Part I - THE PRINCE

CHAPTER 3

Aldric’s little nap turned into a three-hour slumber and he woke in a groggy and slightly confused state. He yawned widely before dipping into his washroom to wash the sleep from his eyes. He tamed down his hair the best he could, switched out his shirt for an identical, but unwrinkled version, and departed for the kitchens.

The chaos there was immeasurable and it was easy to slip in, swipe an apple, and leave without being spotted. He took a large bite as he strolled, keeping to the quieter hallways. Aldric expected the summons from his father to arrive any minute now and excitement was finally beginning to overtake anxiety.

As if sensing the shift in Aldric’s demeanor, Brooke came barreling around the corner.

While Aldric was the spitting image of his father, his sister was the perfect blend of their parents. Her hair was a soft brown, a shade lighter than Rodell’s but a tone darker than Carla’s, and her eyes were a mix of the king’s slate grey and the queen’s ocean blue. Everything else, from her height to her skin tone to even her bone structure, was a percent combination of the Ingram royal family and McPherson duchy.

“Hello, Brooke,” Aldric said, smiling automatically. “I thought you had lessons this afternoon.”

“I did,” she answered, her pitch falling a few octaves lower than Carla’s. “But my instructor was suddenly released to ‘go and enjoy the evening,’” Brooke reiterated, using her fingers to air quote their mother. Aldric snorted before finishing off the last bite of his apple. He took a seat at one of the window alcoves, cracked it open, and tossed out the core before relaxing against the sill. Brooke joined him, tucking up her feet underneath her and smoothing out the folds of her skirt.

“I guess I should thank you for setting me free,” she joked.

“How do you know I had anything to do with it?”

It was Brooke’s turn to snort now.

“There’s only one person who can divert our mother’s attention, Aldric, and it isn’t our father.” His sister’s words weren’t heavy-handed, but they weren’t a compliment either.

Second, to Rhiann, Brooke probably knew Aldric the best. His smiles weren’t faked when he was with her and he at least felt partially genuine when in her company, but at the end of the day he never shared with her his burdens or his opinions. Because, unlike Aldric, Brooke had a knack for transparency. He wasn’t sure if it was because she lacked the ability to lie or simply chose not to, but the Aguki princess was as blunt as a slap to the face. And the last thing Aldric needed was Brooke blabbing his real feelings aloud for everyone to hear. She already had a hard enough time as it was biting her tongue when seeing Aldric in his princely facade.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” She abruptly asked him. Aldric shot a look at his sister and found her watching him closely, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t tell you that,” he joked. But Brooke didn’t laugh. If anything, her expression drew in even more, the intensity of her worry heightening.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she began but Aldric held up his hand.

“Don’t make me lie to you, Brooke,” he warned and she thankfully kept her lips sealed after that.

Aldric wasn’t sure how long they sat together staring out the window. Electus was in the beginning stages of winter, but the temperature was still fairly warm and pleasant. They were getting more and more rain showers now, and a constant humidity hung in the air.

Eventually, a palace servant tracked them down. Aldric was instructed to head to the throne room, while Brooke was sent to spend the afternoon with Carla. The two siblings didn’t exchange an extended farewell. Aldric nodded to Brooke and she nodded back.

The throne room was a particular distance from where Aldric had been hiding, but it still only took him five minutes or so to make the trip. After descending one of the many winding staircases and weaving his way through a series of crisscrossing hallways, Aldric found himself standing in front of a large set of oak doors.

The Prince took a steadying breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward.

There was a heaviness that came from stepping into the King’s threshold. But, despite the cold intensity of the stone walls, the throne room was warm. A pair of mirrored fireplaces blazed heartily at each side of the room and a long stretch of red carpet covered most of the space between them. At the end of the room, opposite the entrance doors, was a large black throne on a raised dais.

However, the individual seated there was not Rodell.

Aldric’s steps faltered as he took in the scene before him.

Whoever the man was he looked far too comfortable sitting on a throne that was not his. He was slumped down comfortably, too; an elbow on the armrest and his head propped against his fist. Most of his features were hidden behind a golden mask that wrapped around his head like a crown.

As the stranger shifted, the light in the room danced off his crowned mask, the rays absorbing into his raven black hair. The darkness of his hair was further enhanced by the paleness of his skin. The fact that Aldric couldn’t even see the man’s eyes was off-putting.

