HRH Princess Alexandra of Wales

Chapter 9

The blaring alarm clock felt more like a personal attack than a wake-up call at 5:00 AM. I slammed the snooze button, wincing at the thought of waking my roommates, but the looming exams left me with little choice. A chorus of sighs echoed down the hallway, a silent testament to the collective dread and early rising that united us all.

The International Baccalaureate finals were a monster looming on the horizon, and we, the students, were its unwilling prey. Every second counted, every moment held the potential to tip the scales.

After a quiet change of clothes and a solitary cup of tea in the deserted kitchen, I retreated to my room. The next three hours were the calm before the storm, a precious window of focused study before the day's chaos began. My meticulously crafted study plan lay open on the desk, a tangible reminder of my dedication.

The pressure, however, was a suffocating weight. Since my existence became public knowledge last December, I felt the burden of expectation more intensely than ever before. The image of perfection, often associated with royalty, now felt like a suffocating mantle draped on my shoulders.

Thoughts of Leonor, my best friend and fellow princess, surfaced. She'd spoken about this pressure countless times, the constant need to be flawless, the unforgiving nature of any misstep. In her world, excellence was the only acceptable outcome. I took a deep breath, trying to push aside the anxieties. I was Alexandra, yes, a princess, but also a student, a friend, and an individual determined to forge my own path.

My mind was racing as I wrestled with a past international politics exam. A notification on my computer screen froze me in my tracks. It was a message from my father, and the way it was phrased sent a jolt of dread through me. My great-grandfather's health had been declining for months, and a horrible premonition gripped me.

The message read: "If you are awake, call me immediately. It's a delicate matter. Be alone when you do."

Without a second thought, I grabbed my phone and coat, rushing out to the deserted gardens of the boarding house. I found a quiet spot near the beach, away from prying eyes, and dialed the number.

My father picked up on the first ring. His voice was laced with a gravity that sent shivers down my spine. "I've just spoken to your director. In ten minutes, you and Richard will have a car to take you to the airfield. You need to return to London right away. The Royal Medical Team has just activated 'Operation Forth Bridge' protocol."

"Oh God," I breathed, the weight of the situation settling on me. "Do you know how Lilibet is doing? I can't imagine what this is doing to her." My mind went to my great-grandmother, the Queen, and their 70 years of marriage. The specter of mourning loomed large.

"Your aunt Anne is with her," my father assured me. "She'll be alright. The news will be made public at noon. Will you be back in Kensington with your mother by then?"

His question caught me off guard. "You're not in London? I thought you didn't have any engagements out of town this week. Does the media know?"

A beat of silence followed. "I'm attending a conference in Edinburgh. I'll be back home tonight."

Though I didn't say anything, a flicker of doubt sparked within me. While I couldn't recall the specific details, I vaguely remembered hearing about a different engagement for my father that week, in London for a fact as I recalled my mother being excited for finally getting to spend some time with him. I chose to remain silent, however, understanding that this wasn't the time to press the issue.

The weight of the impending announcement hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the day ahead. My studies were forgotten, replaced by the whirlwind of emotions and the looming return to London. It was a time of family, of duty, and of facing the uncertainties that lay ahead.