25. Nicholas
25
Nicholas
W as it wise to follow a clearly capable mystery fighter in the dark to an unknown destination? One who’d already attempted to kill me? Probably not, but damn if it didn’t set my soul on fire to let her take the lead.
Many would look at the role of a prince as the most free a person could get, but while things of monetary value might never be sacrificed, other aspects certainly were. Simply existing anywhere beyond castle grounds, for example, was nearly impossible. Swarms of people would gather for the chance to spot a royal. Expressing uncalculated truths was also not on the table. A person of high rank had to be constantly analyzing situations and exchanges. My whereabouts always had to be accounted for, a string of guards constantly posted within a certain radius.
The only reason I’d pulled off sneaking out over the past several weeks was due to bribing a couple of overnight guards. They’d obey when I ordered them to leave because I was the prince, but the bribe was so they wouldn’t report it to their commanding officers. I didn’t want it on record.
The rest had been up to me, carefully playing with post locales and shift timing, then sneaking around undetected. Once I breached those castle walls, it was as if I became unbridled. No longer controlled by duty or under careful watch. Risky? Sure, but the rewards of moments like this made it worth it.
We skulked through the mostly sleeping village, weaving between aged, well-loved homes, and purposefully avoided street lamps. She moved like a fish in water, fluid and with ease. At no point had I noticed her question the direction she led us, only moving with certainty. How many times had she taken this path to wherever we were headed? I hadn’t asked if she’d lived here her whole life, and judging by what I knew about her, I didn’t have to.
Eventually we broke away from the rows of buildings and scaled a hillside. The butte nested between Sunvale and South Harbor. A grove of trees provided us cover from behind, and Ella sat along the lip, letting her feet dangle over. After scanning the trees and monitoring the streets, I felt confident we were the only ones here. I walked to her side and sat down, imitating her position.
I let my lungs catch the breath I was embarrassed they’d lost before asking, “And why did you choose here?”
“I haven’t been here in years,” she spoke with an edge of nostalgia, and even without knowing its significance, I felt honored.
From our height, I could count nearly all the rooftops in South Harbor before the main roads split.
“I think I haven’t come here because things wouldn’t look the same,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Every day I’m down in those streets.” She pointed. “All I see are raggedy clothes and hungry faces. On unfortunate days, I notice that massive affront to justice.” She turned her head, facing the castle.
I swallowed, knowing what she thought about the white structure in the distance. And who lived in it.
“He has so much. And they,” she pointed toward the village again, “have so little. And no one does a damn thing to help. We’re left to suffer, to starve, to go missing, to work till our bodies break.” The laughter that rolled out of her was tainted with cutting bitterness. “This isn’t the town I remember.” She brought her legs up into her chest and hugged them tight.
I wanted to reach out. To pull her close and promise I was going to fix it.
“My father used to bring me here when I was a girl. We’d pack a picnic blanket and play tag between the trees. In the summer, when the grass is lush and green, you can lay on it while you stare up at the clouds, and it feels just as soft. Like you’re suspended in the sky, wrapped in its pillowy embrace.”
“That sounds beautiful.” She painted such a reverent scene, and the longing for that kind of unburdened freedom tugged at me in a way I often fought to suppress.
She raised her hand and pointed to the south. “He’d ask me what I saw when I stared out at the ocean.”
From windows at the castle, I had stunning views of the ocean spanning wide in both directions. I supposed because I’d seen it all the time, I’d become blind to it. I considered for a moment what I saw when I gazed upon it, but was far more interested in another answer. “What did you see?”
She sighed, leaning back on her palms. “I told him I saw water. And boats.” She laughed, and the infectious harmony had me joining.
“Very astute,” I jabbed, all the while having a smile bloom on my face.
“Hey, I was like eight, okay?” Her amusement didn’t waver. “He said, “do you know what I see when I look out there? I see adventure. I see freedom. I see a world full of fear and anger, happiness and love, hardships and blessings. I see the sun rise and set over every wave that travels a long way just to break on the shore. Then, I see the tide pull it all back and send it on its way again” .”
I tore my view from her masked and hooded profile to stare out over the ocean, trying to see not only with my eyes, but with my soul. For the first time, I looked at the water, not thinking about weather patterns and trade agreements. I didn’t think about the time it would take for invading countries to reach our shores, or the business troubles of local fishermen. No, this time, when I looked toward the night covered horizon, it represented the world.
