you’ll be gone how long?” I asked again, hoping I’d heard him wrong earlier.

  “One month.”

  I had to turn to admire some sculpture so he wouldn’t see the panicked look that skewed my expression. “And no one mentioned to you before this afternoon that you’d be leaving on some humanitarian world tour tomorrow morning?”

  Edward waited behind me, the slightest of sighs coming from him. “I didn’t know anything about it until two hours ago.”

  I nodded absently, ambling to the next sculpture on display. This was a marble bust of King Leopold, Edward’s great-grandfather. Also known as one of the most philanthropic kings in our country’s history.

  “Aren’t you the least bit suspicious that this whole trip was created for the sole purpose of getting you as far away from me as possible?” My head twisted over my shoulder to make sure he was still there. He was. My constant, albeit silent, shadow.

  “Yes, at first, very. But there’s something else,” he said, scrubbing at his face with one hand. Ever since he’d emerged from his private meeting with his father, Edward had looked as through he were carrying the weight of the world. The skin between his brows had been frozen in a deep crease ever since. “This trip had been planned for months, though it was my father who was expected to go. But he can’t go.”

  I slowly turned to face him. “What not?”

  He moved closer, checking up and down the hallway. “He’s sick, Charlotte.”

  The way he said it, I knew it wasn’t a stomach bug or a case of bronchitis. “How sick?”

  He shifted his weight, searching for the words or courage to say it. “Sick enough that he is no longer able to fulfill his duties as king.” He stared at the floor, speaking in a whisper. “It all makes sense now. Why he’s been pushing me to make a decision. Why he was so adamant about scheduling the coronation as soon as possible.”

  My hands reached for his. “I’m so sorry. I never would have guessed he’s sick to look at him.”

  “It’s Parkinson’s. He was diagnosed last year. Symptoms are starting to show. Sometimes it’s his speech, sometimes it’s motor impairment, and even though he’ll likely be around for many more years, he knows he can’t fulfill his duties much longer.”

  I blinked at the wall behind him, dumbfounded. “You never suspected he might have been sick?”

  “I didn’t have a clue,” he said, his head lowering. “Please don’t mention this to anyone else. Only his physicians, Mother, me, and now you know about this. If the nation found out . . .” His head shook. “My father’s hoping to make the transition far before the public learns of his illness.”

  “I won’t say a word,” I promised.

  His eyes floated to mine for a moment. “I know. I trust you.”

  My head was spinning from the shock, reeling as I attempted to piece together words that would fall in the realm of reassuring and supportive.

  “It’ll be okay,” I said, my hand tightening around his. “I know it.”

  His smile was perhaps the saddest one I’d ever witnessed. “I want to believe you.” He led me down the hall, keeping my hand in his.

  “So you agreed to do this month-long tour in place of your dad. Have you decided if you’re going to take over anything else for him?”

  “No. Not yet.” His neck stiffened. “But I’ll have to come to a decision soon.”

  “What would happen if you didn’t become king?” I asked.

  “My parents would disown me.” A puff echoed deep in his chest. “No, my uncle would be next in line. And god help the country if he takes over. Strip clubs on every corner, and legalized everything.”

  “How progressive.” I laughed, pausing beside an oil portrait of a young King Henry and Queen Helen. “Don’t worry. You’ll make the right decision.”

  “How do you know?”

  One of my shoulders rose. “Because you will.”

  He gave a soft sigh. “How vague of you.”

  “You’ll see. Then I’m going to rub this moment in your face.”

  He was quiet while I studied the portrait, more as a distraction than anything. “I’m sorry I have to leave. I’m sorry you’re stuck here.” His grip on my hand

  loosened. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

  “You’re sorry you have to go in place of your sick father on a humanitarian mission? Are you hearing yourself right now?” I ignored the half smirk he aimed at me. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Dr. Fleming seems really great, and there’s this great invention known as satellite radio so we can talk to each other while you’re gone. This is important.”

