The Balance (First Draft | Discontinued)

Chapter 3 (Ari)

Outside the window, the sun was just barely rising. Its light shone a rosy-gold, reflecting off the heavy silver platters on the table and illuminating the room with a faint glow. Resting his elbows on the table, Ari stared at his toast, watching the butter melt slowly into the bread. His mother gave him a pointed glance, one eyebrow arched delicately. His cheeks flushed and he quickly tucked his elbows down by his sides; she gave a small smile and returned to the yellowed documents in her hand, brow slightly furrowed as she read them.

"Mamma?" he ventured, but she didn't look up.

Louder, Ari. How is she supposed to hear you?

"Mamma?"

His mother looked up. "What is it, Ari?"

"I— I wanted to know how the mission in Trstova went." She stared at him and he squirmed a little in his seat, averting his eyes. "If we took the city, how many men were lost..." He trailed off, feeling the weight of her gaze on him.

Her eyes softened a bit. "Skatten min," she said, voice low and gentle, "how many times have I told you?"

"But I need to know. I should know."

"It's not something that concerns you."

"But it will one day—"

"Ari." Her tone became no-nonsense and he stopped speaking immediately. "It will be some years until you're king. There will plenty of time for you to learn about war and fighting, but until then... enjoy being a child. It's not something I ever had."

I'm not a child, he wanted to say, but the look on his mother's face discouraged any argument he might have tried. Why did she have to treat him like he couldn't handle it? He was smart; he knew he could, if she only gave him the chance...

But she was back to reading her reports again, and it was completely silent except for the occasional chirp of birds outside. He pushed his plate away and stood, mumbling a quick "Excuse me" before he left. He couldn't help but feel like a marionette around her, dancing on the strings of her expectations.

It was a bit early to go to lessons, but better that than sit in there. He took the stairs two at a time, feeling the burn in his muscles as he went up two floors and paused at the last step before the landing. Shaking his head, he leaned against the banister. If his mother wanted him to enjoy being a child, he should slide down right now without repercussions. He should raid the kitchens and jump in the mud puddles when it rained in summer. But she'd never let him.

Passing through the hall, he imitated the expressions of the people in the portraits. They always looked so grouchy— when he became king and his portrait was painted, he was going to smile as wide as he could.

Finally, he reached the library. He pulled open the doors and immediately headed for his favorite section. He grabbed a book off the shelf and sat in the nearest chair, flipping open to a random page.

The pine marten's diet includes insects, frogs, birds, smaller mammals, and... What was that word? He placed a finger on it and tried to sound it out.

"Carrion, my king."

Ari almost jumped. Glancing up, he saw a man standing with his hands in his pockets, head canted. What was he doing here? He'd never said so much as a word to Ari beyond simple courtesies, but now...

"Decaying flesh," said Marek Jelen. He lacked his usual half-smile; now there was a strange, almost sad expression. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Mouth slightly open, Ari watched as he brushed past him and made his way out to the hall. No interaction for years, and all he had to say was 'decaying flesh'? Ari rubbed his eyes and stood, letting out a quiet yelp as the book hit the floor.