The castle always felt lonely at night. There was still staff on duty, but nowhere near the number during the day. Few people plus a huge building meant you could wander the hallways for hours without encountering anyone. When I was a kid, that was a good thing. It meant I could go explore, raid the kitchen, or watch TV in a spare guest bedroom. As an adult, nights here were just… quiet. Solitary.

That’s why I was surprised to see a glint of light coming from a doorway ahead of me. It was the music room, the sight of my much-hated daily piano practice when I was a child. The room itself was dark; the light was coming from the balcony. Stepping around antique instruments and display cases, I moved to the door. And then stopped.

It was Cara. I couldn’t see her face or even see much of her silhouette in the weak light, but I knew it was her. Something about the dark shape conveyed feminine grace.

She was staring off into the chilly night. As I stepped onto the balcony, she shifted slightly—maybe because she heard me or maybe because of the cold air.

I should’ve retreated. She’d likely arrived at this place not seeking company. Instead, I moved to her side, and joined her in staring out into the night. The sliver-shaped moon provided just enough light to make the snowcapped mountains visible but not the trees below. But the stars… they were the real show here. Hundreds of thousands of them dotting the sky. Had Cara ever seen that many? Usually in the United States there was too much light pollution to see them this well.

We stood side by side in companionable silence, the sleeve of her dark wool coat next to my dress shirt. It was cold, but I liked being outside at night. It was rare that I accompanied by someone else, though.

At last, without turning toward me, she spoke. “I made it four days.”

She sounded faintly surprised, but she couldn’t be as surprised by that turn of events as I was. Each morning, I vowed to tell her it wasn’t working out. I’d compensate her for her time, give her enough of a bonus that she could spend some time in Europe before heading home. And then each night before bed, I’d realize I hadn’t done it yet.

“Did you think you wouldn’t?”

“Sort of, yes.”

Cara’s voice was usually high-pitched, brimming with energy, and somehow lyrical. It wasn’t any of those things tonight. It was lower, more alto than soprano. For a moment, it reminded me of Lisette’s voice—a voice I’d never hear again. That thought made my muscles tense up, but my reaction wasn’t directed at Cara. I knew exactly whose fault it was, and it wasn’t the young woman next to me. “Why?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m doing out here—trying to figure it out.”

I took a deep breath and relaxed my stance. Cara had done nothing wrong. In fact, she’d spent the week trying to get my somewhat reclusive children to open up. “Are you giving yourself a report card?”

“Something like that,” she agreed.

The moon disappeared behind some clouds, and in the resulting darkness, it was easier to ignore the way her light blonde hair spilled over her narrow shoulders. “Tell me how you did, then. Going to make the honor roll?”

“Not hardly. I’d say a C-minus.”

“Ouch. Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself?” It was odd to hear her judging herself when I’d been doing the same since the day she arrived. But somehow, the more she was down on herself, the more I felt the need to defend her.

“Your children keep disappearing on me. Your daughter will barely speak to me unless you count nodding.”

“They disappear on everyone. Don’t take it personally.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But I want to get to know them. I want to do my job. And an au pair without her charges is just a tourist.”

For some reason, that made me laugh. “There are worse things than being a tourist. You’re being hard on yourself. You must have an A-plus in at least one subject. Like the castle layout. At least you’re not getting lost on the way to your room anymore, right?”

Cara turned toward me, and I could see her better in the faint overhead light. “Well, you did say this place was designed to confuse the enemy.”

“Yeah, but I was half joking.” Only half, though.

“It’s just… it’s such a big place. And parts of it don’t seem to have been renovated yet. I worry about them when they go off on their own.

I waved her concerns away. “You know they’re in the castle.”

“But the castle’s practically the size of Delaware.” The moon had reappeared and I could see that her cheeks and nose had been made rosy by the cold. Her blue eyes focused on me, and it was clear her concern for my children was real.

“I spent my childhood running around the castle. They’ll be okay.”

Cara stared at me for a long moment and then nodded. I wasn’t sure if I’d convinced her or if she was refraining from arguing due to my royal status. Suddenly it felt important that she not be intimidated by me. Time to lighten the mood. “I know they gave you the slip, but they like you.”

“Derrick does.”

