Taming the Rebel Prince

by Victoria Hart

  “I believe I do.”

  “After that disastrous trip to Japan, I do not doubt that you were left cleaning up a mess made by my brother. Tell me, doesn’t that get boring? Always cleaning up other people’s messes?”

  “It does grow more and more irksome with time.”

  The princess poured a fresh cup of tea for Astrid and said, “Now imagine my point of view. I have a brother who has no interest in governing this nation, who has done everything he can to embarrass my family and the king. I have often wondered if he isn’t trying to destroy the monarchy for some diabolical purpose, but I’m afraid he’s usually too drunk to be evil.”

  “Princess, I agree that your brother’s behavior has been regrettable, and of course the coverage of his bad judgment and less-than-princely behavior has done nothing to shine up his tarnished public image.”

  “If he didn’t behave as though he was a common workman drinking on holiday, then there would not be a tarnished public image to shine. I hope we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement that will not only benefit us both, but also this country.”

  “Your Highness, what arrangement did you have in mind?”

  “It’s a simple one. Fail at your task of redeeming my brother and his tattered reputation. Allow my father to face the truth that Eric does not deserve – nor does he want – the throne of Rogandal. Help my brother to see reason and abdicate. Convince my father that I am the only right choice to be the next monarch, and I will pay you more than double what my father has agreed to pay for your services. If you manage to achieve this goal quickly, I will compensate you with a generous bonus.”

  Astrid was not surprised that the princess would make such an offer, she had just not expected it would be this grandiose…or tempting. She also wondered how Eirinia had divined the true nature of her position, but she knew the princess to be clever and resourceful.

  After the trip to Japan, Astrid was very frustrated with Eric and his lack of self-control or discipline. She couldn’t disagree with the princess – at the present moment, he didn’t deserve to be king, and she wondered if it was even within her ability to make him monarch material.

  “Your Highness, I admit it is a tempting offer. May I think it over? I’ve never failed in my duties before and it would be an enormous hit to my ego and my professional reputation.”

  “I promise to make it worth any discomfort you may feel. You have my word.”

  “Thank you. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ve had a taxing day and I would like to give your offer the full attention it deserves.”

  “Please take some time to think it over. Just don’t take too long.”

  Astrid left the lush green solarium and thought of the princess sitting in the middle of an artificial tropical paradise. As exhausted as Astrid felt, she was almost willing to give in to the temptation of the princess’s offer. She thought of how similar the indoor garden was to the biblical Eden – complete with a snake and temptation in the form of an offer.

  * * *

  Astrid was summoned before breakfast the following morning. Dressing quickly, she managed to look professional and well-groomed with a quick swipe of lipstick, a hair barrette, black loafers, heather gray tailored pants, and a black turtleneck. She arrived at the king’s office without coffee or breakfast for fuel.

  “Please, Lady Willoughby, won’t you come in and be seated?”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “I am certain you are curious why I have summoned you at this hour, but I fear I had no other choice in the matter.”

  “The matter? What’s happened?”

  “It’s Eric. He has left the palace in the middle of the night. I’ve only just been informed, and thought you would want to know immediately.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” she answered without emotion.

  “Are you not surprised? What should be done to get him back?”

  “Not a thing. He will soon find that without the benefit of unlimited resources, life is less glamorous then he imagines it will be.”

  “What is your next move? It would appear you have failed in your task.”

  “On the contrary, Your Majesty; I have not failed. By the prince’s actions, I would say that I have succeeded admirably.”

  “How so?” The king frowned. “I find it difficult to understand how you can see it in that light.”

  “It’s simple: he is testing you, your resolve, and my ability to control his life. This is part of that process. He has to find out for himself what a life without privilege is, and come to see what money has bought for him. Without unlimited resources to buy his way out of every disaster, he will soon understand what it means to take responsibility for his actions. He will either have to change his behavior, or abdicate.”

  “Isn’t this risky? What if he chooses to abdicate?”

  “Then you can rest at night knowing that your son will not become a despotic monarch on the throne of Rogandal.”

  “What? This is preposterous.”

  “Not at all. I warned you that the prince would test you and your resolve, well he intends to do just that.”

  “What can be done?”

  “Tracking the prince would be the first order of business. We want Eric to learn a lesson, not wind up dead.”

  The king’s face turned ashen. “Dead! Certainly not?”

  “It’s an outside chance at best. May I know the details of his departure?”

  “He was seen leaving the palace late last night. There have been unconfirmed reports that he boarded a chartered plane at the airport. It was thought that he was headed to Germany.”

  “A chartered plane would require money. Any idea how he could have acquired funds for a charted airplane?”

  The king sighed, and avoided eye contact. “I may have slipped him some spending money during our conversation yesterday. He came to me wanting to allow his friends back at court. I refused to let those traitors back in the palace, but I felt guilty that my son was without means.”

  “Your Majesty, I should tender my resignation immediately, since you insist on undermining my methods.”

