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If only it were the case with everyone. I can’t help but wonder how Odette is adapting; it’s too soon to tell. But I worry. Not just of her but also what happens with each and every event or meeting for each other. I worry about how the people see us. Will they really see us and know we are trying to be good for them? And how will my mother and sister feel once my father is gone? How will I feel? I’ve gone to sit with him when I can. I get updates of his condition, which are always the same…he has only months left.
Am I failing as a son because I cannot spend more time with him? As King, I am supposed to push forward even if that means leaving him behind, right? I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. All I can say is that I am uneasy. But I am working on getting my footing. But how long will that take?
Another question without an answer.
I kept writing, pouring all my thoughts onto page after page; I didn’t even notice how much time had passed by until I heard my name.
“Gale.”
Glancing up, I met the brown eyes of Odette as she was now sitting on the side of the bed, changed into a nightgown, a silk scarf covering her curls. She was watching me carefully.
“I’ve been sitting here for a few minutes.”
“Really?” I frowned, seeing that the time was now nearly ten minutes to two. “I got a bit carried away.”
“I noticed,” she replied, reaching and taking the journal and my pen from my hands, placing them onto the bedside table beside me. “Let’s go to bed.”
I nodded, and she turned off the lights before getting under the sheets and curling up directly beside me. And just like that, the fatigue hit me like a ton of bricks.
I closed my eyes and drifted off.
But like déjà vu to the first time we’d slept together, I heard a similar buzzing sound, and when I reopened my eyes, the sun was now peeking in. Rolling over, I searched for my phone in the pocket of my discarded pants. There were two messages, both about stories in this morning’s papers.
The Ersovian Times: Crime and Punishment
After speaking with His Royal Majesty the King, Prime Minister Hermenegild’s government will be seeking the death penalty for Mr. Thomas Ambrose, the former Head Secretary of Palace Affairs, accused of poisoning Queen Odette, then Ms. Wyntor, last spring at a state dinner.
What in the world? We hadn’t discussed that. He hadn’t even brought it up.
Confused, I clicked the next headline, thinking it would be something of substance also, forgetting it was The Morning Eagle, only to be reminded by the headline:
All the Ladies Love Our King
But under it was a photo of…Sabina and me—not just her, though. A few other women clung to me in a hot tub...kissing me.
My shoulders fell, and I hung my head.
Dammit!
This was not the time to be digging up old dirt to fling at me right now.
Where in the hell did they even get these photos? And yes, photos, plural, as there were many more. And if I remembered correctly, that was when I was very drunk, celebrating my twenty-fifth birthday. So it wasn’t as if I looked that much different from now. I hadn’t thought about it when I was twenty-five…how this picture would look in a history book about my first reign as King. Now it was one of the things at the forefront of my mind.
Sighing, I replied back, “Assemble the necessary. We will discuss it all after the photos.”
A second later, he replied with a “Yes, sir.”
Putting the phone on the charger, I laid back in bed, rolling over onto my side to bring Odette back to me because she might not want to hug me once she was aware of the news.
Could no one allow us to have what at least resembled a honeymoon?
The Morning Eagle
Monday, November 29th
“All the Ladies Love Our King”
We knew the king liked to party in his princely years. We knew the king was a ladies’ man…but we just didn’t think he loved so many ladies at one time.
