For two days Logan fretted and complained. And no one took him and his complaints seriously, not Evgeny, Peter and the other guards, not the staff at the embassy, no one.
Then finally the day came. Not wanting to look too attractive for the king, he put on his third-best suit and got ready to leave for the palace.
Constantine didn’t approve of the way he was dressed. “You should wear your Armani. You look incredibly hot in it.”
“That’s exactly the idea. I don’t want to give ‘his majesty’ any encouragement.”
“You should. For your father’s sake, for my sake, for all kinds of reasons.”
“You and my father are on your own, Con.”
Constantine grinned at him. “And so are you, it seems. And so is the poor king.”
* * *
The royal carriage called for him at precisely 7:30. A liveried footman held the door and helped him in. “If there is anything you require, sir, you need only ask.”
“I’ll be fine, thank you.”
The carriage left him at the door of the Frederick II barracks. The plan was that he would meet Alex there, then the two of them would join the king in his private dining room for dinner. The footman held the carriage door again, and as Alex stepped out he told himself he could get used this kind of treatment. Then he caught himself. “What am I thinking? I’ll have to be careful.”
Alex was waiting. His expression was that of a serious soldier, ready to do his duty. He was in his full-dress uniform, complete with plumed helmet.
“What happens if you spill the soup on that?”
“Then the staff will clean it. We are part of the royal household, Logan.”
Wrong move. Logan wanted to be careful not to give either Alex or the king any opening that might lead to talk of him joining that royal household. “It looks like rain.”
“If this were a wedding, that would be a lucky sign.”
Logan frowned. “What happened to ‘this is just dinner, not a date’?”
“Relax, Logan.”
Another point to Alex. Logan decided to say as little as possible; that seemed safest.
* * *
The king’s personal dining room was a magnificent hall the size of a small train station. Heavy red velvet curtains covered all the windows, and a score of candelabras blazed with hundreds of candles. The walls were covered, floor to ceiling, with mirrored panels that reflected the candlelight so brilliantly it might have been broad daylight on a sunny afternoon. A table big enough to accommodate scores of diners ran the length of the room; at one end of it three place settings had been laid.
The few stretches of wall that weren’t mirrored were hung with paintings. Logan took the opportunity to inspect them, while they were waiting for the king to appear.
“Wow, this is a Vermeer! A real one, from the looks of it.”
“Why do you look so surprised?”
“There aren’t many Vermeers left in the world, and I thought they were all accounted for.”
Alex was annoyed. “I know you think of Bulvania as being several cuts below backwoods Alabama, culturally, Logan. But we are part of Europe, and this is a European royal court. I would suggest you try to keep your disdain in check till you learn more about us. We have a lot of great art.”
“I’ll have to check it out—if I’m here that long.” Touché. He had finally scored one in the conversation. Alex and his royal master had to understand that Logan was not to be taken for granted.
From behind them came a voice. “Exactly how long will you be here?”
Raymond had entered. A servant held the door for him, and he turned and waved the man out of the room. The king was in his usual monk’s robe; his hair and beard, also as usual, were unkempt. Standing alone in the enormous room, he looked quite small.
Startled, Logan froze. Alex bowed to his monarch, and Raymond held up a hand to stop him. “There is no need to be so formal, Alex. We are friends. At least I hope we are.” He smiled at Logan, and it was a warm, winning smile. “Or should I say I hope that is what we will become?”
Logan realized he didn’t know the proper etiquette for a situation like this. Should he bow? offer to shake hands? Mentally he cursed Constantine for not preparing him. He decided to bow, but only slightly. “Your—” Again he realized he wasn’t prepared. Should he address the king as highness, majesty or what?
But Raymond flashed his sweet smile again. “Call me by my name. There’s no need to be formal at an informal dinner. And I hope I can call you Logan.”
“Of course, your m—Raymond. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Raymond took his hand. “Likewise. Most definitely.” And as the novelists say, Raymond devoured Logan with his eyes. There was no doubt at all in Logan’s mind what the king had in mind.
“Would you like a drink before dinner? I’m afraid I never drink alcohol myself, but if you would like a martini or some such… ”
“Uh, no thank you, your m—Raymond.”
“Then let’s sit and eat.”
He led them to the table, took his place at the head, and gestured to Logan to sit on his right and Alex on his left. The plates and silverware appeared to be solid gold; Logan was suitably impressed—as he assumed he was supposed to be. Immediately they were seated, servants arrived and served soup. It was a delicious seafood bisque. After sipping it warily, Logan tucked in. “This is quite delicious.”
“I’m afraid we didn’t know what you like. I hope everything will be equally pleasing to you.”
