Diary of a Reluctant Ruler

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Finally the evening was over, the guests all gone, and the tables cleared up. Olly was sat in the corner talking to James, and Mum and Dad were about to disappear.

“Well done Phil, you were perfectly regal this evening,” Mum congratulated me, Dad gave me a swift hug and they disappeared.

Perfectly regal huh?

What, like a thing for drawing straight lines?

Not reglo you dweeb, regal. It means royal?

Yeah, yeah, I was just testing you.

Ooo, Dragon alert.

Grandmother came over, ready to download her thoughts on the evening.

“Well done Meredith, your handling on the centrepiece issue was perfect. Although you could have noticed earlier, your conductance throughout the rest of the evening more than undid it.”

Wow, someone’s cheery.

Yay!

“Thank you Madame,” I said, biting back a smile.

“There was a journalist who asked to see you, but I said he would have to come back tomorrow.”

I nodded, and grandma sailed away, as all the other female members of the royal family seemed able to do. I hadn’t quite perfected it yet.

“Olly!” I called her over, “Give me a few minutes to get changed, ‘Kay?”

“Sure.”

Olly disappeared towards her room. I made my way back out the double doors and towards the grounds, evading the Ambassador, who seemed to be staying for a few days at the palace. I felt like some fresh air. It was way past dusk outside in the courtyard and the stars were spread out like tiny pinpricks on a velvet dark. I smiled, breathing in the crisp air. Then out of nowhere, a man about 20 was standing next to me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, wondering if one of the guests had gotten lost.

“Jonathan Tilley, Daily Mail,” He said in a rush. “Princess, could you tell me your feelings on having to get married by next year?”

“I- Wha- Hang on.”

“And who was that young man you were with this afternoon?”

“Excuse me, you’re not meant to be here,” I replied sharply.

“Am I right in saying that it was the Earl of Aramathia, James Jacinthe?”

“Look-” A blush spread across my cheeks at the mention of James.

“Is there a romantic connection between you?” A barrage of questions made me step backwards fast, and when he wouldn’t stop asking questions I decided to make a run for it.

Shouldn’t we really have security out here?

My heel snapped on the stone flagging, and I fell sideways into a bush.

Great.

Ow.

“Princess?”

The journalist seemed to have lost me. I breathed a sigh of relief, and tried not to move.

“Phil?” Another voice was calling me now. James?

Hmmm… prime steak for journalist.

“James Jacinthe right?”

“Yes, have you seen Princess Meredith?”

“Just recently. What’s the situation between you two?”

“Pardon?” James seemed puzzled, but caught on faster than I had, “Hang on, are you-”

“Jonathan Tilley, Daily Mail, so are the rumours true that you’re engaged?”

“What rumours? Look you shouldn’t be here, I’m calling security.”

The tirade of questions seemed to abate quickly at the ‘s’ word, and I heard the journalist walk away. Once I was sure he was gone, I tried to get up.

“Ow!” My ankle gave way, pain shooting through my leg.

“Phil?” James wandered over; it was too dark for him to see me.

“Over here,” I mumbled, now fully immersed in shrubbery. James laughed as he saw me.

“Why are you in a bush?” He asked bluntly.

“I’m making a cake. What doe it look like?” I snapped.

“Sorry, you just look funny.”

“Great.”

“Here,” his hand took mine, pulling me gently to me feet.

“Ow,” I cried as pain shot through my ankle again.

“What’s up?” James asked, as I hopped off my broken heel, and what seemed like a twisted ankle.

“Think I’ve twisted my ankle.”

James hummed thoughtfully and helped me over to a broad window ledge. I took off my heels, and looked at my ankle. In the light of the window it looked swollen.

“I’ll carry you.”

“What? No!” I blushed violently. Thank goodness for night time! Or as Juliet once said; “Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face; else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek.”

“Well, I’m too tall for you to lean on my shoulders.”

Without waiting for another answer he swept me up, bridal style, and walked back into the palace.

He’s carrying me! EEEEeeee!!!!!!!!

God help me.

“Do we actually have security?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It was just a threat.”

James’s chest was warm again my left side, hinting at that rich smell from his riding jacket.

“Surely we’ve got some. I mean... We are the royal family.”

“Yes, your highness.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Really? ‘Cause it seems to me that you’re a bit preoccupied with being Miss Perfect.”

“Hey! It’s not easy being a princess,” I snapped. James snorted.

“Oh yeah, it’s a 24-hour job,” he replied sarcastically.

Youch, sour lemons.

*whimper*

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?!”

I shut up after that. I didn’t want him dropping me.

“Where’s your room?” James asked.

“Third floor, third on left,” I said shortly.

“Phil!” Olly shouted, jumping up off my bed. “What happened?”

“Reporter,” James said, dumping me on the bed and marching out of the door.

I think gentlemen must be extinct…

“You ok?” Olly disappeared for a minute then came back with an ice pack for my ankle.

“I suppose. Journalist jumped me outside; I ran for it and fell into a bush.”

Olly stifled a laugh.

“Ha-ha,” I said sardonically. I was still hurt by James’ outburst.

“What did they want?” Olly asked, as I pressed the ice pack gently to my ankle.

“Thought I was getting married to James. Wanted to know when the wedding was. He jumped James after me.”

“You and James?! Where’d they get that from?”

“Saw us riding together this morning.”

“Hmmm...”