So, with the real King safely tucked away in some hidden chamber within the palace, there I was about to be trussed up as pretty as a royal banquet goose. Oh, and I had no doubts that I'd soon be dead. Yes, dead, and plucked naked, my head adorning the ramparts!
No sooner had these dire premonitions fell upon me than a knock came upon my royal door. My man-servant, if that's what one would call him, rushed to the door and asked who dared disturb the king in his royal chambers.
"It is I, Prince Kenword."
Prince? I could have sworn that clodhopper was but a lowly Sir. "Send him away, and be quick about it," I whispered.
Speaking through the ornate, heavy door my servant told him I had retired for the evening, whereupon I dismissed him as well. I was beginning to like being a king, as it was a pleasant change to be on the giving orders side of things for a change.
That night I lay within the royal bed, its flowing silk curtains billowing in the night air. Though it was the most comfortable feather bed I'd ever laid upon, sleep eluded me. No good will come of this deception. You know that, and you know who'll reap the blame!
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