Epilogue #2
Behind them are about twenty members of the media. Some are taking photo after photo of me, while others are filming. Placing my hands on the side of the lectern, I take a few moments to myself before focusing on the children. They’re the reason I’m here.
“Good morning, everyone.”
I’m greeting with a chorus of “Good morning, Princess Alice.”
“Thank you all for being here.” My eyes flicker to the script as it flows across the screen.
“Today I’m thrilled to announce the launch of United Voices.
It’s an initiative I hold close to my heart, aimed at stopping bullying and supporting those who are being bullied.
” Although my pulse is racing rapidly, I feel a surge of adrenaline racing through my body.
“Let me tell you a little story about a girl who was just like you all.”
Art has joined the teachers off to the side. He nods as I speak, urging me on. Meeting the eyes of the students, I open myself up and share with them about how school was for me, how I was bullied, and the mental and emotional toll it took on me.
It’s the first time I’ve shared such an intimate piece of my life with the public.
But when I practiced in front of Eddie, Amanda, David, and Clara, they all agreed sharing my story was the most effective way to get my points across.
My experience is one that many others can relate to.
I want them to see themselves in me and know that bullying can happen to anyone. Even a princess.
“. . . and so it’s my mission to make sure that none of that ever happens to you.
” My legs are shaking. I squeeze my knees together as I nod to Lynn to pop the first slide of my PowerPoint presentation onto the screen behind me.
“United Voices will run several different programs at schools and community centers across the country. The first of which is our support network, where victims of bullying will be able to anonymously share their stories and ask for and receive advice.”
I mention how victims can feel powerless and ashamed at what’s happening. It’s important that they have a safe way to ask for help.
“Our second program will be training for our Kindness Ambassadors. These are specialists who have been trained to identify and support victims of bullying, and promote kindness and inclusivity through various activities and campaigns.”
By the time I finish taking questions from the students and everyone else in the room, I’m mentally exhausted, but beaming with pride at what I’ve just accomplished.
I’ve been working hard on United Voices for weeks, stealing time where I can between classes and dates with Art, and now, it’s finally live and out in the world.
Who would’ve thought that the girl who considered giving up on becoming a working royal at the beginning of summer would be standing here today? Not me.
I’ve changed so much in the last six months.
I don’t even feel like the same person at times.
The old Alice was still growing out of her shell.
She was a princess who was afraid to make mistakes.
She wanted to hide away from the world in her little bubble and craved a life where she could be just like everybody else.
Well, the woman I am today is the more matured version of the old Alice.
When I started taking classes at uni last fall, I got a taste of what it was like being just another first-year student.
I was expected to show up for my modules, do the reading and assignments, and participate in the discussions.
I didn’t have any royal duties assigned to me.
When I wasn’t studying, I spent my free time with Art, or working part-time.
At first, it was blissful. But as the weeks wore on, and I saw pictures of Eddie, Amanda, and my parents working, I felt this gnawing sense of incompleteness.
Here was my family using their platform to shine light on so many worthy causes.
And what was I doing? Nothing. I realized then and there that I wanted to join them.
I needed to use the voice I was given to help others, and that’s when I started working on the United Voices campaign.
When I approached Eddie and told him about my plan, he was excited for me, but also nervous.
He reminded me that being a working royal meant being in front of the media.
He wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into.
The funny thing is, the media was the last thing on my mind.
As I spoke to my brother, my father, Art, and my therapist about it, I found that when I have a cause I’m so passionate about, I don’t care about what’s printed about me.
I’ve already been to the lowest point a person can go.
It can’t get worse than it was when I was a teenager.
But if it does happen again, this time, I have the tools to handle the situation.
Experience has taught me to use my family and the people I love as my support system.
The media will always be looking for their next storyline, be it good or bad, ugly or pretty, true or false.
All I can do is shrug it off, because life is too short to worry and be miserable.
“There’s my strong, confident princess,” Art gushes. I let his strong arms envelop me in a tight hug. “You. Were. Amazing.”
My body warms like a piece of chocolate melting inside a fondue pot. Whenever I’m in his arms, I never want him to let me go. I rest my head against his suit jacket and soak in the scent of vanilla and spices.
“I did do pretty well, didn’t I.” I pull back slightly, grinning.
“I heard some of the reporters in passing talking about how impressed they were with the layout of United Voices. Something about it being one of the most well-thought-out programs they’ve seen the palace come up with.”
The muscles in my cheeks begin to ache as I smile even wider.
Art releases me, lacing his hand through mine. “How should we go celebrate your success?”
“I’d love to have a long lunch with you and go out for a nice long ride, but I have class at three.”
“Could I persuade you to be a rebel and skip it?” Art asks, a hopeful tone in his voice.
I chew on the inside of my lip. “We only meet once a week, and I can’t miss out if I want Dr. Jackson to write me a letter of recommendation for the summer Historic Royal Palaces internship I want to apply for.
” I’ve become really interested in structural engineering work that involves repairing listed and historic buildings.
It’s something I can see myself doing in the future.
I offer him my puppy-dog eyes. “A rain check for this weekend?”
“Throw in dinner with me tonight and you have a deal.” Art rubs his hands together. “I have some new recipes I’d like to try on you. If you don’t mind me using your kitchen.”
“Of course I don’t. What’s the saying Amanda likes to use? Mi casa es su casa? My house is your house.”
Art helped me move into my flat in early February.
Since then, he’s spent more time at my place than his.
We’ve even gotten to the point where Cinnamon and Peppermint spend Thursday through Sunday with me since Art tends to work unpredictable hours on the weekends.
Lillian seems to think of them as her puppies.
His lease will be up for renewal next month, and I’ve been waiting for the right moment to ask him if he’ll consider moving in with me.
Maybe dinner this weekend would be a good time.
It’s not like we’ll ever be completely alone since a security team member is always inside the property with me.
That would probably be enough to convince Papa to sign off on it.
Even if technically, I don’t need his permission, I’d still like to have it.
Speaking of Papa, he was surprisingly okay with us dating.
I’ll admit that I was terrified of what he might think of me falling for my bodyguard.
But when we met with him and explained the situation, he gave me a knowing smile and said “You can’t choose who you fall in love with.
” Art thought later that my being a daddy’s girl and his being one of the top graduates in his protection officer course might’ve helped our cause.
Whatever the case may be, I’m just relieved to have his support.
“Any special requests for dessert? I was planning on making either a Victoria sponge or an apple crumble with fresh vanilla ice cream, but I’m flexible.”
“Anything you make is okay with me. Your desserts are the best.”
We arrive outside the school and slide into a waiting car with Angela up front. She gives me a wink and rolls up the privacy screen. Art and I lock eyes. A pair of cheeky grins appear on our faces.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Art’s voice comes out husky.
“Uh-huh.” I lick my lips.
We lean toward one another and kiss.
The day I met Art, I won the lottery. We’re living, breathing proof that no matter what, you should always follow your heart, for it always leads you in the right direction. You just have to be willing to listen to it.