Xavier’s face burned with anger and before he knew what he was doing, he turned and smashed his chocolate pudding into his tormentor’s face. The crowd of children around them burst into hysterical laughter, and he felt a brief wave of triumph before Drew’s rampage. After smearing the pudding away from his eyes, Drew grabbed him, sending his tray clattering to the floor.
“You little…” he growled as he slammed Xavier onto a table and punched him.
Pain exploded across Xavier’s jaw and a kaleidoscope of color clouded his vision. He cowered and tried to cover his face as Drew delivered a second punch, knocking his own hand into his nose, bloodying it.
“Andrew! What in God’s name are you doing?” Henrick exclaimed, lifting the older boy off Xavier and restraining him.
Xavier sprang from the table and lunged at the older boy, tackling him and knocking Henrick off balance. He was only able to get in a single punch before Drew flipped him hard onto the stone floor and began pummeling him again. Finally, Henrick managed to pull the snarling boy away as another pair of hands hauled Xavier to his feet and held him firmly.
“Andrew Hardcastle!” the man holding Xavier roared. Although he couldn’t see clearly through his blood-smeared eyes, he recognized Loren Jefferson’s voice. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“He started it! Just look at me, Loren! He smashed pudding in my face!” Drew protested.
“Look at you!” Henrick roared. “Look at the prince! Do you…”
“What’s going on?” King Wells’ voice called as he and Ephraim Hardcastle advanced toward the confrontation.
“Andrew?” Ephraim started slowly, anger seething in his voice. “What happened?”
“I didn’t start it, Dad. I was only talking to Xavier when he just turned around and threw pudding in my face! So I…”
“Andrew?” King Wells interrupted as he lifted Xavier onto the table and began cleaning up his face with napkins. “Are you sure you want to stick to that story?” he questioned, pinning the older boy with a fierce stare.
Drew met the king’s eyes briefly and blushed. “No, sire. I…I was teasing him about being dismissed by Robbie when he tried to talk to her. I guess that’s why he smashed pudding in my face…”
“Sire? I’m so sorry about Andrew’s behavior. I don’t know what has gotten into him lately, but I can assure you he will be properly dealt with,” Ephraim apologized.
“It’s not an apology for us to make, Ephraim. I think this is between the boys. They both had a responsibility in what happened,” Jeremiah noted, peering down at his son.
“What?” Xavier rebuked grumpily. “You want me to apologize? I won’t! He deserved it!”
“Xavier,” Jeremiah warned quietly. “Your behavior was inappropriate!”
“Inappropriate? What was I supposed to do? Continue to let him harass me and give me a hard time?” he blared.
“As future king, you cannot go around attacking your citizens,” Jeremiah insisted, his voice raising.
“That’s bull!” he spat. “He deserved it, and I won’t apologize!”
His father’s eyes went fiery and burrowed into him, as he stubbornly glared back. Finally, the king looked back at the group. “Will you excuse us? Xavier and I have a couple of things we need to discuss,” he concluded, lifting him from the table and setting him on his feet. “Andrew, he’ll be ready to apologize to you at dinner.”
Then, with his hand clamped painfully on Xavier’s shoulder, he steered him from the room and down the stairwell to the fourth level corridor. Rebecca Hardcastle appeared from a room on the left and stopped short at the sight of Xavier’s face.
“My word! Prince Wells, what happened?” she asked, inspecting his face.
“He had the worst end of a fist fight, I’m afraid,” Jeremiah answered.
“Oh, Xavier! Fighting? Again? What has gotten into you?” Rebecca responded, looking down at him in disappointment.
He felt guilt and embarrassment rush over him, and he tucked his head shamefully. “Well, Drew started it,” he muttered.
“Drew? My Drew did this?” she hissed. When Xavier nodded, Rebecca’s face went rock hard, and she mumbled to herself, “Just wait until I get my hands on that boy.”
“I think Ephraim’s got his hands on him right, now, Becky,” Jeremiah reassured her, winking.
