CHAPTER 6
Axel
H
e should have done this years ago.
Lying on his side, he propped his head up on a hand and watched his wife sleep.
One arm was thrown above her head, and her mouth hung open as she breathed softly.
Some of her curls had pulled free from the braid she kept them in at night, and the resulting tangle was going to give Katy and Britta grief later.
Axel’s lips curved up. Messy hair or not, he was more than happy for her to greet his eyes each morning.
He wasn’t sure what had inspired him to finally insist on the change; he was usually more docile when it came to his mother’s insistence on propriety. It was why he had put up with the situation for as long as he had.
He’d been rather forceful two weeks ago, though, when Mother discovered what he was up to and came to complain. It was probably her shock as much as his arguments that persuaded her to leave him be.
Axel didn’t care why, as long as it meant he had Katy here.
Glancing over his shoulder at the window, he noticed a bit of light framing the drapes. A few years ago, this would have been a sign that he had overslept if he wasn’t already en route to the theater. With Lotti’s disappearance, however...
He was tempted to make his first morning excursion in five years, just to see if she was lurking about while the theater was deserted. Unfortunately, Otto wasn’t back from his trip to Reineggburg, and Axel wasn’t ready to let one of his other guards in on his secret.
There would be angry lectures if Father discovered the depth of his activities before the fire. Especially when he discovered that Axel had even lied about the girl he’d met on opening night of The Tanner’s Secret. Had he met a girl? Yes. Was her name actually Heidi?
No. It was Katy. But giving her real name would have destroyed his alibi, and then he would be in trouble for performing.
A lock of hair fell across Katy’s face as she rolled onto her side, muttering in her sleep. Reaching over with his free hand, Axel carefully brushed it back behind her ear.
“Axel?” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “Time izzit?”
“Maybe an hour past sunrise,” he murmured back. She snuggled deeper into the pillow, and another section of hair fell over her face. “You don’t have to get up yet.”
“S’I do,” she mumbled. Her eyes fluttered open before falling shut again. “Things to do.”
Axel grinned. Before they married, he’d assumed that she always woke up early and easily. But she didn’t, and it was funny to watch her drift through her sleep haze.
“What kind of things?” he asked innocently.
“Paint the trees,” she sighed. “S’posed to be blue. Wings on my horse...shoes for the pixie. So tiny. Need smaller needle.”
For being so practical, her brain concocted some interesting dreams while she slept.
“Shoes for the pixie? Are you sure?”
“Mm-hmm. Insisted. Yellow this time. With bows.”
“Bows?” He pressed his lips firmly together.
“To match the trees. Blue paint and yellow bows.”
Unable to hold it any longer, Axel flopped onto his back and let the laughter burst out.
Katy’s eyes flew open. After a moment, they narrowed as her lips pushed out in a scowl. “Not funny, Axel.”
“On the contrary, my love; it was hilarious.” Rolling back onto his side, he leaned forward and gave her a peck on the nose. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your pixie shoes.”
She sat up and stretched her arms over her head with a yawn.
“Well, maybe Otto. But no one else.”
Whirling toward him, she speared him with a glare. “You do, and I’ll see my things are relocated to my old suite.”
“I would just move them back,” Axel replied cheerfully, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Or perhaps I would simply carry you back. I don’t care about your things; your suite can have them.”
Her lips formed a narrow line, but he could see the corners fighting to move upward as she strained against his arm.
He held on tighter, his hours of sword practice providing plenty of upper body strength.
Finally, she gave up and released her mirth as she fell toward him, her fingers finding purchase on his sides.
Releasing her, he squirmed away. “No fair!” he complained through the tickle-inspired chuckles. Katy followed, reaching for his underarms.
Yes, he should never have let his mother talk him out of this. Royal expectations be hanged.
Eventually, they had to prepare for the day – not until after Axel’s valet knocked on the outer door, much to the poor man’s chagrin. Sooner than he wished, Axel was kissing his wife farewell and heading for a council meeting.
The suppressed smiles and occasional disdainful glance as he passed through the hallways had yet to subside, but Axel didn’t mind them.
The past two weeks had given him time to grow accustomed to his people’s new response to his smiles and nods; besides which, the ones who smiled were happy for him, and the ones that didn’t…
he didn’t care for their opinion anyway.
What did set his teeth on edge was Lord Ulrich’s condescending smile when Axel stepped into the council room.
“Your Highness,” the man greeted, bending at his portly waist. Axel pasted a bland, polite smile on his face. “I am relieved to hear how devoted you are to ensuring that our kingdom has an heir. However, I fear it will not be enough to soothe the concerns of—”
“As the concerns of your friends had no impact on my decision, I find my interest lacking.” Axel cut him off with a brisk tone, a hint of steel belying the pleasant mask he maintained.
