The pain in my chest did not ease as I sat straight in the pew, clutching the tissue tight in my hand as the readings continued as they had for the last thirty minutes or so. They constantly talked of comfort, yet I felt nothing but anguish at the reason we were all gathered there that day, the tears flowing regardless of the fact that Frederick was in a “better place.”

It wasn’t fair.

Westminster Abbey was deathly silent with the exception of the Archbishop’s voice and occasional cough. The grandeur of the place was not at all what I would have expected Frederick to want in terms of his funeral, but it wasn’t like he had a choice now.

Yet he deserved it.

And though he’d been a simple man despite his lofty title, I couldn’t help but wonder if he would be impressed by the pomp and circumstance or if he would’ve been annoyed by it all. Probably a little embarrassed if anything. “All this for me?” he’d say.

The Abbey was packed. National and world dignitaries were not far from where I was seated with the rest of the palace staff, which was an oddity given that we were not family nor anyone of importance. But it was how Frederick would have wanted it, surrounded by the people who knew him best and not those who’d never met him.

The royal family was seated on the other side of the Abbey, their pews facing Frederick’s coffin and in my direct line of sight.

From my vantage point, I could make out the king and the queen as well as Frederick’s siblings. His mother wept openly as his father tried to comfort her. The sisters had both chosen to hide behind their veils, and I couldn’t blame them. The media was a heartless beast at times.

Shifting on the hard seat, I let my eyes drift over to the man that I had recently fought with, though I held no anger towards him. He was dressed in a thick black rumpled suit, with a long dark tie that was in stark contrast to his white dress shirt. His normally scruffy hair was slicked back, presumably by a rough hand, but it was the look on his face as he stared at his brother’s coffin that had me captivated.

It was clear that he was crumbling; yet no one was comforting him. They seemed to be all in their own little worlds. King Henry and Queen Beatrice had each other, the Princesses Victoria and Charlotte sat close together, holding each other up it looked like, and Prince Robert had an arm wrapped around Victoria. But Will… there was visible space either side of him. He had no one to lean on. His someone was a few feet away from him, lying still in a coffin.

That observation was perhaps the saddest of them all.

I knew he didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to step into his brother’s role, replace him, but he really had no choice. And right then and there, regardless of how much of an asshole he’d been the previous night, I vowed I would do everything in my power to make sure he got through this.

I would be his crutch. I didn’t know how to help him deal with the loss of his brother, grief was personal and unique to everyone, but I could help him move forward; help him fake it until he made it. If he would let me, that was.

After the funeral those who had been in attendance seemed to converge on the palace, with a reception held in the royal ballroom. I walked past the array of food, my stomach revolting at the thought of eating at that time. There was coffee and tea of course, but I refrained from all of it, not really wanting to be there. But I had to show my face, do my duty. And I also needed to apologise to Prince William for my harsh words and impropriety, and perhaps try to start again with him. I reminded myself I had to take it easy—his brashness was not about me—he was grieving, but at the same time I could not allow him to get under my skin.

“It’s packed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this full.”

I turned to see Brittany next to me. She had a cup of milky tea in a fine China cup precariously balanced upon an equally fine matching saucer. We both stood silent for a moment. Brittany took a sip while we studied the room. Brittany was one of the palace’s chief organisers, in charge of ensuring events like this one went off without a hitch whenever the royal family was in residence. I’d met her when I’d first arrived at the palace and we had become fast friends.

“You did a good job.”

She turned her pale face towards me, shaking her head. “I had nothing to do with it, well apart from the busy work of course. It was taken out of my hands. Her Majesty, and her staff, and the Lord Chamberlain’s office took care of the arrangements.”

I nodded; of course they had. My head wasn’t in the game.

“I just… I can’t believe he’s gone,” Brittany added with a breathy sigh.

“Me either,” I agreed. It was definitely going to take some getting used to not seeing the prince practically everyday. The hardest day of my life was going to be in the morning when I walked into that office, expecting Frederick to pop in at his usual time. I anticipated reality would set in then. Hard and with an almighty slap.

“I heard a few rumours before. There’s going to be a full-blown investigation into his death,” Brittany continued, taking a sip of her tea. She lowered her voice even further. “They don’t believe it was an accident.”

“I don’t blame them. They all need closure. But I fear they’ll be grasping at straws. Looking for someone to blame…”

Brittany nodded and took another sip.

It was understandable of course, the investigation would be a forgone conclusion, but from all that I had read and seen on the television perhaps it was simply an unfortunate accident. Tragic even. It was going to take some time for the family to heal, including Will. Speaking of which… I had to find him, swallow my pride and get started. The king would want a progress report soon.

“Have you seen Prince William anywhere?”

Brittany shook her head. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, though. Can’t have gone far. Her Majesty wouldn’t allow it, you know that. Look, there’s Mark. I best go say hello, he’s only visiting for a short while. I’ll see you later.”

“Go on, you go flutter your eyelashes,” I said with an encouraging but forced smile. She must’ve seen right through it though and gave my hand a reassuring and supportive squeeze. “Tell him I said hello.”

