Prince Dorji Wangchuck, heir to the throne of Bhutan, stood in front of a brand-new orphanage. The grand opening sign fluttered in the wind behind him. This was one of his favorite parts of the job—being amongst the people, bringing attention to worthy causes. He’d already given the welcome speech—not his favorite part—which meant that the rest of his time here left him free to play with the kids.

Sure, he still wore his crown and official robe, but in moments like these, he could forget that he was the future leader of an entire country and just…enjoy life.

His fiancée, Karma, joined him from the limo. She was tall and gorgeous, especially in the ceremonial gown. She wasn’t part of the royal family yet, but she’d been betrothed to Dorji long enough to learn how to carry herself like a queen. Upon her own request, everyone called her Princess Karma, even though she wouldn’t be the actual princess until their wedding day in three months.

She patted a little boy on the head. “Aren’t you adorable?” When she approached the prince, she whispered to him, “I’ve brought the photographers. Let’s get this over with.”

On cue, a line of photographers appeared from God-knew-where and started to click away. The royal prince and his soon-to-be wife posed with a handful of adorable children. Dorji’s face was starting to hurt from all the smiling. He scooped up one of the smallest kids, a boy still in diapers, and let the kid touch his red and orange crown.

Once he set the boy down, Karma whispered into his ear, “These brats are filthy. Must they touch us so much?”

“They’re orphans,” Dorji whispered back.

“Yes, but do they have to be so…desperate for adult attention?”

He’d had this conversation with her before. He wanted to say, Yes, they need attention. They’re freaking orphans. He couldn’t, of course. Instead, he told her, “Just ten more minutes, dear.”

Dorji and Karma had been officially engaged for the last six months, but they’d been betrothed since they were both nine. Karma was the only daughter of Bhutan’s first prime minister, an extremely popular political figure. Despite the betrothal, they’d never really spent any time together until the official engagement last winter. Before that, they would get together during holy days for photo sessions, but otherwise, they lived their own lives. Dorji had dated around—both male and female—and overall tried to keep a low profile.

Then the courtship…

Then the engagement…

Within the last half year, everything had changed so much. Now, Dorji spent much of his day keeping up appearances, trying his best to match pace with his future wife. If only he’d known, as a nine-year-old, that this pretty girl would grow up to be the politically savvy, high-maintenance knock-out that she’d become.

Every time they’d appear together in public events—just like this one—she knew all the right things to do in front of the cameras. Once they married this summer, Dorji knew Karma would be an ideal addition to the royal family. Of course that assumed he could survive her behind-the-scenes tantrums.

A girl of about twelve walked out of the crowd. She held her hands behind her back and fidgeted nervously. “Your majesties?” she whispered. “We have a song for you.”

Dorji glanced at his fiancée, who was very covertly rolling her eyes.

“Wonderful!” she squealed.

The girl sang the first few lines. 

“The sky was bluer. 

The air was honey fresh. 

When our prince fell in love. 

With a girl from the South.”

Then the rest of the children joined in. 

“He saw her dark eyes. 

And he said I will marry her. 

On that beautiful day.”

Dorji recognized the song instantly. Bhutan didn’t have Billboard charts like the Western countries, but if it did, this song would have been number one for months. It was the officially commissioned engagement song, and its lyrics were all about how Dorji and Karma met. If he went to any of the karaoke bars in Thimphu, the nation’s capital, he’d hear drunken men and women singing the song several times a night. Royal Love Story. That was the title. That and the song from Titanic were the two songs that everyone in Bhutan knew by heart.

The children finished the last refrain. 

“The prince is in love. 

The prince is in love. 

Their union brings prosperity to us all.” 

They dragged out the last few words into a big finish. 

Karma smiled perfectly. She wiped at her dry eyes. She really was playing the part.

The children bowed, and Karma burst into enthusiastic applause. Dorji had zoned out for a second, so Karma nudged him with her elbow. He started clapping, too.

“You all have such beautiful voices,” Karma said. “And the words to that song always touch my heart.” She wiped her eyes again.

Dorji, who had heard the song at least a hundred times in the last few months, forced a smile and said, “Well done, my children. I can think of no better way to end this joyous day.”

The children bowed again.

Dorji gave everyone a traditional blessing, which was basically a fifteen-second chant and some hand gestures.

The crowd dispersed.

“Wasn’t that beautiful?” Karma told him. Then, once they were far enough away, she added, “I need a freaking shower.”

They got back in the limo for the ten-minute ride back to the palace. Once the windows were rolled up and the vehicle was on its way, Karma said, “Please tell me this is the last thing we have to do this week. I haven’t had a spa day in ages.”

“Let me check the calendar.” He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his appointments. This was just a stalling tactic, though, because he knew that they were scheduled for an appearance at the opening of a new national park project just north of the capital.