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“Normally I'd be exaggerating, but with him there's no need. it’s not too far off. Come on, let’s—”
“Prince Alexis!”
My head whips around towards the source of that sound. A small bespectacled man takes off his hat. It’s Frederick, one of King Francis’ messengers.
Once his gaze lands upon me, he shoulders his way past the delegates sending him odd looks. I move towards him, hoping to meet him halfway.
“What’s going on, Frederick?” I ask once he’s within earshot. He’s red in the face and keeps pushing his glasses up the sweaty ridge of his nose. “Can it wait? We’re in the middle of a diplomatic event.”
“Yes, I know, my Prince. If it weren’t urgent, I would not have dared. His Royal Highness, he’s…” Frederick pants, placing a hand on his chest as he tries to catch his breath. “He’s fallen ill.”
“He’s ill?” Lawrence is at my side in an instant. “King Francis? What happened?”
“Your Grace. He fainted, and he suffered a stroke.”
Frederick says it loudly enough to attract the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Soon enough, the news spreads across the entire banquet hall until it’s in a panicked uproar. A chaotic mess of gasps and wails swirls around us in a haunting echo.
I’m keeping it together externally, but on the inside, an intense pang hits my heart.
The King? How can this be? I just saw His Royal Highness, my Uncle Francis. He was fine. Everything was fine.
“He wants his children at his side as soon as possible.” Frederick’s hands shake violently as he raises them to his face. “Prince Alexis, you've grown up with his sons, and especially after the death of your father, he considers you one of them. He told me that he wants to speak to you before the other princes, your cousins.”
“Me?” I furrow my eyebrows, mind racing to figure out why that could be the case. “Did he explain?”
“No, sir, he didn’t.” Frederick shakes his head. “I got here as quickly as I could to tell you. Is Caesar here? I must speak with him as well.”
“Caesar is taking his entertainment elsewhere, apparently. He should be near.” I turn to Lawrence, who’s not only close friends with Caesar but known for keeping sensitive secrets. “Lawrence, can you help find him?”
“I’ll do my best.” Lawrence scratches the back of his neck. “But your brother’s like a slippery fish when he gets like this.”
“Let’s just find him.”
I’m drowning in a sea of bodies, accompanied by looks of pity for the King that make me queasy. Their fear makes it sink in that the King is really mortal. I know he needs me along with his true sons.
I was just a child when my father died. Had King Francis not taken me in, I don't know what I'd be. His other sons were by birth. I was one by choice.
And yet I'll never be his true son and heir.
But he needs me more than Christian, he says.
As I scramble to make my way from the banquet hall to the palace, that detail consumes me. If he is in a position where he thinks he may be speaking his last words, why would he seek me out before Christian, his heir apparent and eldest true son?
Not pausing for a moment, even for the dignitaries beseeching me for news that I don’t have, I rush out of the building toward the nearest vehicle to take me back to the palace.
A small flicker of curiosity lights in my chest amidst the anxiety.
Is there a chance he’s considering naming me heir to the throne after all? Despite my lineage?
2
ISABELLA
Afew cold splashes to the face always work well for waking me up for a busy day on the ranch. I’m no use to the animals if I'm lying around in bed all day.
The cows need milking, the eggs need collecting, and Lily’s food needs eating.
“Whatcha making?” I ask as I enter the kitchen. Making my way toward the fridge for some milk, I catch a whiff of bacon and eggs. “Smells delicious, like always.”
