CHAPTER 3
Axel
I f I spoke to you, Would you remember me? Would you know my twinkling eye? If I said ‘Hello’, Would you acknowledge me Or turn away and sigh? When I look at you, I see a face I know, But something’s not quite—”
Lotti waved a hand from her position in the shadows, cutting him off. “That was much better, Axel,” she said approvingly in her rich, alto voice. “But you’re still losing your support on the high note. Feel the expansion in your rib cage along your back, and let your lower back provide a solid frame for your abdominals.”
Closing his eyes, Axel focused on his body and began again. “If I spoke to you, would you remember…”
His voice filled the dark theater, reverberating through the audience chamber with the soft fullness that a well-constructed space always lent to singers and actors alike. Often when he met with his reclusive teacher, it was in a practice room below ground. When the theater’s rehearsal schedule left the stage free for one of Axel’s clandestine practices, Lotti usually insisted on keeping the dark red curtains drawn; she didn’t want to attract attention to her presence.
Today, however, the curtains were open, and he sang to the empty chairs. Pretending they were full of attendees, the bright lights of the chandelier shining down upon him, he poured every ounce of energy he had into his performance.
It was as close as he would ever get.
The stray thought caught him off-guard, and he faltered in the middle of a quick passage, leading to an unpleasant crack. He winced, but Lotti simply played the run on her flute and said, “Again.”
Lotti was an interesting creature. When he’d first met her, he was twelve, a wide-eyed youth exploring the Himmelsburg Theater and dreaming of a day he knew would never come: the day he could join the cast. She’d been lurking in a corner of the backstage area, swathed in a dark cloak with the hood pulled low over her face. He had practically jumped out of his skin when she stepped out of the shadows, but she soon soothed his fears with her beautiful alto voice.
Then she’d told him that she’d heard him sing and that he did it well. And she’d offered to teach him how to do it better.
Axel didn’t know where she’d studied, but she was an excellent teacher. He’d learned much from her during their unsanctioned lessons over the last ten years.
And in that entire time, he’d never seen her face.
Every once in a while, he tried to coax her out of the shadows in which she hid. No matter how hard he tried, she never complied. Never lowered her hood. He wasn’t even sure how old she was.
“Do that every time, and you will have the crowds eating out of your hand.”
Her sultry voice wrapped around him as the release of his final note dissipated into the empty theater. Leaning into its comfortable familiarity, he pressed his eyes shut and told himself her words didn’t hurt. “Thank you.” He forced a small smile as he turned toward her. “Too bad they’ll never hear it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My father would never allow it.” Axel stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled toward the corner where she stood. “I have enough trouble sneaking away for lessons; I’d never find the time to attend rehearsals, let alone an entire run of performances. And if I wanted to make sure my father didn’t find out, I’d have to use some of the stage cosmetics to disguise myself.”
“You could give a recital.”
Axel exhaled a laugh. “He only lets me sing for select groups. Apparently, the crown prince should be seen as a leader, not a performer. Hence the disguise were I to sneak on stage.”
He thought he saw a glimmer under her hood, but it might have been a trick of the candlelight. “It is a shame to keep a voice such as yours hidden.”
“Like keeping a face such as yours hidden?”
She drew back farther into the shadows, and when she spoke, her voice was colder than normal. “My face was not meant for the light.”
It had been worth a try. Shrugging, he turned and paced toward the side of the stage. “Shame or not, I still can’t attend rehearsals. Even though I’d like to, I can’t neglect my duties that far.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ralnor will need a king it can depend on when my father is gone. In the far distant future, hopefully,” he muttered at the end.
“ The Tanner’s Secret opens in a month. We will continue to work on the role of Lars.”
“Lotti, I told you—”
“It is merely practice.” He peered into the darkness, but discerning her features was impossible. “Lars presents much opportunity for your growth.”
Axel wandered closer to her. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what I sing, really.” His eyes passed longingly over the arch of the high ceiling, the gleaming wooden stage, and the comfortable chairs in the audience chamber. “Outside of a private party, you’re the only one who will ever hear it.”
The shadows shifted near the height of her shoulders. “The future is yet unwritten.”
He didn’t bother to reply. He’d been pleading with his father for years, and the best he’d managed was the occasional showing for close friends or family.
Nothing could change that.
~
Axel danced a turn through the back street, holding an imaginary partner in his arms. He stepped back, then twirled her, walking beside her as she spun again and again. Taking her back into his arms, they skipped sideways, his light cloak fluttering behind him, before executing another turn. A final twirl, then dip her down into the finishing pose.
Straightening, he glanced quickly around to make sure the street was still empty. He would have waited to practice until he returned to his rooms, but there wasn’t enough space unless he rearranged the furniture. Rearranging furniture would draw questions.
Although Axel thought it was foolish, Lotti insisted he learn the blocking for Lars’s role. Since she spent most of her time at the theater, she was familiar with it.
Foolish or not, the movement of the dance had lifted his spirits.
Axel peeked around the final corner to make sure no one was looking, then darted up to the side gate of the castle. The blond guard on duty nodded to him.
Returning the nod, he stepped past and slipped through the gate. Before Otto transferred to Himmelsburg, sneaking out had been a challenge. Guards liked to ask pesky questions of young princes wishing to leave the grounds, so when a new guard appeared when he was sixteen, he expected the same. Instead, Otto merely sighed and opened the gate after a glance at Axel’s nondescript clothing.
