This sounded daunting. I try to think of myself as at least social justice–adjacent, and I’ve volunteered to plan fundraisers for Hetrick-Martin, which is New York’s LGBTQ high school, I’ve advised on poster art for a great trans candidate’s city council campaign, and I’ve done charity walks and registered voters. I want to offer whatever skills I have, but I’m intensely minor compared to Louise, who tutors at-risk gay kids three times a week, and Adam, who’s active in Broadway Cares and, with DuShawn, delivers hot meals to people living with HIV and other chronic illnesses.

“We’ll be opening a new wing of a children’s hospital,” Edgar explained in the car. “I’ve spent years flattering billionaires, getting them to pay for thirty beds, twelve new nurses and a protected outdoor area where the kids can get some sunshine. You’d think rich people would be instantly forthcoming, but it’s an older facility in a low-income neighbourhood, so persuasion has been necessary.”

The St. Garvin’s Hospital for Children was a collection of red brick Victorian buildings resembling a small-town college. There was a huddle of press and mobile TV units outside the entrance, along with a decent-size crowd of onlookers. Edgar answered every personal question with a reply centering on the hospital, while I stood slightly behind him and to the left, practicing a smile that was interested and alert without being goofy. Dr. Sarman Vatshul, the medical director, led us inside.

“The children are so excited to see you,” said Dr. Vatshul as health care workers and patients lined the halls and Edgar posed for selfies; he had a gift for making each person feel heard, rather than patted on the head and dismissed.

“It doesn’t quite make sense,” James murmured to me, “but His Highness brightens everyone’s day. He’s not a vote-hungry politician, or even a film star with some superhero bilge to promote. It’s about service.”

We reached a large, open room where about thirty patients had gathered, all under ten years old. Some were in wheelchairs and others used crutches, with three children on gurneys. Their parents and siblings stood along the walls; photographers had been allowed in, and of course everyone had their phones out.

“Children,” announced Dr. Vatshul, “please join me in welcoming our very special guest, His Royal Highness Prince Edgar.”

Edgar grinned and quieted the applause and cheers. “Thank you, but today is about you, so let me ask—is everyone enjoying the new wing?”

More cheers, although one little boy announced, “It’s all right, but there should be candy!”

“Absolutely brilliant,” Edgar agreed. “There must always be candy. And I will consult with Dr. Vatshul. But have you all had a hearty breakfast?”

Everyone nodded, as Edgar said, “But it’s not really hearty without chocolate chip cookies, is it?”