A Royal Pain

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dan stood there, his hands uncomfortably sweaty, his legs shaking slightly underneath him, before he told himself to get a grip. If he decided to become paranoid after an incident like this then he was just as bad as his father. There were probably hundreds of that exact bottle of honey-oil in every bedroom of the castle. And, seeing as the stairwell was so close to the kitchen, wouldn't it make more sense for the oil to be cooking oil—assuming that the slippery step was on purpose? The fact that it wasn't cooking oil made it more likely to have been an accident.

Gaining surety with the more thought he put into it, Dan turned around and informed a random kitchen servant of the mess. Assured that it would be cleaned and no one else would have the chance of slipping on it, he made his way back up the stairs, careful to step over the slick one, and returned to his room.

"Prince Daniel," Bentley said, bowing his head slightly as Dan approached. He nodded in response, before remembering what his father had said—

"I've already alerted your guards to be extra wary from now on."

The thought of them being suspicious of Phil, of even suspecting him of something so horrendous, made Dan feel sick. He didn't want Phil being silently judged like that, distrusted and suspected of wrongdoing. He had to do something to remedy it.

"About what my father said," Dan started, his hand resting on the doorknob. "There's no reason to be wary of Phil. I trust him more than anybody, and I'll have your heads if you start trying to pat him down whenever he so much as tries to enter my room." There was a brief pause, during which neither Alfonzo nor Bentley said anything. "Okay?"

"In all due respect, Prince," Alfonzo began, and Dan groaned internally. Here came the speech, the constant reminder that his father's orders outweighed his. "We have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh," Dan said quietly. And because he couldn't help himself, because he couldn't quite silence that niggling worry in the back of his mind, he asked, "Has Phil left?"

"I believe he's still in there waiting for you, Your Highness," Bentley answered. Dan nodded slowly, unable to quell his relief.

Without bothering to answer, Dan stepped into his room and leaned against the door. Phil definitely couldn't have done it, seeing as he hadn't left the room, though Dan felt slightly ashamed of himself for not being able to trust in him completely, even without proof.

He pressed his ear against the door, hearing a quiet murmur on the other side.

"Is it just me or is the Prince acting a little... strange?"

"Bentley," Alfonzo admonished quietly, and they both fell silent.

Dan sighed and ventured further into his rooms, carefully peering into his own bedroom. Phil was still situated on his bed, though now he was lounging comfortably against the pillows, one of Dan's novels propped open against his knee. As Dan watched, Phil flicked the page, inhaling deeply as he slouched a bit further on the pillows.

"Phil," Dan said quietly, and Phil jerked, his head snapping up to look at Dan.

"You scared me," he said with a soft smile, and Dan felt his chest ache with something more than longing.

"Sorry," Dan apologized.

—

Dinner, to say simply, was awkward. Dan knew that his father was suspicious of Phil, and his father knew that he knew while also knowing that Dan disliked the fact that he was suspicious of Phil. The only one ignorant of this current predicament was Phil, blissfully oblivious and digging into his dinner happily.