The False Prince (Fall Of A King Book 1)

by Fuller, James

  "If you remain staring at the Princess like that, my boy, you are going to discover your head on the chopping block." Ursa whispered without even looking at Meath.

  Meath shook his head and tried to regain his composure. He could not help but stare. The Princess' beauty never ceased to take his breath away. This was not the same girl for whom he had once stolen a full basket of her favourite candy apples from Maxwell - or the girl he had shared his first kiss with back when they were both not more than ten years old. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

  "My darling daughter - you are looking more like your mother every time I see you. How was your trip? I heard you had trouble with that cursed river again. You are not hurt, are you?" King Borrack asked as he embraced his daughter and held her for a long moment. His eyes began to tear up a bit.

  "The trip was lovely, Father. I almost forgot how beautiful this countryside is, and how fresh the air tastes," the Princess replied. Through the long embrace, she glanced over to where Meath stood. Their eyes met but she promptly looked away.

  "Where are Lady Jewel, Lord Marcus and Mathu?" Borrack replied, withdrawing from a lingering hug. He did notice Jewel and Marcus had sent their lovely (yet irritating) daughters along. More than anything else they seemed to be more interested in barking orders at their servants - demanding which of their things should be brought up to their rooms first.

  "They were not able to make the trip as Lord Marcus has come down with the fever and was not well enough to travel." The Princess spoke in grief-tinged tones. Everyone knew that the few who came down with the fever rarely recovered - those who did were never the same. "But they do send their love and respects and even some of their fine brandy that you like so much, Father," Nicolette added with a smile.

  "That is such a shame. I was so looking forward to seeing them both again. I do hope he will be okay. After the wedding if I can find the time I will travel down to see him." Borrack said. "Well, let us not talk of such things now. No daughter of mine is going to look and smell like that while she is staying in my castle. Take your maidens up to your room where there is a bath and fresh clothing waiting for you. I will have a servant bring your things up to your room and when you are ready we will feast until we burst. I just might sample some of that brandy you have brought along." With that said, the King walked back into the massive hall where the feast was to be held.

  2

  As fashionably late guests filtered into the grand feasting hall, their noses were greeted with a dozen mouth-watering aromas. From cooked meats, to more pastries than anyone could hope to sample in one evening, to the variety of sweet meats that littered each table filled the air with invitation. Plenty of wine, mead, and ale kegs were tapped - placed never far from hand, so that no one would go thirsty throughout the long festive evening.

  Servants swarmed the massive hall, keeping each table stocked with fresh food and empty of dirty tableware and food waste. They were so proficient at their tasks that no one ever noticed a mess for long

  The Grand Table - which seated near a hundred - ran over half the width of the hall. It was set at the far end, while other smaller tables were set up lengthwise down the sides of the hall, leaving the middle open for the various entertainments the night held. Already bards were singing their enchanting tunes and epic fables of true love and heroic wars to all those who gathered round. Exotic dancers flaunted their alluring performances throughout the hall and earned the tips they received for their tempting arts. Fire breathers, sword jugglers and many more acts filled the center of the hall, making sure that everyone had something to their tastes.

  The walls were decorated with all of Draco Kingdom's flags, banners, beautiful scenic tapestries and paintings. The artwork showed pictures of all the Kings, Queens, Lords and Ladies that Draco Kingdom had ever had. King Borrack's most esteemed trophy hung above his painting for display - the bronze sword and horned battle helm of Azazel. The King himself had slain the Barbarian leader a few years ago on the battlefield in single combat, altering the fate of the war.

  The people had gathered outside the castle wall and overflowed into the streets of Draco City. They drank and danced ceaselessly to the jumble of music that flowed hypnotically through the city. The people were having their own celebration for the return of the Princess, and it well matched that of those inside.

  At the beginning of the celebration, the seating was meticulously arranged by Borrack's planners. But now that most had their fill of the delectable food and plenty of drink flowing between their lips, no one stayed seated for long. Guest's mingled with each other in migrating groups, or danced and sang aloud with the bards, adding more gusto to the melody.

  "This is a fine turnout - it is all for you my daughter!" King Borrack roared, as he swayed in his seat. He was trying not to appear too drunk, though everyone knew he was well past that stage. "I am glad to have you home again. You have become a beautiful woman and shall make a fine wife... "he slurred. "Your mother would be proud."

  "I completely and fully agree… I think?" Lord Dagon slurred, as he, too, seemed to be having a difficult time keeping his balance in his chair and maintaining a steady tone of voice. His two sons, Ethan and Leonard, were no better off.

  "I have not had this much merriment or ale since I was married," Lord Tundal hollered as he slapped Raven's back and made Drandor's champion spill his drink all over his lap.

  Raven stood up, doing well to hide his own awkward, drunkenness. "You my good sir have spilled my mead - what man would I be if I did not challenge you after such an act," he bellowed out while steadying himself on the rear of his own chair.

  The cluster at that end of the table went silent, watching, while the rest of the gathering continued with their merriment.

  "Well Raven, my fine man. I, being a man of…of…of honor shall accept your challenge!" Tundal stammered out to him as he stood from his own chair.

