Shadows of the Crown

4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Caspian

B right sun beats down on my face, causing heat to caress my body. I despise sweating in my formal attire; it’s stiff and soaks in every bit of moisture, causing it to become sticky and uncomfortable. But there’s nothing I can do about it until my father is done with his speech. I wouldn’t even dare adjust myself, as that would earn a disapproving frown from him, and whatever gossip the crowd in front of us made up. The people love to talk about anything they can get their hands on when it comes to my family. We always need to look calm and put together in front of them, otherwise chaos would reign.

A few years ago, Vespera and I were visiting shops in Valoria to help her pick out a gift for a friend. While in a dress shop, I held up two gowns for my sister to scrutinize—though they looked exactly the same to me—and a group of ladies spotted me through the window. I watched as they pointed in my direction and laughed with each other, assuming they would move along with their day. That was certainly na?ve of me—the next day, there were posters drawn, some of me holding the dresses and some of me wearing them. They generously gave me the front page of the morning papers for days, the headline reading “Is Prince Caspian keeping secrets?”. Each day, the articles discussed how I was using my sister as an excuse to look at dresses for myself, quoting opinions of those who falsely claimed to know me. They alleged that the only plausible explanation for my appearance in that shop was because I wish to be a woman, and Vespera was helping me in my journey.

I couldn’t go anywhere without being stared at more than usual, and everyone laughed at my every move. Eventually, I'd gotten so sick of the inane rumors that I had a gown brought to the castle so that I could wear it during a nice, long walk through Valoria. The next day, there was suddenly other news to make the front page—and since then, I have just minded myself in public, attempting to avoid another scandal .

“I will reward the champion in gold,” my father’s deep voice booms through the city streets. Whenever he speaks to any size of crowd, he requires one of the castle staff to use their aero strand to send his voice skimming across every available surface they can reach. He does not enjoy being ignored. “This is an opportunity for one of the less fortunate in our kingdom to have a chance at the life they’ve always wanted.”

I fight to keep from rolling my eyes; he’s not doing this for the “less fortunate,” as he so nicely put it. He’s requested the kingdom’s assassins to be in attendance…I’m sure they could benefit from the large winnings, though I am uncertain why he’s insinuating this is a competition for anyone in the guilds. I shake my head—it doesn't matter, I suppose. He will do what he wishes, regardless if it's comprehensible to everyone else.

The competition has afforded me a new opportunity, as I've been tasked with organizing each of the trials. And with their nature, it wouldn't be possible for just anyone to complete them. No—everything the assassins will face has been tailored to their specific skills.

“…rooms prepared for each of our guests, as well as a private indoor training arena, so they may prepare for their trials without the prying eyes of the court.” He laughs loudly, and the crowd follows along. “My son, Caspian—” He gestures to me, and I bow my head to acknowledge the crowd, “—will oversee the care of our guests. We, of course, want to ensure a pleasant stay for them.” He continues with the rest of his speech, though it brushes right over my wet, sticky, dark hair instead of hitting my ears.

I focus my attention on the crowd; there are always more people than I expect that show up to these things. The king’s words will be featured in the paper, and they're not mandated to be in attendance. I understand how much some love their king, but I've heard the hate-filled comments of others when they think I am not listening—it's interesting that more do not feel such things about my family.

The streets extend further than I can see, completely filled with people that prevent any traveling parties from passing through this part of the city. Movement catches my eye not too far ahead of me, and I spot a group of four women huddled together, giggling. Three of them are in lightly fitted dresses, each with a color that represents the season. Deep crimson, crunchy orange, and even the green of the mysterious trees in the Verdantia Forest. The fourth woman has stunning, long hair—somehow darker than mine—that slides over the skin of her smooth arm as she turns to look at me. A red hue appears over her round cheeks, and I allow the corner of my mouth to tilt up as I wink at her. Her eyes widen before the others grab hold of her and try to keep their squealing to a minimum.

