Royalty Check

11 | AT REDDING CASTLE

𝓢he sat in her bedroom, unable to sleep. It must be after midnight now, she thought.

The last few weeks found her whirling and winding through surprise, amusement, and now, confusion.

Passing the small piece of parchment between her fingers, she went over its now-memorized contents yet again: "I am sorry to leave so suddenly. Best of luck —CB."

The colonel had departed with so little emotion. But while that was all she could think about for a time, it now seemed to be the least bewildering development.

For ever since Colonel Burnett left, Prince Albert had taken notice.

Notice of her, her comings, her goings. Notice of her words, her feelings, even her needs. He had become in every way wonderful that he had been cross, and it was surprising how much she did not dislike it.

She would laugh at her sisters' dramas in the past, wondering how they could jump so easily from one feeling to the next. But she was now beginning to see that she had capacity to feel more than she ever thought.

And the prince was the one awakening it.

A knock startles me out of Amelia's head.

"Come in!" I shout, trying to sneakily shove the piece of paper into a folder on my desk. But I'm too slow. Nora enters with a finger pointed at me.

"A-ha!" she says. "Caught in the act! Is that the folder where you keep your pages?"

"Yes, some of them."

"And the piece for the reception? How's that going?"

I give her a warning look.

"Come on!" she says. "Isn't there anything I can read?"

"It's just an outline. I've been on a roll with my writing, it's been hard to focus on it."

I.e., I've just been procrastinating.

"Let me see! Don't make me command it. I can have you thrown in the dungeons, you know."

"Are there really dungeons in this castle?"

"Well, no," she says. "But there are very dark rooms I can make you go to. Please?"

"Hm." Nora has been asking to read the piece for weeks. She's been a constant supporter since I got here. Even before that, really. I feel bad pushing her off. And maybe her feedback would be helpful.

Taking a slow breath, I open my laptop. "Remember, it's still really rough."

"Move!" she says, pushing me out of the chair.

The "piece" is still only a bulleted list of things I've learned at the castle: lessons about family life, royal leadership, etiquette. There's also an outline of my writing habits as well as my favorite writing spots at the palace.

I watch the back of her head, but her neat bun gives no clues. After a few minutes, she swivels the chair and blinks at me.

"Well?"

"It's not bad."

She pauses.

"But?"

"It all sounds very...factual?" she says. "Is that what you're going for?"

"Yes, I thought it'd be from my perspective."

She bites her lip, likely considering how to phrase what she's about to say. "It's just not very emotional?"