A Blaze in the Dark (A New Dawn #1)

Chapter 23 - Sebastian

I beg you to reconsider. It would only be a temporary measure. A mining specialist from the Bovine region has developed a new tool to dig deeper into the mines. By next summer, we'll be able to trade high-quality silver again.

On his way back to his chambers, Sebastian ignored the guards escorting him as much as possible. Glancing away from the loaded bow in front of him, he rubbed his eyes, all sticky and sore. If real men didn't cry, his tears were proof that he wasn't ready to be a man; let alone a King.

In complete silence he marched on, every step bringing him closer to the comfort of his pillow fortress. There, on his windowsill, he could hide from judging eyes deeming him the most pathetic Crown Prince in the history of The Greenlands.

When he, at last, dragged himself into his room, he found the sill empty; all the pillows and blankets had been returned to the bed. He stared at it with an open mouth, unable to utter even the smallest of grumbles.

"Lieutenant Stephen went to fetch Lady Viviane, My Lord. She'll be here shortly. Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?" The guard's gaze was cast to the ground, his shoulders hunched.

"No." His answer came out with a giant sob. All he wanted was to be left alone; the sooner that guard would leave, the better. He clearly didn't want to be here either.

"I will take my leave then. Good night, My Lord."

"Night."

With the little willpower he had left in him, he stripped the blanket off the bed and grabbed the biggest of the pillows to throw them onto the sill. Placing his hands on the cold stone, he pushed himself onto his spot where he dropped down and huddled one of the feather-filled bags.

Seconds lasted minutes, minutes hours as he waited for sleep that never came. In a half-conscious state, he lay there, drowning in a pool of tears and doubts; every shudder more agonising than the one before, as though his uncle's broadsword had pierced his skull and split his soul into two instead of killing that magician.

Fox would have to stay in Silvermark forever. He could never return. If he did, he would have to kill him. How could he ever do that to his best friend?

The fading sunlight peeping right above the horizon brought the concerned voice of Lady Viviane. "My Lord? I heard you're not well. Shall I prepare you for the night?"

"No."

He buried his head deeper into the pillow to muffle his crying, yet even with his eyes closed, he sensed her shadow looming over him.

"My Lord, you can't stay on the sill."

Tough luck. Neither could he erase all of his memories or start his life all over. How blissful it would be to never have to think again, not of Fox, not of Laneby, nor that dreadful execution.

He trembled as he recalled the bone-cracking sound of the sword tearing through human flesh. Not Fox. Never Fox.

"My Lord, are you sure you are alright?"

As her hand brushed his foot, he curled his legs closer to his body. "Yes."

"Poor thing, you don't look well at all." So fussy, just like Mother used to be when he was ill, but she wasn't her. If only she was her. "Shall I get you a healer, or perhaps, your aunt?"

"Just leave me alone!" His voice screeched as the tears took over again. He tapped the sill, looking for the blanket, and pulled it over his head. The only people he wished to see were Mother, Father, and Fox. Even though that was impossible, she still had to leave.