Women are simple creatures. A little attention and a smile have them falling to their knees, ready to suck their way into my life.

Or maybe they do it because I’m the prince—the thought grates my nerves.

It’s why I do not allow myself to get close to many others. Intentions are easy to conceal, and people will sacrifice anything to be in the good graces of my family. Even fucking me, only to ask afterward if there is an open position in the court I could recommend them for. I cannot blame them, though…we have everything we could ever want, and more, so why wouldn’t they try to get a taste of that? I wish my father would give back to the kingdom. To our people. They’re the reason we have food, metals, trades, and even the military. Our advances in technology from Lumarna have allowed us to have even more luxury at the ca stle. We would have none of this if not for our people, and they deserve much more than we give.

That will change when I’m king.

“The competitors are to arrive in three days, at which time we will hold an initiation ceremony in the castle arena.” He pauses, smiling at the hundreds of people who are hanging on to every word. I suppose this is exciting, as it is not an event that has ever been held in the kingdom. “Please, join us in their introduction—meet those who will represent the cities of Eldoria in this esteemed competition!” Cheering breaks the silence of the crowd, many of whom are whistling at the conclusion of my father’s speech.

Thank the Angel this is over. I badly need to wash my skin and be free of the commotion before the competition starts, and I have no opportunity to remove my mask.

I remain stationed in the same position until my father is fully out of view, only then allowing myself to retreat from the uncanny heat and walk back into the castle. Gavriel falls into step next to me, both of us keeping silent until we’re in a private space where our conversation will not be heard.

I peek over at my guard, smirking at how I’m not the only one affected by the heat. His light hair has melted to his skin, nearly covering the dark of his eyes; I chuckle to myself, causing him to knock me in the shoulder. I nearly return the gesture when two ladies of the court turn the corner—my sister’s ladies—spotting me and swiftly ending their conversation to bow. Gav and I stop, waiting for them to rise as they insisted on blocking the entire hallway with their exceptionally large gowns.

“Stella, Marion. You both look lovely as ever.” I reach for a hand from each, placing a breath of a kiss to the top before letting them drop.

“Thank you, my prince, you are too kind!” Marion spits out; my stomach whirls at the eagerness in her voice, jaw clenching though I keep my smile in place.

“Might I also add how dashing you look yourself!” Stella glances at her pale friend before looking back at me. “My prince, I was wond—” I don’t let her finish, knowing that she’s going to ask something of me that I’m not able to refuse. According to my father, it is unacceptable to not spend time with the ladies when they request.

But I'm not obligated to say yes if they don't request it in the first place.

“My apologies, ladies, I must be going. Many things to accomplish before the onset of the competition.” I nod briefly before stepping around them and hurry to my room.

Gavriel attempts to hide his laugh. “Go vanish in the glades, Gav.” I roll my eyes, attempting to feign anger, but the amusement leaks through my voice.

I don’t believe I could ever be mad at him. He’s been my personal guard for over ten years, though I rarely think of him as such anymore—he’s the only person I trust completely within these stone walls.

I was seventeen when we first met, eager and ready to follow in my father's footsteps. He was a couple of years older than me, though the youngest in the royal guard. I spotted him being pushed around by some of the more seasoned sentries, and though their jesting was to be expected, there was something I didn’t like about what I saw. I stopped their advances, snatching Gav's arm and pulling him with me to talk where the others wouldn’t overhear.

I smile at the memory.

“What’s your name?” I question once we were alone.

His wide, nervous eyes meet mine before he whispers, “Ga—” his throat clears, “Gavriel, Your Highness.”

“Do they do that to you often, Gavriel?” His brows furrow. “The other guards. Do they harm you often?”

His mouth flops twice before he’s able to answer. “Oh, no, Your Highness, they just like to joke around.” I raise a brow; it’s clear he’s lying, most likely not wanting to cause punishment for the others.

