"You’re sweet, but I'm afraid that's not always how things work. Fair and politics rarely mix well. Now don’t let me interrupt you any longer.“ She pulled her hands away and hurried out the door before I could continue to argue. Arboria needed someone like her on the throne, not someone like me who could barely keep their head when controversy struck. I didn't have her strength or conviction. The kingdom didn’t want me. They had already made that very clear the last time.
I collapsed back down on the floor and turned up the lantern light. I had no idea what time it was, but it didn't matter, the pile of books wouldn't get any smaller until I finished going through them. If a tiny library on the side of a mountain had one journal holding the secrets of my entire family, there had to be something in this museum of literature that could help break the curse or at least give me some answers as to who I really was and what happened all those years ago.
I scanned the pages of the book in my lap, my eyes already hazy from the dusty books and the hours of strain, but I blinked and kept going. It was going to be a long night.
Click. Click. Click.
The clack of my dress shoes against the stone echoed through the corridor as I paced just outside of the war room. The rhythmic, repetitive sound helped slow my racing pulse, but even it couldn’t fully take the nervous edge off.
Didn't the Council realize what a mistake it would be for me to take more responsibility right now? I didn't have the respect of the kingdom, how would anyone expect me to have their loyalty?
"I say, Your Majesty, you’re looking very regal today." Griswold appeared at the end of the hall, as a proud smile beamed across his lips. "Your father would be so impressed to see you like this, sir." He brushed his hands over the embellished shoulders of my coat and tugged near the golden buttons so it sat properly against my chest.
"Trust me, I'd rather my father was here in general. That way I wouldn't even need to consider being king.“
Griswold chuckled, the light knowing sound tugged my mouth into a frown.
"Just nerves, my prince. Don't you think your father was nervous the first time he met with the Council too?”
My pulse started to quicken again. I wiped my hand across my face and continued pacing. “No. I bet my father was leading armies before he could even climb into the throne."
"Oh sir, you still have such wit even when your focus is elsewhere."
I shrugged. I'm glad he found that humorous since I fully believed it to be true. Dad, at least as a human, commanded attention. The subtle way he stood taller, straighter than the average man. The tranquilizing, yet demanding cadence in his voice that charmed anyone into bowing to his will. I clearly didn't inherit those skills.
Griswold laughed and shook his head. ”Your father was as nervous as a pig bound for slaughter as he stood outside this door. I think he may have even vomited a few times that morning as well. But in true Aldric fashion, he collected himself and dazzled the Council. Just as I'm sure you will." He fussed with my collar once more. "It's like looking into a mirror beyond time, seeing you stand here reminds me so much of that day. Like a painting. A moment captured in history.“
I tried to let his words sink in. Tried to take comfort in the sentiment, but the logical part of my brain wouldn’t let me. “Thank you, Griswold. I'm glad to have you here with me, as I'm sure my father was grateful for you as well."
The old man's wrinkled skin blossomed a pale pink. "Just doing my job, sir."
I stopped pacing and held the wall as I steadied myself against the dizzying sensation in limbs. ”How long have you worked at the castle exactly?"
His eyes rolled towards the ceiling as he tapped his index finger over his lips, contemplating the question. "It's been a very long time sir. Thirty-eight or forty years maybe?"
"So you were here the first time that my father…you know?”
"Yes. But that was a long time ago.” His posture stiffened and he inconspicuously slid back a step. “A dark time."
"But isn't it a dark time now too?”
He stared over my shoulder down the hall, refusing to meet my questioning stare or maybe reliving the past in his mind. "Fair point. But with each new year, we receive the opportunity to rewrite our own stories. This is now, and not then. We need to move forward and find a new solution. Besides, I’m afraid I don't have anything that will help with your father's curse. If I did I would be sure to share it with you and bring him home."
"I'm sure you would. But I wish I knew more about my father when he was younger, about what kind of leader he was, and even about how he met my mother."
"I am afraid I don't have much to tell." Griswold dropped his hands and stepped back again without trying to hide it this time. A chill infused the air between us. “And even then, it’s not my story. I suggest posing any questions to your mother first. If she would like me to discuss it further, that will be up to her."
"You have always been discreet, haven't you?"
"Of course, sir. It's all part of the job. Now if you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to."
He turned on his heel, precise and sharp, then hurried back the direction he came.
"One more thing, Griswold,” He stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his blank expression clear that he didn't want to get involved with my line of questions.
"Have you ever heard of someone at the castle named Ed—"
The war room door thundered open and Mom slipped through the doorway, stepping in front of me. "Darling, you look wonderful."
I tilted my head around her, but Griswold had already disappeared. "Thanks."
"They’re ready to see you now." She tapped my shoulder then pulled the door open again guiding me through in front of her.
I walked into the center of the room, and took my place before the Council, my hands crossed politely behind my back and my shoulders rolled high to compensate for the weakness in my knees. Around the outer walls of the room hung luxurious red and gold tapestries that depicted battles won in times long past, and I chose to examine them, hoping it would be viewed as reverence and not just a stall to swallow down the dry bread-like lump in my throat. Mom strode around me to the far end of the long oak table that spread across the front of the room. Lord Covington, Lord Marchand, and Lord Anwar stood at attention as they adjusted their cuffs and engraved buttons on their jackets until my mother sat down and they could resume their seats.
