Page 21 of Royally F*cked

“Hi, Madam. I’m Agnes.” She holds out her hand and introduces herself. “His Royal Highness asked that I prepare you something to eat while he handles some business. I’ve set a place for you at the table if you’d care to follow me.” She holds out her arm for me to come along.

“Agnes.” Her name is vaguely familiar as is her motherly face. “Oh my gosh. Agnes!” I gasp.

“Yes,” she pauses and turns back to me.

“I haven’t seen you since. . .”

“Since His Royal Highness moved out of the palace.” She finishes for me.

“Yes! Exactly. It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see too, m’dear. It’s been a few years. I was much younger back then,” she winks.

You and me both. I think to myself as I step into the small dining room.

The table is set with quite the spread of foods ranging from fruits and cheeses to a delicious smelling entree of what looks like beef and vegetables.

“I hope this is suitable. I was not sure what you might enjoy. If you don’t like it, I can prepare you something else.” Agnes pulls out a chair and offers for me to sit. “May I get you a drink?”

“You don’t have to wait on me,” I tell her. This feels so wrong. I’m no more than she is. I am…or I was the hired help. I should be fixing my own drink.

“It’s no problem.”

“Water is fine,” I insist, taking a sip from the already poured glass next to my plate.

“As you wish. Can I get you anything else?”

“Will His Royal Highness be joining me?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Of course, he isn’t. Agnes already said he was handling business and why would he want to join me for dinner anyway? Maybe I should have added that to my list of requirements too.

Ah. Yes. I think that’s exactly what I’ll do.

King Julius eats dinner every night with the Queen, and Willow.

My parents have always made it a priority to eat together, no matter how late. It’s time for them to talk about their day. A time to connect.

And if I’m going to be forced to marry Julius, then that’s something I want too.

I want Julius to make time together a priority.

Would it be better if he wanted to? Of course. But, considering I don’t really want to marry him - not like this anyway - then I think turnabout is fair play.

“Agnes, is he still in his office?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Great. Thank you. I think I’ll take my plate and join him there,” I pick the plate up off the table, ready to interrupt whatever it is he’s doing.

I see Agnes’ lips twitch into a smile as if she somehow already knows what I’m up to. “Allow me,” she tries to take the plate from my hand.

“Oh. No, no. I’ve got this.”

“Very well. Shall I make a plate for His Royal Highness as well?”

“I like the way you think.”

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