I don’t think I’m allowed to do this…but, fuck it. “Okay, Gavriel. From this day on, you will be my personal guard. Your room will be next to mine and you will have no interaction with the others unless I, or the king, deem it necessary. You will tr ain with me daily and report to me instead of your current commander.”

My father was indeed angry. Not only was I forbidden to choose my own guard, but I'd chosen the youngest one, with the least amount of experience, who seriously needed a lesson in confidence. I pleaded with my father, and he eventually agreed to allow it as long as I had a second guard of his choice until he felt comfortable with Gavriel handling things himself.

We’ve been good friends since.

Closing the door behind us, I walk further into my room, depositing my sword against the bed. I strip my jacket, grimacing as it peels from my body in sticky increments. I throw that and the rest of my soaked clothing on the ground for staff to take care of. Not bothering to hide my nudity from Gav, I turn from the large bed to walk into my bathroom, sighing when my feet press into the cool tile.

A hiss falls through my lips as I step under the shower—the cold water stings for a moment, but I allow it to take over my body, numbing my senses and cooling my emotions.

“I can’t figure out what Thalion’s motive is for this competition,” Gav's voice breaks my concentration, and my gaze snaps up to find him leaning against the vanity, eyes closed as if he could rest there comfortably. “Sure, he says it’s to give back to the people, but that can’t be true…otherwise he wouldn’t have just assassins attending. What is the purpose of that? ”

What is the purpose, indeed. I'm unsure of my father’s intentions—I’ve been mulling over the different possibilities for weeks but have come up with nothing plausible. Does he want to see the murderers of the kingdom? People he allows to exist under the guise that they discreetly deliver justice? My lip curls.

Or could he truly just want to help them? Is it possible he believes the assassins have it the worst out of everyone else, and they deserve the first chance at winning the gold?

Regardless of the reason, I’m also confused about my role with them. I understand organizing the trials and creating tasks that will test all of their abilities, but to oversee their care? What purpose could that serve? Surely they’re trained enough to handle the competition, and could use the equipment we’ll provide them to train on their own? Maybe they’ll feel more comfortable having someone from the royal family with them each day. I’m sure for the ones who are leaving their cities, being here will be a new, daunting experience.

“I don’t know my father’s reasons,” I mutter, scrubbing soap through my hair—one Gavriel truly enjoys teasing me for, as he claims it's too feminine for a prince.

But when is the last time he brought a woman to bed…

He gives me a knowing, pitying look. He understands how difficult this position is for me—being the king’s son. I wish to be fully supportive, but some of my father's decisions do not align with our family's supposed values. This competition, for example. Giving back to our people is good and necessary, but to do so in this way? It is not even truly for the people ? I’m...conflicted. But, I will continue to support the crown, and the kingdom, even if I do not always agree.

I finish rinsing off and step out of the shower, tugging on my kinetic strand to drag over a towel, lest I continue swinging my dick in Gavriel's face.

“Show off,” Gav murmurs, and I laugh at his uninterested tone.

“How many times must we argue about this? You weave pyro, which is significantly better than my kinetic or aqua. Plus, it’s more impressive in women’s eyes.” I wag my eyebrows suggestively, and he barks out a laugh.

“Please—if I took even half as many women to bed as you do, I would believe that.”

“You,” I finish pulling on a loose, comfortable pair of pants and poke him in the chest, “have the better essence. I have the better title.” I jump backward as he reaches to shove my shoulder. Laughter builds inside my throat as I dodge his attempts to tackle me.

He catches my left leg and I topple to my side, throwing my hands up before he can begin his attack. “Okay, I surrender!” Sitting up to push him away, a wicked smile curves my lips before I mutter, “Go play with your fire. Find those women you were just bragging about.” His eyes narrow, cursing under his breath as he stalks out of the room, leaving me alone.

I lie back on the rug, focusing my eyes on the cream stone that surrounds the residential parts of the castle. I trace the patterns as my eyelids grow heavy, creating a new story for myself with each crease and fold.