“That sounds…poetic.” I tried masking my critical assessment in a compliment.
Ella cocked her head to the side. “But?”
Apparently I hadn’t masked it well enough. “But…it sounds so…uncertain. Something about that seems, I don’t know, almost terrifying,” I admitted. My position never let me consider letting the world run its course. There was always something to fix, some hypothetical to plan for. The idea of letting go, being swept away by the current and tossed onto unknown shores of life left too much room for danger. A skilled captain can navigate any harsh waters, and that’s what I’d been raised to do, what I’d been trained for.
“I think it’s the uncertainty that makes life beautiful,” she merely stated, returning her gaze to the grand ocean. “Even in the uncertainty, there’s always hope.”
“A wise man doesn’t rely on hope,” I regurgitated the words my father scorned me with as a child, somewhat taken aback that it’d become my own belief. It came out harsher than I intended, yet still sounded distant.
She simply shrugged, not caring that I didn’t agree. That display of irreverence did something to me. I’d come to expect unabashed agreement to whatever I’d say, responses full of, “yes indeed, Your Highness” , or, “of course, very insightful, Your Grace” .
The woman before me held no care about bolstering my ego or playing the nefarious socio-political game. She was real, and raw, and honest.
“Hope is what gets me out of bed in the morning. Hope that I can do something worth a damn about stopping these kidnappings. Don’t you hope for that as well?” She adjusted to face me.
She wouldn’t know how plagued I’d been over this situation. How I’d spent months looking into it, to no avail. “I like to think I’ve matured past hope. That’s why I’m here. To do it myself.”
“Call it what you will. Hope, determination, resolve. Whatever it is that’s inside you that’s calling you to put an end to it all.” She pointed her gloved index finger, jabbing it toward my heart. “I’m glad it’s brought you here.”
I stared back at her. Everything else faded away—titles, disgruntled citizens, an array of shortcomings so vast they’d probably fill the ocean—leaving just her and I on this cold, grassy hillside motivated to make a change.
She took a steadying breath. “Earlier, you said I was the only one you could trust. I want you to know that you can, even when I keep secrets from you. Even when I don’t share facts about myself. This is the real me, Chol. A girl from this shabby town, tired of being under everyone else’s boot. A girl who is willing to take on this fight because I believe saving just one person will make my life mean something. A girl who sat on this very grass as a child, looking out over an ocean of possibilities.”
Her declaration kind of took me by surprise, but her blatant honesty only strengthened the trust I had in her. I didn’t need to know anything else about her, though I found myself wanting to. She’d impressed me from the moment we’d squared up in that backyard a few blocks away, and even more so now that I could feel the way she cared. The way she devoted herself to helping her people, to making a difference no matter the personal cost, a trait I’d been hard-pressed to find among the throng of leaders I’d met in my lifetime.
“I’ll put my trust in you, if you put your trust in me.” I knew the gravity of that statement, but she didn’t.
Her gaze snapped to mine, and I sensed her apprehension. Whatever she’d been through in her life taught her to be independent. A mask and hood couldn’t hide that fact. My heart picked up its pace, suddenly finding myself worried that she’d pull back. I’d begun this journey on my own, and could easily resume it that way. Though I hoped she’d stay with me.
I held out my hand between us—an offering. Just like that night on the beach.
The hollow wind picked up, wrapping around us as if the elements themselves wanted us to come together. A strand of her dark hair swayed in the breeze. It represented her vulnerability, a part of her that wasn’t covered, that fell to the mercy of the wind, of life itself, of uncertainty.
My heart roared with the promise to protect her at all costs as she gave me the most meaningful handshake of my life.
“How’s the distribution of support funds to South Harbor?” I asked Ricks as the early morning sun blazed through the windows in my office.
“Nothing has changed since the last assessment, Your Highness. Although, I was wondering if we should revisit the cost breakdown from the Crown’s reserves, only for the next couple weeks. The castle, as you well know, has required rampant production for food, cosmetics, and dress for the staff. That is to say nothing of what will be used for the royal wedding once the events conclude.” He bounced, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back. His merriment over the entire charade made me question if he should have gone into party planning rather than royal advising.
“No.” I cut down his proposal, my answer sharp as a blade.
