The Prince’s Heart

5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

T ry as I might, I can’t stop myself from spending a good portion of the next few days thinking about that spark of something I saw in Tag’s eyes as he left my suite. I’ve seen it twice now, and my gut tells me it’s a good sign.

But every time I almost convince myself that I have a chance with him, I remember the way he moved his hand away the moment I touched it. It might have been a coincidence or an involuntary reaction on his part. But, when it comes to courting, I’ve previously gotten my hopes up and been let down so many times, and I refuse to let that happen again. Not if I can help it.

Of course, none of this obsessing is particularly good for my mental health, so in an effort to distract myself from thoughts of Tag, I throw myself into my royal duties with a vigor I’m not sure I’ve ever matched before.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take me long to realize that sitting at a desk and reading papers isn’t exactly the most mentally stimulating activity, and it’s hard to focus on such tasks when my thoughts are determined to be elsewhere. I need to find something else to do .

What follows is a series of increasingly desperate attempts to find a better distraction. First up is Ivy, who seems rather surprised to see me when I find her throwing knives at a straw target in the small training courtyard near the guards’ barracks. That doesn’t stop her from challenging me to a competition. At least, that’s how she describes it, but I suspect it’s really just a way for her to show off her admittedly superior skills. There may be things that I’m better than her at—emphasis on may —but knife-throwing is definitely not one of them.

True to form, the ‘competition’ is over in barely fifteen minutes.

“That was even worse than usual, and you’ve set a pretty low bar,” she says as we retrieve the knives from the target. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” I tell her, wincing as I rotate my shoulder. She gives me a look that clearly says she knows that I’m not, in fact, fine, so I add, “Listen, I promise if I ask someone for advice, you’ll be the first on the list.”

“You know that you can always talk to me about anything, right?” She waits for me to nod. “Good. That’s all I need.” She gestures back to the practice target. “Now then, if you’re not going to tell me what’s bothering you, shall we get back to it?”

“Is this really how you spend your free time?” I ask, more to delay any further embarrassment than for an answer. “There have to be better ways to spend your time that don’t involve deadly weapons.”

She shrugs, tossing a knife in the air and catching it handle-first. “Maybe there are, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. Sure, it’s probably more useful for you to learn about history and diplomacy and all that, but someone has to be prepared to protect the country. The way things are going, we may need people who know their weapons sooner rather than later.”

My ears perk up at the last sentence. “‘The way things are going’? What does that mean?”

“Honestly? It’s probably nothing. You know I like to spend time with the soldiers in the city garrison, and a few of them seem to think their services will be needed soon.” She shakes her head. “But I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. They’re probably just restless, and if there is something wrong, I’m sure the King and his advisors are on top of it.” She turns back to the target. “Now, hurry up and lose to me already so I can make fun of you some more.”

Feeling vaguely disquieted, I do as she asked, stepping up and throwing my knife at the straw target. The knife almost misses the target, bouncing off to one side uselessly. The next throw, and the one after that, go just about as well as the first one did, and it’s not long before my unease is replaced by annoyance. How is it this hard to throw a stupid knife at a man-sized bundle of straw ?

Finally, after three rounds of complete embarrassment, I give up. I could still use a distraction from my thoughts about Tag, but perhaps one that’s not quite this humiliating. To add injury to insult, I can already tell that my arm will be sore when I wake up tomorrow. At least I didn’t miss the target every time.

My next attempt at distraction is Emma, who’s almost as surprised to see me as Ivy was. But when I ask her if I can help with her attempts to track the wasting fever cases in the outlying villages, her surprise quickly gives way to regret.

“Sorry, but there’s really nothing you or I can do at this point,” she says. “Maybe if you were a healer, but you’re not. Plus, I don’t want to risk you getting sick.” She gestures at the large stack of papers in front of her. “Unless you want to help me search through these census records that I found in the library to see if there’s any information on prior outbreaks? I doubt we’ll find anything helpful, but it’s better than doing nothing.”

That at least sounds less painful than knife throwing, but it also sounds just as boring as the petitions I should be reviewing right now, so I politely decline and move on to my next attempt.

If Ivy and Emma were surprised when I talked to them, Samis is absolutely shocked. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You want to take my place at a council meeting ? Is this some kind of joke?”

I assure him that I’m being serious, but he laughs anyway.

