The Reign of a Righteous Prince. Chapter 3

Chapter 1
Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3.
ASA

Asa followed his friend Cedric up the stairs of the palace, his eyes fixed on the rogue beneath his feet.

When Cedric, all dressed in his black Royal Guard uniforn, came looking for him, calling his name in the middle of the garden, he had no choice but to meet him.

He hadn’t asked where he was going. Cedric’s pitying eyes said enough.

His father knew about the murder.

There was no going back now, and certainly no coming clean. Acel was dead. If not out in the world, in whatever cave of hell he had crawled into, then at least he was dead in this household, in this family—their family.

Asa sighed as he shook his head. He couldn’t even look at Cedric’s back without feeling remorse.

“Your mother is livid,” Cedric threw over his shoulder.

Asa huffed. “What else is new?”

Cedric stopped walking so suddenly Asa stumbled back, almost losing his footing. His eyes went from the endless descending steps awaiting to his friend, looking at him from two steps above. His stare pinned him to the stairs and Asa wished he wasn’t so proud as to refuse to look away.

“I know it is not my place—.” Cedric began.

Asa rolled his eyes.

“I love your lectures, Cedric, I do, but my parents are waiting for me,” he said, patting him on the shoulder as he stepped around him and continued his way up.

His parents didn’t live in the highest part of the palace, but they did live in the best.

A semi-circle of clear glass windows welcomed him in, making the space between the rooms bright with daylight, showcasing so many different landscapes Asa never knew which one to admire first. From here, he could see miles and miles of virgin land, he could see the forest he was not allowed to wander through but did anyway, and roofs upon roofs from the nearing villages. He could see the sign of the market, the school, the hospital, the clear skies hanging over Thysia.

He always thought that with a view like this no one could be sad, no one could get sick. But then his father had. And that was the day he’d stopped telling himself fairytales.

Served him right. Out of all the hundred childish notions he’d had over the years, only one had proven itself to be true.
Right now, he kind of wished it hadn’t.

Asa turned his back on the view and faced the two royal guards posted outside his parents’ chambers. A man and a woman. They were bowing, but he’d recognize Samra anywhere.

He gestured for them to straighten back up, an apology at the tip of his tongue held back by years upon years of brainwashing.

A prince does not apologize for receiving respect.

He didn’t think bowing was sign of respect—a smile, a nod, those were signs people respected you—, but it was rooted so deep into people’s brains that there was no use getting them to stop.

If he’d had a choice, he supposed he wouldn’t want to stop either. Bow down a couple of times a day, and the rest is yours to choose what to do with. Do what you love, live how you want, get decent pay. Seemed like a good enough reward.

Asa smiled at his first love and waited for her or her partner to open the door. Her hand went to the doorknob, but she didn’t twist it.

Asa squared his shoulders.

The other guard—Asa didn’t know his name—looked between them with question marks on his eyes.

“How are you?” Samra finally asked.

What did she expect him to say? Perhaps she could read the truth written on his features, on the very way he decided to stand, but he wasn’t about to vomit it out for her.

In another life, another version of him would have done just that. He would have broken down in front of her, would have laid out his deepest secrets, would have trusted her with them. He wasn’t that boy anymore.

So in this life, he simply shrugged.

She nodded, looking away.

“How are you?” he asked. He cast his eyes down to her stomach. “How much longer now?”

Samra looked back up and swallowed. “I’m great,” she said. “Um, five months.”

When Samra had gotten pregnant, the palace had buzzed with the news. Well, the news and the questions. Never mind that Asa and Chrissie had been engaged for two years, or that he’d ended everything with Samra as soon as the engagement was announced. People still loved to talk.

“That could have been your bastard!” his mother had said, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to figure out a way to make the rumors die down.

He didn’t speak to his mother for a week.

“You shouldn’t be working,” Asa told Samra now.

She smiled. “I love my job,” she said. Then, she pointed to her stomach, probably showing already but invisible under her armor. “And I obviously need the money.”

“That can be arranged, Sam,” he said. “Just say the word.”

Behind him, Cedric cleared his throat.

Samra’s eyes shifted to him, then back to Asa.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said.

Asa gestured to the door. “Give your husband my regards.”

She nodded and opened the door.

Both she and the other guard bowed down as he passed.

“You’re the guard that got involved with him?” the young man said before the doors were firmly shut.

Asa’s eyes fell shut.

Well, he certainly had a knack for making people’s lives harder.

He walked deeper into the room, Cedric behind him, his ears filling with the sound of his father’s broken sobbing.
Asa rounded the corner slowly, bracing himself for the sight he was about to walk into.

