Even though I don’t always get what I want, but I do always have what I need. Without fail.

Just because my family doesn’t have money in excess, doesn’t mean that we’re lacking in anything. Clara and Irina might disagree, but that’s what I think.

I mean, just looking around me…

At my house, we have wooden floors. They're plain planks with chips all over.

In this grand hall that I’ve just entered through the secret tunnel, the flooring is made of wood as well.

But the wood pieces are all kinds of different shades of brown, and they’re arranged in intricate geometric patterns. Despite the fact that the floor consists of hundreds—no, thousands of little pieces, the surface looks perfectly flat.

The floor, shiny from the lacquer, reflects the light from the ten big chandeliers overhead. They’re arranged in two straight rows to distribute the warm light evenly throughout this great hall. Each chandelier is a golden work of art with more little lightbulbs than I can count.

Likewise, there are walls at my house, too. They work fine. They do a good job at keeping rain and snow out, and they’ve done pretty well at protecting our private space from the curious eyes of strangers.

The walls here are so different they may as well be a different thing altogether. They’re painted royal blue, but I can only see glimpses of the color because there are white decorative panels everywhere. The golden plaster on these panels forms designs like delicate sprigs of leaves and luxurious drapes of fabric. I can almost see these motifs moving—which is impossible, of course, but they’re so life-like!

There are more plaster panels on the ceiling, which is so high that the furniture appears tiny.

It’s almost like whoever built this place wanted to live inside an artwork. Everything is so grand and extravagant it’s almost too much.

And yet… How is it that I’ve never heard of the Ardglass Palace before, when it’s so close to Willowdale, where I’ve lived my whole life? And why would the royal family build such a beautiful palace in such an isolated area? Why all the secrecy?

I turn to look at Albert, who’s patiently waiting for me to stop gawking.

“Sorry,” I say. “I’ve just never… I’ve never been inside a place like this.”

“Very few people have been inside the Ardglass Palace, Miss Wilson.”

“So why me?” I ask.

If they’ve gone through all that trouble to hide this palace, it doesn’t make sense that they’d reveal it just because of one rose. I mean, it’s a nice rose, but there are so many precious treasures in this place. If someone intended to steal something, it wouldn’t be a worthless rose.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Miss Wilson,” Albert says as he continues to stand at attention. He looks perfectly ordinary, but at the same time he appears tall and grand because of his suit and the way he carries himself.

“Who’s the person who has been sending me the directions to this palace?” I ask another question, hoping to get an answer this time.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that either,” Albert says with a smile.

“Is there any question you can answer?” I pause, realizing how harsh that must sound. “I’m sorry. I mean, is there any information you can tell me? This is all very strange to me.”

“I imagine it would be,” Albert says. “If you’re ready, you can follow me to meet someone who can answer all your questions.”

“Who—” I begin to ask, but I stop myself. I purse my lips. “You probably can’t answer that either, can you?”

“You are correct, Miss Wilson,” Albert says. “I was instructed to meet you here and escort you to the study, but that’s all I’m supposed to do.”

“Can I at least know why I’m here? It can’t be just because of a flower, can it?” I ask, wondering if Father really stole a flower or if he did something worse.

“I’m sorry, Miss Wilson. You’ll just have to follow me,” Albert says.

I nod. There’s no use pressuring this poor man. He’s too loyal to his master—whoever that is—to give me any valuable information.

Albert gives me a smile before he turns around on his heels and starts walking, his steps echoing in this great hall.

As I follow behind him, I notice the two sets of oversized French doors at one end of the hall. There are so many things in this hall that demand my attention that I missed them before.

Above the doors, there are large paintings of men wearing thick, red capes and elegant women in big, poofy dresses.

I recognize these paintings—I’ve seen their pictures on books and their reproductions in people’s homes. These people are long dead now, but they were kings and queens when they were alive.

Albert is not lying. This is indeed a royal palace—not that I doubted him before. He seems like an honest man and this place is way too imposing to be anything other than that.

Albert opens the door and holds it open for me. I smile at him as I pass. I can get used to this royal treatment, but it’s also kind of stiff and awkward.

That’s probably the least of my worries, though. I wonder how much longer I’ll get to enjoy this. Seeing as I’m here to take on my father’s punishment, I’ll probably sleep in a dark cell in the dungeon tonight.

Albert steps into the hallway and asks me to follow him again.

This hallway looks just as opulent as the grand hall we were just in. The walls are lined with decorative patterns and paintings. The tables and mirrors are gilded gold.

Everything’s so perfect. Maybe a little too perfect.

I mean, of course a palace is supposed to be luxurious. But not one painting is crooked, and not one thing is out of place. Then again, I’ve never been in a palace before, so it’s not like I have a frame of reference regarding what a palace should look like.

Still, for a moment, I wonder if maybe this place is a mere ghostly illusion. It seems too strange to be true.

Maybe Albert is a spirit, and he can’t give me any answers because he’s taking me to his leader, who’s going to turn me into one of them, to serve the apparitions of royal rulers of the past forever.

I shake my head.

I’m being stupid.

Yes, the events of tonight has been strange, but there’s no need to come up with silly supernatural reasons to explain things. Like Albert said, I’m about to meet someone who can tell me stuff, so there’s no need to speculate.

I wonder who I’m going to see, though.

That person is probably a high-ranking member of the palace staff. Maybe the chief of staff is unhappy that someone’s damaged his garden, and now he’s going to give me a set of daily chores to do until I’ve made up for Father’s wrongdoing.

Yeah, given the strange situation, that seems like the most likely explanation.

The palace is quiet. Maybe there’s only a bare-bones staff maintaining this place. The royals probably stay at the capital most of the time and only come here when they really need a break from the outside world, from the crowds and the paparazzi.

Albert’s long legs come to a stop, and I abruptly halt, my thoughts interrupted.

“We’re here, Miss Wilson,” Albert says, turning around to give me a smile.

We’re standing in front of yet another set of big, white double doors with gilded carvings of birds, dragons, and climbing plants. Around the doors are a frame consisting of a tall pillar on each side and two golden cherubs sitting on the top.

This looks like the entrance to an office that belongs to someone really important.

I imagine a man, perhaps about the same age as Albert, sitting behind a big desk. He’d have a stern face and he’d preach to me about the importance of being a gracious guest before he finally tells me what he wants me to do.

“Thank you, Albert,” I say.

He nods, then he extends his arm to grab the door handle. As the chunky wooden door slowly swings open, my heartbeat grows faster and faster.

What could be waiting for me now? Who could be waiting to see me?

“Please,” Albert says as he holds the door for me.

I take three steps and reach the open doorway with legs limp as spaghetti.

When I look inside, my breath catches in my throat.

It can’t be.

I snap my head to look at Albert, my mouth hanging open in surprise, and he just smiles back at me.

Is that really…?

I fix my gaze on the man, who looks way too familiar. Even though I’ve never met him before, I’ve seen his likeness, perhaps thousands of times over my twenty-one years of existence.

Those startling blue eyes.

That golden hair.

That lopsided smile.

This man can’t be anyone other than him.

But it’s impossible.

What’s Prince James doing here, in the middle of nowhere?

And why would he want to see me?