Wales appears in the novel as a place of retreat and emotional grounding, a pastoral counterpoint to the pressure-cooker worlds of the White House and Kensington Palace. It is where Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor goes to recover, to sleep properly, and to be away from the scrutiny that defines his public life. The country is first glimpsed through a video call, with dramatic, plunging scenery rolling past the car window as Henry and Percy Okonjo drive through Carmarthenshire. This image of Wales — green, moving, unhurried — becomes associated with Henry's capacity for peace, and with the private space where his relationship with Alex Claremont-Diaz can breathe.

A Morning Call from Carmarthenshire

The first sustained scene set in Wales comes on a Sunday morning, when Alex, exhausted and stressed over his economics final, calls Percy Okonjo. Pez answers from the passenger seat of a luxury car, wearing a cartoonishly large sunhat and a striped pashmina, and cheerfully announces that they are out for a drive, taking in the scenery of Carmarthenshire. He tilts the phone toward the driver's seat and tells Henry to say good morning to his "strumpet," a teasing nickname that immediately establishes the easy, affectionate register of the call. Henry, fresh-faced and relaxed, with rolled-up sleeves and soft gray linen, glances away from the road to wink at the camera. Alex feels calmer knowing that somewhere in Wales, Henry got a decent night's sleep — a small but telling detail that frames Wales as the place where Henry is at his most rested and most himself.

The call is playful and warm. Pez offers to take Alex's economics final for him, boasting that he is "aces with money," and Henry's voice comes from off-camera with a dry retort about Pez's boundless confidence. Alex, laughing under his breath, asks Henry to say the name of the house they are staying at again. Henry, half-smiling, says "Llwynywermod." Alex asks for it one more time, and the repetition becomes a private joke, a way of savoring the strange, unpronounceable Welsh name and, through it, the fact of Henry's separate life in a place Alex cannot yet visit. The scene captures the texture of their long-distance relationship: intimacy maintained through screens, humor, and the small rituals of shared language.

The Fairy-Tale Letter from Wales

Wales is also the setting for one of the novel's most emotionally significant documents: the letter Henry writes to Alex from his Welsh retreat, dated August 10, 2020. Responding to Alex's question about where a person like him comes from, Henry offers a story rather than an explanation. He tells of a young prince born in a castle, whose mother was a princess scholar and whose father was the most handsome, feared knight in all the land. The prince was born with his heart on the outside of his body, red and visible and alive, and though his family smiled and said he would grow out of it, the heart stayed where it was. The queen, his grandmother, lived in a high tower and spoke only of other princes who were born whole. When the knight was struck down in battle, the queen sent new clothes — armor for the prince to parcel his heart away safe — and the prince's mother, afraid of her son's heart being torn open too, did not stop her.

The letter continues with the prince wearing the armor for many years, believing it was right, until he met the most devastatingly gorgeous peasant boy from a nearby village who said absolutely ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years. The peasant boy turned out to be a mad sort of sorcerer, one who could conjure gold and vodka shots and apricot tarts out of absolutely nothing, and the prince's whole life went up in a puff of dazzling purple smoke. The kingdom's response, in Henry's telling, is a wry collective shrug: "I can't believe we're all so surprised." The fairy tale is Henry's way of explaining his own closetedness, his grief over his father's death, and the transformative effect of meeting Alex — all framed through the Welsh setting where he has retreated to ruminate on identity. He signs the letter "Haplessly Romantic Heretic Prince Henry the Utterly Daft," and adds a postscript hoping Alex will forget it as soon as he has read it, before closing with a quotation from Henry James to Hendrik C. Andersen from 1899.

A Place of Return and Reconnection

The letter also carries practical news: Henry accepts Alex's invitation to the lake house in Texas, writing "I'm in for the lake house." He admits he is glad Alex is getting out of the house, worrying that Alex may burn the thing down, and asks whether this means he will be meeting Alex's father. The exchange marks a turning point in their relationship, moving from the confessional intimacy of the fairy tale to the concrete planning of a shared future. Wales, in this context, is not merely a backdrop but the place from which Henry takes the risk of telling his story, and from which he agrees to step into Alex's world. The country thus functions as a threshold: a space of reflection and self-revelation that enables the next stage of their relationship.

Narrative Significance of Wales

Throughout the novel, Wales operates as a symbolic geography of Henry's inner life. It is where he is most honest, most vulnerable, and most himself — the place where he can sleep, where he can write, and where he can imagine a different kind of life. The contrast with the formal, surveilled spaces of the British monarchy is stark: Wales offers the freedom to be seen by Alex without armor, to let his heart remain on the outside of his body. The fairy-tale letter, written from this Welsh retreat, becomes a key text in the novel's exploration of identity, closetedness, and the courage required to be known. Wales, in this sense, is less a destination than a condition — a state of being where Henry can finally speak his truth.