The Prince of Warwood and the Fall of the King (Book 2)

by J. Noel Clinton

  “X? Sorry I got you in trouble with your dad. Going Mummering was a stupid idea,” Beck said.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. I could have said no. I wanted to go Mummering,” Xavier responded, not looking at his friend as he continued to scrub at the door. “I can’t stand Father O’Brien. He was so…” Xavier groaned, not sure how to finish the sentence. “I just hated it that he got what he wanted from our dads. You know? That we all got punished like we did.”

  Beck was shaking his head before Xavier finished. “He didn’t exactly get it his way. When Garrett and I went back into the library, Garrett’s dad asked King Wells what he believed was an acceptable punishment. Father O’Brien started to answer, but Mr. Bracus completely dismissed him and told him that he wasn’t interested in his opinion, that he was speaking to the king. The look on Father O’Brien’s face was priceless. King Wells said he felt corporal punishment was a fitting punishment, but he didn’t recommend Father O’Brien do it. He said it wasn’t a good idea for the priest to do the spanking because he was the victim of our prank. His anger might get the better of him, and he might go overboard. You should have seen Father O’Brien! He looked like he wanted to pummel King Wells. It was all I could do not to laugh, but then, my dad says since what we did was technically against the laws of the kingdom, our punishment should be done by the king anyways. I about swallowed my own tongue! I thought my dad was a hard hitter, but your dad beat him, hands down. I don’t know how he does it, but he sure knows how to make it sting like a mother!”

  “Yeah, he’s good at that. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. I’m just happy that O’Brien didn’t lay a finger on me, the wanker!” Beck told him.

  The boys worked in silence for several minutes before Beck added, “Ever wonder if Spencer would hit as hard as the king?”

  Xavier stopped cleaning to look incredulously at Beck beside him. “You’re completely nuts, Beck!” Xavier laughed.

  Beck laughed with him. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, the thought just popped in there. Like just now I’m wondering if Loren would hit as hard as he looks like he would. That bloke is big. His biceps are as big as my entire waist!”

  The boys laughed harder.

  “I don’t know. Loren’s kind of like a big kid, you know. I don’t think he’d hit as hard because of that,” Xavier observed.

  “Yeah, you could be right. He’d probably hit like a little old lady,” Beck responded, snickering. “Now, Ephraim Hardcastle, I bet that bloke hits hard. He’s not as big as Loren, but he’s got this just-try-to-mess-with-me thing going on that’s scary as hell. I guess I could always ask Court who hits harder, the king or his old man.”

  “Beck,” Xavier coughed, laughing. “You’re totally mental!”

  After they finished with the clean-up from their night of Mummering, Xavier entered the royal residence exhausted and filthy. He trudged up the steps to his room and collapsed onto his bed with an exaggerated moan. Moments later, there was a knock at his door just before Mrs. Sommers swayed into the room.

  “Xavier, honey. Miss Applegate called while you were out to discuss the dance. So I invited her over for lunch.”

  Xavier’s head jerked up from his pillow. “What? Maggie’s coming to lunch? What time?”

  “At noon,” she answered, crossing the room and opening his curtains.

  He blinked at the sudden explosion of light. “Noon? That’s in fifteen minutes! That’s not enough time! I stink! I need to shower!” He whined as he jumped up and raced around his room, picking up his dirty clothes and strung out toys. “God! And, look at my room! What if she wants to come up here after we eat?” He huffed exasperatedly and threw his arms into the air. “I’ll never be ready in time! Just tell her I couldn’t make it. Tell her I’m still cleaning the church! Tell her anything!”

  “Now, Xavier. That’s enough. Calm down. Go and get your shower. I’ll straighten up here and set out some clean clothes for lunch. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” she cooed, shooing him into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

  Ten minutes later, Xavier raced from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist to find his room straightened and vacuumed. Mrs. Sommers had even lit a small candle that filled his room with a sweet, spicy aroma. He was immediately relieved that she hadn’t chosen a flowery-scented candle. He couldn’t help but smile as he quickly dressed in cargo pants and a dark blue sweater. Then, he combed his fingers through his hair and looked at his image in the mirror.

