4. Apollo
Apollo
The late King Roland Titus Acadian had always disdained the word nice. Nice was for servants, peasants, and other people who lacked personality. A prince should be clever, formidable, wise, shrewd, even cruel if he had to be—but never nice.
King Roland often told his son Apollo, “If you are nice, it means you are not enough of anything else. People are nice because they must be, but as a prince you must be more.”
As a boy, Apollo had taken this advice as a license to be careless with life and with others.
He was not cruel, but neither did he embody any of the other virtues his father extolled.
Apollo had always imagined he had time to become clever, formidable, wise, or shrewd.
It never occurred to him that, in the meantime, he was becoming something else.
Apollo realized this alarming truth upon first waking up from the suspended state of sleep that his former friend, Lord Jacks, had placed him in.
Upon discovering that the entire Magnificent North believed him to be dead, Apollo had expected to find monuments of flowers and bastions of stubborn mourners who continued to weep for him, even though the official period of grieving had ended.
Instead, he’d found the kingdom had already moved on. Within the span of a fortnight, he’d become a footnote, remembered as a single unremarkable word in a scandal sheet.
While he’d been under the Archer’s curse, he’d come across this particular scandal sheet from the day after he’d been supposedly killed.
The paper had mentioned only that he’d died.
Just one word, beloved, had been used to describe him, but that was it.
The paper had said nothing of his great deeds or his acts of bravery.
And how could it have, when the bulk of what he’d done was sit for portraits?
Apollo could barely stand the sight of the pictures now, as he strode through Wolf Hall on his way to meet with Mr. Kristof Knightlinger of The Daily Rumor.
This was his second chance to finally make himself more, as his father had urged.
After his shocking return from the dead yesterday, Apollo noticed the different way people regarded him.
Voices were more hushed, heads were quicker to bow, and eyes were full of wonder, as if he were more than a mere mortal.
And yet he’d never felt more human, more vulnerable, or more miserable.
It was all a lie. He’d never returned from the dead. He’d merely been cursed, and cursed, and cursed again. Now, for the first time in nearly three months, he was no longer under any spell, and yet he felt cursed by what he had done to Evangeline.
Apollo had thought that once he was free of the Archer’s curse, he’d think about her less.
The curse had forced him to hunt her. Under its influence, he’d thought about her every second.
At every moment, he’d wondered where she was and what she was doing.
There’d been a constant picture of her angelic face in his mind.
All he’d wanted was her—and when he’d found her, all he’d wanted was to eviscerate her.
Now he still wanted her, but in a different way. When he saw her, he didn’t want to kill her. He wanted to protect her. To keep her safe.
This was why he’d erased her memories.
He knew it was for the best. Jacks had tricked her, just as he’d fooled Apollo into being his friend.
If Evangeline fell under Jacks’s thrall again, he would only destroy her.
But Apollo would make her happy. He would make her a queen who would be loved and adored.
He would more than make up for what he’d done to her in the past, as long as she never found out.
If she ever found out he’d taken her memories, it would all come crumbling down.
Only one other person knew that Apollo had taken her memories. After today, if all went well, he wouldn’t have to worry about that person. And as far as finding Jacks, Apollo hoped this morning’s interview would assist with that.
Finally he reached the small tower room where he’d arranged for this meeting to take place.
Normally he preferred grander settings: large rooms with lots of light and windows and ornamentation that made it impossible to forget that Apollo was royalty.
But today he had chosen an unadorned tower room to make sure no one overheard the conversation that he would be having.
Kristof Knightlinger stood and bowed as soon as the prince stepped into the room. “It’s good to see you alive and looking so excellent, Your Highness.”
“I’m sure my return is also quite helpful for the sale of papers,” replied the prince. He might have still been somewhat bitter over the small amount of fanfare that he’d been given after his death.
Of course the journalist didn’t appear to notice.
Kristof smiled enthusiastically. He always seemed to be in good humor.
