Chapter 25 — Miles
The thing about living under the spotlight is that you get pretty good at understanding the concept of framing. I knew the moment I escaped Oxland, people were going to talk. So I had to control the narrative as best I could with what little resources and time I had. It’s true that Father released those pictures of me and Lisabet on the yacht and in Paris to try and sully people’s impressions of her, but I have pictures of my own.
They’re sweet, images of a young couple undoubtedly in love. What’s more, they weren’t taken from some shady alley way or some distant corner. These are pictures that Lisabet and I took together while in Paris to commemorate our time there. They say that pictures are worth a thousand words, and the ones that I supplied to the American news outlets scream ‘happy and in love.’
The public adores two things: fairy tale endings and an underdog.
In our case, we’ve got a little bit of both.
People are obviously curious about Lisabet, just as I expected they would be. But I’ve painted her in the best light possible. A talented classical cellist. Elegant. Sweet. Sure, a couple of outlets did bring up the fact that she’s a divorcee, but it’s the 21st century. Divorce isn’t as horrendous a thing as it used to be. From what I can gather online, the public doesn’t really seem to care.
Lisabet sits beside me, resting her head against my shoulder. She’s scrolling through her phone’s news feed, using the jet plane’s onboard wi-fi to keep up to date.
“Here’s another one,” she says calmly. “‘As happy as an ox: Prince Miles’s soulmate.’ These magazine articles really have a knack for cheesy titles.”
I kiss the top of her head. “Are they still cheesy if they’re true?”
“Absolutely. It’s not like they’re mutually exclusive. Oh, look at this one.” She holds up her screen. “‘King Albert, definition of a grumpy old man.’ I like that one.”
Lisabet’s face falls a little, worry knitting her brows together. I kiss her forehead, willing her stress away.
“Relax,” I whisper. “Everything’s working out. The people are behind us.”
“I know. I guess I just feel bad.”
“About what?”
“I don’t want to be the reason there’s a rift between you and your father.”
I shrug. “We were never that close to begin with.”
“Still. I just wish he’d be happy for us.”
“Lisabet, listen to me. I’ve chased after that man’s approval all my life. He’s never going to change, and I’ve come to accept that. Some things are more important than trying to impress those who can’t be impressed. The best we can hope for is that he makes peace with it and says nothing. And if he makes a stink, we take the high road and continue to do what makes us happy.”
Lisabet threads her fingers between mine and smiles. “Look at you. When did you get so wise?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve always been wise.”
She kisses me, giggling. “Oh, yes. My mistake. How silly of me.”
The plane lands smoothly, but one look out the window tells me that our arrival will be anything but. There’s a tight swarm of black SUV’s parked just off the tarmac, all of them emblazoned with the Oxlandian Royal Family’s seal on the side.
They’ve been waiting for us.
I also notice a perimeter of metal barricades set up, local law enforcement keeping a rather large and enthusiastic group of fans and photographers alike at a safe distance. The blinding flash of cameras going off starts the second the plane’s doors open. All things considered, it’s a good thing we have an audience.
This way, Father can’t do anything outlandish.
Lisabet and I climb down the steps arm in arm. We’re greeted by cheers and warm wishes from the crowd. King Albert and my mother have stepped out of the safety of their own vehicles, standing at the very end of the red carpet that’s been laid out for us.
Mother’s smiling, eyes watery with happy tears. She holds her head up high, prouder than I’ve seen her in years. I can tell she wants to run over to us, scoop us up in a hug.
Father? He probably doesn’t share the same sentiment.
He nods his head at me with a level of indifference that some would consider incredibly cold, especially considering the fantastic news of mine and Lisabet’s elopement. But to me, it’s as good a reaction as they come. Oddly enough, I’d find it borderline disturbing if he so much as smiled, so maybe it’s better this way.
“Get in the car,” the King orders. “We will discuss things in private once we get to the palace.”
Lisabet holds onto my arm, more as a show of support than one of being nervous. She takes a deep breath before saying, “Let’s go.”
Before we get in the back of one of the waiting SUV’s, I kiss Lisabet square on the lips in full view of the cameras. It’s my silent way of telling her that we’ve got this, that we’re in it together.
And having people see us as a happy couple will likely deter any efforts on Father’s part to split us up.
The ride back to the summer palace is a long one. The security team has deliberately chosen a route that goes around the perimeter of the capital, possibly to avoid any unnecessary run-ins with crowds. It’s a smart move considering all the excitement Lisabet and I have generated in recent days.
We’re whisked away to Father’s private chambers, only the four of us allowed inside. The rest of Father’s security team waits outside, allowing no one to enter nor leave without his say so.
He sits down behind his desk, hands joined together and brought to his lips as he stares at the two of us coldly. Mother stands off to the side, anxiously wringing her fingers together.
“You must think I’m a joke,” the King begins gravely. “This is not the behavior I’d expect from a prince.”
“Maybe you should update your definition of a prince, then,” I counter. “I did what I believed to be right. I wanted to be true to myself, go after what I wanted the most regardless of the obstacles that stood in my way. And in this case, that meant finding and marrying Lisabet.”
Father sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve backed me into a corner and you know it.”
“Believe it or not, but doing things for the sole purpose of spiting you was never on my agenda.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you’re so bitter and stuck in your ways that you can’t see the forest for the trees.”
Father opens his mouth, looks like he’s about to yell, but I cut him off before he gets the chance.
“I’m happy, Father. Unbelievably so. I promise to uphold my duties as a prince and future king, but just this once, let me do something that makes me happy. I promise to be a good leader, but I don’t think I can do any of that without Lisabet by my side. She makes me want to do better, be a good man, keeps me grounded and sane. I’ve let you push me around for too long, Father. So this is where I draw the line. When it comes to my wife, I will fight you tooth and nail to defend her.”
“Fine.”
“And another thing—wait, what?”
King Albert leans back in his chair. “I said fine.”
“Really?”
“I’ve been hard on you because I didn’t think you had the qualities necessary to be a good king. A good king is strong, stubborn at times. But it’s always for the sake of his people. You’ve proven to me that you have the fire it takes to stand up when it counts. Granted, I’m very annoyed that you’ve made such a spectacle of a private matter, but I can see now that you’re finally playing the game. You have my blessing.”
Lisabet and I look to one another, each of us understandably baffled.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she says to him.
“Don’t misunderstand me. My blessing and my approval are two very different things. But for the sake of our reputation, I think it’s best that we move on.”
I nod. “Thank you, Father.”
“You have my permission to leave.”
Mother waves us over, ushering us out of the King’s chambers. “Come along, my darlings. Let’s talk celebration plans.” As we exit out into the hall, Mother leans in to whisper in my ear. “Don’t mind him. He’s actually quite proud of you.”
“He is?”
“Oh, yes. Your father may be hard to read, but I know my husband. That was his amused scowl.”
I smirk. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”