The True Story of Love

Destiny's Rose - [10]

Happy reading everyone. It's been a while. This has been mostly doen for forever, I just had so much going on, it took me the longest time to actually get it to a place where I was happy with it. Oh well, I like it enough now, so good luck all!

CHAPTER 8

The true Prince Cole's nights were restless. He lay awake, worrying of what might happen if he was discovered. Revolt, distrust, abandonment, even death. The consequences loomed constantly over Cole like a thick blanket in the high of summer. It clung to him, made him sweat, smothered him in the weight of another's life. It never left Cole. The constant pressure was like an itch at the back of his mind, always present, distracting him from his duties as servant. Every time he saw Sam, Cole stomach turned into a pack of butterflies, swarming and swirling with anxiety. Each night Cole's mind was filled with worries, desperately trying to think a way out of his mess. Why had he even thought this might work? There was no way he could go through with it. What was to happen when they arrived at the castle? It seemed Cole couldn't get more than two hours sleep at a time. However, as the sun rose in the East, Cole's worries didn't end.

“Prince,” one of the soldier's called into the tent.

Stretching his tight limbs, Sam replied, “What is it?”

“The traveler we picked up a fortnight ago would like an audience.”

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Sam said, “hold him for a moment.”

Cole looked at Sam curiously.

“What?” Sam whispered.

“Why are you speaking with him?” Cole berated, “You have no training in this sort of thing. What if he's seen you?! He could recognize you.”

“If he recognizes me, we'll back out like you've always wanted,” Sam said, annoyed, “but if he doesn't, we'll know our plan will work.”

Cole huffed, but couldn't make an opposing argument as Sam immediately called the visitor in.

“Your Highness,” the traveler said, bowing as low as his pot belly allowed him. His voice was deep and low, twinged with an indistinguishable accent that caused his 's' to drag.

Sam nodded, his chin tilted up. Even Cole found him an imposing sight.

Realizing the Prince would not be the first to speak, the fat man started, “I thank you greatly for granting me an audience. It is such an honor to be in front of the future king of our bountiful land.”

Sam let silence hang in the air for a moment before asking, “If you’re from my future kingdom, why are you not in your home preparing for my arrival?”

“Well, sir,” he stuttered, “you see, I have come to you for help. I have been traveling for months, selling my wares to travelers on their way. Unfortunately, I have sold all my goods and have nothing to offer you.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” The false prince asked, glancing at his servant.

“If only I could get one day’s departure from the group,” the man plead, “I have an uncle I must visit. You see, he’s very elderly and doesn’t get on well. I promised my dear wife that I would look after him on my way home. However, I have no way to continue my journey if you were to leave me. I need only one day and one night away. I beg of you, dear Prince!”

Sam pondered for a moment, torn between acting harsh and unforgiving or awarding the fat man pity.

He decided pity was best. As the man scurried out of the tent, bowing his thanks as he went, Sam wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.