“If you really want to, then, by all means, be my guest. Just remember that you asked me, not the other way around.”

I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but my curiosity gets the better of me. “It can’t be that bad.” I pause. “Can it?”

He just laughs even harder. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough!” He pats me on the shoulder and leaves me with that, still chuckling as he walks away.

I stare at his back for a few moments, trying to figure out if he’s just messing with me, before I turn to go. His reaction was … concerning, to say the least, but I still think he might have been playing a prank on me. Only one way to find out .

When I arrive at the council meeting an hour or so later, most of the councilors are already there, seated around the long, rectangular table—those ranked highest are closest to me, while those of lower rank are seated at the far end of the table. As soon as they notice me walking in, they stand and bow to me as deeply as etiquette calls for based on their title and position. The highest-ranked councilor, Duke Zoran Arondel, barely nods his head, while the lowest ranking, Lord Mokurot, bends so far his head nearly hits the table.

I take my seat, feeling slightly self-conscious. I haven’t attended a meeting since before I came of age, but from what Samis has told me, I think I’ll be able to handle it. Assuming I don’t fall asleep a few hours in, that is.

Once I’ve taken my place at the head of the table, the others resume their seats. If Father were here, he’d be sitting where I am, but Samis told me he’s eating lunch with the ambassador from Jirena Sadai, so I get the dubious honor of being the focus of everyone’s attention. At least I don’t have to explain to Father why I’m here. I’m sure he wouldn’t say anything—at least not in public—but I doubt he’d be very happy to see me taking Samis’s place, even if it’s only for one meeting. Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him .

As soon as everyone is settled, I motion for the discussion to begin.

“Your Royal Highness, I have an update on the situation with Zeteyon,” says Colonel Deor Belling, a high-ranking officer in the Soerian Army and the commander of Cedelia’s garrison. Their short black hair frames an angular face, and they sit ramrod straight in their chair, the very epitome of military discipline. I don’t interact with them very much—I’ve never really had much of an interest in the military outside of my historical research—but from what I’ve heard, they’re exceedingly competent at their job, which is reassuring given its importance. “Your Royal Highness is aware that we have an alliance with Zeteyon thanks to the marriage between the king and queen, correct?” They barely wait for me to nod before continuing. “I can report that the border conflict between Zeteyon and Khoria shows no sign of ending, although it seems doubtful at the present time that it will erupt into a full-scale war.”

That’s not great, but I suppose it could be worse. “Has my uncle requested our aid?” I ask. I know Father would rather avoid getting involved in any conflict if at all possible, and I wholeheartedly agree with him on that, at least.

Fortunately, Belling shakes their head. “No, Your Royal Highness. So far, King Zeikas has kept us out of it. However, on your father’s orders, I have instructed our ambassadors in Osella and Pyaran to offer to act as mediators. Given our relationship with Zeteyon, it seems unlikely the Khorians will accept our offer; still, we should be prepared to consider what further instructions to give them on the off chance they prove to be amenable to mediation.”

“I understand.” No doubt coming up with those instructions will take up quite a bit of Father’s time. “Does anyone else have anything to add on this topic?”

At that, Countess Nynavia Voeli, a long-time member of the council and the head of the royal treasury, clears her throat. She’s one of the few councilors I interact with outside of formal events, thanks to a shared interest in history; in fact, she helped me track down the account of the Battle of Cavain that I showed Samis a few days ago.

“Do we expect to be called into this conflict at some point in the future?” she asks Belling. “I presume the army is prepared for that eventuality, but I have no doubt that it would require a rather large expenditure.”

“It’s a possibility, I suppose, but a remote one,” Belling replies. “As long as the conflict remains at a relatively low intensity, I doubt King Zeikas and the Zeteyoni government will feel the need to get us involved. However, I should note that for the near future, we will be unable to call on the Zeteyoni army to come to our aid should we require it.”

Voeli nods and leans back in her chair. “Excellent,” I say. “Thank you for the report, Belling. Now then, moving on—”

“Excuse me, Your Royal Highness,” interrupts Archduchess Pyria Rolsteg, a tall woman with long, auburn hair seated next to Duke Arondel. Although she’s rather high ranking, her family is new to the nobility, at least compared with most of the other people at this table. If I’m remembering correctly, her great-great-grandfather, Vrax Rolsteg, was a merchant who made enough money selling arms during the War of Dissolution to buy a title. Since then, the Rolstegs have used impressive dowries to marry into almost every noble family in Soeria.

