Young Writers Society

Chapter 12

Prince Alexander turns to me, bowing slowly. His eyes are calculating, and I briefly wonder what he thinks of me before I put it out of my mind. I don’t bother to curtsy, instead striding over to the small table and sitting down. Alexander follows me, an amused expression on his face. When he makes no move to speak, I wait, inspecting my nails, keeping a carefully disinterested face.

Finally, he speaks. “You look tired, princess. Have you been sleeping well?”

I roll my eyes. “Get to the point, Alexander. I didn’t come here to listen to a fool ramble on.”

He chuckles delightedly. “You wound me with your words, Rionach.” Pressing a hand dramatically to his chest, he pretends to die.

Just as I’m about to reply, Lindon’s consciousness floods mine, and I wince. Pressing a hand to my head, I try to figure out what’s happening to him, and I realise that he’s simply dreaming. When I look up, Alexander is watching me with a frown, so I drop my hand and snort. “See? This is what happens when you ramble on and on.”

He furrows his brow. “Cyan told me about your hea-“

I cut him off with a hiss. “Oh, of course Cyan told you. He tells you everything, doesn’t he?” I shouldn’t have said that. I wonder what’s come over me to make me lose control like that, but the words don’t stop pouring out. “You had no right to make him follow me, spy on me. I can’t-“

“I didn’t make him do anything- he offered. Besides, you’re my enemy’s daughter. Did you really suspect we wouldn’t?” His voice is infuriatingly calm, and he looks mystified at my reaction.

Suddenly, I feel a wave of calm flood over me again, and in a flash of understanding, I realise that Lindon’s feelings have flooded into me. Taking a deep breath, I sit back in my chair. The wind brings the scent of sweet roses with it. Faerielights bob here and there, casting silver shadows onto the ground.

“Of course not.” I click my fingers on the table, impatient. “Still, I would like to sleep tonight, so, Alexander, what do you want from me?”

He raises an eyebrow. “And what will you do if I say I want your head on a stick?”

Another test. Lovely. “I certainly won’t give you my head on a stick. But we are quite alone, you don’t drink blood yet, and it’s a long way down.” I raise my eyes to meet his, letting him see that I have no qualms about staging his death should he threaten me.

He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Lucky for me, then, I have no intention of doing that.” He smiles at me, a charming, devilish smile that puts me entirely off guard. Running a hand through his short hair, he seems to consider something. “Were you serious, what you said about the queen?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, I’ve said many things about her.” I stifle a yawn, feeling as though my eyes will slide shut at any moment.

His face is serious now, and his hand grips his armrest tightly. “What you said about wanting her gone. About wanting to be queen.”

I raise my eyebrows. “I never said that I wanted to be queen, or remove my mother from her position. I simply stated that it is my birthright to rule if my father is unable to.”

Letting go of the armrest, he laces his hands together on the table. “Tell me, Rionach, how long will your father live?” As he speaks, he grimaces at the bluntness of his sentence, but makes no move to apologise.

I glare at him. “I don’t know, but we have some of the best healers in the world at court, and I mean to do as much as I can for him.”

Alexander laughs, almost- but not quite- mockingly. “Cyan heard nearly your entire conversation last night. You might prolong the king’s suffering, but he will not live, not even if Anwyn herself blesses him.”

No longer able to sit, I stand up abruptly, my chair skittering back. I pace to the edge of the roof and look down, gripping the wall so tightly my knuckles are white.

Alexander follows me, and says, “I’m sorry if I offended you, Rionach, but-“

I sigh. “That’s the problem. You didn’t offend me. Everything you said is true, but I don’t want it to be. Can you understand that?” By the end, I’m whisper-yelling, and his expression is getting more and more sympathetic. Turning away from him, I begin to pace.

“I can. You’re not the only one who’s felt that, you know.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off angrily.

“I know that. Of course I know that!” I tug on my hair angrily, twisting a strand between my fingers. “Just tell me what you want, Alexander. I’m tired, and I want to go to bed.”

