Chapter 53

It was an informational pamphlet about the orphanage.

“Check it out,” she said. “You can read all about what we’re doing here. It’s still a really new operation, and our first priority was just getting the doors open and getting all the kids a roof over their heads, so we still have a lot of work ahead of us.”

I flipped through the pages, glancing at the pictures. Looked like they were all from the opening day.

“We don’t have a lot of group activities set up for the kids yet,” the woman added, frowning. “That’s what we really need the most help with.”

A younger woman popped her head out from a nearby hallway and called out, “Cindy? Can we borrow you for a minute, please?”

The ponytail lady snapped to attention and called back, “I’ll be right there!”

“I should let you go,” I told her. “I’ll come back another day. Thanks for talking with me.”

“You get yourself home safely, now!” Cindy shouted back to me as she disappeared down the hallway.

The elder care facility looked dilapidated in comparison to the orphanage. And there was no one here bustling around preparing for the storm, either.

At least the building sat on top of a hill, making it less likely to flood. But the swaying branches on huge trees that lined the parking lot worried me as we drove under them.

Inside, I asked for Alaster. A young man behind a desk gave me his room number and I walked a maze of hallways to find it.

The door was open. Alaster was inside, lying in bed with his torso propped up on a mountain of fluffy pillows.

The pale old man was watching TV with his eyes half-open. As I moved into view, he met my eyes.

“Hello, sir,” I said. “I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, but if it’s alright I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course,” he said. “How can I help you, young lady?”

He fumbled for a remote control at his side and lifted it with a big, bony hand that shook violently. With great difficulty, he pressed the power button and the TV clicked off.

You could tell that Alaster used to be a very large man. But now, he was frail and skeletal.

His broad shoulders would have been impressive once, when they had muscles on them. Now, the length of his bony arms and bulging collar bones made him look scarily fragile.

Alaster gestured to a chair.

I sat down and pulled the letter out of my purse. I handed it to him.

He took the envelope with a wobbly hand. Set it in his lap and looked at it for a long time.

“Did you write that letter?” I asked.

He nodded.

“The man you wrote it to is my husband. And I came here because he needs your help.”

“You are Nathan’s wife?” the man asked. “I didn’t know he married.”

“Actually, no,” I replied. “My husband is named Nolan. He is the prince.”

The man gave me a blank stare.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you all this, but Nolan hid his true identity from you. Ever since you met all those years ago when he was a child.”

Then I caught him up on everything. Alaster was quiet the whole time, listening.

When I finished telling him about Nolan’s current situation, he asked just one question: “What can I do?”

“I want people to know what Nolan has been doing,” I said. “I don’t know how to spread the message. But they’re smearing his name on the news right now, and someone needs to speak up and tell the truth about what a good man he is.”

Alaster nodded again.

“I will help you,” he said. “But I need to rest now.” His voice was hoarse.

There was a cup of water on the nightstand with a plastic straw in it. Alaster saw me looking at it and nodded, so I picked it up and helped him take a sip.

He drank, then coughed for a solid minute. I almost thought of calling for help, but he gave me a small wave that seemed to mean he was alright.

When he could talk again, he sounded better.

“Will you come see me tomorrow?” he asked. “I will have a plan.”

I promised Alaster I would do just that. He looked like he could hardly keep his eyes open, so I said goodbye and turned the lights off on my way out.

On the drive back to the palace, it got really cold really fast.

The hail started up midday as promised. It whipped against the car from all directions, sounding like machine-gunfire.

Back home, I hurried into a hot bath, desperate to get feeling back in my toes again. It made me sleepy, so afterward I crawled into bed. Thinking I’d just rest my eyes.

And I slept all evening. And all through night. Guess I needed some rest.

I woke early in the morning and could see my breath in the cold air. I cranked up the heat, had some breakfast brought up, and stayed cozied up in bed for a while drinking cup after steaming cup of coffee with sweet cream.

I turned the TV on and got sucked back into watching the news as I ate breakfast in bed.

