"Your Highness!"
Miss Hannah called for me, her shrill, worried voice echoing across the hall.
I pressed a pudgy hand to my lips to stifle a giggle. Was I actually going to manage to run away this time?
I crouched behind the tall potted plant in the corridor, not daring to move to catch a glimpse at her backside, afraid that to do so would reveal my location and end the game.
I'm a rebel on a mission, I thought to myself with a grin. I'm going to take over the kingdom!
When I could no longer hear Miss Hannah's voice, I bolted for one of the secret passages I had found last week when it was raining too hard to go outside to play. If I was right, this one would take him almost directly to my father's office.
I stuck my hand in my pocket, the smushed sandwich still securely where I had left it.
I would count myself successful if I could sit at my father's desk and eat the sandwich, pretending to be the next monarch of Illéa. Maybe he'd even be proud of me for being so clever!
"I'm a rebel," I whispered to myself as I walked slowly down the stairs of the darkened passage. "Rebels aren't scared of anything."
I didn't feel like a rebel right now. My legs trembled as I pressed my fingers to the walls in an attempt to figure out where I was. Was I right that this tunnel would take me to my father's office? If I wasn't, where would I end up? What if I got locked in here? What if Mom called for me and I couldn't hear her?
I almost turned back before I squared my six-year-old shoulders. If there was one thing I was going to do today, I was going to eat lunch at my father's desk.
"I'm a rebel," I whispered in the dark, trying to scare the shadows into fleeing. "And rebels don't get scared."
It felt like the trip lasted forever before I finally came to the landing of the stairs which opened into a small room. There was a little bed, a sink, and even a toilet. Mom had told me that these rooms were to protect us in case someone came to hurt us.
"But who would want to hurt us?" I had asked her with wide eyes.
Her eyes had gotten sad and a little wet as she bent down to hug me. "I don't want you to worry about that now, Maxon," she whispered as she kissed the top of my head. "Just know that these rooms are here if we ever need them."
"Okay."
Even in my little-kid brain, it made sense that one of these tunnels would be so close to Dad's office. There would probably have to be one of these secret passages near any place the King could possibly be around the palace.
I walked over to the door, my heart pounding in my chest. If my dad was in his office, I was going to be in so much trouble. If he was in a meeting…
I didn't want to think about it.
I gulped as I pressed the handle of the door. It gently widened, and I peeked my head around the door's side. I breathed out slowly. The coast was clear.
I closed the secret door behind me and scampered over to my father's desk. I ambled up awkwardly into the big chair. The seat squeaked as it swiveled, and I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from giggling at the way the unsteadiness made my tummy feel.
I reached into my pocket and got out the peanut butter sandwich I'd hidden in there. I took a bite of the sandwich before I reached out a hand and grasped hold of the desk. Maybe if I yanked hard enough, I could pull the chair closer to the desk so I could actually look at the papers on my dad's desk.
I stuck the sandwich into my mouth as I leaned over to look at one of the reports on the desk. Some of the peanut butter dripped out of the sandwich and onto the desk.
"Uh oh." My words sounded weird as the thick peanut butter seemed to keep me from from speaking properly. I finished chewing and swallowing my sandwich as I used my thumb to try and erase the peanut butter from the desk.
"I don't care what the delegates from New Asia have to say, we will not back down."
My eyes widened as I heard my father's voice come closer to the door.
My heart leaped into my throat as I ducked under the desk. The door opened, and one of my father's advisors spoke. "Your Majesty, we are not considering any sort of compromise on this issue?"
"I will not be seen as weak!" My father's voice was steely and determined. "Tell the delegates from New Asia that we will have the proposed trade agreement or we will go to war. There is no compromise."
There was silence, but I heard the rustle of robes, and I could imagine the advisor bowing to my father before he left. "Yes, Your Majesty."
My father sighed heavily, and I heard him slam a glass object on a table nearby. Almost immediately, I heard the tinkle of ice being dropped into a glass and the crackle made by the same ice as a warm liquid was poured over it.
It was eleven-thirty in the morning, and my father was having a drink in the office.
I swallowed as I peeked around the corner of the desk, trying to eye a way to escape, but as I did so, my father turned and caught sight of me.
He slammed the glass down on the small bar in the corner so hard that the amber liquid inside sloshed onto the counter. Then, his long legs made quick work of the distance between us. "Maxon, what are you doing here?" he demanded, yanking me out from under the desk by the arm.
