Page 144 of The Unlikely Heir
And I turn my attention to watching the man I love walk towards a future that can’t include me.
ChapterForty
Callum
I’m dressed in the uniform of the Colonel in Chief of the Royal Welsh Regiment. The deep-red hue is such a bold and confident color, contrasting the uncertainty churning within me.
I can feel Oliver’s dog tags against my heart.
How can I wear his dog tags when I’m about to give him up? My hands shaking, I reach up and yank them off over my head.
But as I stand clutching them, I can’t bring myself to put them down on the table.
"Are you ready, Prince Callum?” Raymond asks through the door.
I carefully put Oliver’s dog tags in my pocket.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and greet Raymond.
Downstairs, I climb into the waiting carriage with plush royal-blue upholstery and gilded trimmings.
Raymond settles into the seat opposite me, and I try to give him a smile, but I’m fairly sure it comes out as a grimace.
“This is your duty,” he says.
“I know.”
Duty. Last night, I looked up the etymology of the word. It comes from the word due. To deliver that which is owing.
In exchange for all my newfound privilege, I owe the people of the United Kingdom my total fidelity. I owe my grandmother my complete loyalty to the crown.
Even if it’s at the expense of my own heart.
I’m accosted with cheers as I ride in the carriage through the streets, the horses’ hooves clattering on the road. Waves of smiling faces and fluttering Welsh flags line the road to the castle.
The drizzle from yesterday has lifted, but it’s still a sullen day, the layer of clouds hanging like a shroud in the sky. The damp cobblestones glisten, reflecting the muted colors of the town’s historic buildings.
This is it. The day I officially dedicate my life to Wales and to being the heir to the throne.
The carriage sweeps around the bend toward the entrance, and I get a view out to sea.
A shaft of light pierces the cloud. It’s like a finger of God sticking down.
It’s a small piece of beauty, a reminder of the magic in this world.
I want to tell Oliver about it. I ache to tell Oliver about it.
My gut clenches and tears prickle my eyelids.
The carriage pulls up at the castle gates, and the crowd’s cheers reach a deafening crescendo. I give a small wave to acknowledge the crowd before turning to face the steps to the castle. Caernarfon Castle, a medieval fortress with impressive stone walls and majestic towers, stands proudly before me.
Raymond leans in and whispers, "This is your destiny."
Raymond is normally about as comforting as a blanket made of cacti, but today his words actually achieve their aim.
I glance at the crowd once more, the pride and joy on their faces a reminder that this moment isn’t just about me. It’s about the connection between the monarchy and the people we serve. It’s about honoring the traditions and the legacy of everyone who came before me.
I go into the Chamberlain Tower, where I’m to wait until the queen commands the Earl Marshal to direct the Garter King of Arms to summon the prince from the Chamberlain Tower.
