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I scan the words, but they do not make me feel better about the situation.
“The office of Prince Etienne and Princess Kala have released the following statement:
To improve the Prince’s health and assist in his full recovery from a dependency on alcohol, the royal couple will no longer engage in public royal duties for the next six months.
“To maintain their privacy, the prince will be undergoing treatment with professionals at their home at Windewall Cottage.
“‘I wish to express my sincerest gratitude to the citizens of Gravenland for their unyielding support and well wishes on our nuptials. To be as transparent as possible, I officially state that I am in treatment for alcohol dependency, anxiety, and depression. I am grateful to my wife, who has graciously sold her share of the business at Frost Bay Beverages to align herself with my treatment and recovery,’ stated the Prince.
“Further, the Prince and Princess announce that they will resume royal duties when this critical recovery stage is complete. Their chosen area of charity work as members of the royal family will be mental health.
“‘It is our sincerest wish that together the Prince and I can shed light on the needs for access to mental health among citizens of Gravenland, and further to reduce the stigma attached to such issues,’ the princess stated.”
The rest of the letter reads like a hospital brochure, with phone numbers for more information about accessing counseling, hotlines, and other mumbo jumbo.
“It’s a far cry from what we saw in the news, isn’t it?” my wife asks.
“Yes,” I say, rising to my feet and crumpling up the statement. “Very clever.”
“What do you mean?”
When I turn to face my wife again, she stands, looking pale, drawn, and underfed. I hate what this drama has done to her.
“What I mean is, our new daughter-in-law is much more conniving and calculating than we gave her credit for. The palace’s purchase of Frost Bay Beverages was supposed to be a silent handover. Everyone signed a non-disclosure agreement. I had set up a development business on paper only, to make the purchase, and I was planning to re-sell it for a profit to that American company before anyone found out.”
My wife takes a step toward me. “Otto. Did you try to maroon those two on the island so you could get Kala out of the way? Was this all because of your own greed?”
“Greed? My dear, look around you. We’re hardly wanting for money. No, it’s much deeper than that.”
She takes a moment to think over my words. “This is about the Reckless Royals thing?”
“No one profits off mocking my family and gets away with it,” I say, puffing out my chest.
“Otto, you didn’t.”
“I most certainly did. The re-design of those labels has already begun.”
“My gods. It’s a free country, Otto. People can mock us free of retribution. No, it isn’t fun. But what a colossal waste of time and resources. When we could be putting that money to charity.”
“The crops that make those beverages grow on land owned by the palace. Free speech isn’t free in this case.”
“You’ve gone too far, husband,” she says, turning white.
“My dear, you calculated and schemed to get our son married off. So don’t play the innocent party. Since your plot backfired and led to the real heir giving up his right to the throne, I figured it was time for me to take matters into my own hands.”
My wife gives me a dark look. “And see where that has landed us. Now, two sons may never speak to you again. You have to fix this. We can’t have the news speculating about their marriage. They’re mocking what it means to be a royal family in this country.”
Then, I say what I’ve been holding in my cold heart for years. Decades, even. “Our son? What do you mean,ourson?”
The queen gasps sharply, gripping the arm of the throne. “How dare you?”
“Since everyone is blabbing out the truth now…” I say carelessly, waving my hand around the room.
Franc has resorted to pacing and frantically texting who knows what to who knows whom.
“You can never express that thought to Etienne,” she says.
“It’s already been said.”
