Dead King's Sword (Old Draft)

9. The Little Prisoner

Princess Anne

***

I had trouble sleeping lately, plagued by the whispers of conflict brewing between the royal children. Before my little brother was born, the other royals had paid little attention to Tristan and me, treating us as something disposable. But after Aaron, they changed; they stopped talking and wore cold gazes whenever Tristan and I entered the room.

In our society, people with strong cores were respected, but they were also despised. Feared.

My father, King Alexander, did everything he could to protect Aaron. And so, although he was five years old, Aaron had never left his room, let alone his home. Aaron's teachers, maids, everyone who had access to see him were carefully vetted by our father. Even Tristan and I had to schedule our visits and were searched upon entering our brother's quarters. Until he was strong enough to protect himself, Aaron would never taste freedom.

***

Kite and I sat at a table in the library. Lamps streamed past us, balanced on fat Lilly pads. A giant tree loomed behind us, its top draped in shadows, its branches shifting and leaves rustling in a rhythmic manner. I yawned.

Kite smiled at me; he had been my fiancé for a little over a year now and my friend for longer. He raked a hand through his bronze hair; warmth filled his green eyes. "You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

"I guess I'm paranoid."

He checked his watch. "I have tryouts at half-past four."

"Mhm."

"That leaves us with two hours. So, how about you take a nap, and I'll wake you up when it's time to go? Guard over you while you rest."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Since my eyelids were weighed down with tiredness, I obliged him and placed my head on the desk. The room was quiet, and except for the sighing of the tree's branches and Kite's pencil scratching paper, there was nothing to interrupt my sleep. As my eyes closed, he blurred and gradually disappeared from view.

***