  "Oh dear - not this again, Tundal. You cannot be serious, not tonight," his beautiful wife, Tora, begged him, as she looked for support from the others in her vicinity.

  "I am sorry, my wife. I must defend my…my…well you know that word I am thinking of," Tundal replied, meeting Raven's determined stare with one of his own.

  "King Borrack, will you not stop this foolishness before it gets out of hand?" Tora begged, giving him a half-annoyed and half-pleading look.

  "I am sorry, my Lady, but I cannot. This is between these two drunken fools," the King said with a chuckle. Tora just sighed and started talking to Lady Angelina, trying hard to ignore her drunken husband.

  Lord Dagon stood between the two men. "Well let us have it then you two. Raven, my good man, I have known Tundal my whole life and he is going to have his drink…drank and pissed out before you even get past the foam in your cup!" Dagon roared for all to hear and laughs sprang up from all around them as the crowd cheered the two men on.

  "Well Raven - let us get you demise over with," Tundal slurred with a wink to his good friend, who by now could not hide his own smile. He started to chuckle about it all.

  "May the best man win!" Raven winked back, slammed his mead to his lips, and drank for all he was worth. He knew he had already lost before he heard Tundal's cup hit the table. Everyone cheered, but he finished his brew just the same.

  The two belched and clasped hands - more to keep each other upright than anything else, as the mead went straight to their heads.

  Raven slumped back into his chair. "I shall beat you one of these days!"

  "Father…I do not feel well!" Thoron moaned, as he fell to the floor and vomited on himself…and all over the floor around him.

  "That is what happens, my boy, when you drink too much!" Tundal cheered as he watched his wife, Tora, and his daughter, Salvira, carry the drunken child away to clean him up. A servant ran over to clean the boy's mess from the floor before anyone else saw it - or slipped. No one seemed to notice. They were all having too good a time and Lord Tundal's boy had n
ot been the first to vomit, nor would he be the last this night.

  "Halpas, my good friend, where be your beautiful wife Nora and that strapping young lad of yours?" Dagon asked with a slur.

  "They are visiting family up north," Halpas replied shortly.

  "Will they make it back for the wedding?" Dagon asked.

  "I'm afraid not," The King's champion said, his eyes wandering the room.

  "A shame, I had my personal blacksmith craft him a fine hunting knife and I was hoping to give it to the boy," Dagon slurred again. "I feel so bad for missing his last birthday. Alas, I shall have to make another trip down here to give it to him myself once he returns."

  "You could always leave it with me. I will let him know it is from you." Halpas replied, a small hint of aggravation in his tone. "Then you do not worry about making another trip."

  Dagon eyed him curiously, not sure if he was truly hearing his old friend correctly or if it was the alcohol distorting his perception. "Well, you will have to remind me another day when I am not so…so…well…drunk you see," Dagon laughed, deciding to drop it.

  A duo of bards promenaded up to them through the crowd and began playing a harp and lute. They sang about an old war in which King Borrack, Halpas and a few others at the table had fought against the Barbarian's previous leader, Azazel. The group went silent and listened to the magnificent tale of how Borrack exterminated the heartless beast in single combat and turned the tide of the war with a massive blow of his mighty sword.

  "If I would have known that all it would take to shut them up was a bard to sing that tale, I would have had it happen an hour ago," Lady Angelina remarked to Nicolette and the other ladies around the table. They all shared a laugh.

  While the bards sung their tale and the men quieted down - the ladies were able to commence their talk and gossip.

  "Master Ursa, was Meath not going to be here this evening?" The Princess asked the Wizard, ignoring her father and the other party-goers drunken behaviour. "It has been a while since we last saw each other. I figured he would be here so that we might catch up on our lives."

  "Yes - that is a little strange. He appeared happy to hear of your return this morning. I am sure he is around somewhere - no doubt making a fool out of himself. Or trying to impress a girl with that thing he calls charm," the Wizard said with a chuckle, as he glanced around the room trying to spot Meath for her. He gave up shortly after, shaking his head to the young Princess with a look that said he was unable to see Meath.

  "Well, I think I will go get some fresh air and see if I can find him. He cannot be far off," she replied as she stood up and made her way through the crowd of people who were dancing and singing all round. She knew no one would notice her being gone for some time. No one, except Ursa, had even looked up to watch her as she left.

  *****

  Meath took another long, hard swallow of the dark honey brew. He knew this would be his final mug of the night - he had already drunk more than his fill and was feeling its influence well enough. He knew that if he had any more, he would not rise tomorrow without painful consequence. He looked down at the small engraving on the thick branch of his childhood climbing tree and sighed. Ursa was right. Even as a child, Meath knew it was just a delusion and could never happen ... now, he could not help but experience the sting of truth. He wondered if he would ever find someone else who he would care as much about - someone who could make him smile like she did.

