Part I - THE PRINCE

CHAPTER 5

As the evening wore on, exhaustion slipped steadily into the room. The fire in the hearth was nothing more than a remnant flame now that occasionally crackled as it burned out.

An uncomfortable silence had fallen shortly after Brooke and Harpreet had fallen asleep on the couch, and Aldric was grateful Ewan didn’t linger afterward. The two had stiffly exchanged goodbyes, neither bothering with extensive formality. Before the door between them had even shut, Ewan’s face was contorting into relief at the night’s end.

After wrapping the two girls in a thick blanket, Aldric returned to his chair. He didn’t immediately sit, though. Instead, his attention was momentarily snagged by the glass balcony doors. He contemplated taking a seat on the ledge of the stone railing and dangling his legs in the air while breathing in the crisp October air. But it was a foggy night and the city was detectable only by faint, blurry lights in the distance. The sky, too, aside from the moon’s faint presence, was concealed by clouds and darkness.

Turning away from the balcony, Aldric repositioned his chair so that it was directly in front of the dying embers, ensuring that the legs didn’t catch on the carpet or scrap on the wood. The last thing he needed was Harpreet and Brooke waking up and deciding to continue their walk down memory lane.

They had reminisced for hours about mundane family dinners, each recalling precisely what dress they wore and how their hair was styled. They discussed the childish games of tag that they used to play, with Ewan occasionally joining the conversation to debate the real winner or argue whether or not so-and-so cheated. Brooke brought up story after story of some random, embarrassing moment of clumsiness, while Harpreet detailed the number of extravagant and usually ridiculous proposals she’d been receiving since turning thirteen. Ewan’s displeasure at the latter’s choice of topic held Aldric over until the wine arrived.

Aldric’s smile was painfully stuck on his face by the end of the night. His cheekbones hurt and his head had been pounding since Brooke’s third story. It didn’t help, either, that he’d had about three glasses of wine at that point. By the fourth, his sister’s laughter had devolved into a crating sound worse than nails on a chalkboard, and by the fifth, Harpreet’s habitual tic of clapping like a seal at every punchline was threatening to send him spiraling.

Out of fear of encouraging either Harpreet or Brooke, Aldric hadn’t contributed his own story or built off either of theirs. Eventually, they’d drunken themselves into a stupor that brought the evening to an end.

Aldric wasn’t sure why he disliked discussing the past so much with them. Maybe it was because he didn’t look back on his childhood with the same level of fondness that his sister and cousin seemed to. Aldric’s youth had been dedicated to structured lessons, monitored training, and private studies. Not games and gossip and senseless things like friendship. Most of his memories consisted of long nights spent pouring over economic textbooks in the library or mornings bent over his desk while he reviewed kingdom histories and politics.

His unsupervised trips into the city blessed him with a necessary escape, but the fondness brought on by those memories wasn’t something that he could share with Brooke or Harpreet. They hadn’t been with him for any of those adventures. He hadn’t wanted them there and so an invitation was never extended.

His hypocritical, reckless, un-princely side was known to its fullest to only one person.

While Harpreet and Brooke had gravitated towards one another from the moment of their first meeting—Ewan typically in tow—Aldric had bonded with Rhiann.

Rhiann, like Aldric, had certain expectations for her life. Some she had received from her parents and others she had placed upon herself. Taking over the McPherson Duchy was an inherited birthright that she developed immense pride in, similar to Aldric and his position as the crown prince. The requirements and demands, though, boiled over in Rhiann much quicker than they did in Aldric. As a result, she’d snuck out one night in a hazardous attempt of rebellion, and the following high of liberation had given her the necessary strength to return to her lessons without complaint.

The next time she’d snuck away, Aldric had joined her.

Their exploits evolved as they grew older. They transitioned from aimlessly wandering the nearby forest to carefully meandering the city streets. As their confidence grew, they began approaching people and there was no pressure to uphold the prestige of a future title or abide by stingy rules of decorum. Ewan stayed out of the way—preoccupied with Harpreet—and Aldric was able to enjoy a few hours being himself, Rhiann at his side.

Aldric ran a hand over his face as he lowered his wine glass to the end table at his left. He’d lost count of how much he’d drank, but at least his brain was finally starting to enter that muddy place where deeper thoughts couldn’t penetrate.

He didn’t want to think about Rhiann right now.

Recalling the fun times they’d had together just left him feeling bitter and angry with her. She hadn’t written him in six months. Not a single word on a single piece of paper. After the twelfth unanswered letter, Aldric had given up. His pride was already teetering on the edge. He’d tried to trick himself into believing that his resentment was abating, that he was starting to understand why she’d put distance between them, but after learning from his uncle last week that Rhiann wouldn’t be attending the birthday celebration, all pretenses of forgiveness and acceptance vanished like smoke.

