Page 9 of Fit for a King

“No, sir. Of course not.”

“I want someone who will tell me like it is, not be afraid of me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And most of all,” he said as he gave me a quick once-over, “I want someone who isn’t afraid to look me in the eye when he does it.”

I swallowed but understood the request completely. The palace had a lot of staff members, most of whom were instructed to all but blend into the wall—myself included—but clearly he was looking for more than that. Not only a loyal footman, but a trusted sounding board, and I was more than up for the challenge.

“Very well, then. I’m due at dinner, but I trust Baxter will show you to your rooms and get you settled. I expect I will see you soon.”

It was about as close to a “you’ve got the job” as I could hope to get, and while my first instinct was to fist-pump the air, I somehow managed, “Yes, sir. Thank you for the opportunity.”

The king gave a final, clipped nod and stepped around me, but I wasn’t about to let him open the door while I just stood there.

I rushed over, and just as I reached for the handle, he stopped and looked directly at me.

“Welcome to Montclair Palace, Noah Bennett. I have a feeling you’re going to be exactly what it needs.”

4

NICHOLAS

EVERY CORRIDOR, EVERY room went completely silent the moment I entered, and it was a little unsettling. Staff lowered their eyes, my advisers stood up a little straighter, and the foreign dignitaries I’d met with offered their condolences constantly.

It was exhausting, but I thanked them and moved on, because that was what kings did. One foot in front of the other, even though I would’ve preferred to be anywhere but where I was.

I stood in front of the mirror in my private chambers, fastening the buttons of my shirt as Baxter read through the afternoon schedule behind me.

“Your meeting with the prime minister has been moved to three. The foreign secretary will arrive at four fifteen, and Prince Gabriel asked whether you would join him for dinner in the family dining room this evening.”

“No.”

“He anticipated that response and asked me to inform you he would come here instead.”

I reached for my cuff links. Normally a dinner with my twin wasn’t something I would turn down, but since our father’s funeral two days ago, I’d wanted nothing but silence at the end of the day. “Tell him I’m unavailable.”

“I did, sir.”

“And?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘Nicholas has been emotionally unavailable since birth, Baxter. Be more specific.’”

I looked up, a twitch pulling at the corner of my mouth that I managed to hide, while Baxter’s face gave nothing away. “He is a menace,” I said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I secured one of the cuff links and met Baxter’s eyes in the mirror. “Tell my brother six sharp.”

“Yes, sir. He’ll be pleased to hear it.”

“I’m sure he will.” As I tugged down my finished sleeve, I had the thought that even this act of dressing was something others did for my father and probably expected to do for me as well. Luckily, Baxter wasn’t pushing the issue. “The new footman begins today?”

“He began yesterday, technically. Orientation downstairs. Household protocol, service routes. Mrs. Hutcheon says he’s learning quickly, though⁠—”

My eyes lifted as he cut himself off. “Yes?”

Baxter didn’t betray any emotion, but I’d been around him long enough that I could sense he hadn’t meant to say more than that. Unable to refuse my question, he added, “He has a habit of speaking more than necessary.”