The Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter 22

In the end, I was forced to give Ben the gingerbread house to take up to Agnes. When he had returned from taking the gift to the black hole he kept stuffing them in, he told me she wasn’t well. He looked concerned, but he downplayed it. He said she just had a cold, but I couldn’t imagine a cold stopping her from coming to see me for our nightly natter. Either way, I played along.

If she wasn’t feeling better by Christmas Day, then I would find a way of going to see her whether Ben allowed it or not. He would be resistant, I knew he would. I imagined it was against some sort of rules for me to be wandering around the staff quarters, but I didn’t care. Agnes deserved to see a friendly face, especially on Christmas Day. I had guessed that Ben wouldn’t be getting the day off either, seeing as he had to babysit me. At least if I was with Agnes, then so was he. It was the least I could do for the pair who had given me so much.

I told Ben I was going to bed early so he would head back to Agnes. Making sure, I turned the light out and got into bed. I was lying, but still I had to play the part until he was convinced enough to leave. He was a very stubborn man. Even the slightest hint that I wasn’t going to be fast asleep and he wouldn’t have left.

I played pretend so long that I was actually starting to drift off to sleep when there was a bump at the door. It most definitely could not have been described as a knock, but more like someone walking head first into my door.

Throwing the quilt back and swinging my legs out of bed at record speed. The only thing my brain could come up with was that Ben had come down with the same thing Agnes had and had passed out against my door. I rushed for the door, but paused and slowed myself. Opening the door just a little just in case Ben was leaning against it. The last thing I wanted was to cause him to get hurt when he had already worked himself to exhaustion and illness.

Except it wasn’t Ben. My eyes had been fixed on the floor, fully expecting to find Ben unconscious there, but it was just a pair of legs. Stood completely upright, if a little wobbly. I followed them upwards until I landed on his face. He was quite clearly three sheets to the wind, and I dreaded to think how much booze he had consumed. “Get yourself in here pronto, before anyone sees you.”

Dylan followed me in obediently and threw himself on the bed. “I cannot believe you.”

“Me! What have I done?”

“Holding out on me about the mysterious prince hotty. I thought better of you, Noelle. I mean, having a love affair with a foreign prince is one thing, but keeping it from me, treason!” He was rolling around on the bed like a turtle stuck on its back. Trying desperately to point at me and tell me off. All it did was make me laugh.

I took pity on him and lifted him back up to a sitting position, but he didn’t stay there for more than a few seconds before flopping back onto the bed. “How much have you had to drink? And where on earth did you even find booze?”

He tapped his nose. “I know everything there is to know about this place, believe you me. I am like a royal expert. The only thing I didn’t know was the juicy gossip you were keeping from me.”

“I wasn’t keeping it from you. There is nothing to tell.”

“I will be the judge of that!” He pointed to the bed beside him and I obliged and clambered on beside him.

“You have to at least share your stash.” He passed me a diet coke bottle but judging by the colour, it wasn’t even part coke. I took a swig and nearly spat it out. There was no telling what concoction he had made, but I did know it was pure alcohol.

It might have been strong, but as I finally told someone the full story, the awful liquid helped me get through it in one piece. I told Dylan every little detail. The morning in the park. The surprise acceptance into the competition, which might not have been the best idea. The royal dinner and even our foray into the gardens.

The whole time he listened intently, ooo’s and ahh’s coming in abundance. When It told him about Alex choosing to dance with Katie, Dylan sounded more like he was at a pantomime than a royal bedchamber. “Who does he think he is? He is so up himself, clearly. Down with the monarchy!”

“Dylan, you are so obviously a royalist.”

“Yes, I know, but it felt right in the moment. We should escape.”

I laughed at the stupidity of it. “We aren’t being held captive, you know.”

He was leaping from the bed in an instant. Looking much more stable on his feet than before. I tried to follow suit, but the constant chugging had only made my legs like jelly. Still, I managed to stand at attention beside him, if a little shakily. “Come on, we’re going on a…”

“Bear hunt?”

“No! An adventure.”

“So, a bear hunt?”

“Will you stop that!” I couldn’t stop giggling. It was like one of those American slumber parties in the movies. It was the first time I had gotten close to that sort of vibe, but that was what was going on. “We are going on a hunt, a love tunnel hunt.”

“OK, I’m confused.”

“The rumours are that the Queen’s uncle used to bring his married lover in through a tunnel that comes out in the park. I also heard it was how the current king sneaks out and about when he feels like it.” Dylan grabbed my hand and without warning, we were running down the hallway. Every so often stopping and hiding like naughty children about to get caught.