3. Nick #3
I stare hard at Millie, almost right through her, as I fail to fight off the reel of that imaginary date.
A loud knock at the front door jostles us out of our silence.
“Prince Nicholas,” says Alfred when Millie opens up. Agnes stands beside him, her iPad clutched against her chest.
“Prince Nicholas, I don’t mean to rush you, but we have to get going,” Agnes says. “You’re needed back in the city for a meeting at the Met, and then to the airport.”
Alfred, Agnes, and Millie look at me, waiting for me to say something, to move, to follow the path I’ve been led down my entire life.
I’ve been the best little prince in the world.
Outside of one scandal, I’ve never stepped out of line.
I’ve never sowed a wild oat. But it hits me that I’m thirty-six, and what life experience do I have to show for it?
“Actually, Agnes, I’ve decided to stay in Sourwood for a bit longer.”
“Your Highness?” Agnes’s eyebrows jump up her forehead.
Just when I’m about to fold, Millie squeezes my hand, giving me a boost of much-needed support. I stand up and approach my staff.
“That will be all, Agnes,” I say, my voice wavering for a moment before finding my strength. “You and Alfred can go back to the city without me. I’ll alert the king that I’m going on holiday, and that I’ll be back by the new year.”
“I beg your pardon?” Agnes’s face contorts as if I told her I was getting a face tattoo. “But we have to get back to the city, and then the airport.”
“You do. I don’t.”
At that, Agnes’s mouth fully hangs open. “There are several Christmas events in Ardenia that you’re needed for.”
“And I will miss them this year, unfortunately. I will alert the king to my change of plans and make it clear that while you tried to stop me, this is completely my decision.”
Millie gets on her tiptoes and claps like her giddy old teenage self.
“And if the king doesn’t like it, he can get…” I glance at my friend, who is dying for me to finish that thought. I’m still a member of the royal family, though. “He will simply have to deal with it. I have made my decision.”
“Your Highness, I can’t just leave you here,” Agnes pleads.
“Don’t worry. I’m in good hands. I’m going to crash in Millie’s guest room.”
“Crash?” It struggles out of Alfred’s mouth like a foreign language.
“And Alfred, since I won’t be on official palace business, you will return to Ardenia, too.”
“Your Highness…I don’t understand what’s going on.” I’ve never seen Agnes look so lost. I feel bad for putting her in this position.
“Agnes, for once in my life, I want to know what it’s like to live authentically, to not have to paper over my true desires with awkward setups and clandestine rendezvous with paid professionals. For a few weeks, maybe I could know what it feels like to be free.”
I search her eyes for the woman behind the schedule, the woman who’s known me since birth.
“Your Highness.” She reaches out and grabs my hands in hers. The hard walls of Agnes the Taskmaster fall away to reveal Agnes the Caretaker. “I want that for you, too. I’ve always wanted that for you.”
“How do you think the king will take you not going home?” Millie asks.
“That will be a problem for me,” Agnes says. Her eyes soften at me for a moment before she snaps back into schedule mode. “I will tell the king about your extended vacation. I will also inform him that you won’t be needing security while on vacation.”
“Agnes, the prince must have security with him at all times,” Alfred says.
“We’re going to make an exception, Alfred,” she says with a hard edge, reducing Alfred to a quivering schoolboy.
“We can tell the press that the prince flew home on the royal jet. He’s currently battling a non-life threatening illness that he picked up in the States and will be recuperating in the palace for the next few weeks.
All scheduled appearances will have to be canceled, unfortunately. Is that clear, Alfred?”
“Y–yes.”
“And you will act with the decorum expected of royal security and not share the details of this conversation with anyone, lest you would like to face my unyielding wrath. Is that understood, Alfred?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Even Millie stands up straight, afraid to speak.
“Lovely,” says Agnes with a firm smile. “This also means that the prince will not be posting on social media nor getting into any adventures that would garner any press. Since he’s under the weather.”
I give a nervous nod. Millie gives her a salute.
“Are you sure, Agnes?” I ask.
“With all due respect, don’t tell me how to do my job. Do you need me to fetch your things from your hotel room?”
“No, I have clothes I can borrow.”
“Very well, Your Highness. I’ll arrange for the royal jet to come back after the holidays. Enjoy your time in Sourwood.” She gazes at me for a maternal second. I want to wrap her in a hug, but that’s not her style. She gives me a curt head nod and departs with Alfred.
“We did it. We actually did it,” Millie says as we watch them drive off. “Holy shit.”
“Holy shit, indeed.” I exhale my first breath as a regular Joe.