Eli pulled his cap over his head and turned to close the door just as his granddaughter ran up to him.

“Papa, where are you going?” Her spiral golden curls bounced on her shoulders as she jumped around and held her hands up for him to lift her.

He lowered himself and rested his palms on his knees. “You know I have to go to the castle in the evenings, Fran.”

The pout clouded her face immediately. “But why do you have to go every evening? It’s almost night.”

Eli ruffled her hair. “That’s just how it is, cupcake. I’ll be back before you fall asleep, okay?”

“Okay,” she relented and hung her head as she turned to go back inside.

He turned once more to the dirt-trodden path he had walked so many times before. The stone steps led away from the small wooden cottage he occupied with his wife and their granddaughter. Their only son had left years before in search of a better life, and they had been charged with looking after Fran when her mother disappeared shortly after. The last they heard, she was auditioning for Broadway plays in New York City, a dream all the girls on the island wanted to achieve. And he couldn’t blame them.

There was nothing much to do on a remote island in the middle of what everyone labeled as nowhere. The amenities were few, and farm life dominated the time of almost every resident scattered in the several districts across the island. Entertainment was limited, except what the king and queen provided, held twice annually – at Christmas and on New Year’s Eve. The rest of the year was spent trying to make lives for themselves with their meager sustenance and finding backwater ways of entertaining themselves, which often took the form of drinking, revelry, and the occasional village squabbling.

One main metropolitan area was centrally located and housed one hospital and a few government buildings and small diners. Very few people had cars in the city, and those who had, used the cars as cabs. Only members of the royal family had any real luxury.

“I wish her luck,” Merl, his wife, always said of their granddaughter’s mother. They had never liked her anyway. She had called two times in the four years since Fran had been there. Matthew hadn’t returned, but when he did, he knew he had a home with them. With any luck he had found something better he could pass on to his daughter. Eli loved being the king’s servant, but he hoped for more for his granddaughter.

Eli pulled the hat lower over his face and walked briskly down the stone pathway bordered with anthuriums, magnolias, and a collection of plants he didn’t know. Merl visited the garden, tending to it, and he smiled as he glanced at them accentuating what was otherwise a very modest home, though a little better than some the other villagers lived in. He had such amenities solely because he was the king’s ear and trusted servant. He had one of the best plots of land, excellent for gardening and farming since it was closest to the river. But it didn’t earn him any favors with the villagers. He knew they were jealous, and he avoided them for the most part – he didn’t care what they thought or felt.

He pulled the picket-fenced gate shut and stepped into the street that led to the bridge. He glanced up at the orange sky, barely noticing how the light illuminated the city, bouncing off the bronze towers set inside the marble walls of the castle. Usually, he would be at his window watching the spectacular display just before he made his usual castle visit. He had been called earlier than he normally would go, and that piqued his curiosity. His feet got heavier, and his breathing became anxious as soon as he saw the gold-trimmed white suits the guards wore, starched and set on them like the towers in marble.

One of them moved forward when he approached but nodded and stepped back when he recognized the visitor. Eli could easily be a resident, and he was offered privileges most of the people didn’t have access to – he could fish in the castle river at whim; his granddaughter was taught by the tutors from the castle, and he received the occasional gift from the king, such as a farm animal or produce, outside of when regular supplies would flow to the rest of the island. The villagers resented him for it, although Merl thought they were just jealous of his ‘high standing.’ Eli tended to agree, and he sometimes walked with an air of royalty, which kindled their wrath even more.

The castle was even more overwhelming up close, and he admired it every time he walked there. The bridge was painted white with gold railings that reached to huge oak doors stretching twelve feet tall that greeted marble columns that towered above. Several flags fluttered in the slight wind bearing the lion with the shield – a family mark, he had been told. Surveillance cameras dotted every corner surrounding the huge structure, and Eli could almost feel the power radiating from within.

It was the one place on the island worth looking at, but he was the only person allowed to come and go freely – anyone else would have to be invited, and that was only when there was a grand ball. Even then, they were kept away from the ‘sophisticated guests.’

The doors creaked open when he was only a few feet away. He entered the large hall with the high, vaulted ceiling like a cathedral, or so he had heard from Prince Jason when he had returned from one of his numerous trips overseas. The architecture was picturesque, with engravings in the white marble stones that made up the interior of the building. It reminded Eli of a cathedral in Rome he had seen in a magazine once. The chapel on the island paled in comparison, with its worn carpeting and rundown ceiling fans that creaked when they spun.

