Page 1 of The Prince and the Double Shot
PHIL
How far do you have to go to run away from everything you know? For me, the answer is not so simple. In my thirty-seven years of life, I’ve seen most of the world. It’s a part of my job – the job I am currently considering a proverbial albatross around my neck.
If I were a banker or even a bricklayer, perhaps I could quit and start again. But that’s not possible for me. My job was preordained before I was even conceived. A job that meant a life of service to those who need you. A job that can feel thrilling once in a while, but normally is tedious and exhausting.
I hate it – even though it’s all I’ve ever known.
I love it – even though the stress of it feels like a vise.
Petra, I smile at even the thought of his name. The man who made everything feel like it was going to be ok. The man who saved me when I didn’t even know I needed saving. I miss him with every fiber of my being.
Life is unfair – even to those of us who are blessed, or cursed, depending on how you look at it.
One moment, we were exploring the world together. The sand between our toes made us giggle. The next moment, everything shifted. A cough – a feeling of exhaustion, and thenmore doctor visits than I care to remember. Then he was gone. It had been horrible and slower than either of us wanted. Death comes for us all. No title or crown can prevent it.
Petra was gone. He had been gone for more than a year – almost two circles around the sun without him. Still, I mourned.
Time… That’s what everyone said. Time heals everything.
They lied.
Time makes the aching less. But the guilt of living is stronger.
Who could ever replace the unreplaceable? All of the years we would have spent together are like a shadow of what should have been. I am in the darkness, and I cannot see the light. Everything here reminds me of him too much. Pictures of us on all our travels dot the walls and bedside tables of my chambers. I can’t escape the loss. I don’t want to. But I also can’t go on like this. I know it, and so does everyone around me.
The day-to-day life of a royal – the Prince of Grandir – does not allow for me to hide away. The valley needs me, as do its people. The mountain kingdom of Montagne is always looking for an opportunity to end the Accords of 1750. At least, that’s what my father always says. If my life already feels as if I’m suffocating, what will it be like when I ascend to the throne? What will it be like to be king? My father, King Luis, doesn’t smile. He’s so stern and concerned with the kingdom that he barely has time for our family.
I don’t want to be like him.
But I also don’t want to be like myself, either.
Who then am I?
Father never approved of Petra. He was not of royal blood. A decree that was made over a hundred years ago stated that a royal’s husband or wife had to have blood that tied them to the succession. There were many lords and dukes in the kingdom that I could have chosen, but it was only for Petra that my heart skipped a beat. His family was farmers, immigrants, and themoment I saw him in his fields, I was taken with him. He became my everything, even if he could never become my husband.
I hated that decree. Why should some dead person have any say over what I do now? The world had changed, but the Tranquilles, the people of Grandir, had not. They were set in their ways, and their ways hadn’t changed with time.
I had been ready to remain unmarried with Petra as my consort, by my side without an heir.
Now, I had no idea what to do. How do you have a future when you can barely function in the present and cannot forget the past?
I straightened my crown and looked at the poor man who stared back at me from the mirror.
A knock on my door caught me off guard. “Come in.”
“Your Grace,” Marcus bowed as he entered. “Queen Margaurite would like for you to join her in the library for tea. You have an hour before we need to leave for the ribbon-cutting on the new playground.”
“Please tell her that I will be down momentarily.” I nodded and waited for Marcus to close the door behind him. The greatest of sighs – my ennui was ennuiing to its greatest extent today. But I got up and showered. I allowed the staff to dress me and adorn me for the event. That alone made me so tired I needed to take a nap.
And now…
Mother. When the queen invited you to tea, it was never just to say hello. There was always another reason. It wasn’t that she was a bad mother – it just was… Well, it was never something she had much time for. I had a nanny for that, and I still missed her terribly. She was the first person to call me when Petra died. The first person to wrap me in her arms and tell me that I was going to be ok.
I was not ok. But I was surviving even if I wasn’t thriving.
I grabbed my speech off the desk and folded it before walking out of my room. I left the door open as I knew the cleaning staff had been waiting for me to leave. I stayed inside my chambers as often as I could, and it had become a disaster zone.
I was a thirty-seven-year-old prince who still lived at home and didn’t want to take over the family business. A choice I didn’t really have. As the only heir to the throne, I would one day ascend to it even if it wasn’t something I truly desired. Not anymore. Not without Petra. He made me better. Without him, I was a shell.