“Oh, I’m sure he does, but Drew will still face me when his dad’s through with him. See you both tonight at dinner,” Rebecca finished quickly before hurrying up the stairs, undoubtedly to find Drew.
His father prodded him down the corridor and through the last door on the left. He didn’t need to ask where they were; one look at the chamber, and he knew he was standing in his father’s room. The chamber was modestly furnished with beautiful, ornate antiques in mint condition. The walls were a highly polished stone washed in gold from the sleepy flame flickering in the hearth.
“Sit and let’s heal those wounds,” Jeremiah announced, steering him to a wooden chair next to a small table.
Xavier sat as his father dragged another chair toward him and sat facing him.
“Close your eyes. This might sting a little,” his father warned, lifting a hand so that it hovered inches from his face.
A radiating heat slowly sank into his wounds. It was quite soothing and relaxing at first, but as the empowerment intensified and began the bulk of the healing process, his face burned and stung like it was on fire!
“Ow! Dad!” he complained, moving his head, but his father grabbed him, keeping him still.
“Ow! God, Dad! Stop it! I’ll keep the wounds!”
Finally, Jeremiah pulled the empowerment away and released him. “Wash your face off,” he instructed, pushing a small basin of water toward him and handing him a towel.
Xavier splashed water over his face and dried it gingerly. Then, his father grasped his chin and examined him. “You’ll still have a black eye and a bit of a fat lip, but the rest seems healed.”
“Sire?” Court called timidly from the doorway. “I brought some food down for Xavier.”
“Thank you, Courtney. You can set it on the table here,” the king replied.
Court carried the tray over to the table where father and son sat and set the food down before hurrying from the room. Xavier dove hungrily into the turkey sandwich and had it half-eaten in just three bites.
His father snickered. “Boy, slow down before you choke!”
“Yes, sir,” he mumbled past the mouthful of food.
“How’s the face feeling? Better?” he asked.
“Yeah. It’s better,” he responded.
“Son? Who is the most powerful man in our society?” his father asked quietly, leaning back in his chair.
He swallowed and looked up at him. “Well, you, Dad.”
“Why is that?”
“Because…” he was confused. “Because you’re the king!”
“Exactly. And being the most powerful man, what image would I give others if I physically attacked one of my subjects?”
He knew where this conversation was headed, and he defiantly slouched and crossed his arms. “I don’t know,” he muttered contrarily.
Jeremiah sighed. “Don’t you see that your conduct was not appropriate for a prince?” he asked.
Xavier groaned inwardly. He knew what his father wanted to hear from him, but he disagreed. Andrew Hardcastle deserved to be humiliated. After all, how many times had Drew embarrassed him? How many times had he taunted and teased him? In his opinion, he had shown the patience of a saint up until now, and Drew deserved much more than a punch and pudding smashed in his face. However, that wasn’t what his father wanted to hear. It was best to agree with him and get through the lecture as quickly and as painlessly as possible.
Slowly, he nodded and muttered, “Yes, Father. I’m sorry.”
“You need to apologize to Drew, son. Then, tonight the two of you will wash the dinner dishes together,” Jeremiah told him.
“Wash the
dinner dishes? But, Dad, there’ll be hundreds, and I already have two extra chores as it is. I won’t have any free time! Can’t…” his complaints buckled after one look at his father’s face, and he sank deeper in his chair with a huff and sulked moodily.
His father stood glaring down at him. “If you’re through eating, then I suggest that you get moving. Your electro force class started ten minutes ago,” he ordered tightly.
Xavier stood abruptly and shoved his chair noisily into the table before stomping from the room.
Chapter 10
No Joke
Xavier didn’t see much of his father over the next couple of weeks and if Jeremiah hadn’t been teaching Latin, he wouldn’t have seen him at all. Not that seeing him in Latin was much comfort. The king was all business, and Xavier grew increasingly disgruntled by his father’s aloofness.