"Your Majesty," Lord Anwar said. “It is a pleasure to finally see you in this context. I feel like it were mere moments ago that you were running through the castle halls brandishing a wooden sword in search of dragons."
The Council laughed, almost in unison. I gripped my right hand tighter with my left, still feeling ever the boy with the useless weapon.
He continued, “Let us first begin by assuring you that the Council operates to provide wisdom and guidance in the best interest of the crown and the kingdom. We will always be at your full disposal as king and—"
"I'm afraid you must have mistaken me for my father, the true king of Aboria."
The gentlemen looked quickly at each other, their wide stares flitting between the other faces at the table.
"Perhaps Lord Anwar misspoke, Prince Fallon,” Lord Marchand interjected from the middle of the table, his hands crossed politely on top of the oak. "As acting king, the Council will be at your full disposal with whatever you may need."
“Yes, exactly. Thank you.” Lord Anwar cleared his throat. "However, we must address the fact that the longer your father remains in his condition, the quicker we need to solidify your claim with a full coronation. The turbulent times at the castle are a call to any other parties who wish to seek the throne for themselves."
"What other parties? With my father still alive, and both my mother and me at the castle, no one would be able to make such a claim."
A grave shadow cast over their faces, as Lord Anwar stroked his hand over the lower half of his face and the dark stubble that grew there. "Without a
competent king in place, the entire kingdom is vulnerable for takeover."
I dug my fingernails into my palm, the sharp pain soothing the humiliation building in my cheeks. I should already know this. I should've paid more attention.
I stretched up on my toes, trying to force myself taller, maybe channel some of my father’s charisma. “Then I am willing to do whatever it takes to maintain the throne for my father's eventual return."
"And we hope that he will be returned to us swiftly as well, but our job is to be practical,” Lord Covington said.
"So what do I need to do?"
"We would like you to hold a conference at the town hall. The people need to know that the castle has the situation under control and we are willing to continue business as usual."
I darted my eyes toward my mother who smiled back with the confidence I didn't have.
"I don't think that is the best idea. The last time I addressed the public it did not go well. They all think I am a liar, I doubt they will even listen to anything that I say."
The Council began a low rumble as they shifted in their chairs, my words hitting their mark. They didn’t want me as their leader as much as I didn’t want to be a leader. They were simply out of options and I was the best they could find on short notice. Fantastic.
"Yes, that was indeed a disaster, however, the city is unstable at the moment. No one knows who is in charge anymore. The marketplace has been destroyed causing huge problems for our merchants trying to earn an income, and we received word this morning that many of our neighboring trade partners are refusing to do business with us. They feel that the economy is at risk the longer the castle fails to regain control. If this continues, the word will reach all the way to Draconis, and we will have no suppliers for gold." Lord Marchand glanced over at my mother, pleading to her best interests, but with a heavy glare telling her to fall in line. "Of course, you are free to do as you please even if it goes against the Council's wishes, however, we feel this is a necessary step to cleaning up the mess."
My mother sat up straighter in her chair, clearly not willing to be talked down to by anyone. "I don't think that will be an issue, Bruno. I'm sure my son will do a phenomenal job. I doubt any of you would not have apprehensions with delivering news as delicate as this. Isn't that right, Fallon?”
My chest tightened, the reality that I was not getting out of this settling in. "Of course. I'll do whatever you need."
"Splendid." Lord Marchand clapped his hands and nodded until the other lords joined him. "I will make the necessary arrangements as soon as we have adjourned.”
"Is that all you require?" I asked, hoping the answer would be yes and knowing it likely wouldn't be.
"For now," Lord Anwar said.
I exhaled and let the tension slide out through my mouth then rushed toward the door. As my hand gripped the doorknob, Lord Covington spoke again.
“Before you go, can I just provide one word of caution. We know you have quite the reputation around the kingdom, specifically in regards to the taverns and some of the young ladies in the city. Stepping into the role as king requires an image of flawless decorum to help maintain the respect of your people. Anything less should be handled as discreetly as possible to avoid any more controversy. I'm not sure how much the kingdom would be willing to forgive during the Aldric reign.”
"Noted." I nodded and twisted the handle, the air already lighter on the other side of the door as it wafted in from the hallway. I rushed out of the room and clicked the door closed behind me, then rested my head against the wall, the cool stone helping to bring my temperature down. I shook out the tension in my arms and shuddered as each of the new truths landed on my shoulders. The Council had already given up on finding my father and they confirmed the one thing I dreaded — I would be the king now. The kingdom would look to me and I would need to devote everything to them. My life would never be my own again.
2
28th May
"And I'm certain that through working together we'll be able to overcome the recent events and build a stronger community in spite of it."