“Elyse will come around. It’s hard sometimes, even for me.” Should I tell Cara how much Elyse missed her mother? But Cara was an astute young woman. She probably already knew. “By next week, if you’re still keeping score, it’ll be a lot higher.” Had I really just mentioned next week? So much for my plan to let her go at the end of this one.

But somehow I couldn’t be angry with myself when I saw the smile on Cara’s face. That was more like it. “I’m going to hold you to that, Mr. Porpington.”

For a moment, the dancing light in her eyes distracted me from what she’d said. But as it sank in, I couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Your son told me your full name.”

“I see. And do you remember the whole thing?” What exactly had Derrick told her?

“Yes,” she said, looking pleased. “Nickolaus de Mimsy-Porpington.”

I kept a straight face, but it was hard. “Not a Harry Potter fan, are you?”

She looked at me quizzically. “I read the books a long time ago. Why?”

I fought back a grin, something that seemed to be happening more than expected around her. “Because that’s the full name of Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost.”

She was silent for a moment and then burst into laughter, shaking her head. “Oh my god, I feel like such a Muggle. I knew I’d heard it before, but it sounded so long and weird that I believed—” She stopped, her face flushing.

“So you think Falkenberg customs are weird?” I teased, altogether pleased with Derrick’s prank. Sometimes my boy was just like me—or just like I used to be.

“No, no, not Falkenberg. Just… well, you have to admit that some royal families sometimes…”

“I assure you, we’re one of the least weird royal families in Europe.”

“There’s a guillotine on the second floor,” she protested. “I saw it one time when I was lost.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, and then I realized she was right. One of the rooms on the tour had a collection of medieval weapons. “Yeah, but it’s in a glass case.”

“That makes it less weird? Growing up, the most lethal thing in our house was my sister’s knitting needles.”

“All right, you’ve got me, the guillotine is weird.” Shit, how had I gone from quiet and contemplative—and let’s face it, pretty damn lonely—to laughing and joking with the new nanny? That wasn’t supposed to happen. But Cara was just so easy to talk to. For me, at least. And my son, too. That gave me an idea.

“If you ask, I’m sure Derrick will give you a more thorough tour of the castle. Maybe you can also get an idea of where he disappears to.”

She nodded, but her face grew concerned again. “Do you know where he goes?”

I thought about all the places I used to play as a boy. Did Derrick go to any of them? The library? The cellar? The top of the towers? It was a little disturbing that I didn’t know. When we’d lived in the US, I’d known where the twins were every second of the day. Of course, they were younger then.

“I know where you can all go tomorrow,” I said, making a quick decision. “Into town for the market. It’s held every Wednesday and Saturday. The kids love it.”

Cara looked torn. “I would like to see it. But they’re both known flight risks. I’m not sure I could keep track of them in public.”

“The driver will be with you. And for that kind of situation, you can be pretty firm about demanding they stay with you.”

Cara’s forehead wrinkled. “Am I… am I allowed to, you know, reprimand them if I have to? I wasn’t sure if maybe doing so was a deportable offense.”

“No, no, we just break out the old guillotine for that.” I grinned at the shocked look on her face. Was she always so charmingly gullible or just when it came to royal families? “Kidding, of course. But yes, do whatever you need to do to keep them in line. Within reason.”

“It’s different here; it’s their home. But at the market, who knows where they could end up.”

“True, but I doubt they’ll make a run for it, and even if they did, they likely wouldn’t get very far. The driver will be there too, you know. Besides, people tend to… stare when our family is out in public.”

A smile pulled at the corner of her lips, one I couldn’t quite interpret. “I bet they do.” Her voice was high-pitched and lyrical. For a moment, it reminded me of Lisette’s.

“I need to get back to work.” My words were abrupt and sounded harsher than I’d intended. It wasn’t Cara’s fault that I’d never hear that voice again. Only one person was to blame for that, and it wasn’t the young woman before me. “Good night, Cara.”

“Good night, Nico.”

In spite of the guilty thoughts in my head, it felt good. As if there was at least one person in this vast palace who knew that I was not just a prince. Not just an employer. Not just a dad.

Cara made me remember that I was a man, too. Not the kind of man I once was, but a man nonetheless.