A few weeks following the fight with Drew, he sat in his father’s Latin class feeling particularly ignored and neglected. His father hadn’t even said his usual, “Good morning, son.” In fact, he hardly acknowledged his presence at all. Even when he threw a note folded into a paper airplane across the room to Beck, the king had barely reacted. He simply paused in his lesson, took the note from Beck, and placed it on the corner of his desk.
Near the end of the period, he was thoroughly annoyed by his father and scowled at his back as he finished writing the new vocabulary list on the board before settling behind the teacher’s desk to grade the quiz they had taken at the start of the class which Xavier was pretty sure he had failed.
That was when the idea came to him and before he could talk himself out of it, he flicked a finger at the chalk board. Instantly, the vocabulary words squiggled and moved around the board to form the words: “Knock, knock.”
Xavier looked around at the class and found that nearly every student was watching the board with puzzlement. With a small grin, he flicked his finger at the board again and spelled the words: “Who’s there?”
Then, came: “Latin.”
“Latin who?”
Finally, big letters appeared: “EXACTLY! WHO SPEAKS LATIN ANYMORE?”
A burst of muffled snickers erupted, and the king’s head snapped up. With a quick flick from Xavier’s finger, the words on the board returned to normal, and not a moment too soon. Jeremiah turned toward the board, but finding it as he had written it, he looked back at the class. Xavier felt his father’s gaze rake over him, and he desperately concentrated on studying the terms in front of him.
Once his father’s attention returned to the quizzes, he looked back to the board and flicked his finger again. This time, cartoon images filled the board: a dog, a boy, and a character that looked remarkably like Sir Blaire. With a swirl from his finger, the characters came to life. Sir Blaire was shaking a finger at the boy, and a conversation bubble with the words: “Gripe, gripe, gripe. Blah, blah, blah,” appeared over his head. The dog kept tugging on Sir Blaire’s pant leg, and whenever he turned to shoo it away, the boy would make obnoxious faces behind his back. Finally, with cartoon Blaire’s attention back on the boy, the dog hiked up its leg and peed on Sir Blaire’s shoes.
The class burst into laughter, and before Xavier could hide the cartoon display, his father turned and saw it. With a smooth wave of his hand, the images disappeared and the vocabulary terms returned. Then, he turned and pinned Xavier with a furious glare. The class’s laughter was cut into silence.
“Finish your work,” he told the class before turning to his son. “Xavier Wells? You will stay after class.”
“Yes, sir,” he responded with a quiver and stared unseeingly at the vocabulary words in front of him.
At the end of class, Xavier remained seated with nothing to do but wait and try to ignore the sensation fluttering in his gut.
“Good luck, Xavier,” Garrett whispered.
“Thanks, I’m gonna need it, I think.” he groaned.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, X, that cartoon was a scream!” Beck grinned and followed Garrett out of the room.
For the first couple of minutes, his father didn’t say a word and didn’t even look at him. He simply continued grading papers, and judging by his deepening frown, the current paper was not a good one. Finally, he looked up and fixed him with a cold stare for several long seconds before he spoke.
“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked so quietly Xavier could hardly hear him.
“I…ah, nothing I guess, sir,” he muttered, unable to meet his father’s intense gaze any longer.
“How about this? Can you explain this?” his father asked rigidly, holding up Xavier’s quiz with a large crimson “F” written on it.
He gulped. “I…I forgot to study. I’m sorry, Father. Really! I just forgot!”
“I have half a mind to pull you from the boys’ dormitory and move you into my chambers,” he announced stonily.
“Jeez, it was just one quiz, Father!” he rebutted bitterly, but a small part of him rejoiced. If his father made him stay in the royal chambers, at least then he would see him more often.
“Don’t sass me, boy!” he growled, standing and sending Xavier sinking deeper in his seat.
“Jeremiah, I was wondering if we could meet…” Lana Applegate’s words evaporated, and her broad grin dropped slightly as her eyes settled on Xavier’s huddled figure. She gave him a small smile. “Oh hello, Xavier. How are you doing, sweetheart?”