It takes him a while to reply. “Invite me to your meetings. I’ll help you, and so will my cousins.”

Still facing away from him, I say, “Why? Why is everyone so eager to help me?”

He laughs bitterly. “Because everyone needs something from you or your kingdom, of course.”

It dawns on me, what he wants. “You want my money. Or rather, my country’s money.”

“Not your money, exactly. I think that a trade agreement between Lysian and Valkyr would be beneficial to both.” He almost sounds like he believes himself.

I reply with an incredulous snort. “You can’t really mean that.” Turning on him, I speak, trying not to yell. “How on earth is that beneficial to Valkyr? You have rocks and men, neither of which I want.” Calming myself, I add, “Besides, if that’s what you want, why didn’t you just ask for that, instead of offering to help me?”

He shrugs. “It’s obvious that you have no power with your mother on the throne.” Seeing my furious glare, he steps back, holding his hands out to placate me. “It’s true! And the queen would never consider a trade agreement with us. She hates vampires too much, and thinks of her country too little.”

I wait for my defensiveness to spring up, but all I feel is a numb loss at his words. Somehow, somewhere, I’ve accepted that I will never change my mother. “You’re right, I suppose. I don’t know when next we’ll meet, or where, but I’ll tell you. You have my word.” As I turn to leave, my foot catches on a stray vine, and I lose my balance, falling forward. As my weight pitches over the short wall, a shriek rips out of my throat. Frantically, I try to find some purchase or grip, but none meet my flailing hands.

Then, suddenly, I feel myself being pulled backwards, re-bruising the place on my hip that has healed overnight. As Alexander pulls me backwards, we both lose our balance, falling backward in a tangle of limbs. He catches himself on the end of the table, and we both breathe a sigh of relief. Somehow, I’ve turned around, so that I’m facing him, and we look at each other silently. For a moment, I see him as a man, rather than someone who wants something from me, and my breath catches as I gaze upon his handsome face. A curl of his dark hair has fallen onto his face, and I resist the sudden urge to brush it away. His eyes, warm and brown meet mine for the first time this night, and suddenly, I step back, away from him.

Shaking my head to clear it, I say, “Thank you, Alexander. I don’t know what would have happened had you not been there.”

Alexander smiles. “Well, it doesn’t much look like I’ll be falling to my death anytime soon. Aren’t you fae supposed to be graceful?” He laughs good-naturedly, and I smile up at him.

“Supposed to be.” I brush a piece of hair out of my face as we stare at each other again. Silence fills the air, and abruptly, I say, “Well, I had better get back. There’s sure to be someone looking for me.”

Alexander bows his head. “As should I.”

Still, neither of us move, and I say, “Perhaps you should leave first. We don’t want to be seen leaving together, after all. I will get to you with information about when we will meet next.” I step back. “Good night, Alexander.”

He smiles. “Good night, Rionach.” He walks away, but the turns back around. “Did you know, no one calls me Alexander? It doesn’t sound like my name to me.”

I raise my eyebrows questioningly. “What do they call you, then?” I walk closer to him, plucking a dark rose from one of the vines as I do.

“Alex.” He shrugs. “I played with the servants children when I was the child. In Lysian, the royal family is poorer than most of the peasants. The nobles would have nothing to do with me, and the servants never called me Alexander.”

“I suppose it caught on?” I watch as he nods.

“Just a bit.” He hesitates, but then asks, “I don’t suppose you’re called anything other than ‘your highness’ and ‘Princess Rionach’?”

I laugh. “Ria. My friends call me Ria.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously, fighting a smile off of his face. “Are we friends, then?”

“Like I said the first time we met- if you call me Ria, I’ll call you Alex. Deal?” My mood is playful, and light, and for the first time in days, I’ve forgotten about my worries.

“Deal. Good night, Ria.” Alexander strides away, taking the stairs two at a time until he’s out of my sight, leaving me utterly confused. Brushing the soft petals of my rose against my cheek, I wait for a minute and follow after him, wondering what to tell and what not to tell Lindon.