Chapter Six

MY GOD, I found Prestidigitation Jones completely mesmerising. I’d been attracted to men before, naturally. Admired their hard planes and sculptured physiques. I’d felt the sharp spike of desire looking at a chiselled jaw or a neatly kept beard. I’d never experienced this warm, fluttery feeling before. The last twenty-four hours had been… Actually, I didn’t know quite how to describe my life since Presti had delightfully barged into it.

Since my birth, palace courtiers, hangers-on, and yes-men have surrounded me. Presti couldn’t have been more unlike them with his genuine warmth, his sincere interest in the world around him. Entirely unafraid to be himself, he was completely unlike me.

His gorgeous blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, crinkling as he laughed with me. He was so enchanting when he chuckled that I forgot what we were laughing at. Not that it mattered. I was content to watch Presti.

I could have watched him all day. However, Billy would hustle me back inside the palace walls any minute. Or worse, somebody would inform my father, and he would not be pleased. Father and I had briefly chatted this morning before he’d been called away with some future monarch emergency. We hadn’t even come close to planning for my coming out or whatever we were going to do now that he knew I was gay.

Ugh, just thinking about coming out had bile rising in my gut. The world was progressing in its acceptance of queer folk, but let’s be honest, the road was still rocky. And first to be out as a gay senior royal would be a pressure I wasn’t sure I could or wanted to handle.

Yet here I stood, in full view of the public, defending and making googly eyes at the first man who’d piqued my interest in years. Maybe even ever. And there he stood, staring back at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher, yet I knew I wanted to watch it on his extraordinary face for a long, long time. Was it wonder? Interest?

My skin heated, sweat beading on my forehead. My entire body felt as if I were suddenly made of jelly. My stomach lurched as reality gut punched me. What the hell was I doing? Any second now, people would see through the inch-thick steel walls I’d built around myself. They’d notice the way Presti and I were…ogling each other. My god, I’d practically been holding hands with him.

I felt sick and shaky as if the ground were rising to greet me. I couldn’t faint. I just couldn’t. All the Presti-induced bravado that had dragged my sorry arse out from behind palace walls evaporated in an instant. Leaving me with nothing but cold, stark terror.

“No charges, please,” I addressed the police, ignoring completely the wonderful man who, only seconds ago, I thought I’d never be able to turn away from. “Good day to you all.”

And then I was gone, running for the safety of the palace. Behind me, I heard the crowd’s murmurs mixed with Billy and Gordon’s heavy breaths as they dashed to keep up with me. I knew running only added to the spectacle I had already made of myself, but I needed to get far from Presti. Quickly. As far as I could before I screwed everything up and kissed him smack on the lips like I wanted.

Jesus. I couldn’t breathe, and it had nothing to do with the fast pace I’d set to get me back to the palace. London had put on a bright blue sky, the air crisp and fresh, but I felt trapped as if in a small, dark box. Not enough air reached my lungs. I tried sucking in huge gulps, but it didn’t feel enough.

Completely lost to my panic, it hardly registered when Billy or Gordon grabbed my arm and dragged me the remaining few metres into the palace. My knees hit the carpeted floor as I struggled to draw breath.

“Your Highness?” one of my protection officers asked. I couldn’t tell who, but I could hear the other one talking rapidly, his words nothing but fuzzy white noise.

“I’m…” I stammered. “I’m all right.”

Billy knelt at my side, his worried gaze checking me over. “We’ve got the palace nurse coming, Your Highness. Sit tight.”

I shook my head. “Not necessary.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, I disagree. Please. Let the nurse check you over.” Billy and Gordon had been my protection officers since I was a small boy. I trusted them. I liked them. But I knew they had to report this afternoon’s events, and I knew they’d have their arses kicked if I didn’t see the nurse. There’d be enough trouble for letting me outside the grounds unannounced. I couldn’t let them get in any more trouble because of my actions.

“All right. But let me get to my rooms,” I bargained.

Twenty minutes later, I lay in the sanctuary of my private suite. The nurse had left only five minutes ago, satisfied I’d only suffered a panic attack and was otherwise quite well. All that remained was the expected visit from my father. And for me to figure out what I would do about Presti.