  Not bad, he thought, giving his image a devilish grin.

  “Hi, Maggie.” He practiced the greeting and winked into the mirror.

  He turned and studied his reflection from a different angle. “Hey. What’s up?” He attempted with a nod and a waggle of his eyebrows. No, too sleazy.

  Shaking his head, he tried again. “Hello, Miss Applegate. It’s very nice to see you again.” No, that was too stuffy.

  “Son?” Jeremiah’s smiling voice called from the doorway.

  He spun and glared at his father accusingly. “Dad! Do you mind knocking?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to grin. “It’s just that your guest has arrived, and lunch will be ready in ten minutes. I think she could use your company.”

  Xavier stiffened. “She’s here?” he asked, his voice cracking. “O…Okay, I…I’ll be down in a second.”

  “All right, son, but get a move on. You should never keep a beautiful lady waiting,” he told him before leaving the room.

  He looked back into the mirror at the frightened face staring at him. He looked good, but something was missing. A waft of spice from the candle made Xavier smile again at Mrs. Sommers’ thoughtfulness, and it gave him an idea. He should smell as good as he looked! He raced out of the room and into his father’s bathroom. He opened the vanity and began searching for a bottle of aftershave or cologne. His father had two different bottles, so after sniffing them, he made a selection and splashed the light amber liquid on his neck and jaw. Hastily, he shoved the bottle back into the vanity and sprinted for the steps to the lower floor. Down below, Maggie Applegate sat in the receiving room talking to… oh great, his father! Xavier raced down the steps and into the receiving room where he slowed into a relaxed stroll just as he reached Maggie and his father.

  “Ah, here he is! If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see how lunch is coming along,” Jeremiah told her. He turned to exit the room but stopped next to Xavier. “Son? Have you been into my bathroom cabinet?” he whispered softly.

  “Yes, sir,” he answered, blushing.

  “I thought I recognized the scent, but for future use, a little cologne goes a long way,” he commented with a chuckle, patted Xavier’s shoulder, and left the room.

  “Hello, Xavier,” Maggie greeted softly, batting her long, dark eyelashes at him.

  His brain immediately went fuzzy.

  “Ah…hi,” he managed, strolling over to the sofa and sitting next to her.

  “I was so glad when you asked me to the Old Christmas Dance. I really hoped you would. I… I really like you, Xavier. I think you’ll make a great king one day,” she stated shyly.

  “Ah…thanks, Maggie. I…like you, too,” he stammered like an idiot and fidgeted with the pocket on his pants leg.

  “Will you be going to the rugby tournament too?” she asked.

  “Yeah, of course,” he answered.

  “Is your father playing this year? He broke his arm last year and couldn’t play.”

  “I…I don’t know. He hasn’t really said anything about it,” Xavier answered.

  “Hopefully he will, because if he does, the Royals will win the tournament for sure. Last year, the Wellings won,” she continued, making a gagging face.

  “Then I take it you’re not a Welling?”

  “No. My mother is a representative to the parliament and a member of the High Council. So I guess that makes me a Royal.”

  “Oh,” Xavier responded.

 
“Well,” Maggie continued, reaching into her small handbag. “I brought a swatch of fabric so you could match up your vest and tie to my dress.”

  “A swatch?” he asked.

  “It’s a little piece of the fabric that my dress is made from,” she answered, pulling out an emerald velvet scrap of fabric and handing it to him.

  “Children, lunch is ready,” Mrs. Sommers announced, entering the room. “Ah, is that a swatch from your dress, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Maggie replied, smiling at Xavier.

  Oh, God. Xavier felt a hot tingling sensation race through his body, and he found himself holding his breath. It was uncanny how easily this girl could turn him into mush.

  “Xavier?” Mrs. Sommers called with a small laugh.