I was trying not to imagine Nolan up in the tower. How cold he must be in that cage.

The newscasters were all talking about the storm. If they were going to circle back to our scandal, they were at least taking a break.

Apparently, there was supposed to be some big vote today in Parliament. Something to do with a trade agreement with the human world.

I vaguely recalled Nolan telling me about the trade agreement. He was supposed to give a speech about it.

The vote was being postponed, the news said. Because of the storm, officials were advising everyone to stay at home until the afternoon.

The trade vote would be rescheduled sometime later.

I wanted to go see Nolan again, but his secretary told me he couldn’t get into the tower this morning.

I felt bad that I was relieved.

It was just hard seeing Nolan like that. And I didn’t have an update for him yet, anyway.

I showered and dressed, then went to my studio and packed up some drawing supplies. At the last second, I threw every last one of my unused sketchbooks into the bag, too.

I had to wait a few agonizing hours before I could get a driver to agree to take me to the orphanage. I guess some of the highways had been salted enough by that point and were drivable.

The rain was slowing down when we arrived. The building had kept up just fine overnight.

Cindy was in the lobby again when I walked in. She was talking to a couple teenage boys but heard the door open and looked up, smiling when she recognized me.

She sent the boys away and walked over, saying, “You came back fast! And what’s all this you’ve brought with you?”

Cindy grinned as I showed her the art supplies.

“I’m a design student,” I told her. “I figured I could pass out these supplies, and if the kids want, I can teach them to draw a few things.”

Cindy took me by the arm and began marching me through the facility. She briefly announced what every room contained as we flew past them. It was a whirlwind tour.

This was a woman who was used to walking fast, talking fast, and getting stuff done.

Finally, she took me into a room where about ten kids of various ages were sitting around idly, in chairs and on top of tables. The walls were bare, but some bookshelves on one side of the room were packed with neat rows of bright new books.

Cindy started to introduce me to the kids. Then she spun around and exclaimed, “Goddess! I never even introduced myself to you.”

Compelled to complete a ritual she’d forgotten when we met yesterday, she extended her hand to shake mine.

“I’m Cindy,” she announced. We shook hands and she stepped aside so that I could address the kids as I responded.

I said, “I’m Yena,” and when I looked back from the kids over to Cindy again, I watched her eyes grow to double their size. Her knees wobbled, wanting to drop into a bow.

I gave her a very tiny shake of my head and flashed her a look I hoped she would understand meant, Don’t react.

She got it.

The kids were unfazed.

A few said, “Hi, Yena,” and smiled or waved.

Cindy was stunned into suspicious silence, so I patted her on the shoulder and gave her a knowing smile. She loosened up.

I passed out the sketchbooks. The kids were more excited about them than I’d expected.

“Miss Yena,” Cindy said, “thank you so much for being here. And kids, please say thank you to Miss Yena. She’s going to teach you about drawing.”

The kids all shouted out, “Thank you, Miss Yena!” in a way I was sure they’d been trained to do. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard in my life.

I used a whiteboard mounted on one wall to demonstrate different ways to draw a wolf, and had the kids try to copy the line drawings.

A couple of the older kids did a really good job. The little ones mostly scribbled. All of them had smiles on their faces the whole time.

I could see why Nolan liked spending time here. And without everyone knowing who he was. Bowing and all that.

Remembering my mission, I told the kids to keep drawing and set off to find Cindy again.

I found her back in the lobby. I asked if we could speak privately, and she took me into her office.

We sat on either side of her desk. Then I pulled something out of my purse.

It was an old issue of a financial magazine. I found it in one of Nolan’s boxes.

His picture was on the cover.

Before I came into his life, Nolan had kept a low profile. His photo wasn’t in the media a lot. It never occurred to me until now that there was a reason that he was so careful about that.

This magazine cover was an exception. Nolan had been profiled in the magazine after championing some new financial policies last year.

I handed the magazine to Cindy and asked, “Do you recognize that man?”

Cindy stared down at the photo and whispered, “Yes.”

The blood left her face and she looked like she might throw up.