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But Vesper was a proud, independent woman who had turned down every one of her many suitors. She might never have married, had not my kingly father heard of her and her father’s great wealth, just lying around, waiting for someone to swoop in and take it.
At the time, my father was very young, and he was also gorgeous. I’d visited the royal portrait gallery, and I can attest to the fact that my father was really something to see. He was reckless and foolish with his spending, and he drank too much even then, thus he was broke, and so in need of gold to fight Morovia that he couldn’t afford to be picky when it came to choosing his mate. He did what he had to do. He sucked it up, turned on his considerable charm and dazzled my mother with his good looks. He swept her off her feet, or so people said. Then he wedded and bedded her, and my grateful grandfather handed over his money and his gold. My mother had promptly become pregnant and produced me, his child and heir to the throne and my grandfather’s namesake.
She then died from complications of my birth a mere eleven months later. But at least she had provided him with his heir, though, right?
Alas, my poor mother couldn’t even do that properly. Because though she had indeed provided him with a child, I happened to be a maleomega, with all that it entailed in our country’s constitution.
My father hadn’t been concerned about that back then though. In the days following Vesper’s death, he had been surprisingly distraught, even grief stricken. No one had been able to figure it out, thinking that he should have been happy that she had done him the supreme favor of checking out early. Unfortunately, he had fallen in love with her. Deeply, madly and truly—so he spent the next few years deeply mourning her, and there were whispers that he tried to hasten his own death by taking heedless, reckless chances during battles. Almost like he had nothing left to live for.
He was lucky though and survived. After a year or two, my father had been persuaded by his council to find another wife, the ever-so-lovable Berinda, who got pregnant almost immediately and produced her own golden child, Callista. And despite all the numerous tries for years afterward to have a son, Berinda had never been pregnant again—never produced the Alpha male heir my father needed.
Everyone raved about how beautiful Callista was though. How adorable and precious. As for me, I tried to take it in stride. The role assigned to me became that of the older and definitely not as exciting or important half-brother.
After all, not everyone can be so beautiful. Someone has to applaud as people like Callista walked by. Griselda used to get angry when I came back to the nursery crying over my stepmother telling me I was a plain child. She would hold me in her lap and tell me it was all lies, because the new queen was jealous of me. I pretended to believe her.
In actual fact, though, I did look a great deal like my father, who had such extraordinarily good looks that it would have been difficult if not impossible for any ugly genes to launch a successful assault on his formidable DNA. And of course, my mother, who according to everyone except Berinda, had been absolutely beautiful.
Not that I was quite as good looking as my father or my mother had been. At least I didn’t think so. But I wasn’t quite the troll my stepmother liked to pretend and make everybody around her say I was. The entire court said it so frequently and so often that I think they even came to believe it. I know I did.
“Plain like your mother” became her mantra, and I grew up believing her.
“Your mother was well-liked by all the servants, you know. She wasn’t an easy person to get to know. Very secretive in a way, and so sad…but she was always kind. My mother said so and I trust her judgment. Don’t you remember your mother at all?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “She died when I was only a few days old.”
“And has no one ever spoken to you about her? Not even your father?”
“Especially my father. He’s still grieving for her, even after all this time. Griselda used to tell me about her when she was here, but she had to be careful how much she could say because of my stepmother.”
Except now that I thought about it, that wasn’t exactly true. I’d heard rumors about my mother, Queen Vesper, all my life—always in soft, murmuring tones, when people thought their gossip wasn’t being overheard. I liked to hide from my caretakers and read in dark corners, so I overheard a lot of the servants’ conversations when they thought no one was around.
I liked the sound of her name, Vesper—all whispery and soft, but with a bit of a sharpness around the edges. It was the servants who used to whisper to each other about my mother. Sometimes, they sounded almost afraid of her, which I found odd.
‘I’ve shaken out the velvet suit and aired it all morning,” Billy said, pushing it toward me. “I think it will fit you. I brought one of your father’s dress shirts along from his closet too. He won’t miss it. I’ll get some fresh water for you to freshen up with and then you can try it on for the dinner tonight. “
“Ugh, I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“The queen would have a fit. She’s kept us running all day, getting things ready for tonight. After you put the suit on, I’ll brush your hair and tie it back for you.”
“Billy, does the queen know I’m wearing one of my father’s old suits?”
“No, I daresay she doesn’t.”
“What does she think I’ll be wearing then?”
“I doubt she’s given it a thought.”
Since that was true enough, I subsided and watched as Billy buzzed around the room, filling the cauldron over the fire with water to heat up for me to wash and putting up a screen to keep out the drafts. He went to the door, calling back to me.
“I’ll be back as soon as I return this bucket outside. Now go ahead, Prince Rory, and I’ll be back soon to help.”
I picked up the suit and held it against me in front of the mirror. It was cut simply, along classic lines with a pinched in waist and it came down almost to my knees. The sleeves went all the way down to the backs of my hands, ending in little points just above my knuckles. It was a regal suit, fit for a king. And so my father was, as I would be one day, though I’d have no real power at all. That would all belong to my Lord Regent.
I laid the suit back on the bed and pulled the cauldron off the fire to dip out some water so I could wash. I had a bit of scented soap that someone had left behind in the bathhouse, and I carefully lathered myself with that. I spent a lot of time scrubbing myself, and by the time I was through, I couldn’t detect any slick odor at all. I put on fresh underthings to be sure, including another folded piece of cloth in my private area. I couldn’t detect any more secretions, but better to be safe than sorry. If there was anything at all, the Alphas would know it for sure.
I turned to see Billy holding up a corset. “Put this on, please, so the jacket will fit properly.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but he insisted. I groaned because I had never worn one, though I knew how they worked. I’d seen my sister trussed up in hers before, and I’d never envied her. This one was made for a man, to cinch in his waist when he wore these types of fitted coats in our country, though the chest was stiff and flat. Still, I’d never thought to wear one or have any occasion to do so.
