Page 36 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

Prince Cedrych

“Are you sure?” I asked Vasil, immediately regretting it. My lord needed comfort, not questions. He looked absolutely distraught.

“The wine on her dress, I recognize the scent of the grapes. They come from your mother’s vineyard.” He sounded distant and bereft, a lost little boy, still clutching his mother’s dress, overwhelmed by these painful memories. This must have been the evidence his cousin promised him.

My mother was duplicitous, certainly, and ambitious to a fault, but to murder a royal family and orphan a child? I was having a hard time believing she was capable of such depravity.

“I didn’t know,” I said.

“Of course not, Cedrych. You were a child. We both were.”

Both of us pawns in a game larger and more complex than I could have ever imagined.

But Vasil knew the dark hearts of those in power.

It was why he secluded himself here in his fortress.

To have to live with that fear, in constant danger of being killed or attacked, all of it caused by my own flesh and blood.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, envisioning several scenarios, all of them bad.

The fog in his eyes cleared and his expression hardened into a look of resolve. “Your mother is on her way here for a diplomatic visit. We’ll discuss it then.”

“Will you kill her?” I asked. I needed to know what was in store for her–and for me. Would I defend her? Where would my loyalties lie when tested?

Vasil looked surprised for a moment before schooling his expression. “No, Cedrych, I won’t kill her. That would make me no better than her, and I don’t wish to throw the fae realm into chaos, not to mention it would upset you greatly, I’m sure.” His eyes searched mine.

“I didn’t think my feelings would be a consideration, my lord.” Only after I said it did I realize how bad it sounded.

His strong brows came together. “Of course they’re a consideration, Cedrych. Do you think I'm heartless?”

Not heartless, not at all, but pragmatic, yes. Vengeful? Maybe.

“It’s not that,” I said.

“Then what is it?”

“I–” I shook my head. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, words I could never take back. And I didn’t want to wound him further.

At my continued silence, Vasil bristled and said, “I will gather all of the information and weigh my options before deciding anything. And despite what you may think, your feelings will always be considered because this…” He motioned, as if impatient, to the space between us, a separation that felt as if it were growing greater by the second. “This is important to me.”

“Me as well,” I assured him. “But you can’t allow this atrocity to go unanswered. Do you think it could have been an accident?” I asked, grasping for any thread of innocence.

“No, I do not.”

We fell into a somber silence, the weight of this revelation pressing down upon us like a storm cloud.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked at last, feeling utterly useless.

He heaved a long sigh, looking pained, and said with what seemed like regret, “No. I just need to think. Please excuse me.”

Still gripping his mother’s dress, he left the parlor, likely headed to his study, perhaps to summon his spies or merely sit with this new information. Should I follow and try to offer him some solace?

No, he’d left so he wouldn’t have to dismiss me, ever thoughtful of my feelings. And how difficult that must have been when I wore the face of his enemy, the scheming, conniving fae.

What could I do? Confront my mother directly?

No, Vasil would want to be strategic, the one in control of the situation.

I’d surely make a mess of the whole thing.

It left me feeling powerless, frustrated, and angry.

Former me would have bellied up to the nearest bar, drank a few tankards of beer, and started a fight with a local brawler, but that would only cause Vasil more distress.

I didn’t want to be a burden, especially now when he needed me most.

I decided to pay a visit to Galen instead.

If my mother had been the one to orchestrate his parents’ murder, then she was likely behind this most recent assassination attempt as well.

I didn’t want to believe her capable of such monstrosity.

Trafficking in fae children? Could my mother really be so evil?

Was everything she’d said about fae children being a rare and precious gift, a lie?

Galen seemed cheered when he spotted me.

I’d stopped by a few times since our initial meeting, mostly to check on him and make sure the guards were treating him well–of course they were.

They’d started incorporating outdoor time into his schedule so that he’d not become nutrient deficient.

Despite my regular visits, Galen still hadn’t given up any more information, and every time I broached the topic, the boy clammed up like a moonflower at dawn.

“You’ve had a bath,” I said, noticing the shine in his hair and the fresh set of clothing he wore.

“Yes, and the water was hot.”

“The Goddess blesses the elvish with the eternal flame. How’s the honey here?” I asked.