  “Huh?” he grunted, jerking his head away from Maggie’s intoxicating smile to Mrs. Sommers.

  “I’ve asked you twice now to give me the swatch so I can pick up your vest and tie this afternoon,” she snickered, extending her hand for the cloth.

  “Oh,” Xavier muttered, handing it to her.

  Following lunch, Xavier and Maggie sat next to the fireplace in the receiving room, discussing the Old Christmas festivities. He was beginning to feel comfortable in Maggie’s company. Okay, maybe comfortable wasn’t exactly accurate, but he could now hold a conversation with the girl without constantly stammering.

  “Who do you plan to go with to the rugby tournament?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, probably Robbie, Erica, Court, and the guys. Do you want to hang out with us?” he asked hopefully.

  Maggie blushed. “Well, yeah. Of course, I want to hang out with you. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah! Sure!” he replied with a broad smile.

  She beamed back at him and slid her hand into his.

  Xavier thought he would pass out from the sensations swarming through him. He couldn’t seem to stop the small groan that slipped from deep in his throat, and he tightened his grip on her hand. Okay, this was it. He was going to kiss her! Not some wimpy kiss on the cheek either, he was going to really kiss her. Slowly, his head inched toward hers.

  “Son?” His father’s voice snapped him across the sofa as if someone had thrown him there.

  He jumped to his feet and jammed his hands into his pockets. “Uh…uh… yes, sir?”

  Jeremiah paused, looking between the two children. “Maggie’s mother is here,” he announced finally.

  “O…okay,” he stammered quickly and held out a hand to help Maggie to her feet. He walked her to the door where her mother stood waiting.

  “Mom, this is Xavier Wells. Xavier, this is my mother, Lana Applegate,” Maggie introduced.

  “Ah, uh, g…good afternoon, Mrs. Applegate,” Xavier stammered, gaping at Maggie’s mother. She was drop-dead gorgeous! Her dark hair fell in soft curls onto her shoulders, and she had the same pale gray eyes ringed in charcoal as her daughter. “Whoa, I know why Maggie’s so beautiful now!” Oh, God. Why did he say that? His face ignited with heat.

  “Oh my! What a charmer you have, Your Highness!” she exclaimed with a laugh.

  “Yeah, he’s a little too charming,” his father muttered dryly.

  Lana laughed and hugged Xavier. “Thank you so much, Prince Wells. It makes an old woman very happy when a handsome young man pays her such a wonderful compliment.”

  “You are far from old, Ms. Applegate,” Jeremiah countered. “I imagine Xavier couldn’t help himself when faced with unparalleled beauty such as yours.”

  Xavier snorted, trying not to laugh out loud but not succeeding. His father scowled playfully and nudged Xavier with his hip, nearly sending him stumbling to the floor.

  Lana laughed heartily at the exchange before commenting, “My, my, getting compliments from two handsome men is bound to go to my head. Well, Maggie, we better get going. We’ve got lots to do before the festivities tomorrow.”

  “Will you call me tomorrow?” Maggie asked Xavier.

  “Yeah, of course,” he replied, grinning at her.

  On Old Christmas Day, it was customary for the kingdom to attend morning mass before the festivities, and throughout the service, Xavier continually snuck peeks at Maggie, who sat with her mom. It occurred to Xavier then that Maggie had never spoken of her father, and there didn’t seem to be a father with her today. Maggie caught him staring at her and gave him one of her heart-wrenching smiles.

  “Hey, lovebird,” his father muttered under his breath. “You’re supposed to be worshipping God, not a beautiful girl.”

  “Sorry, Father,” Xavier replied meekly. “But I was wondering, where’s Maggie’s father?”

  “Her father died of cancer six years ago. When he died, Lana returned home to Warwood where she could be around her own kind and where Maggie could learn about her people. You see, like you, Maggie had a common parent and grew up thinking she was a commoner.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, do you think you can concentrate more on worship now?”

