The Rebel (#Wattys2016)

31. Dungeons and Whips

Prince Skander stared out the windows of his father's studio. Sitting besides him, the King's head advisor, Pierce Fiske was showing Skander's father some statistics. The King stroke his chin as he heard his advisor's data. His blue eyes narrowed from time to time, and his golden crown glistened on top of his gray hair. Skander sighed and looked to his father's dark mahogany desk. The papers on top of it were messed papers and a picture of the Queen. But the King didn't have any pictures of his sons, and the rest of the studio consisted merely on a sofa and a shelf full of books.

"Skander?"

The prince's eyes snapped to his father, and he stood up straighter. The King remained silent, and Skander knew he's asked a question. Skander cleared his throat.

"Yes, father?"

"I asked you a question. Do you think lowering the taxes will help lower the poverty rate?"

Skander nodded.

"Yes, father. They will have more money to spend on their own, father."

The King nodded, pleased. He turned to his advisor and stood up. Fiske and Skander stood up as well.

"Very well, Fiske. I want you to make an announcement. In an effort to lower the poverty rate and make Illea great once again," the King turned his blue eyes to Skander, then back to Fiske, "tomorrow will be the first day we implement a new tax plan. From tomorrow on, taxes will increase by fifteen percent." Skander clenched his jaw. The King stared at him. "Is there a problem, Skander?"

"I am afraid that might actually increase the poverty rate, father."

"Is that so?" Skander bit his tongue and nodded. The King nodded back and turned once again to his advisor. "What a shame, then."

"Father, if you think this through—"

"Skander." The King shot Skander a glare that could have melted the north pole.

"Father, please—"

The King sent his fist down to his desk. Skin against wood collided in a loud bang that sent chills through both Skander and Fiske.

"I am King, Skander. I know what is best for my people." The King turned to Fiske. "Thank you, Fiske. You're dismissed."

Fiske, who looked grateful he could leave the room at last, bowed, mumbled his thanks and hurried to the door. After Fiske had closed the dark door behind him, the King turned his icy blue eyes to Skander. He sat down and the prince did the same.

"I will not tolerate you doubting my decisions, skander." He looked at the picture of the Queen, then back to Skander. "I've been far too forgiving so far. You have somehow managed to keep that girl, that Six, here."

"According to the Selection rules, father, I am the only one who is able to send or keep a girl." Skander said through clenched teeth.

"Skander." The King clenched his fists on top of the desk. "I am King."

"And I am Prince."

"I am the King, Skander!" Skander forced himself not to flinch at his father's scream. "I am the one who makes the decisions here! And if you don't understand how this country works, how those scoundrels are lower for a reason, then you aren't ready to rule!"

Skander stood up, unable to control his anger. In a second, the King was standing as well.

"I will not tolerate your insurgence, Skander."

"She did not kill her, father!" The room was quiet after Skander's scream. "Adeen did not kill mom. She is guilty for nothing. Let her stay, father, please, let her stay, I promise I will do anything."