“I’m sure it will.”
Alex spoke up. “I believe, your majesty, that Mr. Bockwein was expecting more formality.”
Raymond glanced at the table, puzzled.
“No, I mean what you’re wearing.”
“Oh. Oh.” He looked at Logan, a bit shamefaced. “I hope you’re not offended. You’re wearing such a nice suit. I’m afraid I’m used to dressing like this. I’ve done it all my life. It’s quite comfortable, really. Besides, I’m told the people are already calling me ‘the priest-king,’ and I suppose I have to live up to my image. Grand Duke Rupert tells me it will help smooth the transition. But I really should have dressed for you. Please, excuse me.”
Alex interrupted to explain who Duke Rupert was. “He and Raymond have become rather close in a very short period of time.”
“Even though Rupert is quite elderly and unable to leave his tower, he’s become my valued adviser. Without him and Alex I’d be quite lost.” He smiled at Logan again and added, “I need good men around me.”
For the first time Logan noticed Raymond’s eyes. They were large, a warm chocolate brown, and their warmth contrasted sharply with the rest of his unkempt appearance. He thought, Alex may be right. There may actually be some potential for this guy. But he shook the thought off. He more than suspected this date was a setup, and he couldn’t let himself be snared.
Servants came and cleared away the soup. They were followed at once by more, carrying salads. Logan groped for conversation. But Raymond kept right on. “You’re a photographer.”
“Yes. I’ve had some modest success, I guess. Some recognition.”
“I looked you up on the internet. Your exhibition in Washington D.C. was a big success.”
“We did pretty well, I guess. But what about you? If I Google you, what will I find?”
“Nothing much.” Raymond’s manner turned shy. “I’ve had a few papers published, that’s all. Mostly on double stars and their mutual attraction. Do you like astronomy?”
“I can’t honestly say I’ve ever given it much thought. The stars I like are more in the line of Judy Garland and Katharine Hepburn.”
“Oh. I’m having an observatory built on the roof of the palace. I’d like you to come and see it sometime. I can show you wonderful things.”
“I’d like that.” Logan was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure why. He wanted to finish eating, make his excuses and get out.
The next course came, brook trout almandine.
“I hope you like fish, Logan.”
“Very much so.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Raymond lightly put his hand on top of Logan’s, then pulled it away.
Logan wasn’t at all sure how to interpret it. Raymond was setting off his gaydar, loud and strong; there was no doubt in his mind the king was gay—and interested. But he was such a—the word was unavoidable—nerd. Logan couldn’t even tell if the guy was aware of his own gayness. The touch of Raymond’s hand on his was warm and gentle. If felt good, much better than he’d expected. But then, he hadn’t expected there to be any physical contact at all.
The door opened and one of the royal guards came in. He wasn’t anyone Logan had met before, but he had seen him once or twice around the barracks. The man bowed to Raymond, nodded to Logan, saluted Alex, then bent and whispered something in Alex’s ear.
Alex folded his napkin. “Your majesty must excuse me. There’s a minor emergency in the barracks that has to be dealt with at once. Please excuse me.”
“Of course, captain. If duty calls… ”
Logan restrained himself from saying, “Very convenient duty.”
Alex got to his feet, made apologies again to the king, then to Logan, and left with his man. Logan found himself alone with Raymond, and it was the last thing he wanted. He was sure Alex’s “emergency” had been pre-arranged. In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising, he supposed. And yet…
He glared at Alex, then resumed the neutral expression he’d been wearing for Raymond. “Well, at least there will be more dessert for the two of us.” He smiled faintly, trying to put the best face on the situation.
There was a moment’s awkward silence. Yes, the emergency that called Alex away had been pre-planned, and Raymond knew that Logan knew it. Finally, after a moment’s groping for something to say, “So, you are the ambassador’s son.”
“Yes. There isn’t much I can do about it.”
“Your family is quite wealthy. Metals, I believe.”
“My friends in America have always called me the ‘Tin Prince’.”
Raymond laughed. “It sounds like a character from Oz. You have traveled a great deal, then?”
“My share, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
“I… it’s only that I have never left Bulvania. I have never had the chance, really. My life has been confined to the monastery until—” He made a sweeping gesture, indicating that palace and the kingship. “Of course, even if I had not entered St. Dymphna’s, I would never have gotten to see the world. My family were peasants.” He paused, then added almost wistfully, “I wish I had had the opportunity to see the world. Places change people.”
Logan wondered what it was about him that needed changing, other than the obvious. “Surely now that you’re king… ”
“Yes, Alex says he can arrange a royal tour of the continent for me. I don’t know, though. I think it may be too late for me.”
