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[Not Another Cinderella Story Masterlist] • [Membership Stories]
The royal palace hadn’t changed much since the last time Richard had been here. The gardens still stretched until the northern gate, separating the main palace from the rest of the buildings around the property.
As a child, Richard loved the gardens. They were a central spot to the entire royal grounds, a place where he could keep an eye on everything happening around him. It helped that it was also a playground for him and his siblings, the only place in the palace where rules didn’t apply.
The only place in the palace where he was ever truly free.
Now, the gardens were a mere reminder of what Richard didn’t have anymore. He admired them from afar, hoping for them to change with time, to decay with age. If anything, the older he got, the more breathtaking they became. The gardeners did a tremendous job at trimming the bushes and keeping the maze intact and the fountain at its centre clean. It was a work of art, and like any work of art, it was meant to be observed.
“You are expected in the main dining room,” Jon informed him as the car came to a stop at the back of one of the buildings. “I will take you there. Tilisha is dismissed until further notice.”
“You mean until I can leave this palace?” Richard asked, sounding more bitter than he intended. “How long am I expected to stay?”
“As I said, Your Highness, I don’t know.” Jon shrugged. “Why don’t you try to enjoy your time here? I’m sure people will be happy to see you back.”
That, Richard, didn’t doubt. The staff at the royal palace was nothing but kind and respectful towards him, and he always enjoyed spending more time in the kitchens, stables and gardens with them than in his own room in the palace or with his family. It was a far more enriching experience than whatever he had inside the palace walls.
Jon stepped out of the car and kept the door open for Richard to follow him while Tilisha exited from the other door. She was a tall and muscular woman, someone who would be able to crush anyone with a mere push of the palm of her hand. Despite her tough exterior and rigidness to follow protocols to ensure Richard’s safety, she was one of the nicest people Richard ever had the honour to meet.
“Enjoy these next few days with your family,” Richard said to her. “Tell Aston I look forward to playing chess with him.”
“I’m sure my husband would like that very much, Your Highness,” she smiled and bowed to him discreetly. “I will meet with the palace’s security team before I head home. Perhaps we’ll see each other around.”
“It wouldn’t be a terrible encounter, I assume.” He smiled. “Rest of a nice day, Tilisha.”
“Likewise, Your Highness.”
“This way.”
Jon guided Richard towards the stone stairs on the side of the building and they climbed them at a quick pace. As soon as Richard stepped inside, he had to blink to adjust to the darkness.
The scent of the palace was unmistakable. It was so intrinsically tied to this place, that Richard had never experienced anything like it. The smell of worn leather notes mixed with varnished wood took over his senses, reminding him he was home. His entire posture changed as the staff’s quarters came into view before him, a view that clashed with what he was expecting.
“Any explanation why we’re entering through the back of the palace?” he asked.
Jon sighed and fixed his tie, glancing at his watch. “You’ll see. I think you’ll be thankful for it.”
Richard followed Jon as they climbed the stairs to the main floor of the palace, crossing a long corridor with a burgundy carpet, large windows and several oil paintings of Tudal’s landscapes, some of the harbour and pier, others of the mountains and riverside. These were beautiful paintings, all done by his great-grandfather, King Olivier I.
Every Tudalian King was known for their ruling period and whatever hobby they had dedicated most of their ruling to. King Olivier I had dedicated himself to oil painting and capturing as much of Tudal in this medium as possible. According to history archives in the palace, it was in one of these outings to capture Tudal’s beauty that met the woman who would become Queen Francesca, sometimes the only person depicted in these paintings. She accompanied him on all of his excursions and was one of the main reasons why most of them were still standing.
As much as King Olivier I loved to paint, he wasn’t always fond of his craft, and it is believed that he burned several paintings out of disappointment and embarrassment of his skills, but no record would ever admit to that.
Tudal’s Kings were supposed to be great leaders, fearless and confident in themselves and their skills. Anything depicting another idea besides that didn’t exist because history only belonged to the greatest, never the weakest.
They continued to move close to the heart of the palace, where most of the staff was currently. As soon as they spotted Richard, they would stop their tasks and bow to him, some greeting him with a good morning, Your Highness, but most ignoring him as soon as they were out of his field view.
He kept a polite smile on his lips but didn’t say much. If he greeted every single one of these people, he would sound like a broken record, and by the end of the corridor, he would be exhausted.
“Keep away from the windows,” Jon warned, stepping beside Richard. “There’s press camping outside the main gate, and they don’t know you’re here yet.”
“Is that why we entered through the other gate?” When Jon didn’t answer, Richard grabbed his arm and stopped walking. “What do you know, Jon?”
“I can’t tell you,” he said, not meeting his eyes. “I swore secrecy to His Majesty.”
Richard raised an eyebrow, his heart sinking in his chest. “How concerning?”
“For you?” Jon glanced at him and sighed, defeated. “Very.”
Before he could ask anything else, his personal assistant was already on the move. Richard took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck, looking over his shoulder to the other end of the corridor. It would be so easy to run. But would he ever escape? That was unlikely.
Richard was surrounded.
He succumbed to his reality and joined Jon at the entrance of the dining room. Outside, two staff members waited on each side of the door, focused on a point in the opposite wall. These men were used to staring straight ahead for hours, and Richard did not know how they did it.
His focus shifted from the staff outside the door to the muffled noise coming from it. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t a peaceful conversation. From the sound of cutlery falling and heavy steps and bangs, Richard knew he was about to enter unwanted territory.