The King sat on his bed, a massive hand covering his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he wept. The Queen sat beside him, drawing circles on his back, her lips pressed against his shoulders.

Beside Asa, Cedric bowed low and stepped back out.

His parents looked up at him at the click of the door being shut.

Why hadn’t they looked up before?

Asa’s breath caught.

How long had it been since he’d last seen his father? His cheeks were hollowed now, more than he remembered, and the bags under his eyes were bigger. He was paler, too, and his hair seemed greasy and lifeless.

Anger boiled back alive.

I hope you’re happy, he sent down the bond.

Acel was listening. His presence lingered in the back of his mind like an unwanted guest, the otherness of their bond coming alive as words and images came and went across it as if it was a bridge connecting the two of them.

I'm sorry, Acel said.

Save it.

In the room, his parents were talking. His father’s hand firmly grasped his mother’s upper arm to keep her in place as her eyes moved from him to Asa, the same look of blame she’d had down at the tombs freezing him where he stood.

“I’m just going to come out and ask,” she said, the grace and softness of the Queen’s voice now replaced by raw emotion and anger.

He knew what that felt like.

“Amaya—,” his father began.

“Which one are you?” she asked.

He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

And out of all people, Acel explained. She thinks you’re me.

His spine straightened and locked.

Why would she—?

The words came out as he exhaled. “Do you think I’m Acel?”

But the guilty expression taking over her face was answer enough.

Asa laughed bitterly.

“Well, if that doesn’t make you mother of the bloody year,” he said, already turning around to leave.

This was a mistake. He should have sent word saying he was tired, that he’d come to see his father later. He should have walked the other way when Cedric came looking for him. He should have chosen another path, any path that would have led them somewhere that was not here.

“Asa!” his father roared.

He stopped walking.

“Yep, definitely him,” Christianna said from a corner to his right.

Had she been there the whole time?

A glass dangled in her hand, the amber liquid inside dancing and spilling as she tried to stand up and stumbled.

“Are you drunk?” he said.

She started to cry. “I’ve told them, Asa. I told them everything—.”

Somewhere inside him, he felt Acel’s lungs stop.

Did she know? Asa asked.

No. She told them about us.

Well, that was just perfect, too. One of their many, many secrets now out in the open. A big one, a massive one. One he couldn’t use to his advantage anymore.

“Are you mad?” he yelled. “Acel’s gone, no one cares about that anymore!”

“I just couldn’t keep lying to everyone—,” she sobbed.

His mother was halfway to him when he noticed her.

He jumped out of her reach.

“Stay away from me,” he told her. “What difference does it make? My brother is still gone. One of your sons is still dead.” Asa shook his head. “The least you could’ve done was wait.”

Asa turned around and walked toward the door.

He looked at them over his shoulders.

His family. Once admired, strong—. Perfect. Now reduced to a pitiful lot of people with different levels of brokenness.

He focused on his dad. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “See you at the funeral.”

He pulled the door open and walked out.

Asa, there’s something I need to—.

That was your fault. Do not talk to me, Asa cut him.

He could feel Cedric on his heels, could kind of hear him calling his name, but his mind was filled with Acel’s words, frantic and impossibly out of breath, as if he was trying to catch up to him.

He’d ignored Samra, the other guard, his parents’ view and focused on not breaking his neck as he descended two flights of stairs to his rooms.

Asa, please—.

“Just stop!” he yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls.

Cedric did.

Asa’s cheeks blazed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stopping in front of his doors, his hand closing around the handle and pushing it down. “I think I need some sleep.”

Cedric parted his lips to object, most likely, but Asa pushed open the door and slid inside, pushing it back shut before he could get any words out.

He rested his back against the door.

Acel wouldn’t shut up.

Asa, this is important and I need you to listen to me!
His nostrils flared.

He peeled himself off the door and walked straight for his wardrobe.

He went through his drawers, ignoring Acel almost completely, yanking them open and slamming them shut until he found one of the little clear vials he’d stashed around the room.

The transparent liquid caught the light streaming in from the window as he held it up.

He felt Acel drawing back. You said you wouldn’t do that anymore.

Asa had said many things.

What about all the things you said? he replied.

He carried the vial back to the bed and lay down.

Asa—.

I’m sorry, Asa cut him. I’m a bit tired. Someone’s fake corpse arrived in the middle of the night and I had to get up to welcome it.

Asa!

Goodnight, Acel, he said, never mind that it wasn’t night at all, and he downed the liquid.