The murmurs erupted into a full-blown assault, my head ricocheted back and forth at the questions coming from every angle: What about the loud noises and smashing in the castle?; Who’s looking after the servants?; What if the monster gets loose? Why don’t you tell us what’s really going on?
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the citizens became more enraged, spreading out and getting closer to the stage. I cleared my throat.
“Thank you all for coming here today. We’ll provide more details as they become available.”
Boo!
The sound rose through the crowd, picking up momentum as it echoed through the courtyard adding voices as it moved. The guards flanking the stage snapped to attention.
"You’re a coward, not a king,” a voice yelled.
A pomegranate whirled through the air and smashed on the stage in front of me. Seeds and juice splattered my dress shoes. Another pomegranate flew toward me. It slammed against the podium and shot berry guts on my cheek. I wiped it with the back of my hand, my white gloves staining bright blood red. A troop of guards raced from the castle and assembled in a thick line between the stage and the townspeople, swords drawn for anyone foolish enough to keep going. The boos and jeers intensified as the crowd disbanded and started to make their way out of the square and back towards the city. A flood of comments, none positive, added to the noise and seeped into my brain.
You don't deserve this. You'll ruin us. You'll never be our king.
And as I watched them all retreat, my heart knew they weren't wrong.
I pulled my hood tighter around my face as I strode through the shadows on the cobblestone streets. The anonymity of night did little to soothe the embarrassment seething beneath my skin since the guards marched the residents of Mosa out of the castle grounds, but at least if I kept my head down and avoided the lantern light I might avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Hiding seemed the only option after how badly I’d handled my first public appearance as acting king. Cowardly, but effective.
The cool breeze nipped at my cheeks as the wind picked up. A spring storm loomed in the dark clouds overhead, providing another reason I should've stayed back in my room, but locking myself away only made the memory of the mocking voices louder.
The fairy said I needed to save them. Veda said I had potential. How could they both be so wrong, or was this simply some cruel joke intended to destroy me? Either way, I needed answers or I'd go insane pacing the halls of the castle trying to make sense of it all.
I reached for the handle of Takka's Tavern, but my hand hesitated and shook at the door handle. I’d spent so many hours here, almost like a second home, but I doubted I'd still be welcome. If I didn't need to see Veda one more time, I'd likely turn around and head straight back the way I came.
I placed my hand across my chest and breathed deeply feeling my lungs rise and fall against my ribs, trying to force them into calm. Keep your head down and make it quick. I yanked open the door and stepped out of the dark into the den of familiar voices. I clung to the back wall and glanced at the corner table where Veda usually haunted, but tonight her chair sat empty, the tabletop bare without her stack of books. My heart sank into my stomach. The sudden urge to see her hit me hard, overwhelming, like a strange addiction, desperately needing another fix. Probably just the insecurity after my complete disaster as king. It had to be. Besides, she’d been the one to call my downfall before it happened.
Someone laughed near the bar and I jumped. Harding. His deep voice boomed off the rafters and I sunk further into the wall. My face burned with the adrenaline rush of potentially being recognized, but he didn’t seem to have noticed me standing there.
A burly friend of his, Dormand, poked a finger in Harding’s face, the ale in his other hand swishing in his glass precariously close to spilling. “And the king is ‘sick’? Do they really think we are all that stupid? There’s something going on in there and it’s only a matter of time before we all find out what it is.”
“Easy, buddy. You don’t know anybody’s lying.” Harding slapped his hand on Dormand’s shoulder and chuckled. “At least not yet.”
Nice. I’d never lied to him. Not once. But clearly, he didn’t have any issue pretending to support me. And I was the liar?
My feet moved toward the door, my brain still processing the deception to make the decision itself.
I jerked it open, the low creak in the hinges suddenly deafening.
“If it isn't Prince Fallon, coming to grace us with his presence," Dormand’s voice said behind me.
My shoulders tensed, but storming out would only look weak. I forced my regal smile and turned as all the stares in the room landed at my feet. “Good evening, gentlemen.”
Harding slid back into the crowd, likely knowing I might have heard him but smart enough not to find out.
“Now that the prince is here we can get the party started.” Dormand pumped his thick fist in the air and a hearty cheer echoed through the tavern. The familiar clink of glasses behind the bar started as Mr. Takka starting lining them up beside the ale tap. Hunched over the bar, Kalmin sat staring at the bottom of his glass, his head not daring to turn toward me.
A pinching sensation tugged in my stomach. They all saw the Party Prince, but no one respected me. Maybe Veda was right. Maybe the party needed to stop.
“Not tonight everyone.” I waved my hand in the air as I shook my head and tried to get the words out without sounding hurt. “I
