Beautiful Beast

Chapter 15

KALISTA

Throne?

The book of spells slides from my hands and falls upon the floor with a thud that seems to reverberate through the entire palace.

We stare at each other for one charged moment, then I say tersely, "Your father is a king?" I fight to keep my features placid because within, a confused and angry tempest rages. Friendship? Is that what I have been madly obsessing about over the past five days? How naïve can I be? If this is true, then he might as well have stabbed me again because from my understanding, this is not the sort of thing that friends keep from each other.

He shifts uncomfortably. "Well...you see...he sort of...um."

"Is your father a king? Are you a prince? Yes, or no?" I move nearer and my fists clench tightly at my sides. I can feel my magic reacting to my crazed emotions and I fight to keep it from exploding.

He straightens himself. "Yes. Yes, my father is a king and I am a prince. My full name is Arawn Stefan Braedor, Prince of Ventura, Duke of Kenton."

"Prince Arawn. You never thought to mention this to me?" I agitatedly motion with my hands. "And likely you are the crown prince too, aren't you?"

He guiltily glances away. "I was the second son, but my brother..." His brother was killed by the wolves. What a charming coincidence.

"Arawn, what are you thinking? Your country needs you. No doubt they think you are dead. And your parents..."

"No," he interrupts. "They don't think that."

"How do you know?"

A cloak of melancholy suddenly falls upon him and he slides slowly down the bookshelf until he is sitting upon the floor. It is as if remorse weighs so heavily upon him that he can no longer stand. Something in his actions splinters my animosity and a bud of sympathy pushes forth. He was angry not only because he thought I killed his brother, but because he thought I robbed his country of its future king.

"I told my manservant to tell them that I received a letter from Windemere which demanded I leave immediately. I am certain they think I am still there."

There is a moment of silence during which I lower myself next to him. I know what he is feeling, and I also know that he will not confide in me if I don't give him a reason to trust me.

"Was that the night you found your brother?" I ask gently.

"We never found him. His horse returned-" he swallows, then continues "-the saddle was slick with blood. We were travelling to Orillia, but my brother had it in his head that he wanted to take a shortcut through the forest. He was insistent; at least, that is what his guardsmen said. If I had been there, I would have wrestled him to the ground before seeing him enter the forest. But I wasn't, and I didn't hear of it till the evening when our two companies met. By then, it was too late."

Tentatively, I reach out and lay my hand upon his. He doesn't pull away or flinch at my touch and I am relieved that there is a possibility that I am comforting him. In a way, he blames himself. He thinks that if he had only been there, he could have saved his brother. Could he have? Perhaps. But perhaps the draw of the forest was too strong.

"You should return," I say softly.

He shakes his head. "No, not yet."

"But they need you."

"They will be fine," he replies firmly. Why would he say that? Unless...

"Is there something else you are not telling me?"