“Aldric.” The sound of his name startled him. Materializing from the side of the room was Rodell, who looked pale and tense, and had his hands firmly clasped behind his back. Aldric wasn’t sure he’d ever see his father look so — small. Rodell’s entire frame was hunched in submission, his posture twitching with nerves as his gaze darted between his son and the stranger.

As Aldric, too, redirected his attention to the man on the throne the gears in his brain began to turn. There was only one group of people who concealed their eyes in such a fashion: the Hajats. And there was only one Hajat who would have the confidence and the audacity to sit on the King of Aguki’s throne.

“He’s intelligent,” Cirillo Andrade said. He straightened and stood, walking towards Aldric slowly, his countenance remaining neutral. “It only took him a few seconds to figure out who I was.”

“Aldric,” Rodell spoke after a loud clearing of his throat. “This is Cirillo, King of Tanah.”

A shiver ran up Aldric’s spine as his father confirmed what he already knew. He tried to maintain his composure as he checked his facial expression. He found his mouth and eyes in their typical relaxed and charming guise, but it still felt like he was on display. Like Cirillo knew exactly what thoughts were racing through his head.

Aldric had heard stories of Hajats all his life. They were an elusive Race, small in number and localized to Tanah. And since Aldric had never stepped foot outside of Aguki, he’d never met one before. He knew from his lessons that they were powerful, each born with an ability known as an Imperium. But every Imperium required a specific input source, an input source cleverly depicted in their irises. It was why most of them shielded their eyes. It was difficult to stop a Hajat whose necessary medium was unknown.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” It had taken too long for the words to form in Aldric’s mouth, but when they did finally come out they were even and normal. He wanted to sigh in relief but instead bowed his head respectfully.

The Prince forced his legs to walk further into the room and took the few additional moments to scan the rest of the throne room. Just as he had initially suspected, the three of them were alone. Aldric knew that there was to be a meeting the day before the celebration, but he had thought the entire council was going to be present. That was at least what Rodell had informed him. There was also the unexpected addition of the Hajat King. It brought about a series of uncomfortable twitches and Aldric clasped his hands behind his back to hide their shaking.

“The pleasure is mine,” Cirillo said in a voice that bordered on monotone. He didn’t bow back or bother acknowledging Rodell, who still stood off to the side of the room like an afterthought. “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Aldric’s brow furrowed slightly as he tried to read the atmosphere.

This behavior, the apparent relationship between these two men, wasn’t one of two rulers.

“Yes, I am,” he eased into the space a few feet in front of Cirillo.

Most of Aldric’s mannerisms, everything from his personality to his words to his demeanor, were dictated by the responses he read on people’s faces. Not being able to see the other man’s eyes, to fully take in his expressions, was disconcerting and foreign. He didn’t know who to be in front of Cirillo Andrade.

“Will you be attending?” Aldric managed to ask when the conversation abruptly ceased.

Cirillo shook his head. “Today’s visit was unscheduled. I simply needed to speak with your father.”

Again, Aldric didn’t know what to say. Had he ever been this awkward before? Had conversation always been this difficult? Talking to Cirillo was like talking to a wall. While standing in a blizzard. Naked.

The discomfort didn’t seem to even phase Cirillo. He just continued standing in front of Aldric with that golden crown-mask glimmering in the light. But as the Prince squinted at the reflected rays glaring off the diadem, his attention snagged on something. I the Hajat king’s hair…was that glitter?

Before Aldric could look closer, Cirillo turned towards Rodell. “I’ll see you in a week’s time.”

Rodell looked like he wanted to throw up, but he nodded. Cirillo, apparently satisfied, walked past Aldric and out the entrance doors to the throne room.

Gone, just like that.

For a long while, Aldric and Rodell simply stared at the spot that Cirillo had just occupied.

So many thoughts raced through Aldric’s mind, but his mouth seemed physically incapable of forming words or even a simple sound. Something wasn’t right. Whatever this exchange had been, it was wrong.

This wasn’t what he had envisioned.

Though, now that he rationalized it, he wasn’t sure how he’d expected his first meeting with the King of Tanah to go. All his daydreams centered around a crown being placed on his head and power shifting into his arms. The other Cinthra rulers, Hajat or Donatus, hadn’t even occupied a corner of his thoughts.

“You should go.” Rodell’s voice was rough and he didn’t wait for Aldric’s response before turning and disappearing from the room using a back door. The Prince finally let his mask fall as he opened his mouth and closed it several times. He felt like a fish out of water. A tingling of foreboding slithered up the back of his neck and no amount of deep breaths was going to soothe the riling beginning in his stomach.