Page 99 of King of the Crease

I turn to Agnes, but she shrugs her shoulders, like maybe this could work.

“Look, we’re not going for sainthood here. I’m just trying to help you get out of a jam,” Renata says. “Also by putting the focus on your drinking problem, we’re taking focus away from what you were doing in that video.”

“Kissing Hank?”

“We don’t want to name him. Keep him anonymous. It makes him more forgettable,” she says.

Anger floods my chest as the mere suggestion that Hank is forgettable.

Renata sits on the table, tosses her hair over her shoulder again. I’m tempted to have Agnes source a hair tie for her.

“In January, we’re going to release another statement that the prince is dealing with an undisclosed mental illness, something that he’s been self-medicating with alcohol for years.”

“What?” I leap from my chair.

“Ma’am, you can’t write that about the prince,” Agnes says, too horrified to be loud.

“Mental illness is hot right now. It’s socially acceptable. Nobody in the press can call you out if you have a mental illness.”

“But I don’t have a mental illness! Being gay is not a mental illness!” I stare daggers at Renata. It does not affect her in the slightest. “You’re disgusting.”

My insult bounces off her like she’s Teflon. She smiles, as if it’s cute, a child throwing a tantrum.

“Look, we don’t have much wiggle room. There is evidence of you making out with a man on camera. Not to mention what happened in college. How can you go from that to dating a woman and expect the people of Ardenia to trust you? How do you expect to have a royal wedding? It’ll be a joke.”

“I could say I’m bisexual.”

“The public doesn’t want an openly bisexual king, especially Ardenians over fifty who skew more conservative. They want a king and queen who can be the face of the country. They will accept a royal who went through a rough patch but came out of it on the other side healthy, strong, and in love. This will have people rooting for you.” Excitement blazes in her eyes, not unlike Brody practicing lines as a maniacal dentist. “You announce you’re getting treatment. We’ll get you a personal trainer and a tan. We’ll find you a suitable woman to date. In a few months, you’ll emerge and do some interviews looking hot with a beautiful lady on your arm. Just like that, the video and your homosexuality become a distant memory.”

I look to Agnes, but she has no retort. This is one area where she’s out of her depth. Did the king really approve of this woman and her plan? In his twisted way, this is him protecting me. But I wonder if there’s a sliver of him that believes this crap. That maybe I’m just a little mentally ill, a little bit of a drunk, and in a few months, he’ll get the son he always wanted.

I wish Hank were here. I wish I had friends I could talk to. I feel so utterly lost and alone.

“Maybe I abdicate,” I say meekly.

“That’s also a possibility,” Renata says. “You need to make a decision very soon. If this story keeps spiraling out, then soon we won’t be able to help you right the ship, and your reputation will be beyond repair.”

Renata holds her hand out for a shake. But I can’t. I’m too angry.

Angry at her.

Angry at a society that would rather a man be mentally ill than gay.

Angry at myself for fucking up beyond repair.

But angriest at my father.

“Let’s go, Agnes.” I storm out of the room. She scurries behind me, following me down a long hall. “Agnes, where is my father right now?”

“Your Highness, maybe we should take a moment to⁠—”

I swivel around, pointing my fiery rage her way. “Where. Is. He.”

“Let’s see, Your Highness.” She scrolls her tablet with jittery fingers. “He’s in a boardroom in a meeting. It’ll be over in twenty minutes.”

“Which room?”

Five minutes later, I burst through the double doors of one of the palace’s meeting rooms. Tall ceilings and a roaring fireplace set the intimate mood. The king is sitting around a table with four other men, some kind of dignitaries it seems like. The men jump up when they see me and offer greetings.