“Good luck with your prince,” she said as she left.

I watched as Brittany disappeared into the crowd with her head held high and her shoulders back in the direction of the young chef-in-training. Mark was the son of the head chef and handsome to boot… and not a bad cook either. But knowing him he probably wouldn’t be here for long—Brittany would have her work cut out for her if she was going to get anywhere with him.

Bringing myself back on task, I scanned the room, looking for the dark-haired elusive royal. He was not with the rest of the family, seated at the high table so that the attendees could come by and give their condolences without them being accosted from all angles. Security was tight as well; with some very important people in attendance I hadn’t been able to just waltz into the palace today without showing various forms of ID and being subjected to a pat down. I didn’t mind. I considered this family as if they were my own blood and would want every precaution taken to ensure their safety during this obviously difficult time.

Finally I spotted the prince alone near the entrance to the ballroom and walked over, rehearsing my words in my head as I took each nerve-wracking step. Halfway there I thought about doing a one-eighty or heading off onto another trajectory altogether, or better yet, I prayed for someone to step in my path and strike up a long and boring conversation. Anything to put off what I had to do next.

But my feet kept on marching forward and the path to my target kept on clearing. Dammit.

I needed for us to get off on a good foot, to prove to him that I was there to help. But how? He already thought I was a useless busy-body under the thumb of his father. How could I convince him that I was on his side?

Prince William turned, as if he’d sensed my uncertainty. I tried to put on a friendly warm smile, anything to thaw the ice that his stare induced.

“Your Royal Highness, I wanted to give you my condolences.”

His eyes searched mine and I saw a hint of bleakness in his depths before it was swiftly replaced by disinterest. “Thanks. But stop with all that. Sir will do just fine.”

Agitated, I clasped my hands in front of me and bit my tongue. The arrogance of the man. But he was entitled to the form of address.

“I trust that I will see you in the morning?” I said, then quickly added on the requisite, “Sir.”

One of his dark brows rose. “In the morning? Why, do you plan on bringing me breakfast in bed after a steamy night under the sheets?”

My hand flew to my mouth, quickly glancing around hoping he hadn’t been overheard. The image of myself in his bed. Oh God. He can’t really think that I would…

“Relax. I’m teasing you,” he said darkly with no hint of a smile. Though the dangerous glint in his eyes told me he was enjoying toying with me.

I never had to put up with this kind of inappropriateness with Frederick. Was this what it was going to be like with Will? I bloody hoped not.

I let out a little cough, mostly to delay what I wanted to say next and to give the raging heat flaming within my cheeks time to die out.

“Of course I know that you were joking. But… well, I would like to get a head start on your calendar and appearances. Get up to speed, as it were. Put our best foot forward. Strike while the iron is hot.”

Oh God shut up, you’re rambling!

“Do you always speak like that?”

“Like what?”

“With a fondness for idioms?”

“Oh, not normally. But maybe I should call it a day and let sleeping dogs lie, Sir?”

He tilted his head a fraction to the side and by George his lips actually moved up into a tiny smile.

“So…” I pressed, waiting for an answer.

“You’re not letting those dogs sleep.”

“Sorry, Sir, can’t help it. But the ball is in your court. And I would really prefer, for my own sake really, if you showed up. You don’t want to be the cause of me getting my head chopped off, do you?”

His eyes narrowed while he contemplated it and he shook his head, a chuckle escaping. “You really do not give up, do you? Well, I suppose it is a pretty head…”

“I’ve been asked to do a job,” I answered. “And I have never failed before. I’m not going to give up without a fight…”

“I imagine you haven’t,” he replied, inching closer, expensive cologne practically enveloping me. “But you’ve never come up against someone like me.”

He leaned in further, until I had good view of his stormy blue eyes. “I’m not fucking doing this, Sophie. Even if your head rolls. Tell my father, tell the entire fucking world. I am not my brother and never will be.”

“I know you’re not Frederick,” I said honestly between clenched teeth, then swallowed hard. His pupils dilated and his gaze turned stony. That was the last thing he expected me to say. It was the truth, he wasn’t nor would he ever be Frederick. “I don’t need for you to be Frederick. What I need is for you to be you,” I added softly. “The heir to the throne.”

I naively thought that might do the trick. Oh, how wrong I was. It only seemed to stoke his fire more.

Will’s mouth tightened, his eyes glittering with rage at me. Oh boy. He could really do that very well. One could almost say he had a talent for it. The opposite of Tyra Banks’ smize… an icy glaze, perhaps?

“Fuck you,” he hissed before stalking away.

I allowed myself to breathe then, knowing that this was not going to be easy. Anyone, and I mean anyone, would long to be in his position right now, on the cusp of the throne, but Prince William really didn’t care. But what the prince didn’t realise or hadn’t accounted for was that I didn’t give up either. Stubborn as an ox stuck in a hardening mud trench. My mum had taught me long ago to take my licks and move on, which was what I planned to do.

Round two to him. But the match was not yet over. Far from it.