“I apologize for interrupting,” Rolsteg continues. “But if I may ask—Belling, you said we won’t be able to call on their army? Does that mean we’re on our own should someone attack us? Should we be worried?”

I do my best to keep my expression neutral even though I feel a slight chill. Rolsteg certainly seems concerned, but something about the way she said it—a whisper of a hint of hopefulness in her voice, perhaps—has put my guard up. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s excited at the prospect of Soeria being left to defend itself alone. But that would be absurd—after all, it’s not like she would gain anything from it. It’s far more likely that I misheard her. Or I’m already losing my ability to pay attention, less than ten minutes in.

It must be the latter, because Belling’s expression hasn’t changed one bit. “Theoretically we are, but I doubt it will be a problem,” they say. “We have no reason to expect that we will require their aid anytime soon. Perhaps if the situation persists for an extended period of time, or if one of our neighbors starts acting aggressively, we may need to start worrying. But until and unless that happens, there is no reason for distress.”

Rolsteg nods. I search her expression for a hint of disappointment, but I see none, so I let my guard back down. With the military report complete, Voeli speaks next, giving me and the Council an update on the kingdom’s finances. She does a good job of keeping her remarks to a minimum, thankfully.

Any hope of getting out of this meeting early is dashed, though, when Arondel follows with a report on the beginning of the planting season and the state of the crown lands. Unlike Voeli, he speaks for quite a long time, and so does everyone after him. In fact, it seems like just about everyone in the room besides me, Belling, and Voeli feels the need to give a long-winded speech on some random topic. What’s worse, most of those speeches turn into never-ending debates.

At first, I try my best to follow the discussion, and even jump in with a suggestion or a comment here or there, but it soon becomes a struggle just to stay awake. By the time the meeting ends—nearly four hours after it started—I have a newfound appreciation for Samis. He has to go through this three times a week ? How does he not sleep through the entire thing ? Not for the first time, I’m grateful for whatever stroke of luck made me the second child, not the heir. If I had to put up with those meetings all the time, I might just run away and go live out in the country somewhere.

To be fair, attending this meeting wasn’t a complete waste of my time, because the discussion—while boring—was just important enough that I was able to stop thinking about Tag for a little while. Now that it’s over, though, my thoughts immediately return to him in full force. It might be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

Fortunately, I have one idea left, and if it doesn’t succeed, I’m not sure what I’ll do. With my fingers crossed, I head toward my favorite room in the entire palace.

As always, when I enter the library, I’m struck by the majesty of the place. Stone bookshelves line the walls, while the center of the room is mostly taken up by tables where scholars can sit and read. There are usually a good number in attendance, perusing historical records from the Empire days or searching for rare books, and today is no exception. Thanks to decades of amassing books and scrolls from all over the world, we have one of the best collections in the country, perhaps second only to the one at the university in Qiros, near the border with Jirena Sadai. It doesn’t hurt that the palace survived the dissolution of the Empire mostly unscathed—thanks in no small part to my great-great-grandmother’s military prowess—while other places didn’t.

Unlike in other parts of the palace, the light in here comes entirely from glowbulbs. If someone tried to light a candle in here, regardless of their rank, Vellington, the head librarian, would have them thrown out so fast their head would spin. The glowbulbs, like their name implies, don’t actually burn, but just give off a constant glow. Some genius inventor came up with the idea right before the Empire dissolved, presumably to the great relief of librarians everywhere. Apparently, the process to make them is quite difficult, so they’re mostly limited to us and the rest of the nobility.

Just walking in here makes me feel nostalgic. When I was younger, I retreated here when I was exhausted from interminable diplomacy lessons or weapons training with Ivy. Nowadays, it’s the perfect place for historical research, which I do two or three times a week. I even have a small space on the upper floor that I’ve informally claimed for myself. I suppose I could have just officially declared it mine, but I hate pulling rank, especially for something as unimportant as this. The space is toward the back, so there’s no reason for most people to go there, and over the years I’ve finally convinced the librarians to leave me alone when I’m there.

