𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 ~𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛

Chapter 19: The Weight of Absence

Charles slammed the door of his room behind him, the echo ringing through the vast, silent halls of the palace. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands trembling with anger that hadn’t quite burned out, but underneath it all, there was a gnawing emptiness.

He leaned against the door, pressing the back of his head to the cool wood, his eyes shut tightly. The quiet was unbearable, even though he had come to his room to escape the noise of his own thoughts.

Max was gone.

The reality hit him all over again, each time feeling like a fresh blow. He had known his father was strict—uncompromising, even—but this… this felt like a punishment Charles hadn’t earned. And it wasn’t even just about Max being his bodyguard. It was about what Max had come to mean to him.

Charles pushed himself off the door and began pacing the room, his mind racing. The room felt stifling, even though it was massive, far too big for one person. He thought about how Max had always occupied space in this palace in a way that made it feel less overwhelming. He would sit in the corner, sometimes with a book, sometimes just watching Charles with that faint, unreadable smirk that always made Charles feel a little less like he was suffocating under the weight of expectation.

And now that weight was back, pressing down on him harder than ever.

With a frustrated sigh, Charles ran a hand through his messy hair and grabbed his phone off the desk. His fingers hovered over Max’s contact, but what was the point? His father had probably already made sure Max couldn’t be reached. He wouldn’t put it past King Hervé to have Max sent off somewhere, far away, before Charles even knew he was gone.

The thought made his stomach twist.

He dropped the phone back on the desk and sat heavily on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor. His mind kept replaying the argument with his father—the coldness in his father’s voice, the dismissiveness. He had made Max’s firing sound so clinical, so inevitable, like Max was just a tool to be replaced when it no longer suited the job. But Max wasn’t just anyone. He wasn’t disposable.

And now he was gone. Because of Charles.

Suddenly, the weight of it all hit Charles harder than before. The anger drained out of him, leaving behind a deep sense of guilt. He had been so wrapped up in his own frustrations, his own rebellion against his father, that he hadn’t even thought about how much pressure Max had been under. He hadn’t thought about how dangerous it had been for Max to be in the middle of this tug-of-war between him and the King.

He was supposed to be Max’s friend, and yet, he had let him down. Max had been fired because of him.

Charles felt the sting of tears in his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to cry. He had been raised to keep it together, to be the strong, composed heir to the throne. But right now, he felt anything but strong. He felt lost.

He stood up abruptly, unable to sit still any longer. Maybe Pierre would know what to do. Maybe talking to his best friend would help him figure out a way to fix this, to somehow make things right. Charles grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and headed for the door.

Just as he reached for the handle, there was a soft knock. Startled, Charles opened the door to find Pierre standing on the other side, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Did you—” Pierre began, but then he saw the look on Charles’ face, and his grin faded into concern. “Mate, what happened? You look like hell.”

Charles sighed, stepping aside to let Pierre in. “Max is gone.”

Pierre blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“My father fired him,” Charles said, his voice flat. “Just like that. No warning. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Pierre’s eyebrows shot up. “He fired Max? That’s insane. I mean, I know your dad’s strict, but I didn’t think he’d actually—” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Charles. That’s… harsh, even for him.”

Charles sat back down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. “It’s all my fault. He got fired because of me—because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut during that fight with my dad. Max was just doing his job, and now he’s paying for it.”

Pierre sat beside him, nudging Charles with his elbow. “Don’t do that to yourself. It’s not your fault. Your dad’s the one who made the call, and Max knew what he was getting into when he signed up to be your bodyguard.”

“Still,” Charles muttered. “I could’ve handled things better. I shouldn’t have dragged Max into all this.”

“Mate, you didn’t drag him into anything,” Pierre said, his tone more serious than usual. “Max stuck around because he cared about you. That much was obvious. You think he wouldn’t have bailed ages ago if he didn’t?”

Charles blinked, caught off guard by Pierre’s words. He had never thought about it like that before. Max had every reason to distance himself, to treat this job like any other, and yet he hadn’t. He had stayed. He had been there for Charles in a way that no one else had.

“I just—” Charles started, but his voice cracked, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. “I don’t know what to do now.”

Pierre leaned back, his face thoughtful. “You could always talk to your dad again, try to get him to change his mind.”

Charles snorted bitterly. “You think that’ll work? He’s already made up his mind. He sees Max as a liability now. He’s not going to listen to me.”

Pierre shrugged. “Maybe not. But it doesn’t mean you can’t try.”

Charles stared at the floor, the weight of it all pressing down on him again. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t even know where to start. All he knew was that the palace felt emptier without Max, and he didn’t know how to deal with that.

For the first time in a long time, Charles felt like he had lost something he couldn’t replace. And that terrified him.

“Do you miss him?” Pierre asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Charles looked up, frowning slightly. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Pierre gave him a look—a knowing, almost teasing look. “I mean, really miss him. Like… maybe more than you’re admitting.”

Charles felt his face flush, and he quickly looked away, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. He hadn’t let himself think too hard about his feelings for Max. It had been easier to pretend they were just friends—maybe close friends, but nothing more. But now, with Max gone, the emptiness he felt wasn’t just about losing a bodyguard. It was something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to name.

“Shut up,” Charles muttered, but there was no heat behind his words.

Pierre smirked, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he slung an arm around Charles’ shoulders and squeezed. “We’ll figure it out, mate. You’re not in this alone.”

Charles leaned into the comfort, grateful for Pierre’s presence, even though the ache in his chest didn’t ease. Max was gone, and no matter what Pierre said, Charles knew things weren’t going to be the same without him.

But maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as powerless as he felt.