After an hour, I began to think my father wasn’t coming. The television in my room offered the only light as the night sky set in. I’d turned the volume low, but my eyes scanned the screen as I flicked through the news stations. I’d been sure I’d see a newsflash spilling my great secret to the world, so sure I’d see footage of Presti and me holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes.

Gordon had brought me a cup of tea a while ago, but it remained untouched and cooling on my side table. The thought of food curdled my stomach. I was a mess.

“James?” My father edged hesitantly toward me. I hadn’t even heard him knock on my door. “James. What happened?”

With that simple question, the dam inside me burst, and the cork that had kept me silent since my return to the palace popped. “What happened? Father, I went out…out of the palace where they were protesting. The bearskins, the hats. You know, I’ve often spoken of them. I went out there because of Presti. He was there, and I… He was so close, and I wanted to see him. I also didn’t want him hauled off to jail. But we held hands, sort of and—”

I shook my head and fought for the right words, but before I could continue, my father said, “Breathe, James. Take a deep breath. You’re okay now.”

Years had passed since I’d last hugged my father or been hugged by him. But I flew into his arms, calmed by his strength, his warmth. Tears pricked my eyes, but I held them back, wouldn’t let them fall. Not because I believed men shouldn’t cry but because I was deathly afraid if I cried, I’d never stop.

My father held me until I felt as if I could finally breathe normally again. He led me to a sofa and eased me down. “I’ve seen the footage,” he murmured as he sat opposite me. “I don’t think it’s going to be as big a problem as you think.”

“Really?” Could I have blown the whole incident out of proportion? Had I built a mountain out of nothing but a molehill?

Father’s gaze flittered about the room, refusing to land on mine. “Father, please. Don’t lie to me,” I begged. Prince Arthur, the future king of England, my father, was many things. A good liar wasn’t one of them.

Sighing heavily, my father said, “All right. To be honest, I don’t think it’s so bad, but Simon is in a bit of a flap about it. He’s got your gran worked up, and she’s talking to George about…”

“About what?”

“About proposing to Hannah. Well, I guess he’s already done that. It’s more pressing for her to answer. She loves your brother, but she’s worried about her own.”

“I know that, Father. She shouldn’t have to rush into a decision just because…” Because I’d forgotten myself in public, and now, we were searching for some big news to attract attention away from me, from what I’d done. What was bigger and better than a royal engagement?

“No. She shouldn’t be rushed. But your brother deserves an answer too. If it’s a no, then he needs to move on. Find himself someone else.” My parents had a happy marriage; at least, it appeared to be. In fairness, I rarely saw them together these days. Perhaps distance was the secret to their happiness.

Mother did enough charity work for seven princesses. She was somewhere in Africa right now. The push to marry off George mainly was to ensure the royal line continued, but I knew our parents also wanted George and me to be happy in our marriages.

“So, Simon’s hoping George’s big announcement will sideline my bungle,” I sighed.

“Forget all that for a second, James. Tell me what you want.”

Slowly, I raised my eyes to my father. “I asked Presti to have dinner with me tonight. Before…before that disaster out there.”

“So, you want Presti?” my father asked as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

“I’ve never known anyone like him. And he makes me feel… I’m all fluttery and warm when I’m near him.” I held my father’s stare, waiting for judgement, maybe some mocking.

“Then you should have dinner with him.”

“I… I made such a fool of myself running away from him. I don’t know if I can do this.” The weight of my admission sat heavily on my shoulders. Was I a coward for being afraid to let go of my big secret?

The truth struck me like a thunderbolt. As much as I liked Presti, I didn’t know him well enough to decide if he was worth outing myself for. Did that make me an awful person? I just didn’t know.

“James,” my father murmured, “I haven’t always been the best father; I know that. I was brought up on duty, a life of service. But I hope you know I will always be on your side.” He kissed the top of my head, something he hadn’t done in years.

Those damn tears pricked at my eyes again. “What about Gran?” I asked, knowing her approval or disapproval could make all the difference.

“Your gran is—” My father sighed heavily. “—from a different era. This won’t be so easy for her to accept, but she loves you, James. She’ll come around in the end.”

“Okay.” I nodded.

“Think it through. It can be done without drawing attention if you want to see your young man tonight. All right?”

“All right. Thank you, Father.”

“Good. Good.” My father stood and drew in a deep breath. “Well, I think that’s quite enough parenting for me for one day. We’ll talk later. Yes?”

