we say we’re giving, and we have countless photo opportunities and events that promote our family, it always feels like a way to gain popularity. Charitable work, for the royal family of Argyle, isn’t an actual genuine way to give back. It’s an exchange. We give to charity, and we take the boost in public opinion.
Walking into this music studio is genuine. Changing my plans so Cara can meet one of Argyle’s best musicians is real. That’s giving. Something that I’m doing only to make her happy, and nothing else.
The look on Cara’s face when she sees the gold records on the wall is priceless. Her eyes widen and her full, lush lips drop open. As we walk down a short hallway toward the room beyond, Cara grabs my arm.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“That depends what you think it is,” I laugh.
She digs her fingernails into my arm until I grunt in pain.
“Sorry,” Cara says as if she hadn’t realized what she was doing. She drops her hand and steps forward to look around the room. “Is this Prudence Halloway’s studio? I heard about this place. Apparently, John Lennon was here with Yoko Ono in the seventies.”
I point to the wall, where photos of other famous singers and musicians stare back at us. “A bunch of others, too.”
Cara sucks in a breath, shaking her head.
We’re in a music studio. It’s small, but you can sense the layers of music and memories that coat the place. Guitars and basses hang on the walls, and a glass-walled booth is tucked in the corner.
From behind a beaded curtain, a woman emerges.
Not just any woman. Argyle’s most famous and most celebrated musician. Prudence Halloway was the voice of my father’s generation. Now, her hair is a mix of grey, white, and black, twisted into long locks that perch on top of her head. Few wrinkles are etched into her smooth skin—just a few smile lines and shallow crows’ feet near her eyes. She’s laughed a lot in her life.
Dark brown eyes crinkle as she smiles at us, spreading her arms toward Cara.
“You must be Miss Shoal. I cheered for your father at the Olympics.”
“You know my father?”
Prudence laughs, shaking her head. “No. But I cheered for him.”
“I feel like I should curtsy.” Cara glances at me.
Prudence smiles again, and she wraps her arms around Cara in a warm hug. “Come in. Let me hear you sing.”
“Wait, what?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here? His Highness told me you wanted to make music with me. Not the phone call I was expecting yesterday.” Prudence’s whole aura is warm, and her presence is calming. Cara’s shoulders relax, and I sink into an old sofa near the wall.
“I can’t sing,” Cara says, shaking her head.
“I don’t believe you.” Prudence arches an eyebrow.
Cara smiles, a blush creeping over her cheeks.
Prudence grabs a guitar from the wall and props it on her lap, arching an eyebrow at Cara. “Let go of it all, Cara. Sing with me.”
The old woman strums the guitar with a smile on her face, and I watch as Prudence coaxes Cara out of her shell. As soon as they start to play, I’m transported to my childhood. My father used to love this music. He’d play it in the palace at full volume, humming along to Prudence’s melodies.
That was before my mother cheated on him. Before she left. Before he fell ill.
For the first time in my royal career, as I watch Cara smile wide and finally sing her first note, I feel like I’ve done something good.
I’m not here to have a photo with someone. I’m not here to kiss babies and make the citizens of Argyle think I’m a worthy Prince. I’m just here for Cara. To show her that I care about her voice, her singing. To show her that music is still alive in this kingdom, even if it doesn’t exist in her house.
To prove to her that she doesn’t need a fancy education at an expensive school to sing. She doesn’t need permission from anyone to find her voice.
We stay there for almost two hours. I relax on the sofa, listening to the two women harmonize. As I listen to Cara sing, I realize how much I missed that sound. She used to hum and sing and shout all the time when we were kids.
Now, her voice is fuller. It’s rounder. It’s slightly deeper, but it’s just as beautiful as I remember.
Most importantly, she’s laughing. Smiling. Her eyes are shining.