It was a good thing that Aldric was no longer holding the wine glass. His fists were clenched so tightly that he was leaving fingernail indents in his palm. His knuckles were stark white in the darkness and the tendons of his arms were beginning to hurt. Thankfully, the wave of rage subsided after a few deep breaths. Aldric willed his mind to clear and sunk further into the drunken haze dancing at the edge of his vision. The chair’s cushions swarmed him with warmth.

On reflection, today had been somewhat miserable.

Aldric’s morning had been interrupted by the newly reformed and serious Ewan. His afternoon had been ruined by the meek display his father had presented in front of the Tanah king. Subsequently, his evening had been robbed from him by his sister, cousin, and—again—Ewan. Now, to top off a day of disappointments, his night was being bombarded by unwanted emotions and thoughts.

Luckily, there was another wine bottle nearby.

With uncoordinated steps, Aldric moved across the room. He stumbled into the coffee table as he passed and bite back the curse that jump to his lips. With a groan of pain, he gingerly limped the last few steps before proceeding to fight with the cork of the bottle for a good five minutes. His victory was quietly uttered into the silence as he more carefully maneuvered his way back towards his chair. The glass at his side was swiftly forgotten and Aldric wasted no time downing a series of long gulps that left his head spinning.

Had he been more lucid, Aldric probably would have realized that making himself even more drunk was more likely than not just going to extend his misery into tomorrow morning. But at the moment, he didn’t register anything insignificant like the high probability of an unbearably nauseating hangover. He just continued drinking. Because if Aldric was honest—which he rarely ever was—he’d been having a lot of miserable days lately. The past six months had been nothing short of excruciating.

But things would change tomorrow, of that he was certain.

A small part of Aldric expected to feel different the coming morning. But minus his excruciating hangover, everything was relatively the same; though it was difficult to focus on anything but the headache currently threatening to split his skull open. His stomach roiled violently and he lunged for the bathroom, bumping into the door frame as he rushed towards the toilet. Every muscle shook as Aldric threw up the entirety of yesterday’s escapades. He hadn’t had much to eat so most of what expunged from his stomach was liquid and made a disgusting splashing noise in the basin.

“It’s weird seeing you look so disheveled,” he heard Brooke say from behind him. With one last heave, Aldric sat back on his heels and spun his head slowly in the direction of his sister. She was currently reclined against the frame he’d crashed into earlier holding a glass of water. Her nose was scrunched up in distaste but her eyes had a slight tilt of amusement as she looked down at him. “By the way, happy birthday, big brother.”

Aldric stood with a grunt before migrating towards the sink and brushing his teeth for an excessively long time. Satisfied his mouth felt semi-normal, he took the outstretched glass of water from Brooke and downed it in one gulp. After a quick inspection in the mirror, Aldric washed his face in hopes of reducing the bags under his eyes. The water was a few degrees short of scolding and brought a cheery redness to his cheeks that made him at least appear more alive and decently awake.

“Thank you. But I don’t know what you’re bragging about,” he finally said as he turned to address Brooke with a smile. His attention roamed over her hazardously knotted hair that stuck up in all directions, her sunken cheeks, and the waves of wrinkles throughout her dress. “You look worse than I do.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “How about we settle in the middle and agree that we both look like shit?”

With a soft chuckle, Aldric pushed by his sister and headed back into the waiting room. His back hurt from sleeping upright in a chair all night and he did a few stretches to try and loosen up his muscles. He wasn’t sure how long Brooke had been up, but seeing as she hadn’t ordered food yet it couldn’t have been that long. Harpreet still occupied the couch, the entirety of the blanket consuming her small frame. She stirred a little as Brooke plopped down next to her.

“Wake up sleeping beauty,” Brooke sang obnoxiously.

With a groan, Harpreet rolled over and with a considerable effort pulled herself into a sitting position. Aldric snickered at the sight of her pale blonde hair stuck to her face and the sleepy incoherent wondering of her eyes as she tried to recall what happened last night. Brooke’s laughter was much louder and she threw her head back in exclamation.

“Today’s a good morning,” she chuckled, her eyes darting between Aldric and Harpreet. “I’ve been able to see two people I rarely see out of sorts looking like complete disasters.”

Harpreet’s giggle was playful and light, and it distracted Brooke from the hardened expression on her brother’s face and the glare he was shooting at her. He tried to push aside the sour taste in his mouth, but he didn’t have the energy to reform his expression just yet. Aldric was still in partial disbelief that he’d allowed himself to drink so much last night. His annoyance was only further heightened by the fact that his little sister had watched him vomit into a toilet for ten minutes straight.