“That may be, but your actions will be seen as—”
“Since they affect no one but myself and my wife, I fail to see how my living arrangements are any concern of the court.” As he breathed into his jaw to keep it from tightening, Axel mentally grumbled about the speed at which news traveled. What business was it of theirs?
The advisor’s mouth stretched into an oily grin that clearly stated his opinion on the matter. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
As a general rule, Axel didn’t mind losing. He had experienced it often enough in the training yards, as well as occasionally in meetings; he knew how to handle it with grace.
But losing to this man... It was enough to make Axel wish his father was a despot.
King Steffan appeared shortly after and called the meeting to order. It was no more interesting than any other council meeting, but given the mutterings from Lord Ulrich’s crowd of late, Axel was thankful for that fact. Boring was good.
And then, when it was almost over, Lord Ulrich stood up and requested permission to speak.
Axel threw a quick glance at his father. The king met his eyes before frowning at the standing advisor, but gave the other man a brisk nod and waved his hand in invitation to proceed.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Lord Ulrich oozed.
The scrape of wood across stone grated on Axel’s ears as the man took a self-important step back, shoving his chair across the floor.
“Lords of the council, I come before you today with a delicate matter, but one that cannot be ignored if we wish to ensure the continued prosperity of our kingdom.” He slowly scanned the occupants of the table.
“I am sure you know of what I speak. It has never been necessary in our long history, but I fear it is time to act to secure the succession: we must choose the next heir.”
Heads bent together, and the low rumble of murmurs surrounded Axel as he clenched his right hand into a fist under the table.
He maintained his pleasant expression even as his fingernails dug into his palm.
“That hardly seems necessary, Lord Ulrich. My father is yet strong and healthy, and I am of sound health myself. Selecting my understudy seems a bit premature.”
Lord Ulrich’s mouth stretched into a predatory grin. “Ah, yes, our singing prince. Perhaps you should leave the discussion to those who actually understand the intricacies of politics.”
“Enough!” Even the irritating advisor jumped when the king’s fist slammed onto the sturdy wooden table, echoing through the room and rattling the glass goblets arrayed across it. “You will respect my son, Ulrich. His passion for the theater has no impact on his intellect.”
Despite the tense situation, a gentle warmth spread through Axel’s chest. His father had never supported his music so openly.
King Steffan glared at his advisor, silently challenging him to continue pushing.
Lord Ulrich’s eyes glittered, but after a few moments, he gave the king a slight bow and turned to the prince with an insincere smile.
“My apologies, Your Highness. I did not intend to insinuate that you are not suitable for the job.”
For a moment, Axel wished Katy were in the meeting with them; he would love to see her take Lord Ulrich down a notch. Unfortunately, that would require her to hear the rest of it, and he wanted to spare her that for as long as he could. Forever, if possible.
“Thank you for that heartfelt apology,” he replied, his eyes boring into the other man. “As I understand it, the law which you reference addresses the case where the king is old or frail and has no living offspring. As my father is still king, your law does not apply.”
“It is wise to plan for the future. If you were yet unmarried, I and the lords I represent might feel less concern. However, as you have been married for five years already—”
“We are not having this discussion, Lord Ulrich.” Instead of his usual calm, Axel spoke with a cold steel in both his voice and his eyes that caused a number of the advisors to straighten in their chairs.
“King Calvin married younger than I did, and yet he was a decade older when his wife finally bore him Aidan.”
Similarly abandoning his facade of agreeability, Lord Ulrich sneered and leaned forward, resting his fists on the table. “Calvin is king of Baldur. Baldur has always been weak, whereas Ralnor is strong! We must—”
“You will not speak so of our allies, Ulrich.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees with the king’s frigid tone.
“Regardless of your personal feelings on the matter, Baldur has proven trustworthy when needed. As for the matter of an heir, my son is correct. This discussion is over, as is this meeting.”
With that, King Steffan shoved his large chair back with more force than necessary, then rose with dignity and strode from the room.
There was silence for a few moments. Then the advisors began talking in hushed tones as they gathered their things.
Some huddled in small groups; others drifted out the door.
Lord Ulrich, Axel was displeased to note, remained standing for some time, eyes fixed on the door through which the king had exited.
Rather than seeming cowed by the king’s display of command and power, the nobleman had one corner of his lip turned up in a small smile.
If his father were a despot, the discussion would truly be over. Unfortunately, Axel had a feeling it was just beginning.