funeral, I remembered a ride I’d taken with the king right after Hamlet broke up with me for the first time. Hamlet hadn’t even bothered to come home from Wittenberg but called to do it. Bastard. Somehow someone found out, which meant I was left in Elsinore to deal with the press myself. Not exactly myself. The guards and PR people camped out at the front of the lobby, blocking the reporters’ entrance and answering questions when they could. But still, it was intimidating. And I was pissed.
Marcellus escorted me to the underground garage and told me I should travel with an extra guard until the whole thing quieted down. While I waited, a stretch limo pulled up and the king exited the elevator.
“Ride with me,” he said, though it was a question rather than a command.
I looked at Marcellus, who nodded, and I slid onto the leather seat.
As we passed the crowd of cameras, he shook his head. “I wish I could outlaw all of that nonsense, but reporters are like my wife—they listen only when they want to.” He smiled broadly and patted my hand.
His kindness actually made it worse, and I had to look out the window so he wouldn’t see my tears.
“You don’t have to talk about it, but what happened?”
When I had composed myself, I turned to him. “Your son,” I began, attempting to keep some accusation out of the word son, “decided that he didn’t think it made sense for us to stay together now that he’s away. Said it wasn’t me and asked if we could be friends. He couldn’t have come up with anything more original?” My voice quaked with fury.
“Ah,” was all he said for a while. Then, in the voice he used to soothe his subjects, he continued, “You are right in saying that those phrases are too often used. But as his father, I must confess I think he might mean both.”
I clenched my teeth but listened to him despite my intense desire to open the door of the moving car and let the reporters have me.
“It can’t be you because he loves you. He always seems a little… lost or sadder when you’re not around. Being a young man, especially one in his position and with his looks, there are many… temptations.”
My stomach turned as I imagined the temptations and what they were doing with him at that moment.
“And as for being friends, well, I’m sure he’s sincere about that, too.”
“Right.” My bitterness threatened to swallow me whole. When Hamlet and I began dating, we said it wouldn’t ruin our friendship. Ah, the lies we tell ourselves. “Because it’s always been Hamlet and Ophelia. Ophelia and Hamlet.”
“Not always. When you were three, he asked to have you removed from the castle because you kept stealing his toys.” His glass-rattling laugh exploded from his throat, and I couldn’t help but smile a little. “Hamlet even wrote a proclamation. Misspelled half the damn thing, but it was very impassioned.”
We pulled into the driveway of my school, and my smile faded. The driver had called ahead, so their security guards were waiting out front to escort me past the reporters.
I smoothed my plaid uniform skirt, worrying more about having to face my classmates and their stares than the cameras. No one ever thought I might need protection inside the classroom.
The king sighed. “This will pass, and if my son has half the brain I think he has, he will come back to you. And then you can decide if you still want him when he does.”
I wiped my face and asked, “How do I look?” My lashes were still wet, and I knew my eyes were red and puffy.
The king’s lips twisted just like Hamlet’s did whenever he was about to tell a lie. “Well… do you have any makeup?”
“I’m not allowed to wear it at school.”
“Then you’re gorgeous.” He handed me my backpack. “Deep breath and good luck.”
At the cemetery, the scale of the event overwhelmed me. Enormous flower arrangements flanked the walkway and encircled the graveside. Flags flew; soldiers stood at attention in their dress whites; a brass band played melancholy versions of patriotic tunes. Leaders and dignitaries from other lands had come to pay their respects and waited as our group passed. After the ceremony, most would try to speak to Gertrude, and probably to Hamlet and Claudius, too, but until the king was laid to rest, they would keep a deferential distance. As we walked, Hamlet turned