He stilled. “Sire, if you’re worried about depletion, I can assure you—”
“Depletion is not my concern. My concern is for the poor in my kingdom. I have doubts my people are being cared for in the way I had previously assumed. Send someone to get a count of the number of homeless and hungry and report back by day’s end. Based on that number, we’ll remunerate.”
“As you wish.” He bowed his head, but came back up with deeper creases running over his time-worn face. “May I ask what indicators you’ve reviewed that have called this into question? During my reports, I have failed to see any indication of what you’re referring. Not that I am doubting Your Grace’s judgment, of course, I only wish to learn what I’ve missed.”
His hair fell in limp, silver strands, a reminder of the time he’d given to the castle. Surely in all his years of devotion, he hadn’t heard of a royal sneaking out into the night, searching out illusive dangers. Besides the fact that his poor, old heart might fail from the shock, it wasn’t just my movements that could be put at risk. If anyone knew my actions, if they’d somehow discovered what I got up to when the world should be sleeping, it would put a spotlight on Ella.
“You’re dismissed for now, Ricks. Oh, and I want no one hearing of this. Discretion.” My brow raised.
He bent at the waist again. “Discretion, Your Highness.” The sounds of his shoes scuffing across the stone floor faded as he left the room, leaving me to stew in the kingdom’s affairs.
Guards closed down the docks, Ella had said. That wasn’t an order I’d been aware of, and it nagged at me. I set out to find Druller, to see what he knew, when I spotted Marco chatting with a couple of men in the grand hall. I hadn’t checked in with him in a couple days.
Acting every part the steadfast prince, I walked toward them, my steps light and unhurried. Marco twisted to greet me, chewing on his thumb before wrapping his hold around himself. Ever the cool, calm, and unbothered heir. “Ah, my favorite cousin. I’ve been hoping to catch up with you. Gentlemen.” He nodded to the men I didn’t recognize.
“I have some questions for you, my dearest cousin,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye while slinging his arm over my shoulders.
“I was just thinking the same.”
He guided me toward the dais, away from the other staff meandering about their duties. We were out of earshot from even the nearest guards when he positioned himself in front of me, dropping his voice into a cool whisper. “So, where were you last night?” He waggled his brows.
Tension spread across my back, drawing my shoulder blades closer together. I rolled my shoulders to dismiss it. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” He leaned in even closer, pure delight radiating from his smile. “Where were you last night? I came by your chambers to get an update on the luncheons, but you weren’t there. Your guards didn’t offer an answer when I questioned, either. Were you gracing a fair maiden’s bed chambers, Your Highness?”
He thought I’d taken his advice to blow off some steam and make the most of what remained of my bachelorhood. What a gossip. Trying not to resent the fact that he’d made that assumption about me and use it to my advantage, I schooled my lips into a grin. “What else is a prince to do but spend his evenings with a charming woman?”
“You dog!” He jostled my shoulders. “Did you meet her at the luncheons? Is she on staff?” He whipped his gaze around the room as if he could uncover the young lady’s identity.
Guilt constricted me a little, my smile not reaching my eyes as I held it. I didn’t want to lie to him, but too much in this kingdom was getting beyond my control. I wanted to trust Marco. I did trust him, but that sliver of doubt had started to wedge uncomfortably deep.
With everyone, actually.
Each interaction had to be carefully calculated, and the worst part was, I didn’t know why. Things weren’t adding up. That was all I had to go on. A string of unexplained occurrences that left a bitter taste had now forced me to question loyalties that never would have come into question before.
Marco found me missing, and instead of assuming anything nefarious, he thought I’d gone out for harmless fun. I felt slimy for not extending the same to him, but surely by asking some probing questions, he’d clear his name without ever knowing my intentions. “Where have you been lately? I missed you at the luncheons. Thought you wanted to try to embarrass me in front of a swarm of respectable women.” I could only hope the jovial tone would mask my suspicions.
“Ah, you don’t need me to do that, cousin.” A charming wink, one I would have enjoyed before and laughed off, now seemed intentionally shrouded in smoke and mirrors.
“Seriously, Marco.” My face dropped, and I stared into his eyes.
He noted the switch in energy. The way his face fell let me know he had, in fact, been dancing around an answer. “I didn’t want you to worry, but…we need to talk.”