He shrugged and looked anxiously at his father.
She turned toward the formidable king and smiled at the exasperation she saw there. “Excuse me, sire. I hadn’t realized you were busy. I’ll talk to you later about my ideas for the new chambers on the fifth level.”
She turned to leave, but the king’s voice stopped her. “Lana, please wait a moment. I need to have a word with you in the hall if I could.”
“Of course,” she replied, leading the way out of the classroom.
Before he exited, his father pinned him with a stern glare. “Don’t move. I’m not finished with you.”
“But, dad? I have…”
The king’s sharp glare killed the rest of his complaint, and sighing indignantly, he dropped his head despondently onto his desk with a thud.
A minute or two later, the king returned looking less irritable and angry and approached the sulking boy. “Son,” he prompted, handing him his failing quiz. “First, I want this corrected. Then, you will write each missed vocabulary word along with its definition fifty times and have it on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
“Fifty times!” he complained indignantly. “That’ll take me all night!”
“It just might, but when you’re through, you will know those words,” his father replied, unfazed by his outburst. “As a result of your little pranks today, you will sit in the front of the room next to the teacher’s desk until you learn that your purpose in class is to learn, not visit with friends, pass notes, or be a jokester. However, if you ever try pulling stunts like you did today, you will face more severe consequences than a simple seating change. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered meekly.
Jeremiah nodded with satisfaction as he straightened. “All right, then. You better get yourself to your next class.”
Xavier quickly scrambled from the room.
He arrived ten minutes late for his government class. Mrs. Applegate simply nodded toward an empty seat but didn’t attract any more attention towards him than what was necessary. Thankful for her mercy, he quickly sat and tried to catch up with the lesson, but he was completely lost. In the end, he gave up and pulled out his notebook. After his fight with Beck during the celebration dance, he found that the events of that day wouldn’t leave him alone, and at night, his mind was restless and wouldn’t stop pondering ways to get back into Robbie’s good graces. Finally, last night he formulated a plan to break through to her and make amends. He would have to share his feelings and lay his heart out for her to either accept or destroy. It started with a letter. So, he sp
ent the rest of the class period writing Robbie a note. Then, he folded it in quarters, wrote Robbie’s name on the outside, and tucked it in his government book.
At the end of class, Xavier strode into the corridor with his friends, feeling confident and relieved that his plan to get Robbie back would work. As he started down the hall towards math class, Drew tripped him for the fifth time that week. His books and notebook flew out in front of him, spilling papers everywhere. Drew’s cronies, Jonas and Seth, cackled loudly.
“Jeez, Wells! How could someone be that clumsy? That’s the fifth time you’ve tripped this week!” Drew chastised.
“Wow, Drew! I’m impressed,” he retorted sarcastically, getting to his feet and doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain in his knee. “That tripping prank is definitely some of your best work, mate! Seriously! I know it’s hard for you to come up with new material considering you’re a thick git, but I’m sure all the kids in the pre-school wing would laugh their asses off. You should go try it out there because no one here seems to be laughing.”
Drew’s face went crimson, and he looked as though he was about to explode. And, just when Xavier thought he would punch him, a horrid grin slipped across his face, and he patted his shoulder. “That’s cute, Wells. Really funny. Let’s just see how everyone likes this.”
Before Xavier could defend himself, Drew plowed into him and knocked him completely off his feet. There was nothing he could do. He had no control over his body as he collided with someone, and they fell into a heap onto the hard floor. Xavier took the worst of the landing for the kid he crashed into landed on top of him. His head slammed against the floor, and the room spun dangerously dark, and just as Drew had planned it, there was an explosion of laughter.
Consumed with pain, he blinked hard to clear his vision as the girl on top of him gingerly stood. Even through tear-filled eyes, he had no trouble recognizing Robbie climbing off of him. Her face flushed as she looked down at him horrified. Before Xavier could utter a word, she turned and ran down the hall.
The Prince of Warwood and The Sword of the Chosen (Book 3) Page 7
