Page 4 of Royally F*cked

Chapter 2

Charlie

Things are rather peaceful around Rexford Palace today.

Saturday’s can be a complete toss-up between royal engagements and downtime—a word I use rather loosely. But since there’s only one thing on the schedule for today, Princess Willow and I are “relaxing” in her living quarters before she heads to lunch with her brother, Prince Julius.

Knowing that there is a good chance I may run into the crown prince, I made sure to dress a little nicer and took extra time with my makeup and hair. Anything to not look frumpy in front of His Royal Highness, especially when I’ve got a few extra pounds that I’m working with.

Not that it matters. Prince Julius may be kind, but he would never look twice at a girl like me. Too young and too curvy for a man as powerful and domineering as the next in line to be king.

I suppose a girl can dream though.

Right along with the rest of the women and a few men in Herefirth.

“Charlie,” Willow looks up from the world crafting game she’s playing on her tablet. “Jude’s birthday is in a few weeks. Could we go shopping next week so I can pick out a gift?”

Shopping. For the Prince of Herefirth. Sure. No big deal, kid.

My peers would be jealous.

“I can take a look at your schedule. I’m sure we can find some time and have Grayson take us into town.”

“We absolutely must stop by Windsor’s Knot and see their new ties!” she bounces with excitement.

Of course, we need to go to Windsor’s Knot. It is one of the only places I know of that specializes in both classic professional ties and the more outlandish ones that Willow insists on buying for her big brother for nearly every occasion. The very same ties that Jude seems to proudly wear as often as possible.

“Maybe we can have a spa day too? Do you think Papa would mind?” she taps her chin in thought. “Oh, and we should talk with Papa and Nan about having a birthday party for Jude!”

So much for a quiet afternoon. Princess Willow is officially in planning mode.

“Whoa, slow down just a bit, Princess. His Majesty already has a birthday dinner planned for His Royal Highness.”

The sassy teen rolls her eyes at me. “Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you? They’re just Nan, Papa, and Jude. None of this Royal rubbish.”

Oh, sweet Willow. They aren’t Nan, Papa, and Jude when you’re on the payroll.

“Your Royal Highness. . .”

“My name is Willow,” she crosses her arms across her chest and glares at me. “Stop it, right now.” There’s a hint of hurt in her voice.

She’s always struggled the most with being Royal, especially since her parents passed away when she was just three years old. And now that she’s a teen, she’s become even more insistent that I lose formalities when it’s just the two of us. But my parents would likely disown me if I referred to the Royal family as anything but their formal titles.

Born and raised in the palace, both of my parents have worked for the royal family for years and I’ve been tending to Princess Willow since the day I turned sixteen. And if I’m not tending to the princess, I’m studying (mostly online) at Herefirth University.

The Royals may treat us well, but family we are not. In fact, Princess Willow is one of the only people in the country - perhaps even the world - that can get away with not addressing her family with formality.

“I could have you fired, you know,” she scowls but a knock on her living quarter's door stops her from saying more.

The door opens and Jude—er, Prince Julius—walks in, looking as dapper as always in his dark gray suit and several days’ old stubble on his face.

I quickly jump to my feet and address him properly, though I doubt he’s noticed me.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he immediately reprimands Willow. “You know that you don’t hold that kind of power, yet.”

“Jude!” She ignores everything he’s just said and forgets all about the hissy fit she was in the middle of throwing with me, flinging herself into his arms.

“Willow,” his voice softens as he embraces the child who looks so small in his arms. “Ready for lunch?”

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