  His jaw worked. “Something’s always important. Whether it’s a humanitarian tour, or a potential scandal, or a union strike, or a terrorist threat. Never has my father woken up to a morning where some advisor hasn’t been waiting with some crisis that needs immediate attention.” He stared at the portrait with me, regarding it in a different light than I was. “If I’m going to become king, I’ll need to establish some way to prioritize the endless stream of important things surrounding me at any given time. And leaving you right now seems to set a bad precedent of how I’ll prioritize matters of the crown and matters of my personal life.”

  Stepping in front of him, I waited for his attention to leave the portrait. “You spend too much time worrying about the future. Trust me, there’s enough to worry about in the present.”

  He was trying to give me a stern look, but the corners of his mouth were lifting. “Are you lecturing me for being too forward-thinking?”

  “Yeah, I am.” I curled my fingers under his belt and gave it a tug. “You’re freaking me out with the whole fifty-year plan thing, while here I am, trying to figure out what to do with my life tomorrow.”

  “It seems like you’re putting some pieces together.” His throat cleared. “Physician’s apprentice.” He started down the hall, checking to see if I was following. “I thought you didn’t want to be a doctor.”

  I stuffed my hands in the pockets of the jeans. “I’m still not sure, but if we have to be apart, we might as well use it as an opportunity to figure out what we want to do with our lives.”

  He stopped beside a door at the end of the hall, pulling it open for me. “You could be a king’s personal counsel, you know that?”

  “Nah.” I checked the hall again, lowering my voice. “I think I’ll stick with coercing a future one to agree to be my sex tutor.”

  His face blanched with surprise, but it was brief. “Could you imagine the frenzy if we ever explained to the public how our relationship started?”

  “Are you talking about my sex education request or the fry pan incident?”

  Edward followed me inside. “Either one should sufficiently shock the media into silence for a rare moment. Woman knocks prince unconscious when he sneaks into his own place. Woman confronts prince with lascivious offer of a sexual awakening.” His posture visibly relaxed once the door had closed behind us. “My poor mother.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take those secrets to the grave.” A familiar scent hit me, making my pace quicken. “We’ve put our parents through enough today alone.”

  I stopped when the pool came into view.

  “I thought you might want to spend some time here while I’m away. In between shadowing Dr. Flemin
g.”

  I examined the pool room, similar in size to the one at Valmont but simpler in design. This had the look of an actual pool people came to swim laps in, not one hidden down a hall in the royal palace.

  “This is the one room in this whole place I feel comfortable in.” My shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

  “Whenever you want to use it, do. My father used to swim laps everyday, but he stopped a couple of years ago.” He stopped, staring at the pool in a new light. “Though I guess it makes sense now why he stopped.”

  I crouched to test the temperature of the water.

  “So please. Use it whenever you like, day or night.” Edward’s footsteps echoed through the room.

  I smiled at him when he handed me a towel to wipe my hand on. I could have easily wiped it off on my jeans, but growing up royal, he’d probably been handed a towel after touching a water glass with condensation present.

  “Speaking of our parents, how are yours taking everything?” He wandered to the end of the pool, where some windows were. It had started to snow; giant, fluffy flakes moving so slowly, they appeared to challenge gravity.

  “I guess as well as any parents could given the circumstances.” My face pulled up as I revisited the conversation I’d had with them after the phone call with Anne. A lot of emotions. A lot of words.

  Just . . . a lot.

  “Did you invite them for a visit?” he asked.

  “No, not yet. I wanted to let the whole ‘nude picture of me tangled up with the prince’ thing settle before inviting them to come stay at the palace for a weekend.”

  Moving toward him, I noticed my swim bag resting on the bench lining the pool wall. It had been inside the pool house at Valmont this morning, and now it was here. I didn’t know who had grabbed it or how it had gotten here so quickly, because none of my things beside what I’d had on had made it on the flight this morning, but there it was.

  This life didn’t seem real.

  “And how are you taking everything?” Edward settled into a lounge chair at the end of the pool, watching the snow fall through the windows.