11. Nicholas
11
Nicholas
M y nighttime activities meant losing sleep, and being a prince with an arranged marriage on the horizon, sleeping in wasn’t an option. The party planning, I could easily delegate. But Commander Druller and I worked very closely when it came to security detail and soldier allocation.
Sebastian never griped about my involvement, even though I doubted my father had required this level of detail. We met in the war room that morning, a private area where no prying eyes or ears could overhear the assignments.
Ricks had two luncheons planned already before the end of the week, and the increased foot traffic into the castle always posed a heightened level of risk.
“I’ll post two teams on either flank at the back end of the village on either side of the drawbridge. That way, we’ll block off access to any of the back entrances. Only one checkpoint will be an option so we can screen every entrant,” Sebastian said.
“Make sure to send orders for the guards to be pleasant. The young women and their chaperones don’t need intimidation. The amount of guardsmen is message enough,” I said. One of the biggest adjustments to ruling had been stepping into a kingdom used to operating under my father's instruction. Being so young when I claimed the throne, my panel of advisors cautioned me against implementing new strategies, especially ones that would change the view of the royal army in the eyes of the citizens. Sadly, that meant things mostly stayed the same; public executions, beatings for unruly personalities, all continuing under my reign for the sake of an intangible feeling.
Strength and fear have a similar flavor, one the palate of a kingdom can't decipher between. I hoped to change that, but knew it would take time. For events such as this, it was a good first step.
While I expected my soldiers to still be on high alert and execute due diligence, I knew a lot of the ladies-in-waiting would be nervous enough as it is. For most, it would be the first and only occasion they would step beyond the wall surrounding the castle and its tiny village. I didn’t need berating guards to ruin their experience.
With the casual grace he always possessed, Marco sauntered into the war room. Not a single word had been exchanged between him and the four guards posted outside the door since everyone knew he had unfettered access while he was here.
“Cousin!” I said in jovial greeting, nocking my teasing arrow. “Perfect timing. We were just figuring out what post you’ll be stationed at for the duration of the first luncheon. Tucked behind the castle, with several serious guards for eight hours. Sound good to you?” My shoulder blades pinched as I splayed my hands over the table and map.
“Cousin, you know I would never let you keep me from the wine. And the chance to watch you strike out with hundreds of women.” Arrow released, caught, and returned with a sensual, mocking ease.
His devilish grin became infectious, and I considered the repercussions of actually standing in the way of his wine and entertainment. As laid back as he often appeared, I knew he could easily fit into the role of a cunning leader.
He came to a stop beside me, scanning the placement of guards we’d spent the past couple of hours organizing. The familiar clink and chime from his kingdom’s coins played from where he fiddled with them in his pocket.
“I think we’re done for the morning," Seb said.
Before I could agree, Sebastian swiped the pawns that represented soldiers off the map and rolled it up. His defensiveness and mistrust of Marco soured the room, and I knew Marco wasn’t oblivious. Though, he didn’t give a single indication of being ruffled by it.
I suspected he was, but showing signs that Commander Druller got under his skin would be flinching in this game of chicken they seemed so desperate to play. Marco wouldn’t lose the high ground he always seemed to hold. Seb made an obviously quick exit, not even addressing the Prince of Duski on his way out.
Marco gave a mocking salute, lowering his voice an octave or two, and frowning as he dismissed my commander by saying, “General.” His posture remained lax, a calculated formula to heighten the disrespect.
To my commander’s credit, he didn’t stop or indulge the provocation. The room may have heated a degree from the simmering rage of his annoyance, but he didn’t take the bait, leaving us without starting a squabble. I nudged Marco’s ribs with my elbow. “Do you have to try and get under his skin every time?”
“He wants to be my friend, he just doesn’t know it yet.” No falter in his air of arrogance with that wicked smile.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
“So, tomorrow’s the big day.” He pivoted, leaning against the desk, hands still casually sunk into his fashionable pants pockets.
“The first of many over the next weeks, I’m afraid.” All leading up to the actual big day. The one where I would enthrone a queen and begin a life of relational formalities.
Questions would constantly be directed my way of how the new queen was, how we were fairing as a couple. People would be showering her with compliments to gain my favor. Even when she wouldn’t be around, she would always be present. Essentially a ghostly appendage, fixed to my being.
An added weight to the already long list of burdens placed on my shoulder.
Marco seemed to decipher my thoughts, as if my looming dread tainted the air. “You know there’s the opportunity to have a little bit of fun in the process, right?”
“I’m not going to bed any of the applicants for Queen of Highcrest,” I said sharply.
Raising his hands out of his pockets, holding them up in submission, he whined, “Woah, woah, I never said that .”
The look I shot him from under my brow relayed the message that we both had known it was.
He laughed, dropping his hands, knowing the jig was up. “All I’m saying is, you should try to squeeze every last moment of enjoyment you can. I’m sure not all of these bachelorettes will be dullards. Don’t force yourself to be shackled to the most polite or demure of the crowd at these events. You have a lifetime to do that after you pick one. I’m sure Ricks will be keeping a running tally of all the ladies who use the silverware properly, and curtsy the best, all the proclivities of a queen.”
I clapped my hand on his shoulder, giving him an agreeable smile. A sinking sensation in my gut told me that’d be fruitless. He may not understand, but the matter of picking the right representative for the kingdom shouldn’t be left to my staff. I wasn’t the type to let others make those decisions.
The responsibility did fall upon me, and I would take it seriously. As if the weight became palpable, and fighting against gravity became tiring, I could no longer maintain a casual smile.
Putting my enjoyment first was a foreign concept. Recalling a time I’d even felt something other than the seriousness of my role…
My mind drifted to the breeze of the ocean, and soft swaying grasses lining the bank. Sparkly, defiant eyes staring back at me as she took my hand, and we’d come to an understanding.
“What’s going on, what’s happening there?” Marco’s finger circled the air, pointing right at my mouth, which I now realized had curved slightly to the side.
Schooling my features and clearing my throat, I replied, “What? No, nothing.”
He tilted his chin upward, staring me down from the barrel of his nose. “Whatever made that happen, that’s what you should be filling your time with. If it had to do with the future Queen of Highcrest, follow that thread.”
The absurdity rushed out of me in a husky laugh. He couldn’t know how impossible that was.