Keeper of the Realm (Violent Delights Book 2)

Chapter 2 - December 1340

Joan of Kent

"I can't stand you across the sea," I say, quietly, staring at Ned's letter. Ned to me, Prince Edward to everyone else but he's my Ned. Always has been. Stupid smile and stupid face as he climbed in my window an entire cake in his arms because he knew I didn't get any.
He writes to me. I am sure they read it. I don't really care.
He writes asking me why I'm the only one who knows which of his smiles are real. I asked him in my last letter what he truly wanted more than anything. His reply:
I don't know what I want that's what makes it all so terrible. What I want isn't even real. And yet it's so so simple. I want to walk someplace and nobody to know where I am. I want to put clothes on with no one else around. I want to spend an entire day not doing anything. I want to believe I'll grow up. I want someone to say goodnight to me. Like they care. I want you calling me by my name. Not like anyone else does like my name belongs to you and not the world. Most of all I want to be a knight and go on adventures. And I'd rescue you from a castle with a dragon. Like in a story. And like in a story nothing ends sad. Because we're good people we win and live happily ever after. And you can live with me and never marry someone you hate and you don't have to cry. I see your tear stains on the page. And I can't even hug you. Or sneak into your room with cake or a rabbit and make you laugh. I shuffle through roles like a deck of cards I'm a good prince, a good friend, a good keeper of the realm. But my favorite role, being your friend, isn't here. I'm still being a good son but I don't get to be a good brother anymore.
That troubles me too. Please give Izzy an extra hug from me, tell her I still don't mind if she doesn't talk. And I'll still let her steal my clothes and we'll go play in the yard when it's dark. And give Lionel two extra hugs and tell him that he's got a big brother waiting at home who can't wait to meet him and I'll take care of him and make sure he never has to feel like I do. Ever.
And give yourself a hug from me and promise me you won't cry. Or cry if you like I do. All the time it feels like but I can only let it out alone. And probably never tell anyone I said this because I can't be weak. But I can be weak with you and of that I'm glad.

I kiss the letter, sighing.
"You have the best big brother in the world," I say, to little Lionel. I'm still in the nursery, that is the other half of my room. Hiding basically in a priory is really glamorous and nice. Not. I don't mind helping with my little cousins it's something to do.
King Edward is my cousin, our fathers were half brothers, and he killed my father. It's been explained why. I don't care. I'm afraid I don't care about anything at all. Ned laughed when I told him. Said we matched he cares too much about everything.
But the long and short of it is King Edward is also my guardian. I have to do as he says. So I'm here. In bloody Ghent. And the only person I really care about is across the sea and he needs me.
That's not totally true. I care about my other cousins they're all just littler than me. And the boys, Ned's friends, all are in England, so are the Lancaster girls who are a good enough time. I'm here with the other royal children who are all littler.
"Go to sleep now," I say, patting Lionel's tummy. The baby rocks a bit, glaring up at me. Red hair and pale, my little cousin actually looks like me. I know how I look. I have since I was ten. I'm pretty. My chest is getting thick as are my hips. I'm a pretty girl grown men stare at me now. And I'm old enough to know that by the time we get home I'm not going to be allowed to play with my male cousins. We're too old to play. So I don't get to chat to them I've already been told not to write the prince. I do it anyway. He's my Ned first. He's my friend. And excuse me for liking chatting with him and his friends who don't stare at my skin or my chest, and swear and make stupid jokes and laugh with me.
Soon I know I'll be married. King Edward hasn't spoken of it yet I generally assume he's not remembered. But the Queen will remember. And I'll be married off and have my own babies. And I don't know if I want that either. I want to be in Ned's dream where he's a knight and he rescues me and we live happily forever in his house. And he's not king of anything.
That's not real. But I'll pretend it is for tonight. Just tonight.
"Is papa here?" Izzy whispers, from her bed. Her nurse is asleep next to her. I got up because Lionel was fussing. He's fine he wants attention.
"Not yet, I'm sure he'll come say goodnight," I say. Papa as in the bloody king. Her father though, and he's surprisingly soft with the little girl. Most fathers don't particularly care about daughters, they're a marriage prospect perhaps but as a rule they let the mothers deal with it they take the sons not an ill division of labor. But the King is quite kind to his little girls, playing with them and doing on them as he might a boy, making sure they have pretty dresses and nice toys, and not expecting the Queen to have done all of it. Izzy adores her father's attention, as does their Joan who's second youngest. He's kind to me as well, but that could be guilt for the part where he had my father killed so I don't fully count it. I don't have it in me to care, but that is potentially a motivator. Guilt. I don't mind guilt either honestly.
Izzy glares tugging her blanket over her head.
"Your brother misses you," I say, "Do you want me to read you his letter?"
"I can read."
"Course you can," they're all dangerously intelligent. Ned's brilliant he has no idea though, like very brilliant can talk in four languages and do complicated maths in his head brilliant. Has no idea walks around assuming everyone is as clever as him. The others are all clever for their age as well.
Izzy tugs the blanket more over her head.
"Yeah all right," I say. I'll show it to her in the morning.
The king hasn't returned. He'd have come in he usually does. I don't know what he was off doing. Arguing with people more than likely.
I lie back down on the bed, holding Ned's letter.
"Night now, Ned," I say, "Someone's wishing you goodnight. I can't fix anything else."