  “What you ask of me is impossible! How can I be a father to my son, knowing he no longer had any money? What if he was in trouble and needed help?”

  “He would contact you. Please, Your Majesty, if you want to see your son become the next king, you have to trust me. I understand this is difficult.”

  “We have taken away everything he loves. I don’t want him to turn his back on me and his family because of anger.”

  “Your Majesty, you have to decide what means more to you: an ill-behaved son who is a disgrace, or a dutiful son who will follow in your footsteps? Please decide now, because otherwise you are wasting my time.”

  Astrid knew she was speaking harshly to a man who was unaccustomed to hearing criticism, but she was not there to bolster the King’s ego.

  After a long pause, the king relented. “Please accept my apologies, Lady Willoughby. It was never my intention to undermine your methods. I trust you, and your record is unblemished but this is difficult.”

  “Yes it is, and you must help me if we are to succeed. Do I have you word then, Your Majesty, that you will not send him money? That you will notify me the moment he contacts you?”

  “You have my word. I will contact you immediately.”

  “Good. And you have my word that I will keep you posted on the prince’s activities.”

  Astrid left the king’s office and headed for the breakfast room. There was nothing left to do but sit and wait, so she pulled her phone from her pocket and began monitoring the tabloids. She knew that Prince Eric would soon be in the news once again; it was only a matter of time.

  As she bit into a bagel, she thought about the prince’s destination and realized that if he went to Germany, there was a better-than-fair chance that he had gone to Saxony, the home of Hans, one of the three men Astrid had left in Japan.

  Quickly dialing the number of a bus
iness associate at the intelligence office, she requested information on the whereabouts of Prince Eric. She provided her contact with the few details she knew to be accurate. Her associate was always happy to hear from her, as it meant a generous paycheck for a few minutes’ work. Astrid was optimistic that this request would be answered quickly.

  She ate breakfast in solitude, waiting for the phone to ring. She didn’t have to wait long; her associate soon confirmed her suspicion that the prince was at the residence of the royal family of the Duchy of Saxony. She offered her contact an additional bonus if he could keep tabs on the whereabouts of the prince. It was an unusual request, but she knew this prince was older and more determined than most of her previous assignments. Her contact promised to keep her informed, and named a price. Astrid agreed, and powered off the phone.

  If Eric was paying a visit to his old friend, then that old friend must have been released from custody in Japan. Astrid wondered briefly how the other two former friends of the prince were doing. She fought the temptation to retrieve the prince before he could do anything embarrassing or unfixable. Sipping her coffee, she decided to hold her ground. The best remedies would be patience and time.

  Chapter 8

  Astrid considering returning to England and her own residence as she waited for the prince to run out of money and options. Regrettably, she was still considered to be on duty and could not leave the Royal Palace of Hoburg until the assignment was at an end. Living out of a suitcase was losing its appeal after so many years, and she longed to be in her own bed.

  She had not given the princess an answer, and she knew she could not keep the woman at bay much longer. As it stood at the present moment, the princess was willing to share information with Astrid in the belief that they were working together to ensure the prince’s failure.

  Over the next days, Astrid discovered from the princess that the prince was attempting to interest talent agents for an acting career. There were also rumors that he was trying to secure corporate sponsorship for a racing yacht. Unfortunately for him, his reputation was not working in his favor. With a decade-long track record of destructive behavior and partying, Eric was finding out that his reputation was standing in his way, and no title or rank could resolve that.

  The tabloid papers were beginning to speculate about what was happening in Rogandal, as stories of the prince’s fall from grace reached a worldwide audience. While he was the handsome and wealthy prince, Eric was pathetic but still widely considered to be redeemable. Since he was no longer wealthy, and now just a man with an empty title, he was now beginning to appear to be just pathetic.

  Astrid scoured the tabloids and internet sources for pictures of the prince and stories that would indicate that not only was he poor and desperate, but that he was once again associating with Gunter and Ben. It appeared that Eric had not learned that valuable lesson, as the pictures that found their way into the papers were taken more surreptitiously, but still at very close range.

  Having dinner in her quarters one frigid night, she was startled by an insistent knock on the door. She called out for the person to enter and was surprised to see the king’s valet. He carried a silver tray that held a single small envelope. Reaching for the envelope, she opened it to read a message from the king.

  Must speak with you regarding Eric, meet me in the library at once.

  Astrid grabbed her phone and powered it on, quickly punching in the code. She called her contact at the British Intelligence office. She was aware of Eric’s whereabouts but had not been informed of any incidents. It seemed that whatever had triggered an urgent meeting with the king must have just happened. She scanned her iPad and did not see any blips on the news radar. With any luck, she hoped that it would not be a repeat of what happened in Japan.

  The king’s message had said to come at once, which meant there was no time to change into an outfit more appropriate for meeting the monarch. Rushing down the hallway, she realized she was wearing a pair of yoga pants and a loose-fitting tunic, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

  Running down the stairs of the great hall, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of a state dinner, elite accents, foreign languages, and the polite laughter of small talk from the direction of the dining room. Whatever Eric was involved in this time had taken the king away from his guests.

