“You probably know why I’ve called you here,” he says from all the way up on his golden throne in this silent hall. The king and the queen have sent all the guards out so we can have this private family discussion.

“Yes, Father.”

Jesus, I can’t believe he’s wearing his crown and everything, on a day when he’s not even about to make a public appearance. I don’t remember him acting like this when I was a boy, living in this palace in the capital.

I wonder if Priscilla, his ex-mistress and current wife, lays out his crown along with the rest of his outfit for him in the morning. She has always loved this whole being-a-queen thing.

“I can’t believe you’ve abused yet another young girl,” Priscilla says. “And, as if that’s not bad enough, you’ve even revealed the location of Ardglass Palace, which has been kept a secret for hundreds of years.”

Priscilla shoots me a glare from where she sits, on the smaller throne beside my father’s. She can’t fully conceal her glee over my big mistake. The corners of her lips are tugging up, hinting at just how pleased she is.

“Exactly. I think it’s been a secret long enough, don’t you think?” I ask, deliberately challenging her. “We haven’t had any wars in a long time; all the neighboring countries are our allies; and Ardglass Palace is a piece of history that people have a right to know about.”

Priscilla’s jaw drops and she stares at me angrily, but without saying anything. Panic flashes in my father’s eyes as he feels the situation getting out of his grasp.

“But let’s get back to your first point for now,” I add. “Like I said the other time, Father, there’s no abuse involved. She was just angry because I didn’t want to marry her like she wanted me to.

“Everything I’ve done to—and with—these girls have been consensual. They knew what they were getting into. They begged me to do everything I did, and then they screamed my name afterward, asking for more. Believe me, I don’t need deception or violence to get what I want.”

The queen’s face turns red. Maybe she’s embarrassed by my crude words, or maybe she’s angry at what she sees as my insolence.

“I… I don’t care what you do in your own personal time,” she says.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of contradictory? You were the one who first mentioned my abuse of those women, remember? That was, like, two minutes ago.”

“I don’t care what you do to those women, but you should’ve been more careful,” Priscilla says,

“Oh, you mean I should put on a mask, like you do when you visit those orphanages and hug those sick kids at the children’s hospital?” I snort and shake my head. “You don’t really care about those people.”

Priscilla draws her mouth back in a snarl. “You… Do you know that we’re becoming less and less popular by the day? There are people calling for a referendum right now. I’m just doing my part to keep the royal family relevant.”

“There have always been people calling for a referendum. There have always been some people who want a different system of government. And for once, I agree with you. Their numbers have been growing. But I’ve stayed out of the gossip section for years. So maybe you can’t pin this one on me.”

Priscilla lets out a derisive snort. “Well, you’re not helping either. I thought you’d be under control in Ardglass Palace, but it turns out you’re just a troublemaker and it doesn’t matter where you are. You even own a dirty club. But I don’t know why I’m surprised. I remember what your mother was like.”

“Don’t you dare bring my mother into this.” I clench my fists so hard my fingernails are digging painfully into my palms. I swear I want to bash that face in, but I won’t hurt a woman—not unless I know said woman would enjoy it.

“That’s enough, both of you,” Father says, massaging his temples with his fingers.

“Do you even know what I do at Ardglass Palace, Father?”

He gives me an infuriatingly blank look. Caught like a deer in headlights.

That’s what I thought.

Despite the golden crown on his head, he’s clueless about the running of the kingdom.

“While your queen here has been sitting on her ass, shopping and gossiping, I’ve been working hard to improve the way the kingdom is run.” I glance briefly at Priscilla’s angry face.

“I’ve been holding regular meetings with the local government at Malvern. The city council used to be corrupt and inefficient. I’ve cleaned out the place and fired all the lazy, incompetent workers.

“Now, we have the most prosperous province in the kingdom. Out of the eleven provinces, we have the highest literacy rate and the lowest unemployment rate. We also don’t have much crime.

“Guess what all those things do to the approval rating?” I pause while both my father and Priscilla remain quiet, then add, “We have the highest approval rating in the kingdom as well. The people are happy. They have no complaints, no reason to change the system. You know why? Because it’s working.”

“This uproar you’re causing is still not good for the royal family’s reputation as a whole. The people will never accept someone like you as their king,” Priscilla says, shrugging.

“What are you saying?” I ask, my blood boiling. Priscilla seems too smug for this to be an empty threat.

I turn to my father. He has some explaining to do.

“Well, son,” he says, clearing his throat, “my advisors have been discussing the possibility of… passing the crown on to Philip.”

“And by your ‘advisors,’ do you really mean her?” I ask, pointing at the evil witch.

While I was busy doing actual work, she has apparently manipulated everyone into thinking it would be a good idea to make her son the crown prince. Just like my wise mother has predicted.

“Now, son, no decisions have been made,” Father says. “But my advisors—not just Priscilla—agree that your reputation may have become irreparable after this last scandal.”

“This is bullshit.”

“If you can get the people to accept you, then go ahead and keep your crown. This is not about me.” Priscilla’s lips spread across her cheeks as she looks down on me from her throne.

I turn around and make my way toward the double doors. My soles tap softly against the red carpet over the stone floor.

I don’t hear any more words from my father or Priscilla.

This meeting is over.

I open the door and step into the hallway.

This is fucking bullshit.

The crown is my birthright. I grew up knowing that one day I’d become the king, and I’ve been planning my whole life based on that assumption.

I’ve dedicated myself to the people, working tirelessly to improve the bureaucracy at Malvern so the whole province could be run more smoothly.

I’ve been asking for a chance to work on the other provinces, but I’ve never had the clearance from the capital to do that. I’ve already come up with so many ideas about how the whole kingdom could be governed better.

But Priscilla wants me confined to Ardglass Palace, and my father is too weak to go against her.

If only the people could see how hard I’ve been working for them, I’m sure they’d know I’d do a better job than my father. I’d be a better king. I’d be a good king.

Honestly, the people need me more than I need them.

I’ll be fine even if I don’t become the king. As a prince, I can live an easy life forever.

I don’t really know Philip, but I’ve seen how his mom coddles him. He’s going to grow up into a selfish spoiled brat, for sure.

It doesn’t matter what he’s like, though, because his mother will be the real ruler, the one who pulls the strings behind the curtains.

But if the people don’t want me, I don’t know why I care.

Why should I fight so hard for them, when they reject me?

What Priscilla’s doing isn’t right, and I’m sure she’ll continue to use her dirty tactics against the people’s interest for as long as she can. She’s bad for the kingdom, but if the people are happy with her, then what do I care?

And sure, I’ve made a promise to my mother. But do dead people really care what the living do with their lives?

That crown is rightfully mine. But I’ve learned from a young age that I can’t always get the things that should belong to me.

As I walk down the hallways of my father’s palace, people move out of my way and stare at me. I don’t know if it’s because I look angry, or if it’s because I’m the beast who gets his kicks from beating up innocent, young women.

That reminds me of something else that’s rightfully mine.

I’ve wanted to contact her for days, but I’ve been careful to not rock the boat. I thought it was best to lay low, considering all the uproar around this latest thing.

But now everything’s different.

If I don’t have the crown anymore, then I can do whatever I want without paying any attention to what strangers would think about it. That’s a fucking silver lining if I ever saw one.

I pull out my phone and start to type an email.

So what if she’s talking to the press? I’m going to see her and remind her that she belongs to me. She’s going to do as I say and keep those luscious lips zipped.

And if she doesn’t, who cares? Let the nosy gossipers of the kingdom talk. Let’s give them a good reason to wag their tongues.