Legend has it, if you stand in front of a mirror, shuffling an enchanted deck of cards, you can open a doorway between dimensions.
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Prince Teodric of Springport remembers the promise he made his father: to *not* try to reenact the legend of dimen...
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"You know, Teodric, you might want to be careful when shuffling a deck of cards in front of a mirror."
I stumbled into the mirror I'd been absorbed in, critiquing my reflection. My heart raced as I dropped the old deck of cards to my feet. I gawked at the looking glass, sighting a man stooping in my threshold.
Not just any man—the king. In all his nighttime splendor, a sly smile across his weathered face.
"Father?" I shuffled around and hurried to fix my matted clump of dark hair.
In my distraction—toying with the cards while rehashing the night I'd had and eyeing my messy linens in the background—I hadn't even heard my door creak open. Nor had I noticed my father sneaking into my room. My currently very un-princely room. Pillows all over the place, women's clothes I certainly didn't want my father to see strewn about the polished wooden floors.
I couldn't be thankful enough the woman they belonged to was no longer in my bedroom.
My heart wouldn't settle in my chest and my throat constricted. He'd frightened me, more silent than one might expect for a frail, limping man.
That was too close. Why did he have to sneak up on me like that? A multitude of lengthy, massive castle corridors separated our sleeping chambers, but still, he wandered to me?
I moved away from my reflection and flurried over to my four-poster bed, trying to arrange the sheets as if they hadn't been messed around in. As if there hadn't been a deliciously plump, generously formed young maid lounging atop them minutes ago, watching me as I stood up to wrap a silk robe over my sweaty, sex-scented body—
"What are you doing here?" I pulled the fabric tighter around myself, lest my father realize I was completely naked underneath. As far as he was concerned, I still slept in full-fledged night-suits tailored to my young, princely body.
Except I wasn't that young anymore—well into my eighteenth year—and I didn't comport myself as a prince at all. Well, when he wasn't looking, at least. And that was often.
I studied my father, watching for any sign of confusion. He tended to wander at night, half-asleep, sometimes fully asleep, but he rarely made it all the way to my chambers, on the opposite side of the castle from his. And normally, he was followed by some guard or other, leaving him to his adventures whilst ensuring he was safe.
But tonight, Father was alone. He clutched a brass candleholder in one hand and gripped the edge of his majestic evening robe with his other. The thick fabric draped off his bones. He wasn't tall enough to keep the frayed ends of the robe from dusting over the marble floors.
He narrowed his gaze, but smirked at me. "I needed something to drink, and I didn't want to wake Benson. The poor thing had a handful with the new squires this afternoon."
Benson was his beloved but quite elderly butler, and Father often dodged the man's attempts to keep him in his quarters at night, instead of wandering.