  Breathing hard after her running through the enormous palace, Astrid tried to steady herself before going into the library.

  The king was standing by the fireplace, arms crossed and brow furrowed. He greeted her, saying, “I apologize for the urgent message, but when I divulge the details of Eric’s latest situation, I believe you will understand the urgency of the situation.”

  “Your Majesty, I’ve checked several sources and nothing has been reported yet. What seems to be the problem? His last known location was Grenada.”

  “That’s where he is, and he probably won’t be leaving any time soon.”

  Astrid looked at the king with a puzzled expression. “I don’t understand; is he injured in some way? Is he okay?”

  “Not that I am aware of. He has contacted me for money and assistance. I’m afraid, in the circumstances, he will need a great deal of both.”

  Astrid’s phone buzzed, and the king spoke sharply to her. “You didn’t turn that off for our meeting?”

  Pulling the phone from her pocket, she answered, “This is important. It’s about your son.”

  The king nodded and Astrid answered the call. As the details became clear, she felt the sudden urge to sit down. Leaning against the arm of the couch, she listened as her contact at the intelligence office recounted the prince’s latest disaster. Astrid thanked him and requested that he stay in contact. Powering off the phone, she looked at the king.

  The king was watching closely. “You look faint,” he said. “Who was that?”

  “A contact who is worth every shilling you will be paying him, I think I understand why you called this urgent meeting.”

  The king looked very tired. He waved a hand vaguely, and slumped into a chair nearby. “It sounds like you know more than I do. Care to fill me in?”

  “Your Majesty, this is dreadful. Dreadful!” she said, and realized she had lost her composure. “Please, give me a minute.”

  “By all means,” he said. He went to an ornately carved cabinet on the wall by the enormous fireplace. Astrid watched as the king of Rogandal opened the doors, reached for a crystal decanter, and poured a drink for himself, and one for her. He walked back to the couch and handed her a crystal glass containing an amber liquid.

  “It looks like we both need a drink. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, Your Majesty,” said Astrid as she sipped the bourbon. Placing the glass on the table she turned to face the king. “The good news is that it happened in Grenada, and the British have a considerable presence in that country. The bad news is that they will not be so easily compensated for this catastrophe – and Eric will be subject to their laws. This won’t be as easy as Kyoto.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that. Tell me what you have discovered.” He swirled the bourbon in his glass and then finished it in one shot.

  Astrid sighed, and then calmly told the king what she knew of Eric’s latest activities. “Eric and his…friends…traveled to Grenada, which as you know is a commonwealth of Britain. Because it is, his rank and title bought him a lot of credit – enough to hire a one-hundred-foot carbon fiber racing boat and compete in Regatta week. Everything seemed to be going well until a few hours ago, when his boat was involved in a devastating collision with several other racing boats representing various countries and sponsors.”

  “You forget to mention the hotel bill and the bar bill,” said the king.

  “Small concerns, according to my source. Eric was found to be at fault for the collision that happened at the marina. Alcohol was involved. Your Majesty, two of the boats he nearly destroyed are owned by the royal family of Saudi Arabia, and the other
one is owned by an eccentric millionaire from Australia, with a nasty reputation for lawsuits. The damage is in the millions of dollars. I don’t think the insurance will cover this, since it did not happen on the Freja.”

  “And so,” the king picked up where Astrid left off, “Eric is in custody in Grenada and he is financially responsible for this disaster. I do not intend to pay to get him out of this embarrassment.” The king walked back to the cabinet for another drink.

  “Your Majesty, I doubt Eric was solely responsible for this. He was with Ben, Gunter, and Hans.”

  “From the information I received, he is the only one in custody.”

  “It sounds like they abandoned him. We tried to warn him – maybe he’s finally learned his lesson this time.”

  “This time? So it only required the destruction of several priceless racing yachts for that stubborn son of mine to learn his lesson.”

  “I knew this wasn’t going to be cheap, but I didn’t expect he would fail in such a spectacular fashion.”

  “That’s Eric for you – tenacious and persistent. He never would give up on anything as child, why would he give up as a man?” asked the king as he sipped his second straight bourbon.

  “I can’t tell you why he insists on self-destruction. Regardless of your feelings about leaving him to clean up this mess, I don’t think that is the best course of action in this case. He can’t take responsibility for the smallest of mistakes and I highly doubt he is equipped to deal with an international incident. He can’t charm his way out of this one, and he simply doesn’t have the resources to pay these bills.”

  “You’re right, Lady Willoughby. I know you’re not an ambassador or a diplomat, but is there anything you can do to save the honor of Rogandal?”

  “Your Majesty, I may have a few strings I can pull with the Saudi royal family. That Australian millionaire and the Government of Grenada will be more challenging. If I leave immediately, I can be there tomorrow.”