Page 104 of The Midnight Princess

The barber does his work well, leaving me enough to feel like myself but clipping the sides and back, close to the head. I’m never going to look like one of those heads of state Alma wanted me to pattern my appearance after. Father doesn’t seem to want it. Let Sondmark be Sondmark. Vorburg is Vorburg.Chol nia.I’m hearing his voice in my head now.

The rest of the evening is dense with briefings, meeting with men and women wearing dark bureaucratic suits as they go over the logistics of the state visit, teaching me everything my father hasn’t covered. Sondmark has been preparing for this day for months. My father chose to spend more than a week in isolation, throwing the entire royal apparatus into an uproar.

I note the lesson. Government priorities matter, but a king’s priorities may differ.

Karl escorts me to my quarters as the evening grows late, going over last-minute instructions while I sit on the bed and remove my tie.

“I’ve been following the news in Sondmark,” he says.

It only takes one mention of Alma, and the crown prince falls away. I push my fists into the mattress. I’m just a man, and I want her here.

“A compromising photo—”

“I saw it before you stole my phone.”

“May I ask, sir, if it was you in that picture?” Karl has become deferential in a way he never was in Handsel.

I grunt.

“There’s been a firestorm of speculation about who she was with.”

I rub the heel of a hand over my heart. She’s been in Sondmark, facing the press alone. I’m not ignorant like I was several months ago when I first stepped foot into the Summer Palace. I know how these things play out in public now.

“Have they blamed her?” I ask, slipping off my shoes.

He nods. “She’s holding up.”

That’s my girl.

“You have not been identified.” Karl carries my shoes to the closet. “The primary problem for Vorburg is that your name and personal history have been leaked already—information about your mother, your grandparents, and a cousin who owns a junkyard. Again, papers have been—”

“What has been done about my mother?” I cut him off. I walked into this role hopelessly naïve, thinking I would be able to build a wall between the crown and my life. I thought that if I was firm enough, my mother would escape being insulted in the press. Her son would be a prince. The target would shift. It had to.

But these weeks in Sondmark—around a functional, well-oiled monarchy—have taught me that privacy is hard-won and elusive. Mom has learned that lesson already, I think. I remember how she showed up for court dates with huge sunglasses and a confident, leggy, stride.

“His Majesty flew Your Royal Highness’s mother back to America as soon as he was briefed this afternoon,” Karl rushes to explain. “Upon her request. She said to tell you no journalist has a prayer of getting past your grandfather and that you aren’t to let Blackberry down.”

I swallow and nod.

“Speaking of security, we had to scrub your phone. We’ll get one reissued in the coming days. Now that you’re a public figure…” He trails off.

I close my eyes briefly. “This is the job.”

Karl’s pale face glows with approval. “Indeed, sir.”

He carefully arranges my clothes for tomorrow and turns to go. “One more thing, sir. Her Royal Highness Princess Alma announced that she and His Royal Highness have broken off their engagement,” he says.

Karl’s words land like old-growth timber falling from the axman’s blow, taking out lesser giants, snapping branches in a violent explosion of dirt and debris. I am a forest of stunned silence.

Alma told everyone. Why? For me? It can’t be. Sondmark comes first. Always first. But I can’t keep back a stirring of hope.

“It was a fortunate development, actually,” Karl prattles on. “Your personal biography was no longer front-page news. But, whatever you do, don’t mention it when you meet the family tomorrow. I imagine it’s still a tender subject. Sleep well, sir,” he says, closing the door.

I stare at the ceiling the whole damned night.

31

Surrender Now