Hold It In

Just a City Boy

<Alexander POV>

  "Alexander!" My father shouted from outside. "Get your slimy tail down here!"

  "Just a minute!" I shouted back, fixing my coat-tails.

  "Alexander Marius Beckham!" My mother screeched. "I will beat you within an inch of your life if you don't get down here!"

  I yelped and jumped down the stairs, three steps at a time. "When are we grabbing her?"

  "Just before we meet this so-called mage." Father spat. "Though I still do not understand the reason of grabbing the beetroot-head."

  "She is not a beetroot-head," I said hotly. My father was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, and my mother just straight up decked out. She had a massive white wig on, and her dress made her look six times her actual side. I had to snort back a laugh. Her face was covered with paint, so much so she looked like a massive marshmallow.

  Let's just say I wasn't laughing for long.

  My father slapped me across the face, then shoved me roughly against the wall. A wide grin spread across his face. My heartbeat sped up. My eyes widened.

  Let's just skip to the castle, okay?

  I walked up to Corinth's room. We had known each other for many years, and Querell trailed close behind me to avoid getting lost. I can't say I blamed her. I'd just learned to walk until you were encountered by a path; when you go there, always take a right. It was stupid; and that was why it worked. Nobody would guess that. What kind of moron would always take a right?

  Royal ones, I guess.

  Querell looked beautiful tonight. She had a green and blue dress on, with flowers imprinted on it. She looked at me, clearly confused when I took the nineteenth right.

  "Are you sure this is the right way?"

  I nodded and led her up another flight of stairs. "Positive."

  She wrinkled her nose in amusement. "That's the dumbest castle defensive mechanism I've ever seen."

  I laughed. "No kidding." I opened the door in front of me and peeked in. "Hello?"

  Corinth rushed up and opened the door, beckoning us in. "Yes! Sorry. Kinda busy with Vince."

  "Vince?" I asked stupidly.

  Querell shot me a warning glare. "Is he the witch?"

  "Yeah," Corinth said, visibly distressed now. "He prefers warlock, by the way." He sighed. "I'm also Princey to him."

  "I didn't know Vince was a warlock," Querell said suddenly. "I thought he would've told me by now."

  Corinth whipped around. "Told you? Did you know him?"

  Querell nodded. "Yeah, sometimes I'll give him some of the fruits and vegatables that we grow." She frowned. "Most of the time he refuses, though. Says he's fat enough."

  Corinth gave her a disbelieving look. "He says he's fat enough?! I can see his ribs! How can he say he's fat enough?"

  "I don't know!" Querell said helplessly. "He just never takes it!"

  I leaned stepped inside of Corinth's room. There was a boy slightly shorter than I was lying unconscious on his bed, breathing slowly, and a black patchwork cloak on. Querell rushed over and checked his pulse, sighing in relief when she found it. Corinth sat beside him worriedly. "He just fainted around ten minutes ago. I'm guessing it was from magic overloads, because he created a massive fissure in the throne room and closed it back up after swallowing a man."