Because Of You. . .

TWO II

EALY

I was betrothed to Zawadi merely minutes after my first breath, too young to know the value of the union or anything else. But gradually I grew up to understand not to question things. That I was a king in waiting, not born to work for anything, not the love of the people I’d rule or the woman I’d someday call queen. A privilege, as most pointed out.

But I didn’t expect to cash in on that privilege at an early age of fifteen till Father who’d been a force of nature collapsed one day. His heart had failed him, the doctors had said, but there were rumours of a foul play. I’d have been gutted if the palace had been a humble home, but it was a playground of power, love was non-existent within these walls

Everyone wanted my birthright, I’d always known that. Part of the reason I had to be perfect. Any crease would cost me my life. I couldn’t love. I couldn’t be happy. I couldn’t live. A puppet on the strings of history. An empty shell. A King in waiting. I’d never known any other life, so this fate fitted just right.

A beautiful armor.

Growing up, I was the blue eyed prince of Narva with a heart of stone, a reputation penned by my people. All half truths. My eyes might rival the sky in colour, but my heart beat like any other, harder now as I held my breath underwater during my nightly swim. I wasn’t as warm as Cora, or as charming as Penn though. And I wasn’t sure if it was my upbringing or a flaw in my system. Not that I cared.

I stayed submerged in the embrace of the water, resisting the impulse to breath. I still had a minute or two to push the limits of my respiratory capacity, but the sound of muffled screams had me coming up for air seconds earlier, alarmed by desperation of the source. I looked around and saw hands peeking from the other end of the pool in terrible attempts to stay afloat, clearly someone with a death wish.

My pool was strictly off limits, and the last person who dared to dip a finger lost his whole hand. What was I going to do with this one?

Reluctantly, I swam to the unfortunate soul, and it was the last person I’d expected on these grounds. Zawadi, Princess of Sudgal, almost lifeless and in a servant’s dress. Last we spoke, before she left for her father’s funeral, curses and harsh words had been exchanged, I thought she’d never return, and that brought me a semblance of peace and relief. She wanted a love I couldn’t give, and I wanted a queen she couldn’t be. Maybe that was why I didn’t feel empathetic at the moment.

Still, my training kicked in, checking her breathing and pulse before starting on chest compressions. But none of it worked, she barely stirred. My eyes reluctantly fell to her purple lips, deliberating on whether to draw out the water through her mouth, or not. Despite our differences, I couldn’t let her die. I was merely inches away from her lips when she came around, disoriented and coughing water out of her lungs.

She wrapped her arms around herself, her skin bristled with cold, before turning to look at me. It was hard to tell her emotions, she couldn’t stop shaking.

The doors opened and my personal guard rushed in, his hand ready to draw out his sword. Had there been any attack, he’d have been terribly late.

“I heard noises, Your Majesty,” He spoke, his breath reeking of cigarettes and disobedience. He obviously knew I’d never get rid of him, perks of sharing a childhood. I grew up destined to be king and he was fated to be my shadow.

“Handle this,” I said draping a towel over Zawadi. Her eyes hadn’t batted from me, taking me in like we were meeting for the first time. Or did I just ruin her innocence? She might have never seen a half naked man.

“I thought you were alone,”

“Me too, I guess someone is not doing their job,” I threw on my robe and left, deaf to the loud apologies I knew he didn’t mean. I changed into something warm, before calling on Cora. The two guards stationed by her door bowed before opening the door, a gesture that was barely noticeable anymore.

Cora sat on her bed, engrossed in a book with a cup of flaming tea at her side. The smile playing on her lips spoke volumes of the pages being explored. Probably another unrealistic tale of love, because women read romance – her words. She was barely twenty, too old to be a girl, too young to be a woman. Love stories were an odd choice for someone her age.

“It’s rather late, Ealy. Did something happen?” She set her book down, a frown creasing her brow, her concern mirroring a level of maternal instinct I’d never seen on my own mother.

“Why wasn’t I informed of Zawadi's return?”

“Because there was no need to. You’ve got more important things on your plate, like preparing for your impending coronation. That woman should be the least of your worry, unless she caused trouble again,” I shook my head, taking a seat across from her. It was just surprising that Zawadi had been quiet for this long. Usually, she’d be up to her usual antics, spreading terror throughout. She put my cruelty to shame, topping the most feared list in the palace

“Then what’s keeping you up at this hour?” She asked pouring out a cup of tea for me. Despite having a cadre of servants at our disposal, she insisted on doing these menial tasks herself. Kindness or wastage of well invested funds, I could never tell.

“Am a king in waiting, isn’t that reason enough, sister,” Though I’d be waiting longer than I thought. There were issues with the Queen regent ceding power.

“King in waiting, the arrogance in those words. Will I have to address you as your majesty now?” She mused

“It’s a necessity am told,” She jabbed me, and before I could berate her on it, the doors to her chambers opened and the missing piece of our trio walked in.

“Isn’t this cute? You two hanging out without me?” I rolled my eyes. My little brother in all his dramatic glory, ladies and gentlemen.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere around the palace, wasting a lady maid’s time with sweet nothings?” He exaggerated his shock in response to Cora’s words. Had his fate been different, he’d have thrived in a circus, the star of a freak show or something.

“I take offense to that, sister. Am nothing if not a gentleman,”

“I’ve heard stories, especially of your travels and they say otherwise,” I quipped

“Do tell, Ealy,” Cora leaned in all curious, like I’d ever taint her innocence with the scandalous tales of our brother's escapades.

“How did this conversation turn to me? Am the wronged one here,” He grumbled, indulging his sweet tooth with Cora’s box of sweet that always sat on her bookshelf.

“You could join us,” I offered, or else we’d be here all night listening to his complains. He eagerly squeezed himself between us, and the conversation moved on to more light-hearted topics. Cora talked about her garden and all the flowers she was planning on adding, and Penn chattered on about his latest romantic conquests, a seemingly endless list. A gentleman indeed.

But it was all nice. In between these fleeting moments, we were just siblings, not defined by our titles and the respect that came with, or our murky pasts. Just talking and laughing, like there was no tomorrow or enemies lurking by. Who knew when we’d get a chance like this again? I wasn’t made of stone here.