The Art Of Dancing In The Rain

deux

L u k e

"I am not going." I said, staring down at my father who sat behind his mahogany desk that was covered with papers.

Old age was taking it's toll only father. True, he was only fifty-four, but running the most powerful Kingdom in the world can also have it's effects on a man. His skin was wrinkled, veins traced the back of his hand like a road map and freckles peppered their way up and down his neck and cheeks. The one thing that never changed about him was his eyes: they were the same steely gray color they'd always been. They were the same on his worst days as they were on his best days. 

"You say it like I'm giving you a choice. You must go. Assert power over the other colonies, create fear. You are the heir to the most sought-after throne in the entire world. You must hold yourself as so. You have three monte until you're going to be named Emperor, and what do these colonies know about you? Nothing! It makes you seem weak."

"'Absence of knowledge is not the absence of strength.'"

My father narrowed his gaze. He rose from his seat and walked to me. I was 6'4", only a few inches taller than him, but I could tell those few inches bothered him. 

"Did you just quote one of my father's books?" He asked, his voice low and rumbling. 

I let the ghost of a smile dance across my mouth. "His works are part of the curriculum at Carran. So, yes, I did."

"I did not send you to Nox's most prestigious military school just for you to read books all day. My father was a lowly, worthless man and you know that."

"Why?" I countered. "Because he refused to kill innocent people?"

My father sucked in a sharp breath of air. He retreated back to his desk. The medals shining on his jacket caught in the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. 

"Your grandfather was removed from the throne because he was weak. You know that, Lucas. A good leader needs to be strong and steadfast. Your grandfather was weak and refused to give our military any orders, so Nox never grew. He was a weed in our Kingdom, and what do we do to weeds?"

"We remove them." I said, resigned. My father nodded with a grim satisfaction laced upon his face. 

"Good, good. The carriage for Lord Montgomery's coronation leaves in thirty minutes--"

"I'm not going."

My father raised a thick, silvery eyebrow. "What?"

"I am not going."

He rose from his desk, hands flattened against the dark wood. Everything about his face read off as malice. My father was not a man to be defied.  I was the only person who ever showed him any sign of insubordination. 

"You will go to that coronation. You will instill blind fear into the hearts of our enemies. You don't get to chose. You are my puppet, Lucas. And do you know what I do to puppets? I control them. I own you. I own everything about you. You will go to that coronation if it is the last thing you do." My father growled. I clenched my fists.

In Carran, the first thing you were taught was that in perilous situations, emotions didn't exist. The second thing was that you were to kill everything that opposed Nox, but  I only followed one of those rules. 

I steadied my breathing and focused my eyes on the bookshelf just above my father's shoulders. I wiped all emotion from my face. My father saw this, and smiled. 

"You aren't strong, Lucas. You're nothing but a chess piece in my game. You think Carran has made you strong? You think four years of whippings and trials and constantly being broken has made you strong? No, you're still weak. Only I can make you strong. Understand?"

I pursed my lips. Once again, my father walked around his desk to meet me. "Only I can make you strong. Understand?" He repeated. When I didn't answer, he brought his hand up to slap my face. I reeled away from him at the sting of his hand, and cursed my silent silently after. I'd spent years of pain, years of torture at Carran only to be fazed by a slap? Weak.

"Understand?" My father said again, louder. 

I nodded. "Understand." I croaked out. I touched my cheek and felt something wet. I pulled it away to see blood running down my finger. My father's rings must've scraped my face. For what seemed like the millionth time in my life, I cursed his name. In my head, of course.

"Good. As I was saying, the coronation is being held in Veron--"

"Veron? Father, they're our biggest threat to kingdom security."

My father sighed. "You'll be flanked by twelve guards at all times. I've made sure of it. Do you really think I'd send my only heir into a Kingdom where he's not safe? Are you going to interrupt me again, or can I finish?"

I nodded, sliding into one of the chairs in front of my father's messy desk. "Apologies, sir."

"The coronation ceremony officially begins tomorrow, but there are sure to be festivities tonight. You'll go and assert authority over the other colonies, making sure they know that Nox's new leader is not to be toyed around with. During the ceremony, you're to gain whatever intelligence you can about Veron and their war activities. After the ceremony, you'll stay for the reception, stay the night in the castle, then you will leave the next day."

"So, I'm really going there just to spy?"

"No, not just to spy. Your presence will remind those colonies that you are not a force to be reckoned with. You will show them that Nox is still the powerful giant it was ten years ago. You will go to assert power and fear, but also to get ahead of our enemies." My father said, straightening the cuffs of his military jacket. 

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good. I want you ready and at the palace gates in an hour."

"Yes, sir."