  He had passed up numerous opportunities to become familiar with other girls while growing up. He could not help but feel foolish now for trying to hold onto lost hopes and dreams. Meath knew that once the Princess and Prince Berrit were married, he would have to continually observe them together. Scowling, Meath thought he might depart and go back to the army. Somewhere far away where he could forget her and all of this, but he knew Ursa and the King would never permit it. No - Meath knew he had to stay and conclude his training, and accept his fate as Draco Castle's future Wizard. He would inherit Ursa's place one day - when Ursa grew old or died. Meath could hardly believe Ursa would ever die - the man never seemed to age or slow down. He finished off the last of the ale in his mug and dropped it to the soft earth. Then he made his way down the tree - slowly, to accommodate for the effects of the ale.

  Nicolette wandered through the less used hallways of the castle, so as not to be seen by numerous people who might wish to stop and congratulate her. Fortunately, everyone she passed was too excited or too drunk to take up too much of her time and she made her way through the castle to the northwest end.

  She had a funny feeling that she knew where Meath might be this night. She had already checked his quarters and the kitchen, knowing he used to go there and speak with Maxwell. However, Maxwell had not seen him since the morning. That left only one place - the Royal Garden where, as children, they had exhausted many of their fun-filled days…growing up and playing games. It had also been where they first met, when her father had finally accepted Ursa's request for audience on behalf of The Gifted.

  She walked out into the garden beneath the clear night sky and looked around as so many wonderful memories flooded back to her. She walked down one of the well-kept paths toward the west end corner where, as children they claimed it as their own.

  "I thought I might find you out here." A soft, gentle, voice said from behind him. As Meath twisted to look, his hand fell short of the branch he had intended to grasp and he fell the last few feet to the ground with a hard thud and a groan. Meath lifted his head to see who had caused him to fall. He heard a memorable laugh, and knew - right away - who it was.

  "I thought after all these years you would have figured out how to finally climb down from there," the Princess giggled.

  "Well - it helps when people do not creep up on you while you are doing so." Meath groaned as he stood up and dusted himself off. He looked up at her and their eyes locked. In the short moments they shared, it seemed all the time they had spent separately faded away. As if a day had not past since they had seen one another.

  "You look as lovely as ever, your Highness." Meath managed to stammer out, and kicked himself, knowing she did not like it when he called her by her title.

  "Meath, you know you do not need to call me by my title. You, of all people, should know that by now," she replied, sounding nearly hurt that he would address her so. "I was hoping we would be able to speak about old times. Why are you out here and not at the banquet?" She asked, but already knew the answer. She could feel the awkwardness in the air.

  "I…I just could not bear to see you yet." Meath replied, struggling with the urge to go to her.

  "You know there has not been a day gone by that I did not think about thee," she said, as they closed the gap between them and came together in a long embrace.

  "Nor I," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

  They pulled away to an arm's length and gazed into each other's moistened eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, they just stared into each other, knowing and feeling everything the other one sought to say. Slowly their lips came together and entangled in an ardent kiss.

  In that moment, his mind brought him back to when last they had seen each other, months ago at the spring renewal festival….

  *****

  …They had been invited casually to go on a hunting excursion with Lord Dagon, his champion Jarroth, and several others. Meath had been sure the invitation was just a kind gesture, but they had accepted nonetheless. During a mid-afternoon break, Meath and Nicolette had wandered off to collect pheasant eggs in the woods while the meal was being prepared and the two stags Dagon had shot down were being cleaned.

  They were not interested in collecting any eggs - collecting instead, a few moments alone. He had told her he loved her - it was the first time he had ever voiced the words, though he was well aware that she knew. She had smiled up at him and returned the words - they had kissed deeply and time had stood still until they had nearly been caught.

  "We cannot do
this," Nicolette whispered, pulling back from the passionate embrace - as if not trusting her own arms to be free, she wrapped them around herself. Her eyes dropped toward the soft earth, afraid to look up at him.

  "I know, but I…" Meath whispered, struggling with his inner feelings as he took a step forward but quickly retreated.

  Nicolette finally lifted her eyes to his again, tears cascading to her cheeks. "I am to be married soon. I have too…we have to stop this. We can no longer do whatever this is, Meath," she sobbed.

  Meath's own eyes welled up. "I know, I know. I just wish…" He stopped, knowing anything he said would only make it worse for both of them.

  "I should go," Nicolette said, wiping the tears from her eyes. She turned to leave and stopped. Everything in her being told her to keep going, yet her heart would not let her. "Meath, I will always love…" Before she could finish Meath turned her around and their lips met again.

  "Get off of her you soiled, flea-infested dog!" Rift bellowed as he ran toward them with his dagger drawn and ready. "How dare you take advantage of the Princess in this way!" he barked, as he tore her away and put a good distance between the two.

  "No, Rift. It is not what you believe..." Nicolette said in a panic.

  "Highness, I have been around long enough to know what that was! I made an oath to your Mother to keep you away from dogs like that one." The Captain spoke in tones that made the hairs on Meath's neck stand on end. Still, he did not budge an inch - he just stood there staring at Nicolette. "Besides, your father sent me out to find you…He would like a word with you." With that, Rift took her hand and led her back in the direction of the party. Nicolette looked over her shoulder and met Meath's eyes once more, mouthing "I am sorry" before she was out of view.