Little King

Rae

Maxe stares at my ceiling, sharpening something with a knife. 

"You're wrinkling my bed." I muttered, rolling him off. He winced, standing beside my bed. 

"I feel like there were kinder ways to do that." I roll my eyes, sitting at my desk. It's late afternoon and my room is lit up by a soft glow through my window. My bed sits in the middle of my room, satin red sheets, long curtains, and some of the softest pillows in the castle. My desk is a pale yellow, covered in pencils and paper, plus several important looking documents. I wipe the sweat from my brow, staring at myself in a mirror. My red-brown hair is damp and hangs in my eyes irritably. My red tunic is unbuttoned at the top, gold thread lining the edges. I had already slipped out of my robe, now draped across a chair in the corner. 

Maxe clambered back onto my bed, watching me with curious eyes.  I glare at my brother, who seems effortlessly perfect. He has blond hair, like dad, and his red vest and black pants made him look like a king. I turn away, staring at the papers in front of me. I begin reading one when a knock at the door startles me. 

"Prince Rae?" Someone asks. I turn, casting a glance at Maxe, then beyond him, the door. He stares at me expectantly, and I sigh. "Come in." I call, standing and buttoning my button, trying to smooth my clothes and hair. I make sure to punch Maxe on the way over, and he smirks. A servant opens the door, bowing low before passing me a tray. A platter of food, a cup, filled with a strong-smelling drink, and a tiny note sit on it. The servant lingers, eyeing my brother. I raise an eyebrow. 

"You don't have to be afraid to speak to me." I tell him. The servant dips his head. 

"Shall I bring more for prince Maxe?" He asks. I turn to my brother, who nods at the servant. 

"That won't be necessary." I say with a smile. "Prince Maxe was just leaving." 

                                                                                  ***

Now that I'm alone I can focus. Maxe is annoying, always making me feel bad that he's older.  Of course, as long as father's alive, both of us are equal. Same elegant rooms, same amount of servants, same amount of clothes, everything. He's still only 20, so I hope he's not thinking about being king yet. Still, it's frustrating how two years is enough for him to be my senior. It's not like I even want to be king.  I often wonder why he spends so much time in my room, and sometimes I think he's lonely in his. I return to the documents. Father makes both of us practice king duties, just in case. It says something about something, I'm not really paying attention. I turn to my plate of food, picking up the note. It's not father's handwriting, or anyone's I recognize. The words are curled and elegant, hard to read. I squint, making out four words. 'Come quick. Throne room.' I drop the note and the tray, which clatters as it hits the floor, spilling food. I curse under my breath, shrugging on my robe, and slipping out the door. 

The hallways are dim, as the sun has already set. Torches line the hallways, flickering and burning, threatening to go out at any second. My room is at the back of a hallway, and several of father's advisors live in the rooms next to mine, though none are royal suites. The hallway walls are red, paintings of some random king that did something is posted right outside my door, and more are posted along the walls. Ravenwood castle is a maze for anyone who didn't grow up here. Lucky for me, I did, and I'm outside the throne room in five minutes, flat. I push open the doors, and they creak and moan. Several servants passing by give me curious looks I ignore. 

Inside the throne room several of father's most trusted advisors stand, mumbling and arguing. One girl stands out among them though. Azi, the healer, stands off to a corner, gazing at the advisors with humor and a little curiosity. Her long white hair is in two braids that run down her back. She wears pale satin robes, and I've found she often like to switch them out. Today is a pale pink, matching her shining blue eyes. She's breathtaking, and only a few years older than me. It's clear that if she weren't a healer, all the young men in the castle would fawn over her. Her eyes find mine and she clears her throat. The advisors turn to look at me, and I wet my lips, a little nervous. "I came, what do you need?" I ask, trying to make my voice steady. One of the advisors, a medium-sized man with short black hair leans forward to hand me a crumpled paper. I try to think of his name as I unfold the paper, Tannir, or Tarek, or something like that. The paper looks old, a little torn in some places, so I try to be careful with it. This time, I recognize the handwriting, father's. "What is this?" I mutter, scanning the page. 

"His will." Azi explains, pointing to his royal signature at the bottom. Ah. I remember seeing this before, when Maxe was declared the heir. 

"Why am I looking at this?" I ask. Then fear tightens my stomach. "Is he...what happened?" Another advisor, I think her name is Minnoe, meets my eyes. 

"I'm sorry, the king had disappeared." I take a step back, making a fist. 

"Disappeared? So he could be alive?" I ask. "I'll find who did this, they will regret this." I promise, running a hand through my hair. Minnoe sighs. 

"We have searched everywhere, he is gone." I glare at her. 

"When I see his body, I will believe you." Azi steps forward. 

"Prince Rae, with all due respect, we called you here to discuss this." She points to the bottom of the will, where it states Maxe's claim to the throne. I read the sentence again. 

'As no king rules forever, I have decided to leave my kingdom to one of my sons." I look up at Azi, she nods, and I continue reading. "I hereby state that my son, Prince Rae, shall inherit my kingdom.'