  He nodded, but he was certain he would hear very little of what Father O’Brien was preaching.

  At the end of services as the congregation spilled out onto the church’s front lawn, Xavier rushed over to Maggie.

  “Hey,” he greeted, smiling like a fool.

  “Hi,” she replied, slipping her hand in his.

  His body exploded with heat, and his grin widened.

  “Look, I’ll give you a call before noon after I’ve had a chance to talk with the guys, and I’ll let you know when and where you can meet us,” he told her.

  “Why don’t I just have Mom drop me off at the palace before the rugby match? That way I could walk over with you?” she asked.

  “Even better! Okay, I’ll give you a call and let you know what the plans are,” he confirmed.

  “Son?” Jeremiah called from the doorway. Catherine Stokes stood next to the king, her arm interlocked with his. Xavier felt a stab of resentment. “Let’s get a move on. You’ll see Maggie later.”

  “You’d better go. I’ll see you after lunch,” she told him.

  Xavier jogged to where his father and Catherine stood. Although he still didn’t trust Catherine, he tried to put those feelings aside for his father’s sake. He understood his father’s needs better now that he had a… well, a girlfriend.

  “Son, why don’t you go on to the car? I’ll be there in a minute,” Jeremiah told him.

  “Sure,” he responded with more enthusiasm than he felt and went to the limo where Loren stood with his family.

  “Hey, X,” Erica greeted, bounding over to him. “I saw you and Maggie.” She blew kisses at him as she continued to tease him. “Xavier has a girlfriend! Xavier’s got a girlfriend!”

  “Shut up.” He laughed, trying to smack her, but she danced around her father just out of reach.

  “Oh, Maggie,” she mocked in a high-pitched voice and smacked kisses at him.

  Finally, Xavier stopped and gave her a smirk of triumph. “You know, Erica, unless you plan to walk home, eventually, you will be confined to the back seat of the limo with me, and I will get even!”

  The smile fell from her face, and Xavier couldn’t help but laugh.

  After lunch, Xavier called Maggie, but not in the way she probably intended or expected; he used his telepathy abilities instead of a telephone. He followed the telepathic regime that Spencer had taught him. Sitting in the middle of his bed, he concentrated on quieting his mind and focusing on the noises in his room. He meditated like this for several minutes, relaxing his mind and body before opening himself up to the forces around him. Then, he concentrated on the most memorable aspect of Maggie, her eyes, and reached out to her with his mind.

  “Maggie? Maggie, can you hear me?” he called, but there was no response. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated harder on her eyes and their exact shades of gray, and tried once more. Still, he couldn’t connect at all!

  “What’s the matter? Why can’t I do it?”

  Maybe if he went out onto the pa
tio, he would have less interference. Xavier jumped from his bed, raced into his father’s room, and out onto the patio. He stood among the dead decaying leaves and shivered as a brisk, cold breeze washed over him. He concentrated on Maggie’s eyes and tried again.

  “Maggie? Can you hear me?” he called out and immediately heard her startled response.

  “Xavier? Is that you? I didn’t know you were telepathic!” she responded with a note of fear.

  “Well, yeah. I’m the king’s son. Of course I have telepathy. It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. No, I don’t always do this, and I’ve never read your mind no matter how tempting it was,” he told her.

  “Well, you’re reading my thoughts now. I don’t like this, Xavier. Stop it and call me like a normal person!” she told him, agitated.

  “What do you mean? Don’t you think it’s cool we can talk to one another as long as we want without our parents butting in!” he replied with a laugh.

  “What about your father? He’d be able to listen in.”

  “Not without me knowing. You see, I have the ability to feel when someone is trying to infiltrate my thoughts,” he bragged. She was still very uncomfortable; he could feel it in her thoughts. “Would it help if I told you something very personal about me?”

  “Maybe,” she responded faintly.

  “Well, I really wanted to kiss you yesterday, before my father interrupted us. I still do,” he told her, feeling his face flush.