“Yes.”

And then he left. Went back to the world of being the future king, no doubt, and leaving me alone with the turmoil of my raging thoughts and indecisive mind. Though I couldn’t deny it surprised me, it helped to know my father was on my side, but I still didn’t know what I wanted to do.

From my window, I couldn’t see the crowd of protesters. I hoped the police had listened to me and not charged any of them. The idea that Presti might, this second, be being arrested and hauled away by police made me ill. I told myself I’d feel that way about anybody, but who was I kidding? I liked Presti more than I should.

I stood in uncharted territory. I’d never been interested in getting to know somebody before. Dating had never held much appeal for me. Prestidigitation Jones had, in less than twenty-four hours, tipped my world on its axis.

There was nothing to be done but call him. Again.

Presti didn’t answer. Not the first time I called him, nor the second. Did it make me desperate and pathetic if I called him a third time? Or did it just show that I was concerned about a friend? Were Presti and I friends? I’d shared one meal and about four hours in total with him.

Ugh, my head was so mixed up.

So lost was I in the field of chaos in my mind that it didn’t immediately register with me when my phone rang. When it did, the ringing shocked me out of my stupor enough that I almost dropped the phone. Instead, I slammed it against my ear to answer it so hard that I was certain to bruise.

“Hello,” I barked.

“James?”

Presti. He was calling me. Well, he was returning my calls, actually, but I wasn’t about to argue over the finer points. Presti called me.

“James? Are you there? I don’t think he’s there, Astrid. I told you they were likely butt dials.” Presti’s voice wobbled, a nervous tremor streaking through it. “I’m quite sure the palace does not have a doorbell, Mother. Even if it did, I’d be stopped by those palace guards before I got anywhere near the front door. Wha—no, Astrid, I will not wrestle one of the offending hats off the guard’s head to make a spectacle of it all.”

Laughter erupted out of me like a jolly Vesuvius. Presti had an uncanny ability to make me smile, laugh, and feel free in a way I never did. “Presti, I’m here.”

“Oh, you are there. I suspected I was speaking to your butt. Well, not your… You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“I missed your call. Both of your calls, that is.”

“Um, yeah,” I stammered. The courage I’d felt moments ago after my father’s apparent support of my interest in Presti fled. Dried up. Vanished. What would my life look like if I pursued Presti? What would it feel like if I didn’t? “I wanted to apologise. For earlier. Disappearing on you like I did. I do hope none of you were arrested.”

People should give me a white feather for my cowardice and be done with it. I was blathering like a fool instead of asking this man if he was still interested in having dinner with me. I knew in my guts I had no intention of repeating the invitation, and I hated myself for it.

“No. No, the bobbies left shortly after you did. Everything calmed down.”

“Good. That’s good.” Hello most awkward conversation ever . “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in England.” I’m not sure I’d ever rolled my eyes at myself before, but I think they were close to rolling right out of my head.

For long seconds, Presti said nothing, which was awful. But then he said, “Thank you, Prince James. It was a very great pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Which was so much worse.

Presti spoke politely, graciously, coldly. And I hated it. But I didn’t know how to fix this. Liar .

“Well, I expect I’ll see you in another twenty years for your grandmother’s… Oh, what would that be? Eighty years on the throne? Oh, I see. Thank you, Astrid. Oak jubilee, Astrid tells me. I expect Her Majesty might receive some furniture as gifts or perhaps an oak forest. A lovely oak clock for her collection. She’s very spritely for her age, so I don’t expect she’ll have any trouble…living that long,” Presti rambled. The reminder of Gran’s clock collection room and the kiss Presti and I shared in there wedged a sharp ache in my chest. Would it hurt forever? If so, I deserved the pain.

Though I’d known him a handful of hours, I realized rambling seemed to be Presti’s default setting when upset or nervous. The kindest thing I could do was to end this conversation here and now. Let us both walk away with some dignity before any real damage. I was a prince of England, third in line to the throne, dammit. I had a position to live up to.

“Goodbye, Presti.”

“Yes, of course. Goodbye, farewell and adieu. I—” And then Prestidigitation Jones was gone. He’d hung up before completing whatever he’d been about to utter.

In the split second when it registered that I may never see or speak to him again, I hated everything. Myself most of all.