Royal Fake

“We’re here and ready to win,” I said, ignoring the scowl in his tone.

“Do you like to play mini-golf, Avery? Should I be worried about my royal reputation?” My father asked.

“I think your prowess as a mini-golf maverick won’t be threatened today, your Majesty. I must admit, I’m not very good.” Avery flashed him a heart-melting smile and his shoulders relaxed a little.

“Well, let’s get on with it,” Cara griped through her plastic expression.

And we were off. Avery was quite correct; she did not play the game very well. In fact, it was almost brutal to watch her try and get the ball into any of the holes including the kiddie mounds. She laughed and was good-natured about her incompetence, but I saw my family growing irritated as ball after the ball rolled back away from the holes. I eventually offered to help her, and she gratefully accepted.

“Told you I wasn’t very good,” she batted her eyes and flirted. “But, I am having fun.”

“You’re doing great,” I whispered in her ear as I leaned forward and helped her make her first hole in one of the days.

There was some lackluster cheering from my family, but Avery was brilliantly moved.

“Yay! I did it. Or rather you did it!” She couldn’t contain her joy. “We are in this game now!”

“Oh yes, we are,” I added with a peck on her cheek that seemed to rile a few feathers.

“So,” my father finally began to dig his claws in. “Exactly how did you meet my son?” My father’s eyes narrowed as he grew more uncomfortable with my physical nearness to Avery.

“We met,” she started as I squeezed her arm afraid she’d say something out of line, though she just shrugged me off, “at a fundraiser for a charity that helps homeless youth. It’s something I’m very passionate about,” she said as she faltered ever so slightly on her high heels in the grass as we walked to the next hole.

“Yes, homelessness is quite an issue in the states, I’ve heard.” My father again was getting his digs in.

“We have a lot of people without housing, but I’m doing my best to help.” She finally caught up to him, still a little shaky on her feet.

Doubtless, she’d walked in heels before, but not on Irish soil. We had very rich earth on the castle grounds that made walking in heels a horror. I’d have to give Georg a piece of my mind as he often neglected to think of practicality over fashion.

“Sadly, it’s a growing problem in Ireland as well. What measures are you taking in the states?” I couldn’t believe that my father was genuinely interested in their conversation.

“Well, Every Dream is a foundation that offers mentorship, housing, and education to homeless youth. They provide a kind of family for young adults to get a better start in life. Homelessness is often a result of mental illness, or telling family about sexual preference, drugs… so we have branches of the foundation that address different issues the kids might be facing.” I could tell by the way she spoke Avery loved helping others through her foundation. “I also have a fashion brand called Flower Street that employs some of our clients. It’s been so amazing to see people turn their lives around.”

“Fashion brand?” I knew that’d be the only thing my father would hear.

My cousins took notice for the first time all day.

“Yes,” I chimed in to make sure Avery didn’t say anything she shouldn’t. “Avery dabbles in fashion. She’s brilliant.”

“I was under the impression that my son had found someone he intended on marrying. Am I wrong in that assumption?” The cold and heartless sound of his words stopped Avery in her tracks.

I was ready for him. I knew exactly how my father operated. He was a jerk in the best of times and his kindness was usually just a pretense. I was actually expecting Lucy to show up at any moment, perhaps armed with a rapier and shield to defend her right to be queen.

“Oh no, Father, Avery and I are very much intending on getting married, the sooner the better.”

Cara audibly gasped. “Your Majesty?” she blurted out in disgust. “He barely knows her.”

“I see, well then you know she can’t work in fashion with a brand of any sort and be your wife.” His eyes slid over to Avery who had begun to quake a little.

“Oh, poor love,” I removed my coat and put it over her shoulders. “You’re shivering. Perhaps we can bring this conversation inside. I’ve lost my interest in the game and it seems, Father, you’ve beaten us by such a large margin none of us could ever hope to win the round.” It was a surrender, but we were about to enter the battlefield and I couldn’t have Avery standing out in the cold wearing heels and her heart on her sleeve.