I shake my head, stunned by the effort and planning that’s already taken place. I experience a twinge of guilt at the realization I’ve caused so much upheaval, but it’s quickly engulfed by rising excitement at the prospect of spending the next four months almost entirely on my own.

“No questions at the moment,” I answer.

“Good.” Richard rises, his face as stoic as always. “You’ll travel to Glendale Cottage the week before you depart. Your hair will be changed then. You’ll also be quizzed on your cover story and American culture, so start studying.” He slides a binder to me that I stack on top of the booklet already in front of me. “Make sure to get me those classes by the end of the day, Your Highness.” He bows and then leaves the room.

The rest of the men follow his lead, leaving me alone with my father.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yes, Papa,” I reply. “Just a little overwhelmed. But also excited.”

“Good.” He smiles. “I’ve got another meeting now, but I’ll see you for dinner. Your mother invited the Vanderbilts over, I believe.”

“Okay,” I reply. “I’m going to start working my way through this all.” I lift the heavy stack of paper from the table and grin.

My father laughs. “Happy reading, Vivvi.”

I spend the rest of the afternoon sprawled out on one of the overstuffed leather couches in the library, paging through the thick booklet listing all of Lincoln University’s courses. Finally, I narrow the extensive options down to four selections: a medieval history course, a philosophy course, an English class, and an American government lecture. I write down all the course names on a piece of lined paper and leave the library to walk back toward the Royal Guard’s quarters in the opposite wing of the house.

As I’m passing through the front foyer, I encounter my mother.

“Oh, Vivienne, good. I’ve had the staff running all over the place looking for you. Where have you been?”

I hold up the glossy booklet. “Picking my university courses. I have to bring them to Richard.”

“Fine, but once you’ve done that, go put on something else.” She eyes my shorts critically. “The Vanderbilts are coming for dinner tonight.”

“I know, Papa told me.”

“Be down here by six,” are her parting words as she sweeps back out of the foyer.

I continue down the long hallway until I arrive at the door of Richard’s office. I knock and push the heavy door open when he calls out for me to enter.

He’s sitting behind his desk, sorting through the massive pile of papers that covers most of the wooden surface. Despite Richard’s long tenure as the head of the Royal Guard, one would never know it looking at his office. Aside from one framed photograph, the small room is completely bereft of any personal details, merely containing the same dark wooden desk and chairs that fill the office of every member of the Royal Guard. The sparse space fits his no nonsense personality.