CHAPTER ELEVEN
The sunset sent warm golden light streaming through the palace windows as I made my way toward Prince Stephen’s room. My engagement ribbon bit into my wrist. I mindlessly let my fingers pick at it to loosen its grip.
I wanted to be excited. Isn’t this what most girls dreamed of?
Mama and Kelara would be over the moon, and Asha would be eager to help me pick out a nice gown for my wedding.
But when I tried to picture the ceremony, imagine our eyes locked on one another in a chapel, my mind went blank and my stomach churned.
Was this what people meant when they spoke of butterflies?
I wasn’t sure. David was my first and only suitor, but the way he looked at me and treated me told me he would make a good husband. He was kind, doting, and helpful.
So what was gnawing at the edges of my happiness? Why did my mind turn again and again to the face of Prince Theodore, the way his eyes lit up with longing and heartache over Ella’s loss?
I couldn’t help but think that the loss of David would not devastate me nearly so much.
But perhaps theirs was a special love, not meant for the likes of commoners who struggled to simply survive.
I’d cleaned Theodore’s rooms countless times by now to know that the handwritten love poetry he tucked into books took more leisure than the average Amouridian could afford.
My steps slowed at the sight of Prince Stephen’s frozen form down a rarely used hallway. His body was hunched, his fingers gripping a slat in the wall as he looked out into the palace gardens.
I crept closer, glancing around for passersby and finding no one. The palace residents had begun slipping into slumber, leaving only a quiet emptiness behind. Prince Stephen had usually retired to his chambers by now.
Yet here he was down a dim corridor, his chest heaving, his face pale. One hand clutched his shirt with white knuckles.
“Your Highness?” I said, worry seeping into my voice.
His eyes turned to me, wild with fear. I quickened my pace.
“Your Highness!”
He bent deeper, wheezing as he fought for air.
I rushed to kneel beside him. “You’ll be alright, sire.” I hesitated, then placed a hand upon his bent knee.
“Something’s wrong,” he choked.
His face grew whiter by the second. He wrapped his fingers around mine, gripping them tightly.
I exaggerated my breaths, slow and steady, moving my lips so they showed each inhale and exhale. He tried to follow suit.
“That’s right. Copy me.” We continued, and slowly, his grasp on my fingers loosened. His shoulders relaxed. Moments passed as his panting slowed and steadied in time with mine.
He blinked heavily. “Thank you.”
“It’s a pleasure to serve you, Your Highness.”
“I couldn’t breathe.” His trembling fingers tugged at the front of his shirt, as if stretching the fabric gave him more room for his lungs to expand.
I nodded. “I know. But you can now. Focus on that.”
He inhaled deeply, dropping his head to his hands. After a few more moments, I was confident enough to leave him. I got to my feet.
“How did you know that would make it stop?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze, his flushed face cast to the floor.
My eyes softened. “My former brother-in-law is a physician. I picked up a few skills from him.”
The truth was, when I was placed in charge of Stephen’s room two years ago, I’d asked Felipe about the young prince’s symptoms. As much as I disliked my former brother-in-law, he had been a well-respected physician, and while he was not faithful to my sister, he was faithful to his patients.
After sharing about Stephen’s odd behavior, it had taken some digging from both of us to find literature on his daily reality, on the constant fears that lingered at the corner of each moment he lived.
“I’m very grateful for your assistance. You’re as helpful as the palace healer.”
I offered a tight smile. “You’re very welcome, Your Highness.”
Prince Stephen waved weakly at a figure behind me. I turned to see Prince Thomas leaning against a wall at the end of the corridor, arms crossed as he watched our interaction. At my sudden frown, he pushed off and walked toward us.
“Game for a round of chess before bed, Thom?” Stephen asked, voice wavering. I bowed my head and stepped back.
Thom nodded. “Only if you’re ready to be beaten.” He turned to regard me, his expression oddly soft. “Thank you for assisting my brother.”
I struggled to contain my relief. “I suppose it’s one for one, Your Highness.”
At that, amusement flickered across his expression. “Indeed.”
Our smiles mirrored one another’s for barely a moment—just enough to fill my insides with a strange warmth.
I reached down to play with my engagement ribbon.
“First to the library plays white?” Prince Stephen climbed to his feet unsteadily.
Prince Thomas’s face split into a grin, a sight I’d never seen, and one that made my own lips twitch.
“You’ve made a grave mistake, Steph.” He spared a final glance my way before bolting down the hall.
Prince Stephen laughed and gave chase, both disappearing around a corner and leaving me all alone.
In the silence left behind, I gathered the young prince’s strewn papers. The random fluttering in my stomach settled once more.
Thank goodness.
I missed David.
My eyes were drawn to an open letter on the floor. I picked it up and scanned the words inscribed upon the embossed parchment:
As I’ve said before, the prince has no malady at this time. It’s all in his head, my King. I’d urge palace staff to continue to monitor, and consider taking him officially out of the line of succession.
My stomach sank. Pressing my lips together, I folded the letter and brought the rest of Prince Stephen’s belongings to his room. I organized his desk one last time, tended his hearth, and turned back his coverlet.
I never expected to feel sorrowful for a spoiled, wealthy prince.
Yet as I straightened his tiny wooden knights, their hand-drawn jeers and painted spears, all I could feel was pity.