“You’re in your early twenties, your majesty. Surely that isn’t too—”
“Raymond. Please call me that.”
“Raymond.” Logan smiled again, this time a bit more broadly. “Who ever thought I’d be on a first name basis with a king?”
Raymond put his hand on top of Logan’s again briefly, then pulled away. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Sorry. What on earth for?”
“I’m afraid I have never had the chance to develop proper social skills. In the monastery I had one special friend, Brother Primrose. He knew me, understood me. He died a year ago. Getting a doctor up to that mountaintop was always a— I never interacted much with the others, except Abbot Beech. I always felt like they—like they didn’t really understand me. I suppose that’s why I agreed to come here. That and a sense of duty, I suppose, or patriotism or whatever you want to call it. We were always taught that one should be willing to sacrifice his life for his country. ‘For the greater glory of Bulvania,’ and all that.”
Logan looked around, amused. “Sacrifice one’s life? Are there assassins lurking behind tapestries, or what?”
“Don’t laugh. Seventeen of Bulvania’s kings have been assassinated. The first Raymond died at the hands of his lover, Hugo Defilippo. Some royal guardsmen were involved in the plot. A king, I’m learning quickly, can never quite trust anyone. As you know, there are even questions about my predecessor’s death. I have enemies already, and I haven’t even done anything.”
“Your people briefed you about my family. Surely they can they find the assassins.”
Three servants came, cleared the table and served the next course. It was filet mignon wrapped in bacon and stuffed with herbs. Raymond poked at it, apparently lost in thought. “Alex and his men are good, among the best in Europe. But they’re human; they can only do so much.”
“Alex?”
“The Royal Guards have always functioned as a kind of secret service. They do intelligence. They compiled a dossier on your family as soon as Washington notified us who the ambassador would be. I know all about you. I’ve even seen your photographs from your exhibition.”
“I suddenly feel as if I’ve taken all my clothes off.”
Raymond laughed. “Just photographs, not x-rays.” He paused. “The other monks, well, they never really understood Primrose and me. I think that you might.”
“This is delicious.” Logan tucked in. “But surely those kind of ‘special friendships’ aren’t unknown in monasteries.”
“We were close. We were also the abbey’s scientists. We spent more time with our instruments than our prayer books. I don’t imagine the others ever quite trusted us.”
“That’s too bad. In a closed community… ”
“That’s the other big reason I left, really. I wanted to see the world. Engage with it.”
“The world might disappoint you. It does most people.”
It was time for dessert. The same trio of servants brought chocolate ice cream and cookies. Just as Raymond was about to dig in, another servant came in. This one was younger than the others, and to appearances he was quite shaken. He bowed to Raymond, glanced at Logan, then whispered something in the king’s ear. Raymond’s demeanor changed at once. He had been enjoying himself, enjoying Logan’s company; now he turned quite somber. “I see,” he said softly. “Thank you. I’ll get the arrangements moving at once.”
The young man bowed again. “Thank you, your majesty.” With that he turned and left quickly.
“Is something wrong, Raymond?”
“Yes.” The word was almost a whisper. “Yes. Very much so.”
Logan waited for him to go on.
And after a long pause, he did. “Grand Duke Rupert is dead.”
“Oh.” Never having known the man, not quite certain the nature of his friendship with Raymond, Logan wasn’t at all sure what to say. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that you and he… ”
“So it appears that the first official act of my reign will be a state funeral.” He pushed his plate aside. “You must excuse me, please, Logan. I have to go and see to the arrangements.”
“But—but aren’t there traditions, protocols?”
“Not in this case, I’m afraid. Rupert was, how do you say, the black sheep. He loved men. Openly. The church will oppose any arrangements I make for his burial. So will the Privy Council, I imagine. They were furious when my predecessor brought him back from exile. Can you imagine such a thing?”
Logan got to his feet. “Easily. Until recently the same thing happened in America. Sons who might, er, embarrass their wealthy families were sent off with trust funds and kept quietly out of the way.”
Astonishment showed in the king’s face. “In America?!”
“It still happens. All the time. Not as frequently as before, but—I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Raymond.”
“Thank you. I apologize for cutting our evening short. I have to go and find Alex. He’ll know how to handle this.”
“Good night, then. Thank you for the dinner.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Raymond stared at him for a long moment without saying anything. Then, impulsively, he threw his arms around Logan and hugged him tightly. And kissed him on the cheek.
Logan was careful not to respond. He had taken a kind of liking to the young king. But the man’s appearance was such a turn-off. And that nerdy personality… ! He said a quick goodnight and left.