A Royal Pain

CHAPTER SIX

Death would be nice, Dan wrote. Thought. Preferable, he corrected, scratching his pen through "nice". Yes, death would be preferable to the endless torment swirling around in his head.

Instead of doing anything rash, or possibly productive, Dan wrote. It was the only thing he really felt like he could do at the moment—the only thing that felt normal. There was no chance in hell Phil was ever going to get these letters though, but it didn't matter. He just needed to get his thoughts out.

He'd refused to leave his room in the days after the ball, having no desire to see or interact with anyone after what had transpired. After what he'd realized...

He'd needed to be alone, needed to be able to think. And he'd done that by writing; he wrote letter after letter full of his thoughts and desires, letters that he'd hidden or burned, depending on how much he'd talked about.

And after two days of solid writing, sleeping, life-dreading, and screaming (in relation to whenever Cecily intruded in his room), he'd come to a decision.

He wasn't gay.

He didn't care what the servants said, sometimes you just had to realize when other people were blatantly wrong, as Cecily and Charlotte were. And he'd only had such a major freak-out over the whole thing because he'd never heard the word "gay" in relation with himself before—it would throw anyone in a loop!

And so, confident that he never was nor would be gay, he stood up. The time for writing and crying was over; he had things to do. And he wasn't in love with Phil either. The thought was preposterous! It was hilarious, actually. Dan laughed just thinking about the idea of him being in love with Phil! He loved him, sure, as a brother maybe. As a best friend. But that was the only love lost for Phil, nothing more.

Dan dressed in his riding leathers and refused to look in the mirror before leaving his room. He was aware that his minor break down may have had slightly negative effects on his appearance and he didn't wish to be discouraged from his plans of riding Alamo. He'd missed his horse over the past few days of... radical thinking. But now, seeing as he was perfectly fine (and even more perfectly straight) he was ready to go riding.

"Prince!" Alfonzo exclaimed, as Dan pulled the door open and stepped out of his rooms. Dan picked an invisible piece of lint off his shoulder before turning to look at the guard.

"Alfonzo," he greeted with a small nod. "I am done feeling under the weather. In fact, I now feel over the weather, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going riding." He spared a second nod for the second guard, who was looking at him with wide eyes, before turning and stalking down the corridor, descending the stairs as quickly as he dared without seeming hurried. He had almost made it all the way to the front entrance of the castle before he was noticed.

"Prince Daniel!" someone called from behind him. He paused before turning around, carefully keeping his face impassive as he recognized who it was. Charlotte. He guessed it made sense for her to still be around in the early morning, likely cleaning up from her shift and possibly helping out for the initial rush of breakfast.

"Head Cook," Dan greeted, keeping his gaze steady somewhere around her left ear. She cleared her throat.

"About the ball..."

Dan interrupted her with a laugh. It was the kind of laugh he used with most of the girls he courted, an obviously fake, short kind of laugh. Though maybe he'd stop using it with them; it was probably time to start getting serious about courting and finding the perfect wife, there was no more time to fool around. "I prefer not to talk about the ball, Cook," he responded. "It seems as though the drinks got to me, and even thinking about that night makes my head start pounding again. Now, if you'll excuse me." With that, Dan turned around again, his riding shoes clicking loudly on the stone floor.