4 Princes

XVI

"So she made a fire on her hearth, and that it might burn the quicker, she lighted it with a handful of straw."
(Brothers Grimm: The Straw, The Coal, and the Bean)

ADAM
JACK AND ROOK WERE not going to listen to me, I had no doubts about that. The question was not "if" but "how." How were they or one of them going to betray me?

As I left through the flap we ripped into the tent, I turned and gave one last glance to Rook. He was waved goodbye as he pretended to be bored while sitting on the barrel Jack was sitting on when we arrived.

Rook was my biggest worry. Not Jack, not Hera, Rook.

Rook asked Jack at the meeting if Jack was scared of going because he wanted to be a traitor.

But I was more worried about Rook. Jack didn't ever falter in my mind.

While Jack would never admit it, Rook was by far treated the worst betwixt the four of us. Father would torture Erik to get to Rook, and we all knew it. Half of Erik's torture came because the best way to hurt Rook— was to hurt others.

It's why father said he'd start not burning dames' corpses every day that one of us wasn't married.

And Rook never thought of it that way, never realized. And if he did, he'd certainly never admit to himself. A lot of things were Rook's fault, I had an idea that Rook subconsciously knew that.

And in the end— Rook was far more likely to turn against our father and our kingdom.

I always thought that once Erik died, he'd leave. He'd have his reason for staying gone and he'd go. But he's still here. I wasn't sure why. Part of me thought maybe it was the mystery royal, but I saw the look in his eyes. He didn't care about her, not really. It wasn't family. It wasn't dad. The closest option I had was the ties this kingdom had to mom. There were so many options raging in my head. If I were more smart, like Jack, or even more like Rook, maybe I could figure it out.

I voiced my worries to dad and he told me that I needed to stop overthinking things, that none of his Princes would ever betray the kingdom.

I'm sure the fathers of the other Princes joining this cause thought the same.

The camp was filled with a hundred tents, possibly more. They were all different colors, deep purples or autumn reds. Some had horses tied to posts in front, horses ranging from different breeds and colors from different countries.

The ground was dead, the grass trampled over. In the distance I could see the Worthwell castle— smaller than the Fairisles castle but still looming.

Smoke rose up from a couple fires that had been put out.

At first I thought that finding Hans's tent would be hard, and then Rook pointed out the large black tent in the center with a white crown on the side of it. It was the only black tent in the compound. 

Even if it wasn't Hans's, it was probably still very important. That was reason enough for me to want to burn it down. I hoped the whole camp would burn down.

"This is all very interesting," I grabbed a square blanket hanging outside a grey tent. Well it looked like a blanket. After I picked it up I realized it was too small. It had triangles and squares all over it in stripes. A circular hole was cut in the middle.

Jack ripped it from my hands and threw it on the muddy ground, glaring at me. "We don't have time for distractions," he snapped. "Get in that tent there and wait for me to light the fire."