Yikes. My room. This is actually happening. I’m going to be a freakingnannytoroyal children. Why does it feel like I’m losing my freedom in the process?
Because you are.
I might be. I’ll be living here instead of above the shop. I’ll be taking care of small children—something I’ve never done before. Downtime will be a thing of the past. Alone time, too, for that matter. And who knows when I’ll be allowed to go see my father.
I just signed a deal with the devil. An evil beast of a man who hates me already.
What the hell have I done?
I didn’t go seemy room. I told the woman who introduced herself to me as Althea, the king’s secretary and the dowagerqueen’s sister—meaning the king’s aunt—that I had some things I needed to take care of and that I had to pack my belongings but would probably be back Sunday night. I let the wordprobablysit, and they didn’t challenge it. Althea was looking at me sympathetically, and I was grateful she was nothing like her nephew.
Then I fled the castle with my father. He was so exhausted by the time we climbed into the car that he fell asleep. I drove him back to his facility, sat with the staff as they filled out an incident report, and then gave them a good amount of shit for letting him escape in the first place.
After that, I drove home, crying the entire way.
I had gone from planning to read a book by the freaking river and relaxing on my Saturday to rescuing my father and breaking a priceless sculpture, to meeting the fucking king who is a total asshole, to becoming a nanny.
That’s a lot to take in. A shit ton to process.
Nearly impossible to wrap my head around.
I’m accustomed to change. That’s what the majority of my adolescence was filled with. But this is different. Part of me wonders what would happen if I never returned to the palace. I can’t exactly leave Messalina. My father is here, and while I could pull him from his facility and move him elsewhere, that’s not so easily done with his fragile mental state. He thrives on familiarity and consistency now, and doing so would strip him of that. I have no idea what the repercussions of such a thing would be for him. Plus, you know, there’s the matter of money. I don’t have much. And if I leave my job, then I have even less for us to start over with.
So, after freaking the fuck out for the rest of Saturday, today I spent the day getting everything organized and packed. I told my landlord of my new position and apologized for leaving so abruptly. She didn’t care. I pay by the week. I informed the school of my new change in position. Again, they didn’t care.They have long-term substitutes who can easily take over for me. It was all far too simple to make this happen, and no one seemed to care that I was leaving.
I don’t focus on that. Instead, I spent two hours with my dad only to realize he thought I was my mother for part of that visit. He’s starting to recognize or remember me less and less. The heartbreak and emptiness and fuckinglonelinessI feel is excruciating. Never in my life could I use my mother more than I could now.
Or even a friend.
I’d take a friend. Someone I could talk to and confide in while crying on their shoulder because I need to fucking cry some more, and I can’t, because if I start to make this a habit, I’ll never stop. The pain and despair will drag me under, and I always knew I had to be stronger than that if I was going to survive what my life had become after my mother died.
But I’ve never felt as lost and out of place as I do right now.
Especially as I pull into the gates of the palace. A driver came and got me. A tall, stoic man with a kind smile by the name of Javier. I knew when I saw his fancy car that theprobablyI had left Althea and Emily with was bullshit.
I never had a choice but to take this position.
The palace looks different at night. More imposing and bleak, and I do my best to focus on my father. On what this job will mean for his security in his facility.
“We’re here, miss,” Javier says to me in English with a thick Spanish accent, and I like him instantly. He didn’t talk or force conversation. He just drove, and he is now taking my two suitcases—the entire contents of my life—upstairs. I follow him, unsure where to go since I never got the tour.
“Ah, she’s here.” Althea greets me, her refined features and deep-set dark eyes look me over. “Perfect timing. I was getting everything set in your room.”
“Thank you,” I say softly as I enter it for the first time. It’slarger than I thought it would be. Larger than the room above the shop, plus it has its own bathroom complete with a soaking tub. Why I thought the king would stick me in the dungeon or the broom closet under the stairs, I don’t know. But with its four-poster bed and silky blue-and-gold linens and furnishings, it’s quite inviting and cozy.
“Here is the children’s schedule.” She hands me a slip of paper followed by a thick stack. “And these are the forms you need to fill out. A nondisclosure agreement and your contract for one year of employment at our discretion, not yours.”
“Oh.” One year at their discretion, not mine. So…a prisoner of sorts, as I suspected. One who at least earns a salary.
“You will receive formal training on safety protocols, K&R situations?—”
“K&R?” I interrupt.
“Kidnap and ransom.”
I impersonate an owl. “Oh.” It seems to be all I can say at the moment since all other words fail me.
“Are you not familiar with the history of this family? Princess Desta, the king’s younger sister, was stolen right out of her bed, and the late king was murdered as he attempted to stop the kidnapping.”