I ran the speech over again for about the thousandth time since yesterday. My palms still sweating every time I said the words, but the rest of my nerves seemed to be held at bay. Somewhere between midnight and dawn, I'd accepted my new reality. Either that or practicing my speech put me under some kind of hypnosis as I repeated the same monotone words over and over again.
Voices boomed on the other side of the curtain as the citizens of Mosa and likely half of the neighboring villages piled into the theatre. My mother thought the theatre may feel more non-threatening than another speech in front of the castle or the town hall that was suggested before. The large stone structure of the castle looming over them would serve as a reminder of the anger and resentment building through the people instead of fostering hope as we’d planned.
Lord Marchand appeared around the corner, a glossy black walking stick in his hand and his long hair tied low at the back of his neck. Polished. Proper. All the things I tried to be. Needed to be.
"Remember what we discussed," he said, “Your job is to promote calm and order. The rest can be dealt with another day."
I nodded and rubbed my open palms over my thighs.
"Thank you. I'll do my best."
"I'm sure you will, son, but remember the future of the monarchy rests with you." He cuffed his thick fingers around my shoulder and pat twice before heading back into the theatre.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head to my chest, my breath struggling against the tightness in my lungs. I concentrated harder. Oxygen flowed in through my nose slowly and out my mouth. In. Out. Over and over until my pulse finally eased. Showtime.
I jerked my head toward the stage and the guards waiting for my entrance assembled into their predetermined formation to escort me. Disgruntled and unamused stares followed me to the podium from every seat in the theatre. Additional rows of chairs flanked the sides and aisles for the excess attendees, but even then people stood along the walls, arms crossed. A sudden hush fell over the room as I cleared my throat and forced my back straighter. The guards positioned next to nearly every row and at every exit glared at the patrons, but at least they provided for a more solemn and captive audience as my last speech attempt.
"Good afternoon my fellow Aborians.” The rehearsed words rolled easily off my tongue. One small victory. I gripped the podium tighter and dared to look out over the audience. "Thank you all for taking the time to assemble here today. I know the last time we spoke it was not under the best terms, but I have come here today to ask for your forgiveness on the past and your cooperation for enhancing the future."
A loud snicker echoed in the hall. The nearest guard stomped at attention and snuffed it out, leaving an awkward silence.
"As you have all seen or heard, the king is not well and has taken on the unfortunate form of a beast. I understand this is upsetting news as my father, King Ezra, meant a lot to this kingdom and was… I mean, is, loved by many of you. The details of his transformation were kept quiet as a concern for public safety and to provide some privacy for His Majesty during this difficult time. Unfortunately, that decision has led to tragedy and for that, all of us in the royal family are deeply sorry."
A few people wrestled in their seats, and I tensed, expecting some sort of assault but they remained sitting. Another deep breath. So far, so good.
"Today I've come to assure you that we will do everything possible to bring my father home, and rebuild the things we have broken. The—“
A hand jut into the air about four rows away from the stage. The practiced speech reeling in my head halted, distracted by the five fingers gesturing desperately for attention.
"You have a question?” I pointed at the older gentleman waving his hand in the audience, the silver flecks of his hair picking up under the theatre lights.
"Yes, Your Majesty. My question is simple; after you have already lied to us and put us in danger, why s
hould we believe you now?"
Bile rose in the back of my throat, just as I'd anticipated, yet it still came as a shock as the burn raged against my vocal cords.
A noblewoman in a fancy green dress stood in the front left row. “And what about our children? Are they not still in danger with a monster on the loose? What about them?”
Third row from the back, right side. “Who will fix the marketplace? I’m losing money every day I can’t sell my produce.”
“How do we know there are no other monsters that you’re hiding?” Fifth-row centre.
By the back door. “What good is the monarchy anyway? Maybe it's time for something new."
The questions kept coming, each one smacking me in the face and forcing me back in defeat. I wasn't finished yet. Why hadn't they let me finish? My knuckles flashed white as I held onto the podium, using it as a crutch to keep from crumbling to the floor.
Towards the back of the room, a small hand flew in the air as the body attached tried to make its way forward. Two guards immediately surrounded the asker with their hands poised on the hilts of their swords.
"I also have a question for the prince." The voice cut through the rest of the noise, familiar and calming, like a stillness running through my blood. Veda, her hair pulled back and her unmistakable gray on gray uniform.
“Yes, ma'am." I waved my hand and made a shushing noise, some of the chaos ending with the gesture. “Please let the lady speak."
The soldiers eased back, still in attack mode if necessary. Veda straightened her stance.
"I wanted to know how deeply difficult is it for you to deal with your family's pain and still try to address the kingdom with decorum and a smile? How traumatic has this whole ordeal been, and yet you’ve still managed to come here trying to help all of those who might be affected, without having the chance to grieve your own misfortune?"
The crowd silenced, all of my contenders dangling from her every word. Strength reignited in my shaky legs. Her confidence providing bricks of courage, each one stacking on each other to build my platform.
Fallon: Son of Beauty and the Beast (Kingdom of Fairytales Boxset Book 6) Page 10