So for the last six years, he had scheduled his excursions during Otto’s shifts.
It was a short distance to the door of the castle, but as usual, he dragged his feet. The gray stone building sprawled out in front of him, the surface covered in decorative carvings and strange little spots that jutted out from the walls. His eyes traced the windows of his father’s study, the many panes of the casement windows reminding him of prison bars.
He entered the castle into a servants’ hallway, but his plain clothing gave him an air of anonymity. The servants all knew his face, but they had to look at it to recognize him.
Before long, he popped out into a hall near the royal wing. Closing the door gently behind him, he strolled toward his quarters as if he’d been nowhere more interesting than the stable, the training yard, or the gardens.
“Axel, my dear, where have you been?”
Turning, he saw a tall, olive-skinned woman hurrying toward him, arms outstretched. He returned her embrace with a smile. “Good morning, Mother. Did I miss breakfast?”
She leaned back and frowned at him. “Breakfast, and the guild negotiation that you were supposed to run.”
Axel cringed internally. He’d forgotten about that, or he would have insisted the blocking wait. “Sorry, Mother. I was enjoying the gardens in the crisp fall air and lost track of time. Have you ever noticed the way a fall morning—”
“Your father is in his study. I strongly suggest you go see him.” Her eyes flicked up and down, scanning his simple clothes. “ After you change. Why are you dressed like that, my dear?”
He glanced down at his rough brown pants and matching tunic. “I don’t want to spoil my clothes if I take a fancy to digging in the dirt,” he replied, shrugging. “It calls to me more in the spring, when the plants are springing to life again, but even in the fall, a patch of dark, moist dirt sometimes—”
Shaking her head, his mother placed a hand on his arm. “At least you weren’t out singing again,” she interrupted with a sigh. “I won’t pretend to understand your fancies right now. Hurry and put on something more appropriate, and then go see your father before he tears the castle apart looking for you.”
“Of course, Mother.” He lifted her hand and pressed it briefly to his lips (at which she rolled her brown eyes) before striding quickly away.
The lies he’d told her drifted through the back of his mind before he shoved them away. He’d never thought of himself as a dishonest person when he was young. In some sense, he didn’t think of himself as dishonest now. Unfortunately, keeping a secret sometimes necessitated cover stories.
Not that he wanted to keep the secret. But as long as he was his father’s only heir, voice lessons were not an acceptable use of his time. Even his overt patronage of the theater was frowned upon.
So although he made no secret to his parents of his desire to sing, his visits to Lotti remained between himself and her.
When he sauntered through the door to his father’s study a short time later, he was suitably attired in black trousers, a sparkling white shirt, and a dark blue waistcoat. Normally, he would enter with a careless smile; given the circumstances, he had arranged his features in a repentant expression: eyes sad, corners of his lips turned slightly down, eyebrows mostly low but raised in the middle from being drawn together. Hands clasped behind his back .
The stormy expression in his father’s hazel eyes as he glanced up confirmed the wisdom of Axel’s choice.
“Where have you been, boy?” he boomed in his bass voice. Axel winced; Father only called him “boy” when he was really mad. “Do you realize what damage you have done by leaving the guild masters waiting?”
“I’m sorry, Father,” Axel replied in his humblest tone. It wasn’t entirely an act. “The beauty of the morning drove the meeting from my mind.”
“Beauty?” his father thundered. “You would let your kingdom suffer because you are entranced by beauty ?”
“I—”
“You are too old for this, boy!” Father pounded a fist on his oak desk, his square jaw clenched. “It is past time for you to pull your head out of the clouds. Daydreaming is for youths, not men.”
Axel ducked his head. He knew he’d made a mistake this morning, but he remembered a time when it wouldn’t have made his father this angry.
Helena’s death had hit Father hard.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Axel said, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t mean to disappoint you.”
“Then learn some responsibility,” Father growled. “How can our people trust you to lead them someday when you can’t even make an important meeting?”
“I’m sorry.”
Father glared at him for a few more moments, then suddenly dropped his head to his hands, burying his fingers in his short, strawberry-blonde hair. “I don’t know what to do with you, Axel,” he sighed wearily. “Always chasing a dream, never—” He sighed again.
Squeezing his hands tightly together, Axel waited silently. He had no defense. The truth would do more harm than good, and no lie would fix this situation.
“The meeting has been rescheduled for an hour past noon,” Father finally said, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Can I trust you to make it this time?”
“Of course, Father,” Axel replied eagerly.
“There is no ‘of course’ about it,” Father said sternly. “Not when I’ve already had to reschedule it.”
Axel winced. “I’m—”
“Yes, I know, I know.” Father waved him off. “You’re always sorry, Axel. I don’t need you to be sorry; I need you to be dependable.”
“I know, Father.”
The king dropped his eyes back to the papers on his desk. After a minute, he looked back up. “What are you still doing here? I know you have someplace else you should be.” He tilted his head toward Axel and shot him a meaningful look.
“Yes, Father.” Axel gave his father a slight bow and left the study as he checked his mental schedule for his current commitment.
On second thought, he should check with Father’s steward. With the guild negotiation rescheduled, the rest of the day was bound to be different. Even if it wasn’t, his mental schedule had already failed him once today.
He wanted to be the crown prince that his father wanted and his kingdom needed him to be. He really did.
Maybe his father was right.
Maybe it was time to stop dreaming.