Father was more irritated and short tempered today than usual, which was often hard to top. He had barely made it through to breakfast being served without someone being sent to the dungeons. He had appeared in the door, dressed, but eyes shot with a lack of sleep, the circles beneath his eyes darker than ever. He had always looked like an old man in my eyes, but since mother's death he had seemed to age weeks to everyone else's days. He had perked up a bit with the arrangement for a new bride, but the troubles related to her arrival had set him back into bouts of anger and frustration that lead him to look older than ever. He hadn't told me exactly what the troubles were, but apparently the woman must have had a change of heart as she was supposed to have arrived over a month ago.

"Florin," my father grumbled, "do you have combat training today?" He had been moodily clanking his dish and slamming his cup around all breakfast like he had wanted to yell at someone but no one had given him a proper reason to yet.

"Yes father," I answered. He had taken a keen interest in my training lately, particularly when it came to combat. It seemed absurd given that my future was as the king, not some lowly soldier to be sent to the slaughter. Kings were not expected to be on the battle lines with the fodder, that was an old practice long relegated to history. Times were much more civilized and monarchs valued for their wisdom and guidance, not their swordplay.

He gave a grunt and returned his attention to scowling at his plate. "Good, will be useful in the future."

I sorely wanted to ask him why, but it was foolish to prod a grumpy bear, if he wanted me to know, he would continue on in his own time. Many of the servants seemed to have learned the same skill, everyone generally left him be unless there was something important that he needed to tend to. Even then, everyone was sure to tread very lightly.

"I will be leaving later today," he said suddenly, slamming his cup once again on the table, "I will not be back for at least a few days." A scowl grew on his lips and he looked at me sternly. "I want to hear that you've been studious and attentive to your teachers while I'm gone."

I nodded in understanding, confused about what connection him leaving for business had anything to do with my studies or training. I highly doubted that what he was going to do had much to do with me, I was no where near ready to take the throne yet, I was barely coming into age, yet to even get a whisper of coarse hair on my chin.

With another grunt that I assumed was meant to be a farewell, father stood and marched out of the room, servants scurrying behind him to clean up his dishes and attend to his needs. My nursemaid appeared in the doorway, lips drawn tight, deep in thought. She had always doted on me, so sought me out sometimes to ensure I was well and had all that I desired. My mother and her had always seemed to have a tense relationship with the maid acting more as the mother in many instances, being the one I would run to when injured or upset. It wasn't that my mother was cold or unfriendly, she just always seemed sad when I came into view, a smile diminishing or laughter cut off prematurely. It left me wondering and asking why, but mother would just gently reach out and pat my shoulder, telling me that what was wrong was no fault of my own, then she would lapse into a long, sad silence.

"Florin, my child," the nursemaid said in her matronly voice, "It is time to get you ready for the day, your father wants you to take your studies and training seriously."

"I know," I said, rising from the table.

"Then you should already by hustling. Come, let me run a comb through your hair, it is still all a mess."

I complied, standing dutifully before her as she pulled a bone comb from the many pockets in her dress and carefully pulling it through my shoulder length locks. With her own children she was rough and unapologetic, but with me she was gentle and took the time to painstakingly untangle each knot before pulling the teeth through. The difference always put a smile on my face, reminded me just how important to the kingdom I was.

"Where is father going?" I asked .

She was silent a long moment. It was strange for her, usually she was more than happy to engage in rapid fire conversation, it was typical for her to talk for hours on end if there was nothing to interrupt her.

"I am not sure it is my place if he has not already told you," she answered.

"Your place is to serve me and my father, is it not?" I questioned. I tried to keep my tone fairly light, I did not particularly like enforcing my power at every turn like father, but it was important for her to remember where her loyalties lay. "I believe that means you cannot have secrets from me when I ask for information."

"Of course," she said, stammering slightly. I didn't have to turn around and look to know that her face had reddened. "He is off to collect his betrothed now that he knows where she is being kept."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, I hadn't known her location had been a mystery. It had been talked about like it was a political or personal disagreement, not a kidnapping.

"Somebody had been holding her?" I questioned.

"Yes," she said, then went quiet.

Her obvious reluctance to say anymore began to grate on my nerves. I was not some ignorant child, I could easily tell when she was withholding information. I let out a grumbling sigh and the comb stopped, then she let out a short sigh of her own.

"The princess is being held by your aunt." It sounded like she had to spit out the last word to force it between her lips. "A nasty woman, your mother was the only respectable member of her family."

I turned around in surprise. "You know about my mother's family?" The maid had always acted ignorant of my lineage from my mother, quick to change subject and claim she didn't know. Mother had always been tight lipped on the matter as well, prone to silence and staring off into the distance when asked about it.

"A bit," she admitted, her face showing she had been finally caught. "Nothing you should concern yourself with though, a nasty bunch."

"They are still my blood, I deserve to know," I argued, raising my chin into a regal pose.

"I suppose so," she sighed. "I can tell you what you want to know after your training today."

"No, now," I commanded. It was the voice I used when I wanted no argument, only respect for my power.

Flustered, she took a seat at the table and let out a long, pained sigh. "Your mother came from..." She trailed off and looked at me seriously, worry in her eyes. "... a dark family." She looked to me expectantly, but I did not flinch and motioned with my hand for her to continue. "They are called the House Yser, and they fancy themselves some kind of dark witches."

"Witches?" I echoed. "They surely they are just mad, witchcraft is only believed by foolish peasants with too much time on their hands."

"I do not believe it at all my child," she said quickly, "but it is what they say. I saw your nasty aunt myself threaten your mother with her evil powers."

"Here, in the castle?"

"Yes, we were sitting right here the morning after you were born." The nursemaid's teeth clamped together like she regretted the words escaping her mouth, but she was too caught now not to continue. "She had heard that your mother was having a child."

"You make it sound like she was not there to congratulate."

"No, she was not." She licked her lips and leaned in close to me. "I beg you not to tell your father that I have told you this next part." There was a pause where she waited for me to agree, but she found no agreement. "Your aunt was there to take your sister with her."

My brow furrowed in confusion. I couldn't have possibly have heard correctly, I had never heard of any siblings, always having been told I was the only child.

"Your father thought it best that you never know," she sighed. "It is probably all for the best really, she was an ill-tempered and spoiled little girl. Had it in her head that she still deserved to be heir even though you were born a prince. Perhaps it is all for the better that she was taken by that aunt so that you could be raised and doted on without a dark, angry cloud floating around you."

"I have a sister." My lips felt dry and my head spun. I was the heir to the kingdom and yet people had been keeping secrets from me my entire life. I understood that my father had the final say as king, but surely something as important as my own kin should be in my rights to know.

"What was her name?" she whispered, eyes scanning the table before her like it was potentially written in the wood. "Ah, yes, it was Toria. Spoiled rotten, head in the clouds and arrogant, even as a little girl. I don't know what had gotten into her head that she should be heir even with a boy child born. She certainly did not get it from me and I don't recall your mother filling her head with that nonsense either. Some children are just born rotten." The maid nodded her head in agreement with herself. "She should be just past teenager now, and I'm sure she's been spoiled against any goodness she may have been capable of with their ideas of witchcraft and magic."

"I want to meet her," I said with a nod of my head. "Even if turned, siblings should know each other."

"I do not think your father would approve of that," she said. "He has known about her whereabouts this entire time and has never visited, demanded her return, or enquired about her welfare as far as I've heard. She is lost to your family and that is how it should stay."