“This should be interesting,” he said as he fixed the lapel of his jacket. “Please, open the doors.” He briefly turned to Jon. “I will meet you later in my quarters. In the meantime, rest if you can.”
The two staff members nodded and reached their gloved hands to the handles of the door, opening it outwards to reveal the inside of the dining room. Richard stepped inside with his hands behind his back, unsure whether he should smile. He was probably frowning, but should he hide his discontent over such an occasion?
“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up!” his older sister, Emma, said. “About time, don’t you think?”
Richard didn’t answer. He took a few steps forward, all under the scrutinised eyes of his father and mother, and then bowed to them. “Your Majesties,” he said. “I apologise for my late arrival.”
Behind him, the dining room doors closed and silence took over the space. Richard could hear someone chew something crunchy while someone else gulped loudly. He kept facing his shoes with a hand over his heart, waiting for someone to tell him to be at ease.
“It’s okay, Richard,” his mother spoke. “Come join us. We have a feast today.”
Richard took a deep breath and walked to his designated spot on the table, next to Emma.
“You’re not sitting there today,” his father said, his voice grave. He gestured to the chair next to his, across from Emma. “You sit here now, starting today.”
“Isn’t that Ollie’s spot?” Richard asked. At his father’s slight eyebrow raise, he knew better than to pursue the subject further. “I’ll sit there, then.”
Richard took the spot to his father’s left, next to his younger sister, Katherine. Out of all the people around this table, she seemed to be the only one genuinely happy to see him.
“How was New York?” she asked, placing a small biscuit on his plate before taking one for herself. “Did you do a lot of things while you were there?”
“Please, Katherine, don’t bother your brother with such trivial questions,” his mother said. “You’ll have time to ask him all about his trip. Not now.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Katherine lowered her eyes as her cheeks turned red. “I apologise.”
“Well,” Richard cleared his throat and grabbed a piece of toast, spreading some strawberry jam on it, “if we’re not allowed to ask trivial questions, how about we go straight to why you called us all here today?”
Richard took a bite of his toast, saving the biscuit his sister placed on his plate until the end. He focused his attention on his father, who lowered his cutlery to wipe his mouth, casting a worrying look towards his wife. She lowered her eyes and sighed, leaning back on her chair.
“Well, I called you here to inform you that Ollie was arrested last night in Venice. I wanted you to know from me first and not the press.”
“What are the charges?” Emma asked. “You can’t act surprised, Dad. You know very well the kind of son you have.”
“Your brother is accused of money laundering and influence peddling,” his mother said, clearly shaken by it. “I know your brother wasn’t always good, but he is still your brother.”
“He is nothing to me,” Emma said, her eyes filled with rage. “Do you forget he was the reason why I had to abdicate the throne to marry Cassie? Do you forget how you sided with him when he said that there could not be two queens of Tudal at the same time? Yeah, that’s the kind of son you have, mother. The homophobic and scummy type.”
“Enough!” His father slapped the table, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. Richard’s mother discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to keep her composure next to her husband.
Emma was right; Ollie had never been a good son or a good brother. He would make an even worse King once he ascended the throne. It sickened Richard to think that Tudal’s future was in the hands of his older brother.
“Do you think they will drop these charges?” Katherine asked, her voice sweet and careful around the topic at hand. “I’ve read that he might have been arrested, but if they can’t prove them, there’s a chance he walks away free.”
“He should rot in prison,” Emma said. “He’d be doing us all a favour.”
Richard’s mother sniffed, and Emma only rolled her eyes before stuffing her mouth with a croissant.
“Well,” his father continued, “whether or not he has to go to prison, one thing is clear. I no longer trust your brother to rule Tudal once I am gone.”
“Ollie won’t abdicate the throne, father,” Richard said, wanting this conversation to be over once and for all. “It’s his lifelong dream to be King.”
“Richard is right,” Emma said. “Even if you plead, he won’t do it.”
The King sighed and shook his head, patting his wife’s hand softly as he tried to console her. Richard felt for his parents, but he could also see why this was their fault. Being the first male born had its privileges and one of them was bending the rules while imposing them on everyone else.
“I will remove your brother from the line of succession.”
His father’s words clung to the air around them, causing Emma and Richard to exchange a confused look.
“What does that mean?” Katherine asked. “Can you do that?”
“He’s the King, Kittycat,” Emma said, “he can do whatever he wants. And I support that choice of yours. And leave him penniless too. See how he can use his influence when he has no money or estate to his name. Serves him right.”
“Do you have to be so cruel with your brother, Emma?” The Queen said, shaking her head in despair. “Isn’t he suffering enough with all of this?”
“No.” Emma shook her head. “He knows what he did. He’s not dumb. It might be his only redeeming quality.”
Richard furrowed his brows as the words his father had spoken took shape inside of his mind. If Emma couldn’t be Queen and Ollie was removed from the succession line, then—
“Who is next in line?” Richard asked, already dreading the answer.
“You are, you dork,” Katherine said, bumping her shoulder against his. “And you can’t abdicate.”
“I could,” he said. “I can.”
“You won’t.”
It was the finality with which his father spoke that made Richard understand that the King was right. As much as abdicating was an option, as much as he had a right to do it, he knew very well he would never be capable of doing such a thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Katherine to be a good Queen, he simply couldn’t deny that it was an honour to serve his country this way.
It was a dreadful feeling to know that he would have to abdicate the life he always wanted to have for the life he always thought he would never have. Never in his wildest dreams did Richard ever think he would be the next in line for the throne. Never.
“There is more,” his father said, glancing at everyone on the table before lowering his eyes to the hands on his lap. “I will also be abdicating the throne soon.”
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