Rule of The Monarch

Four: Eris and Urania

7 August

The world had many responsibilities, worries and challenges and Heather felt as if she had to shoulder every single one of them. By all accounts, she wasn't wrong. 'Brush it off,' she told herself crossly as she passed two whispering maids. 'Worry about Christopher first.' At his request, both families were gathered in the great hall to discuss the kingdom's future.

'But the king will pull through!' Lord Carlton's fist came down on the table as Heather took her place. There was no mistaking the desperate plea in his voice, it was the same one growing inside her.

'I am aware of all our best wishes sir,' the king's advisor defended. 'But for the sake of the kingdom, we have to plan ahead.'

'Lucius is right, Uncle Carter. We have to look out for the citizens first.' Christopher reasoned, giving off an aura of authority that felt out of place with her cousin.

'The boy's right. Don't waste our time with anymore theatrics Carlton,' Lord Hemingway said. That seemed to shut her father up.

'Well as you all know, Prince Christopher has no right to the throne. He isn't a direct descendant in the two royal bloodlines, therefore revoking his rights to the crown,' Lucius looked around the table. 'The two are Carltons of the Eris house and Hemingways from Urania.'

'We're quite familiar with the two houses, Lucius.'

'Both families connect from the female bloodline, leaving only Heather and Astor eligible, unless.. Jonathan Carlton is still around?'

'He isn't,' Lord Carlton snapped as Heather and her mother turned away.

'Well then, Heather and Astor are our candidates,' the advisor continued.

'Yes,' Astor concurred. 'And since our fates are being decided by a greater power,' his eye roll was subtle enough for Heather alone to catch. 'I should get some rest before I'm bombarded with duties,' he stood, towering everyone else.

'Astor,'

'As will I,' Heather said, trudging in his wake. 'Retiring early?' She said once they were out of earshot. 'Either you're mad, or is Astor Hemingway dreaming of being a decent man?'

'I am a decent man. You just bring out the worst in me.'

'So what do you think about the king?' Heather asked. 'So soon from Lady Isabelle's murder. Do you think he'll wake up tomorrow? I hear you practice medicine.'

'Possibility and probability are two things I don't like to rely on for hope. It's useless, pointless and only brings disappointment. A waste of time,' he crossed his arms. 'And I work on the dead, not the living.'

'I'm sorry for the assumption,' she said sincerely. 'What exactly do you do working on the dead?'

'Nothing yet,' he ran a hand through his hair. 'Only stitching up corpses at odd hours, but nothing more.'

'There's something you're not telling me.'

'What makes you say that?' He stepped backwards involuntarily.

'Your body language,' she replied. 'You won't look me in the eye, you ruin your perfectly pomaded hair and your feet are shifting constantly.'

'Impressive. But disappointing.'

'What?'

'You're comparing me to hundreds of normal noblemen when you very well know, I am not normal.'

'I compare you to my brother,' she said bluntly. 'He's hardly typical, I'm sure you know. Another apology for the misunderstanding but I'd prefer to be told the truth.' She met his gaze with determination. 'I ask you again Mr. Hemingway, what are you keeping from us all?'

'Something I cannot confide in.'

'On whose orders?'

'On my own.'

'Well,' she stuck her hand out with a resigned sigh. 'I wish you good luck. And I really do consider you a friend, Mr. Hemingway. Shame we can't be kind anymore.'

'You know what they say Miss Carlton. "Your enemy's trust is an advantage,"' Astor recited as he shook her hand.

'"Use it or they will use it against you." Stupid really,' she smiled bitterly. 'I don't have any enemies.'