Apparently, it’s not as secluded as I thought, because as I get closer, I see someone’s sitting in my alcove. I can’t tell who it is from this far away, but the tables near the entrance aren’t particularly full, so whoever it is must value their privacy. I debate leaving them to their own devices and just finding somewhere else to sit, but I’m curious as to who it is.

When I do finally get close enough to see, I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. It looks like Tag is absorbed in whatever he’s reading—I can’t see what the book is from here, but I can tell that it’s absurdly large—and I almost turn and walk away before he can look up and notice me standing there. But just like at the dinner where I first saw him, his presence drags me toward him like a moth to a glowbulb, and I am powerless to resist.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have worried that he would notice me, because he’s so focused on reading his book that even when I come within a few feet of him, he doesn’t look up. After a few awkward seconds of just standing here, I clear my throat to get his attention. He jumps and turns, but when he sees it’s me, he gives me an easy smile that makes my heart soar.

“Darien!” he exclaims. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there.” He brushes a stray lock of hair back into place, and my heart does a little flip. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Don’t worry, you’re fine,” I tell him. “I’m sorry for startling you, so I guess we’re even. I just came here to read something. Seems like you had the same idea.”

“Yeah, that’s right. The rest of the library seemed pretty busy, and I didn’t think I could lug this huge book all the way back to my room. This little alcove looked so inviting, and the view of the garden from the window is wonderful.” He nods to the seat across from him, a light blush reddening his cheeks. “Do you want to join me? I don’t want to intrude if you’ve got other plans, but I wouldn’t mind some company.”

I desperately try to keep my expression neutral. “I’d be happy to join you.” I take the seat he indicated. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you reading?”

“Oh, this?” he asks, blushing for some reason. “It’s a treatise on how best to run an estate. Ways to lower the fiscal burden on workers without impacting profits, that sort of thing.” His eyes become unfocused, as though he’s looking past me. “I know Riella will inherit our family’s estate someday, but she’s always been more immersed in the big picture than the details, so I’ll probably end up helping her put some of her ideas into practice. I know it’s a small estate, especially compared to all this, but we still have a duty to the people who live and work there. The way things are now … well, I wouldn’t say things are bad for them, but they could always be better . I know things won’t be as good as they were under the Empire, not for a while, but I’m always looking for ways to improve the tenants’ lives.” He gestures to the gigantic tome on the table. “The author of this book did case studies on various estates that tried to do things differently—what their objectives were, how they tried to implement them, and how they worked out in the end. Like in Weigar, when the local lord—” He pauses, and his eyes snap back to mine. “I’m sorry. I tend to get carried away when I’m talking about something I find interesting. I’ll get back to reading instead of talking your ear off.”

“No, please continue.” It doesn’t sound like the most interesting topic I’ve ever heard, but listening to him talk about something he’s passionate about is much better than sitting in silence and letting my mind wander. “What happened in Weigar?”

He looks at me, his eyes slightly squinted as he bites his bottom lip. “You’re sure you want to hear about it? I don’t want to impose if you’d rather do something else.”

I just nod, not trusting myself to say anything.

To my pleasure, his face lights up a bit. “Well, there was a mysterious disease that began killing townspeople, and none of the local healers had any idea what to do about it. But one of Lord Upton’s advisors had a theory that the disease was spread by rats, and…” He continues talking, and I listen closely enough to respond adequately, but mostly I’m just enjoying being around him. I wonder if he feels the same way .

We keep discussing the book for minutes that turn into hours, and before I know it, the sun has set. Tag trails off as he sees me looking out the window, and when he turns to see for himself, he chuckles softly.

“I told you I tend to get carried away,” he says with a guilty smile. “I hope you didn’t have any plans for this evening.”

“I didn’t,” I assure him. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t be upset. I had a good time with you.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says with a grin that turns into a wide yawn. “I can’t believe I talked through most of the afternoon. I think I’m going to go back to my rooms and rest a bit.” He stands up, yawning once more. “Goodnight, Darien. We should do this again sometime.”

“We should,” I agree. “But I have one condition.”

“What would that be?”

“Next time, I’m picking the book.”

He laughs. “I think I can handle that,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I should be going. I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye, Tag. Have a good night.”

He nods and walks away, leaving me sitting at the table, wondering if there’s any chance that he feels the same way about me that I’m starting to feel for him.