Honour or Reason - Book 1# in the Burning Prince Chronicles

Chapter Two

Before the king died, Aglaesha had been loved. Not loved by her brother or father, but a boy with eyes like polished emeralds and a bright laugh. She used to sing to him and place crowns of daisies atop his head. He would dance with her at court and whisper things that would warm even the coldest heart. They would steal kisses at feasts and share scandalous secrets. He never wore black but dressed in red and gold and blue. His eyes were always filled with joy and never once did she see him shed a tear. His smile had been so wide when he asked for her hand in marriage; Aglaesha's smile had been even wider, as had the king and queen's. The wedding had almost been upon them when tragedy struck, and her prince...well, he changed. He left her.

She had attended both the funeral and wedding. Aglaesha had cried when she saw Con. He had been dressed in black for both events. Conlaed's skin had been pale as a dead man's and his  green eyes were agonised. She had tried to go to him after the wedding; her father and Queen Tenna had believed the troubled prince might find comfort in her company. They had been wrong. 

When she arrived at his chambers, the door was locked. Aglaesha had knocked but was met with chilly silence. At first she suspected he was elsewhere. Surely Conlaed would not ignore her? For never had Aglaesha proven unfaithful, or worthy of punishment. After many unanswered calls the door creaked open and Jules emerged, teeth grit. The servant's head ducked a little, his fingers fiddled. "He does not wish to see you, Milady."

 Since then, the first time she'd seen Conlaed was that very morning. He had become sullen, with dark smudges beneath his  eyes and a thinner frame - his garments had barely fit him. Aglaesha had hoped that he would go to her when he caught sight of her. She had foolishly expected him to take her aside, explain himself. Apologies were never his strong suit. 

Alas, he and the King fled the throne room soon after, with Prince Conlaed seeming very weary. It was as if he were enslaved by some dark spell, like one of the princes who was imprisoned by a mage's curse in the story books Lorenzo used to read to her. Grief had transformed her Con from a lively, radiant creature, to a forlorn, sorrowful one.

Aglaesha had considered casting a charm on Conlaed when she realised the depth of his misery. "It would only be a small one," she'd said to the Mistress of Mages, "It would help him, Madame. I just know it would."

Madame Danae had shaken her head gloomily and answered crisply, "No form of magic mends people. Don't ask again, child."

Aglaesha had obeyed Danae's command, however tempting it was to try. She wouldn't risk Conlaed. Still, she had been furious how helpless she was to aid him. Con had always been by her side. Whether it be frustrations with her magic, conflict with her father. He'd been there when she was learning how to shift into her Mage form of a bluebird. Conlaed had stayed with her when Lorrie had injured himself across the sea in the midst of his training at the Ruby city. Whenever she'd needed him, he'd been there, no matter how much she tried to shut him out, he always managed to slip through her defences to her rescue.  And here I am, sitting here like a coward. Here I am, doing nothing. Nothing at all.

She had left Conlaed to the wolves without realising. Like a silly useless girl. I have surrendered him to the monsters.

"Aglaesha, have you seen my rapier? You know, the one with gold in the hilt. Aglaesha?"

She dropped her book. Lorrie looked up from the wooden chest at the foot of his bed. Aglaesha blinked and snatched the book from the floor, snapped out of her trance. "Pardon?"

Lorrie smiled kindly. "My rapier - the gold hilt one. Have you seen it?"

"Oh! Yes, I packed it into your trunk - I thought it would be safer that way."