As he walked, his steps echoed on the pearl-white tiles as he approached the throne room, the place he most often found the king and queen when he visited the castle. He had passed the circular stairways that stretched to the top of the castle every time he visited the king or queen, but he had no idea what laid beyond them. He could only daydream and gaze in wonderment each time, hoping one day he might have the privilege.

They knew he was outside the door as he raised his hand to knock. “Come in, Eli!” the king boomed. Eli pressed against the brass bars and the double doors leaned inwards.

“What took you so long?” Queen Clarise barked as soon as he was inside. She was pacing the floor, her eyes wild and her spirit obviously ruffled.

Eli quickly removed his hand and stood just inside the door. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I hurried here as soon as I received the message.”

She paused long enough to hear his words before she started pacing again.

“Tell me something, Eli,” the king said as he rose from his seat. “What have you noticed lately about my subjects?”

Eli shifted his weight from one leg to the other, unsure of the reason for the question. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“The people! The people! What have they been saying?” Clarise bellowed, her usually pale face reddening as traces of anger became evident on her face.

“Clarise, that’s enough.” King Jaimie shushed her. “It’s not his fault.”

Eli knitted his brows in confusion and waited for further explanation. King Jaimie pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and turned around. Eli waited, but they were silent, exchanging suspicious glances.

“It has to be done,” King Jaimie finally said gloomily. “Eli, we need you to go to town and talk to the people. We want to know where their loyalties lie.”

“With you, Your Grace,” Eli responded right away.

“Is that what you think?” Queen Clarise replied, stepping forward. “Do you know the Wyatts?”

“The Wyatts, Your Grace?” Eli was perplexed by their questions. “Yes, I’ve heard of them. But I don’t understand. What do they have to do with the people?” The Wyatts had made several trips to the island in recent months, but he had never given much thought to their visits. Royalty and other wealthy families often visited the king and queen – he didn’t think they were anything special to make a mental note of.

“That’s exactly what we would like to find out. That’s why you’re here,” King Jaimie told him. “We want you to find out what’s going on. Apparently, the Wyatts have their eyes on the crown and have been bribing my subjects with luxury items.”

“But that’s not possible,” Eli rushed to answer and stepped forward in his excitement. “Your family has ruled for one-hundred and fifty years.”

“That’s right,” Queen Clarise pointed out. “But someone ruled before us, and if another family has more power, they can challenge us. If the people rebel against us, then another family will take over.”

Eli stood before them with his mouth agape. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t understand why the people would want another king or queen. Jaimie and Clarise were kind and sensitive to their needs. Maybe he could understand why they didn’t like Jason, their only son and a pompous jerk, but not Jaimie and Clarise.

“But, how…what am I supposed to do? Just walk around and ask random people what they think?” Though he was a servant, he was sometimes treated like family, which explained why he was able to speak freely in their presence.

“Yes!” Clarise snapped. He could tell she was frustrated, and he easily understood why she would be. He was getting more anxious the longer he thought on what they had said. “Find out why they haven’t been showing us much respect. They don’t even attend the royal balls in great numbers. When we pass through town, they barely notice us. I want to know why, and more importantly, what should be done about it. We cannot lose this kingdom,” she said, her voice wavering. “We cannot!”

“We won’t,” King Jaimie told her, moving to her side. He pulled her into his arms and she rested her forehead on his large chest. Her head bobbed as she cried, and Eli was shaken as he watched them.

They were really frightened, and so was he. “I’ll go right away,” he told them and hurried to the door. King Jaimie nodded his approval, and the last thing Eli saw before the great doors closed was the king holding the queen like his life depended upon it.

Eli had expected a request to go to the city in the morning to run an errand or gather correspondence sent from other kingdoms. He hadn’t expected this. How could the people want anything else? He couldn’t understand it. The present situation weighed heavily on him when, instead of returning home, he had to go into town. The mile and a half walk was one he was accustomed to, but this time his legs felt heavier the closer he got to the village square. It was not yet dark, only twilight, and he saw the spots of lights through the windows of those who already welcomed the night.

He had been in the village square enough times to know it would still be teeming with people. They never seemed to sleep—every night was like an endless bacchanal party of revelry, booze, and women. He was glad he didn’t live so close to them. When he got closer, one of the men—who was busy slugging a can of beer—wiped his hand across his mouth and gave him a toothy grin.

“Well, if it isn’t the man who would be king,” he mocked, and the other men and women turned and laughed.

“I wonder how he made it this far,” Julianne, one of the local whores, chimed in as one of the men groped her. She giggled and bent her head back as the man buried his head in her neck and grabbed her breasts.