His teeth were as white as the lacy jabot at his throat.
“This interview will help as well. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me this morning. I know my readers have so many questions about how you returned from the dead, what it was like to be dead, if you were able to watch any of us who were still alive.”
“I won’t be answering any of those questions today,” Apollo said brusquely.
The journalist’s smile faded.
“I would like your article to focus on the dishonorable deeds of Lord Jacks and how important it is that he be captured immediately.”
“Your Highness, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I already mentioned his misdeeds in this morning’s paper.”
“Then mention them again and make them uglier this time. Until this criminal is apprehended, I want his crimes printed every day. I want his name to become synonymous with vile. This isn’t just for me, this is for Princess Evangeline and all of the Magnificent North.
Once he’s caught, you can have your interview and I’ll answer whatever questions you want.
But until then, I’m going to ask that you print what I need you to say. ”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Kristof said with a pleasant smile.
But it wasn’t the same smile as before. This wasn’t his natural good humor. This was a nice smile that was there only because Apollo was a prince and there was nothing Kristof could do but smile.
Apollo felt something like guilt twist inside of him at the sight of it. For a second, he considered softening his demands. Then he reminded himself of what his father had said about never being nice.
After his meeting with Kristof, Apollo wanted to check on Evangeline. There were servants, of course, who provided him with updates on her. Thus far he’d been told she was healthy and well, and still without any memories.
Apollo hoped that after his warning from last night, she’d give up any ideas of pursuing her memories.
But the Evangeline he knew was not one to give up.
She’d found a way to cure him of the Archer’s curse, and he imagined that, if given a chance, she’d also find her missing memories.
Therefore, Apollo did not plan to give her a chance.
He’d already made provisions to make sure she’d be fully occupied this morning. He would have preferred to be the one occupying her time, but there would be opportunities for that later.
First, there was one more matter to take care of.
The Council of Great Houses.
Yesterday he’d met with a few of the members to prove he wasn’t an impostor and that he’d truly returned from the dead.
After that there’d been a lengthy discussion about what to do with the actual impostor heir who’d tried to steal his throne.
That, however, had proved entirely unnecessary, as the whelp seemed to have fled sometime during the discussion.
It seemed the impostor heir had been warned by a couple of servants who were enamored with him.
Apollo had sent a number of guards after him, but the impostor wasn’t his priority for now.
The prince slowed his steps as he reached the door that led to the chamber where the council met.
The room on the other side always reminded Apollo of a giant pewter goblet.
The walls were slightly rounded and the air was subtly silver, giving everything a sharp, swordlike quality.
In the center of the room was an aged white oak table that was said to have been there since the days of the first king of the Magnificent North, Wolfric Valor, a rugged man from another era who now sat at the far end of the table.
All conversation stopped as soon as Apollo entered the room.
But it was clear from the tableau that until this moment, the conversation had centered entirely around the newest member of the council—the famed Wolfric Valor.
Although, only Apollo knew who Wolfric really was.
No one else on the council knew that Wolfric, along with the entire Valor family, had been locked away in the Valory until the previous day.
Wolfric now went by the name Lord Vale. And yet every man and woman at the council table still leaned or angled his way.
Which was good—it made what Apollo needed to do so much easier.
But it was also a little unnerving to see the way the council responded to the legendary first king of the North without even knowing who he really was.
“Here he is, returned from the dead!” bellowed Wolfric, followed by a clap that spread like wildfire until every council member was standing and applauding as Prince Apollo strode toward the white oak table.
Wolfric winked. We are allies, said the gesture. We are in this together. Friends.
But Apollo could only too freshly remember how his last friend had betrayed him. If Wolfric chose to do the same, Apollo would be no match for him and his famed family. All Apollo could do now was keep his word and hope that Wolfric would, too.
“I see that many of you have already met our newest council member,” said Apollo, intentionally phrasing it like a statement rather than a question.