Page 2 of Royally F*cked

“Who?”

“Oh, don’t play coy. Agnes. She’s got a soft spot for you.”

His face flushes slightly and he shakes his head. “I highly doubt that.”

“Riiiiiight. You should ask her out. You two would be good together.”

Agnes may be older than him, but she took great care of herself and there was no denying her attractiveness. I’ve watched plenty of members of the Royal Household notice her.

“Not happening. And you should worry about yourself instead of playing matchmaker, Sir.”

“Fine. I’ll let it go; for now.” I wink. “Has His Majesty made any indication as to what this meeting is about, Ozzy?”

“He has not, Your Royal Highness.” It’s all business now that we’re outside of my private confines.

I’ve already downed the delicious ham, egg, and cheese sandwich and am sipping on my coffee while I ponder what my grandfather could possibly want to discuss that he has not taken the time to inform my assistant about. One can only hope that it’s nothing too serious.

The car continues to roll through Herefirth for another fifteen minutes. Among the rest of the morning commuters who are going about their routines and oblivious to their prince’s presence in this morning’s traffic.

At the gate, the guards perform their usual cursory inspection of the vehicle and check credentials before the gates open and they wave us through. My driver continues through the bailey and straight to the front entrance to the castle. I wait patiently for him to exit and open the rear door so that Oscar and I can exit the car.

Even though I am perfectly capable of opening my own doors, there are things that one does not do when on royal ground.

The guards at the castle door both nod to me as I make my way inside the grand foyer.

“His Royal Highness is waiting for you in his office,” Oscar informs me, and I head up the stairs.

To the right and down the red plush carpeted hallway about a hundred yards, I find my grandfather’s office door open. He’s standing at the window, looking out into the courtyard. There is no doubt that he’s well aware of my arrival.

“Your Majesty,” his guard alerts him. “Prince Julius awaits.”

Formalities out of the way, I step into my grandfather’s office where the doors close behind me, leaving the two of us alone to speak freely.

“Grandfather.”

“Jude,” he welcomes me with a handshake before picking at my tie and shaking his head. “Dinosaurs. Really, Jude?”

“Prehistoric creatures for a meeting with the prehistoric monarch. I thought it was appropriate,” I jest.

My grandfather chuckles. “That’s actually why I wanted to speak with you,” he says, taking a seat behind his desk.

“Oh?” A knot begins to form in my stomach. I fear that he’s about to deliver bad news.

“Relax. I can see the worry all over your face, Jude. I’m not dying if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” I do my best to ignore my nagging doubts.

“I am afraid that it’s nearing a time in which one would, how should I put it, retire,” he steeples his fingers and waits for my reaction.

Alone with him, I find it hard to hide any of my emotions and I know that he can see the shock that is written all over my face. “Retire? You’re going to abdicate the throne?”

“Abdicate, no. That implies that I am failing to do my job. Resigning would be the official word for what I’m doing. Your grandmother and I are not getting any younger, Julius. And to be honest with you, I’d prefer to step down and enjoy the rest of my years without the stress that can come with running an entire country.”

This feels like it’s coming out of leftfield. At only 73 years old, I anticipated that my grandfather had many more years of ruling left.

“When?”

“That depends on you. There are a few matters that will need sorting out before I can step down.”

---