“I’m here on the king’s business,” Eli told them promptly. “Where’s Nathaniel?”

“What do you want with Nathaniel?” the man asked. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to see you.”

Eli pretended he didn’t hear and pressed through the crowd as he tried to find the one man he thought he could reason with. He ran the only produce store in the square. He sold both farm and household products, and everyone knew and respected him.

“Hold on just a minute!” someone else called, and grabbed Eli by the shoulder.

“What’s going on out here?”

Eli was relieved when Nathaniel intervened. “Nathaniel. I was just looking for you.”

“For what?”

“He’s on the king’s business,” someone mocked, and several others listening snickered.

“We know, and we don’t care,” the first man said. “Just go away!”

Eli knew he should be talking to more sensible people now, but their comments and jeering provoked him, and he found it difficult to remain silent. “Am I missing something here?” Eli asked. He would have preferred to be in the comfort of his home, but he knew he had to report to the king by the morning. “What’s going on? I thought you loved the king.”

“Love the king?” a robust man’s voice boomed, and the slow-turning night was pierced with the laughter of the other people gathered there. “What has the king done for us lately?”

“What are you talking about? He has given you food, shelter, lowered the taxes, provided water, education for your children.”

“And what about jobs?” someone who had just joined the growing throng asked. “I haven’t worked in months, and without money, we can’t get the food you talk about. We barely see the king. All we have is you.”

“But you’re farmers. And he gives you supplies. What jobs are you talking about?”

“How about health?” a woman with a child about two years old straddled on her hips asked. “I don’t have money to go to a doctor when my son gets sick. What about that?”

“Fine. I’ll tell him that,” Eli hastily offered.

“No!” the first man interjected as he tossed his can aside and stood. “How many times have we heard this talk? Every few months there is a great show of pity for the ‘poor villagers suffering outside the castle walls.’ He sends us some hay, lumber, and hosts a grand ball like we are supposed to be grateful. They think that’s enough! It’s not!” he spat, his jaw clenched.

“Yeah!” the crowd echoed.

“Mason Wyatt has given us more than our king!” he shouted.

“Yes! He has,” members of the crowd echoed in support.

Eli looked to Nathaniel for support, but he remained silent – a solid show of support for the villagers’ comments.

The number of people had swelled since Eli had reached the square, and he looked around nervously at the angry mob. They seemed ready to drag him through the streets, and he felt overly self-conscious standing among them. He had to offer them something worthwhile or he would be ostracized both from the village and the castle.

“Wait. Wait! Calm down,” Eli called to them, his voice shaking as much as his hands as he held them out. “What is this about Mason Wyatt?”

“He gave me a month’s supply of baby products just last week,” a woman bellowed.

“And I’m supposed to go to the city tomorrow to get my travel documents,” an elderly man called. “I’ve never gone anywhere, thanks to the king.”

“Yeah,” another woman echoed. “Most of us have never set foot off this island. The king thinks we don’t want to travel as much as the royals do?”

Eli was in awe. He quickly understood why the king and queen felt so much unrest. They were losing popularity, and quickly. Something had to be done, but there was nothing he could offer on their behalf. Mason Wyatt had stolen the show and was slowly winning their hearts. If the royal family lost their seat, what would happen to him? His head swelled as the blood roared in his ears, making them burn. Sweat beads popped up on his brow, and he used the back of his hand to wipe it away.

“Come on,” Eli begged. “The Burgesses have been in power for over a century. You don’t know what this Mason Wyatt will do if he gains control.”

“Well, it can’t be worse than what’s already happening,” a voice clamored through the din. And the heads of the members of the throng nodded in unison.

“But there must be something they can do. You can’t just…just change your minds about who is king.” He was sweating profusely now, and his throat felt parched. He clasped his neck as the air forced its way from his lungs, and his head began to swim.

“Oh yes we can. We are doing something,” the first man roared. “We want another leader.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Eli fired back. “Just…just wait, and let me go back and tell them what you want.”

“I have an idea,” a shadow said from the back. The man wore a dark suit, and his face was hidden under a black felt hat. He was smoking a pipe, and he puffed the smoke into the air. Everyone turned to face him.

“What?” Eli asked eagerly as he shifted his weight impatiently.

“We will forget about Wyatt under one condition.” He grinned.

“Speak for yourself,” the first man shouted.

“Yeah!” the crowd echoed again.