“Wonderful, Your Highness. And plentiful.”

“So, you’re getting enough to eat?” I asked.

“More than I was ever allowed before.”

Honey was expensive in the elvish realm and necessary to our survival.

I wondered if that had been yet another tool of capitulation.

I added “starving children” to the list of crimes of whomever Galen’s captor turned out to be, maybe my mother.

It made me ill to even think it. But thankfully, Galen did look a bit fuller in the cheeks.

Hopefully with better nutrition he might even grow a bit.

“Have you played StarForge before?” I asked him, showing off the deck of ornately decorated cards I’d bought off one of the guards.

“No, Your Highness, there’s not much time for games where I’m from.”

I tucked that tidbit away as another possible clue and taught the game to Galen, which required him drawing a pentagram on the stone slab of his cell floor with a piece of chalk.

We each rolled the metal dice engraved with elvish runes to earn “hammer cards,” which allowed the player the ability to forge various materials.

The goal was to build a weapon from each category–air, fire, water, earth, and spirit.

Galen was a quick learner with a mind for strategy.

He reminded me of my younger brother, Edwyn, who generally preferred to be indoors reading or playing music or inventing games such as this.

A dreamer and a gentle soul. Not at all suited for battle, in my humble opinion.

I recalled the ferocity with which Galen defended himself against me, a desperate, feral sort of struggle. Who might the boy have become if not forced into this life of treachery? I wished again that he would let us help him bring his captor to justice.

But to force the issue would only push him away.

“Have you ever met my mother?” I asked him at length, and the look he gave me was one of grave surprise, as if it were out of the realm of possibility. A good sign perhaps?

“No, Your Highness. I’ve only seen her likeness in the papers.” His reaction seemed genuine, which meant that if my mother was behind this scheme, he didn’t know it.

“Well, she’s not always the warmest person,” I said, a vast understatement.

“Really?” he asked with a sincere curiosity.

“Really. And right now, I’m rather cross at her.” I was holding the queen card in my hand, which would have been a lot of forge points if I played it, but I held back.

“What’s she done?” Galen asked, a look of concern passing over his face before lowering his gaze to concentrate on his hand.

What hasn’t she done? I thought to myself miserably. “Well, we’ve never really gotten along, you see. She’s always told me that I remind her of my father, not a good thing, apparently.”

“King Reginald?”

“That’s right.”

He glanced up and eyed me closely. “You do resemble him.”

He wasn’t the first to tell me. “I suppose I was jealous of my brothers too. My elder brother because he was always in her favor and my younger brother because he could do no wrong.”

Galen seemed to contemplate it, then said, “I think I had a sister once, younger than me. I don’t remember much. Bright red hair is all.”

“She didn’t come here with you?” I asked.

“No, too young, I suppose. Perhaps she couldn’t fetch a good enough price.” He fell silent. I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t, so I picked up the thread of our conversation.

“Anyway, my mother sent me here because I’d been… behaving badly,” I said.

“A walking scandal,” Galen said with a grin.

“You read the daily scrolls?”

“No, Your Highness, I can’t read, but some of the others can. We weren’t supposed to have them, nothing that could link us to the fae realm, so we had to smuggle them in. My favorite stories are always the ones about you.”

Well, that was one good outcome from the incredibly libelous stories written about me. “My mother was worried about my reputation, so she sent me here, and at first I didn’t like it, but now, I rather do.”

“Lord Vasil seems a little grumpy, no offense.” He peered up at me sheepishly.

“None taken, and he is, at times, but he’s also incredibly generous and good-hearted. I mean, look at the care he’s provided to you, even after trying to kill him.”

Galen nodded, looking forlorn. “I wish I hadn’t done it.”

I sighed, feeling the echo of his regret. “Me too, Galen.”

“Still, I’d rather you let me go.”

“I’m sure you would. But you know the condition for that.”

He sighed with misery. “To be honest, I wouldn’t let me go either.”

“Don’t lose hope, Galen. You can still make things right.”

He shrugged, looking doubtful. “Is that why you’re mad at your mother? Because she sent you here?”

“No, I’m happy she sent me here. It’s because now my mother wants me to marry some other noble, an old man who’s rather stuffy and arrogant in my opinion, and I’m upset because she’s always doing things like that.”