assuming her usual flawless smile. “Well, the queen won’t be in charge in three weeks’ time, so perhaps you might want to rethink your career strategy.”
Lord, I was a dick.
Still, I resumed my strides over the gleaming marble, telling myself I needed to walk away before I said something else this woman didn’t deserve. Something like, “Why can’t you be more like Alice? Why can’t you frown at me and get that ridiculous crinkle above your glasses when I make a request you don’t approve of? Why can’t you wear flats instead of those impractical stilettos? And why can’t you anticipate my every need? It’s really not that hard. Give me biscuits when I’m cranky, and let me watch telly while you take notes on the boring conference calls and then sum it up for me later. Easy! And, while we’re at it, why can’t you just help me find Alice and bring her back?”
Bloody hell.
I pushed through the doors to the courtyard, not even caring anymore if Victoria was following.
Change of plans. Instead of dragging Andrew and the security crew to the beach, I was paying an emergency visit to the Bernards.
The Bernards were a pod of well-bred, well-connected assistants led by a chap called Bernard—thus the moniker—who occupied a large office in the security building. As far as I could tell, the pod spent most of their time watching surveillance videos, taking Buzzfeed quizzes, and applying for roles on reality TV programs. Well, that and refusing to reveal the location of my former assistant. But this time, I wasn’t taking no for an answer. If someone didn’t tell me where in the hell Alice was, there would be hell to pay.
And not the fun kind—you know, with popcorn, s’mores, and hellfire. The kind where I played king and dismantled the Bernards’ favorite toy: the palace gossip train.
“Sir, one more item, if I may?” It seemed I hadn’t scared Victoria off. Of course not. Regretting my outburst, I slowed my steps to allow her to remain upright and not fall face down on the stones under our feet. “I’ve enquired about lawsuits brought against Walkers for the texture of their crisps and I’m afraid there are none. Would you like me to pursue the issue further?”
I waved a dismissive hand, a new idea occurring to me. “No. I’ve moved on. Could you ask Trevor to ring me as soon as possible?”
“Absolutely.” Victoria made no move to turn back to the north wing but did pause to allow me entrance into the security building ahead of her. As I said, there was no faulting her manners.
And, with that, I nodded and sent a wink to Adelaide, the middle-aged blonde who staffed the front desk. “How’s your day, love?”
“Same shite, different day, Your Highness.” I had a real soft spot for Adelaide. We’d once shared a bottle of whiskey and she’d nearly drunk me under the table.
“You know what they say when the shite changes: go see a doctor,” I replied, and her laughter followed me down the hall to the right on my way to the meddlesome hive of gossipmongers. As I knew she would, Victoria headed in the opposite direction in search of Trevor Northam, the head of security.
One perfunctory knock was all I allowed before striding into the Bernards’ gathering space and closing the door behind me. The gasps and frantic shuffling were to be expected, as I seldom wandered this far afield, but even the newest of the staff managed to quickly compose herself before I was greeted with the customary murmurs of “Your Highness” along with some overly dramatic bowing.
“Your Highness, to what do we owe the superb pleasure of your company?” This came from Bernard himself, an impeccably styled thirty-something who kept himself better manicured than Queen Beyonce herself and no doubt spent the better portion of his family’s wealth on shoes and plant extracts to maintain his fresh-faced glow.
“I came to celebrate the good news, Bernard.” I motioned for everyone to resume their normal activities as I perched myself on the edge of his desk and picked up a plastic Troll doll figurine resting by his computer monitor.
“You’ve hired Lady Gaga to perform at your coronation?”
“Not that good, I’m afraid.”
He managed to shrug it off. “Well, it never hurts to dream, does it, sir?”
“Right you are.” I replaced the doll, hair now neatly spiked. “I’ll never abandon my eternal hope for Kim Cattrall and SJP to hug it out.”
At this, Bernard made the sign