I bit back a cry of pain as he pulled me upright. I breathed a sigh of relief when his attention was diverted to his desk and he dropped me back onto my feet.
"Maxon," he said, his voice simmering with rage. "Did you do this?"
I looked from my father's tight face to the spot he pointed at on the desk. My heart sank. He had caught sight of the peanut butter fingerprint on the desk.
"Dad, I—I'm sorry," I stammered. My heart thundered in my chest as if I had a whole stampede of horses galloping inside me. "I just—I just wanted to see what it would be like to be King of Illéa for a little while."
Anger shadowed his face as he opened the door to his personal suite. "AMBERLY!"
My father's roar shook the room, and I scurried to the other side of the room. Tears sprang to my eyes as they darted back to where my father snatched papers from his desk.
My father's personal butler hurried around the open door. "Is there anything I can help with, Your Majesty?"
"Clean this mess up!"
The butler offered a humble bow as he ducked back into the suite. Then, in a moment, he returned with a cloth and some wood polish to clean up the mess and make it as if it had never happened.
I was certain I hadn't touched any of the papers on the desk, but my father acted like any sign that I had been in here was entirely unwanted.
Wasn't this supposed to be my job someday? Was it really so wrong that I should want to sit in his chair for a minute and eat my sandwich? To want to love the feeling of sitting in that chair?
"AMBERLY!"
A second bellow brought me to cower with my hands over my head up against the wall.
"Stand up, Maxon! Anyone looking at you would think you were a cowering puppy and not the crown prince!"
My lip trembled as my father barked his orders at me. My heart fluttered in my chest as I stood, and tried to look my father in the eye. "I'm sorry, Father. I—I didn't—"
"Doesn't matter whether you meant to make a mess or not, Maxon." There was fire in my father's eyes, and that sight frightened me more than the tantrum I'd witnessed seconds earlier. "That's something you have to learn before you're king. Nobody cares if you meant to make a mess or not."
The door which went to my father's personal chambers was immediately thrown open, and my mother stood there almost breathless from her trip from the Women's Room.
She caught sight of me and opened her arms for a hug. I ran into them, crying into the folds of her dress.
"Amberly, I won't have you coddle the boy," my father snarled. "Somehow he sneaked past his governess and down into my office. Do you know what kind of an international scene this could have caused if I'd been meeting with the delegates from New Asia?"
I sobbed harder, and I felt my mother's hands on my back as she tried to soothe me.
"Clarkson, there's no harm done," she said, her voice calm and collected. "He's a child, and he made a mistake. I'm sure he won't ever do it again."
She placed a finger under my chin and made me look up at her. "Right?"
Her smile melted my heart and I nodded an emphatic agreement. "Never!"
"He left peanut butter fingerprints on my desk, Amberly!" My father railed. "He could have destroyed battle plans or a trade agreement document! I want Miss Hannah dismissed immediately! There's no reason for this incompetence. I won't stand for it!"
My heart stilled in my chest. Miss Hannah would lose her job because I did something bad?
I looked up at my mother. Her dark eyes grew sad though she offered me a small smile as if to try and comfort me. "Yes, Clarkson."
"But Mom," I interjected. "It's my fault! I ran away from her! She almost caught me too!"
"But she didn't."
My father's cold voice stole my attention from my mother, and I looked over at him. I'd never seen him look this angry.
"Hannah will be sent home today, Clarkson," my mother said with a nod as she reached for my hand. "Maxon, sweetheart, you're going to spend the day with me in the women's room, all right?"
"But it's all my fault!" I cried, letting go of my mother's hand and stomping my foot to get my father's attention. "It's not fair for Miss Hannah to lose her job because of me! Take my desserts for a week! Make me stay in my room! Don't take Miss Hannah's job!"
My mother's eyes softened as she looked at me, and my heart warmed. Maybe it would work. Maybe, if I had Mom on my side, I could keep Miss Hannah from getting fired!
I looked over at my father whose simmering anger raged on in his eyes. "You should have thought about that before you tried to sneak out of her care," he snapped. "You're the crown prince. It's her job to supervise you and keep you safe."
He started looking at the papers in his hand and putting them back where they belonged on the desk.
"But—But—"
"That's enough, Maxon!" My father yelled as he whirled back around to look at me. "Amberly!"
"We're leaving now, Clarkson," my mother said as she grasped my hand and pulled me out the door.
Miss Hannah was going to lose her job, and all over my stupid peanut butter fingerprints on my dad's desk.