Press release and family release

Rowan's POV

Life comes at you so fast.

One minute, I was trying all my possible best to stay out of trouble, the next minute, I was in the middle of a mess I created because of my uncontrollable anger.

My legs dangle as I settle on the desk facing the large window in my bedroom. Literally, I was waiting for the Queen, waiting for her judgement. I wasn't waiting for my mother, I was waiting for the emperor, the decision maker, my controller, a blessing and a nightmare at the same time.

My heart sank the moment the cars pulled in. She was already here. My chest tight as I watched the scene unfold below. The Queen stepped out first, followed by her king, my father. Then her secretary, and a stream of royal officials.

I could see the urgency in the way they moved. They swept into the palace with the kind of gravity reserved for history-making moments, as if this were a coronation rather than a crisis.

That was when a thought crept into my mind but I quickly pushed it away. I didn't survive sixteen years just to jump down the window because I threw a few punches.

I didn't notice the door until I heard Mr Wilson's stern voice. “The Queen is here,” he said calmly.

“Tell me something I don't know,” I mumbled, jumping down from the desk.

Just as expected, he remained quiet but his eyes were filled with words. Words I have no interest in hearing.

Slowly, I stepped in front of the large mirror and studied my reflection. The familiar frown on my face stared back at me. I straightened my tie, smoothing it down with practiced ease, then released a sharp breath as I braced myself for whatever the Queen intended to say.

“It's time to see the queen,” I said with enough sarcasm to make Mr Wilson understand that I wasn't having it.

I had just turned toward the door when Mr. Wilson reached for me. His hand closed around mine, firm but gentle. I glanced down at our joined hands, then up at his face, my brows furrowed in silent question.

“Whatever the Queen’s decision may be,” he said quietly, “it is for your own good.”

Instantly, I pulled my hand from his grip, irritation flashing through me. Who asked for his unsolicited advice?

“Your well-meant, elderly advice is the last thing I need right now,” I said before storming out of the room.

I've not even recovered from Mr Wilson's action before I met the queen in the hallway. If looks could kill, I should be six feet under the ground. The way her eyes shot invisible lasers at me made my skin crawl.

Her hair was not perfectly made like they used to be. She wasn't even wearing her collection of pearls around her neck. But her royal ring was still on her finger. She can't forget that. Never.

“You never seize to bring mud on the royal family,” she said with a low and dangerous voice. That kind of voice that tells me “whatever she decides is irreversible.”

“What were you thinking, Rowan? Fighting in front of cameras? Don't you have an atom of decency?” She rained rhetorical questions on me. Rhetorical because I dare not say a word whenever she's burning in rage.

“Now is not the time to scold him,” my father said from behind her.

I could see that he was tired. Not of me, though. He was tired of the royal drama. He was stressed about it but he had no choice. He always told me how we had no choice. “We are royal blood by birth, not by choice,” he always says.

“When is the perfect time to scold him? She said without taking her gaze away from me. When will you talk sense into your son? When would he stop this childish act? How long will you ruin our reputation?

She was talking to my father but her eyes remained on me. I just stood still, my hand by my side, staring at anything that wasn't the queen's eyes.

“He is a teenager, Cordelia,” my father said calmly. “Teenagers are sometimes uncontrollably. They need guidance more than anyone else.”

“Henry was a teenager too,” the queen snapped. “Ethan is a teenager too. Have you ever heard any scandal about him?” Her voice was rising now.

“You are not a regular teenager, Rowan. You are a royalty. You represent the royal family. Your life reflects everything going on in the palace. How many times would I repeat this to you?”

“Stay calm, honey. You promised you won't scold him,” my father said.

This time, she turned to him. “That's because you said you would handle it,” she snapped.

“Then give me the chance to handle it,” he replied calmly.

“He's all yours,” she retorted, stepping away.

“Look at me, son,” he said and I really looked at him. I looked beyond the stress and I saw something scary. Something beyond his control.

“You will have to leave the palace,” he said calmly as if he was telling me the time.

“What?”

“You will be going to a boarding school,” he answered.

“Dad?” I screamed as my emotions began to jumble together.

Going to a boarding school? That was the last thing I expected from them. I thought I would be grounded without my gadgets or given chores to do. Who takes their child to a boarding school as a punishment?

“Dad, you can't just send me to some school. I'm not a regular teenager,” I argued, using their words against them.

“The decision is irreversible and you're not going to a regular boarding school. You will be taken to Hillsborough.”

Hell has finally broken on me. Hillsborough boarding school? Where the elites go… I can't go to a boarding school, not to mention Hillsborough. I'm not ready to live with some stupid teenagers. I love my space even if it comes with royal confinement.

“Dad. Please,” I pleaded, taking a step forward. “You can ground me for a month. You can confine my phone and tablet. You can't send me to a boarding school.”

“The decision wasn't mine alone,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I think it is the best we can do for you,” he added.

“Best?” I almost scoffed. “How is this the best decision? We are talking about a boarding school here. The same boarding school that tormented my brother.”

“He wasn't tormented. He was shaped to see the world in the right way. And if it worked for Henry, it will definitely work for you.”

This time, I scoffed. Before I could reply, Mr Wilson appeared. “Everything is ready, sir. Rowan needs to revise his speech before the press gets here.”

“Good,” my father said before leaving me to digest my newest reality.

I wish I could turn back the hands of time. I wish I could go back to the club and undo my mistake. I wish I had ignored the idiot that put me in this mess. Most importantly, I wished I had a normal family.