“Good mornin’,” Harpreet mumbled while rubbing her eyes. “Happy birthday, Aldric,” she said with a brilliant but sleepy smile as she noticed him entering the room.

“Thank you, Harpreet,” he said in response, his composure gaining more ground as the minutes passed. His head still felt like a rubber band was wrapped around it, but the ease and control of his facial expressions was returning.

Harpreet and Brooke chatted casually while Aldric slipped into the halls to summon a nearby maid. He asked for some breakfast to be delivered to his rooms, and the girl seemed more than happy to oblige. He flashed her a smile, and she blushed. You know, the usual.

Fifteen minutes later, Ewan was knocking at his door and ruining Aldric’s morning even further. The Prince was particularly dismayed to see him carrying two large trays; the right loaded with fruit and bread, the left ladened with coffee, cream, and sugar.

“Good morning, your Highness,” Ewan greeted with an awkward bow of his head. It was always astounding to Aldric that the other boy never seemed to grow tired of this routine. Nearly every morning for the past six months, without delay, Ewan would be there waiting to shadow Aldric for the remainder of the day. Aldric had only managed to sneak out yesterday because he’d woken up an hour earlier than normal. That, combined with the chaos of the palace staff and the queen’s orders, had granted a small bit of freedom. Freedom that had been quickly stripped once Ewan had tracked him down. “My congratulations to you on your seventeenth birthday, Prince Aldric.”

“Thank you, Ewan,” he said in response with a stifled yawn before stepping aside to allow access into the room.

Brooke squealed loudly at the sight of the coffee and jumped on it the moment the tray was set on a nearby table. Harpreet worked on moving some of Aldric’s books aside since the table was commonly used by him as an extended desk. He assisted her in clearing away more surfaces to eat, while Ewan unloaded the food. Brooke didn’t bother assisting and instead worked on stirring some creamer into a mug and dropping two spoonfuls of sugar into the now light brown liquid. Harpreet went for the fruit first while Aldric slathered some butter on a piece of toast. Maybe the bread would help soak up the emptiness beginning to gnaw at his insides.

For the entire morning, Aldric sat just as he had last night and listened to his sister ramble on and on about different things going on throughout the palace. She seemed to be attempting to fill in Harpreet on every little thing that had occurred in Electus since she’d left. Without the assistance of alcohol this time, the conversation was even more painful to endure. Wasn’t it too cruel to be tortured on your own birthday?

Aldric almost let out a sigh of relief when a knock sounded at the door, interrupting Brooke’s next sentence. Ewan answered it and hastily stepped to the side as Carla stormed into the room. She began clapping her hands loudly as she took in her son, daughter, and niece.

“What are you all doing?” She shouted in exasperation, throwing her hands up into the air. Aldric’s eyes found Brooke’s and the siblings briefly shared an expression of relief that they’d already stashed the wine. The staff wouldn’t say anything unless asked and the queen wouldn’t have a reason to ask unless she suspected something. “The representatives will be arriving any minute now and none of you are ready. Go! Go! I need you all bathed and dressed in thirty minutes.”

Brooke poured another cup of coffee, grabbed an apple, and darted out of the room with a grin on her face. Harpreet followed, bowing low and gracefully to Carla before slipping out of the room. The Queen motioned for Ewan to leave, as well, leaving Aldric and her alone together.

“Your father told me you met King Cirillo yesterday,” she said as soon as the doors shut. Aldric tried his best to hide his surprise. That was not the first thing he had expected his mother to say to him. He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off with a furious shake of her head that left strands of hair pulling free from her braided crown of hair. “Never mind. We can discuss that later. Happy birthday, dear.” She swept forward and kissed both of his cheeks. “I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes.”

Quiet finally settled over Aldric’s room but his puzzlement only amplified as his thoughts raced. Now his mother was acting strange. Why did she and his father both seem so uncomfortable with the topic of King Cirillo? It was as if they were dancing around broken glass when his name came up.

Aldric didn’t have time to go after Carla and ask her, though. Guests would be arriving soon and even if he wasn’t short on time, his valets arrived only minutes after his mother’s departure to help dress him. The Prince standardly preferred preparing for the day alone, but formal occasions were different. As the valets worked to bath him, dress him, and make him wholly presentable, Aldric tried to tune out his thoughts. Just for the moment, he was going to forget about anything unrelated to celebrating his seventeenth birthday—even if the day brought with it a heap of unwanted anxiety.