Page 2 of Royally Knocked Up
Enzo hung up and looked at his pan of eggs. There wasn’t even going to be time to eat. With a pang that he didn’t know whether to attribute to sadness or hunger, he turned the stove off and scraped his wasted breakfast into the garbage. Then he dressed quickly and went outside to await the car.
As he was driven over to the palace, he had time to ponder what this might all be about. No doubt his father was going to scold him for something — that was the usual nature of their relationship. Enzo was deeply glad to know that his father was all right, of course — he loved the man. But that didn’t change the fact that they had never managed to get along.
What did I do wrong this time?
The car pulled through the palace gates and up to the front entrance, which was being tended by a pair of guards. As was tradition, neither guard made eye contact with Enzo as he hurried up the steps and through the front door.
A valet awaited Enzo in the foyer. Enzo did not know the man’s name. The palace staff had been here under his uncle’s rule, and his father had inherited them along with the responsibilities of running the kingdom when his uncle had abdicated. The valet did not speak to Enzo either, but at least he acknowledged him with a nod before turning to lead the way to the throne room.
Enzo tried not to resent it. He didn’t need to be shown around this place. His father might be new to the throne, but Enzo’sfamily had always been here. He had grown up in this palace, playing with his cousins. He had sat on this throne himself, though he had known he wasn’t supposed to and had always taken great care not to be caught in the act.
Today, the throne room wasn’t the usual bright, sunny place he remembered. The heavy curtains had been drawn. His father did not sit on the throne. He had had another chair brought in and set it up right next to the throne. Enzo was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes at that. It was true that the coronation hadn’t taken place yet, but even so, this was ridiculous.
He stopped and stood facing the non-throne. “Father.”
“Enzo,” his father said in a low voice that would have struck fear into Enzo when he was ten years old.
“Can I assist you with something?”
His father turned to one of the servants standing alongside the wall. “Bring him the paper, please.”
The man stepped forward, and Enzo realized that he had a newspaper in his hand. He accepted it.
The front-page story — above the fold, no less — featured a picture of Enzo at the bar he had visited last night. It had been snapped while he was laughing at something someone had said, and he had a drink in his hand.
Enzo read the headline —New King’s Youngest Son Creates A Scene
“This is ridiculous,” he said, handing the paper back to the servant. “Creates a scene? That makes it sound like I was brawling or something. I was having a drink.”
“You’re a public figure, Enzo,” his father said. “It never occurred to you that there might be cameras? That you might be seen?”
“I wasn’t trying not to be seen,” Enzo said. “I was drinking at a bar, for God’s sake. It must have been a slow news day if this passes for a front-page story.”
“Well, Enzo, all the news right now is going to be about our family,” his father said wearily. “And you should understand that. Our responsibility is to give them as little as possible to write about. You cannot keep going out partying the way you did before my brother abdicated the throne. Our position has changed.”
“Father,” Enzo said, “I am never going to be king. You know that. Giorgio is ahead of me in the line of succession, and he has two sons who are both ahead of me too. It’s you the people are scrutinizing, and Giorgio, andmaybehis boys. Nobody needs to see me prove anything about myself.”
“If you can’t see what you’re doing to the family each time you allow a story like this to be printed then I don’t know what to say to you,” his father said. “I called you here today because this family does not need any more embarrassment, especially with the coronation coming up, and I’m not going to allow you to be the cause of it.”
“But there’s nothing embarrassing about that story!” Enzo protested. “I had a few drinks.”
“More than a few, by the sound of it.”
“Well, what about it? I didn’t do anything horrible. I didn’t get in any fights or shout at anyone or destroy any property. I didn’t behave badly.”
“I don’t want people thinking my son is some sort of party animal!” his father exploded. “I need the people of Monteverde to take my reignseriously, and you are making a mockery of me. I want you out of Luria.”
“Father, you can’t be serious. I live here.”
“Not anymore,” his father said firmly. “I’m sending you to La Fantasia.”
Enzo felt his stomach drop. “You can’t send me there.”
“Of course I can,” his father said irritably. “I’m about to be coronated as king of this nation. I have every right to send you away. Now, you can go to La Fantasia because your father asked you to, or you can wait for a royal edict banishing you from Luria altogether — though I wouldn’t take that route if I were you. You’ll find yourself having a hard time getting back in if you do things that way.”
“You’dbanishme?”
“I don’t want to. I want you to go willingly.” His father shook his head. “Don’t act like I’m putting you through some horrible ordeal, Enzo. I’m sending you to Vista Piccola, one of the most beautiful towns in all of Monteverde. I’m putting you up at our family’s luxury resort.”
