““The Queen inhales deeply. “Nothing I have attempted has improved the situation. What do you suggest, Nicholas?” “He needs space to . . . acclimate. Time outside the spotlight to process the scope of his new situation and duties. To learn what he needs to, in his way. And make it his own.” “Space.” The Queen taps her finger on the table. “Very well. If space is what the boy needs, then space he shall have.” I’m not sure I like the sound of this. Two weeks later, I know I don’t. Anthorp Castle. She sent me to fucking Anthorp Castle. It’s not the middle of nowhere—it’s the end of nowhere. On the coast, with jagged cliffs and icy ocean on one side, forest on the other—the nearest thing resembling a town an hour’s drive away. This isn’t “space”; it’s banishment. “Banishment! Be merciful, say ‘death.’ For exile hath more terror in his look.” Romeo was a pussy, but at this moment, I feel him.””