“Wait,” the bold stranger said calmly. “Hear me out.” He turned and waited until the crowd was silenced. “The king, the queen, and the prince hide behind their marble walls, barely driving by us in their expensive car, windows rolled up, showing they are better than us. And why? Because they are. We don’t have cars. We don’t even have a bus. We have to walk everywhere, or use carts. We don’t eat steak like they do. We get fish from the river, and whatever we plant, or from the livestock we raise. The king and queen will never understand us unless they get a taste of what it’s like to be one of us.” He stepped up to Eli, tapping his chest for emphasis.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean one of you? They can’t be one of you. They are royalty,” Eli retaliated.

“They are nothing without us,” the man continued adamantly. “If the king wants to keep his throne, we need a show of faith. A sacrifice, in other words.”

Eli was dumbfounded. “A sacrifice?”

“Yes, a sacrifice,” the man repeated.

“Such as?”

The heads of the crowd moved back and forth between Eli and the negotiator. The place was stilled, and everyone was as curious as Eli.

“We will serve the king if he proves he doesn’t believe he is better than us… if Prince Jason agrees to marry a woman from town. That way we will be forever linked.” He had a wicked gleam in his eye, like he knew he was asking the impossible—like he was daring Eli to reject his offer and watch the kingdom fall into new rulership.

“What?” Eli cried. “You know royalty can only marry royal blood.”

“And royalty will only remain royal if we allow it,” he challenged. “So, the way I see it, either they show us their loyalty, or we take ours.”

The majority of the people nodded in agreement, and Eli searched their faces for even one logical soul. There was none. They agreed. He had only one thing left to do. “All right, all right,” he said. He looked worriedly at the mob and sucked in a lungful of air. “I will return with your request.”

The king and queen would never agree to a thing like that. But what else could he have done? They didn’t want money, or jobs, or food. They wanted equality—a hard price to pay for loyalty. If he’d thought his legs were heavy on the way to town, they were even more so on the way back to the castle.

He wasn’t even half way when he heard music and laughter. The villagers had already moved on. Meanwhile, he was stuck with the message that could mean his undoing. He was anxious about what the king and queen would say and whether he would be forced to go back to the people with better news.

The guards let him pass, and the large doors, like before, opened as he got to them. The king and queen hadn’t rested since he had left, and Queen Clarise ran to Eli, eager to hear what he had to say.

“Well?” She clasped his hand and looked into his eyes with hopeful ones.

He couldn’t remember if he had ever been so close to the queen, close enough to notice her green eyes, her smooth skin, and feel the softness of her touch.

“Did they ask for anything? What did you tell them? Did you tell them we want to know how to make this work? For God’s sake, Eli, say something,” King Jaimie commanded when the pressure building overwhelmed him.

“I did tell them you wanted to make things right. I told them they could get food, more water, less taxes, better transportation. I knew you would give them anything. I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. Mason Wyatt has been giving them what they lack, and they are threatening to boycott the royal family.”

Eli was rambling, but he felt insecure—both in the knowledge that his status might be denigrated and at telling the king and queen of their final request. He skirted the issue, prolonging the inevitable in the hopes that he would find the nerve.

“Oh my.” Queen Clarise covered her mouth. Her eyes widened in horror, and she turned quickly, the train on her dress swirling on the floor as she did.

“Okay,” King Jaimie said hurriedly. “We’ll do more to make them feel our presence and that we care. Maybe we offer more luxuries…” His voice waned as he started naming what he thought made sense to regain their trust and loyalty.

“That’s not what they want,” Eli interrupted, and his shoulders sagged as he prepared to deliver the bad news—the offer that would never be accepted.

King Jaimie and Queen Clarise faced him. “What do you mean? What do they want?” she asked and knitted her brows in worry.

Eli sighed. “They say you treat them as inferior, that you act like you are better. They say if you want to retain their loyalty, you will have to make a sacrifice.”

“What kind of a sacrifice?” Queen Clarise asked again. King Jaimie seemed too astounded for words, as if he was waiting for the axe to fall.

“They want to feel like they are connected to you somehow. If Prince Jason married one of the girls from town, they would feel as if you are really invested in them, and that you aren’t…condescending, for want of a better word. That way, the two worlds will always be joined.” Eli closed his eyes as he waited for the negative response, and maybe an unexpected beheading.

“Done!” King Jaimie yelled.

“What?” Eli asked, shocked they so readily agreed.

The king and the queen exchanged glances, and the king said, “If that’s what it will take. Send word that Jason will be in the village by next week. He will stay there until he finds a suitable bride among the villagers.”

Eli could not believe what he had heard, but he nodded and left. The last thing he heard was a sigh of relief from Queen Clarise and a whisper of thanks from King Jamie that they had a chance of remaining in their positions.