The Prince's Suitor ManxMan

Chapter 10

So... yeah, I've been really ill (and still am) so that's why it has taken a year to update D: (SORRY) Here is the long awaited chapter :D Merry Christmas!

 

 

Chapter Ten

Long into the night Jaicous watched the moon, startling and calm crawl a path through a thousand twinkling lights above the rumbling city. From the window of the Prince's private solar he watched, alone and sinking into thoughts of what was to come. He savoured the moment, there was not likely to be another for some time.

Across the hushed city the cathedral bells clanged a solemn drone, not unlike the bells he often heard heralding the passing of nobility. The bells clanged as one with the thud of his heart. It pained him more than he thought it would.

Thousands of men from every household and province in reach of the kingdom would be preparing to say farewell to their loved ones. Many would never return. Jaicous wondered, would he have been willing to join them? Would he have followed the monarchy he strongly disagreed with? Unlikely. He thought. And yet, that was before. Now...now that choice was no longer his to make. He would go, in chains or under guard. But I will go. And they won't see me coming.

When at last Raphion stalked in, he had a stack of parchment tucked beneath one arm and a grimace that told Jaicous the meeting had not gone as planned.

The room smelled of damp and cold, like all the heat had been sucked out. Firewood lay in ashes in the grand fire place, long since burned through. Raphion kicked the door shut and cleared his desk with a swipe of his arm.

"Fool. Have you been sitting here all this time? Shut the window, what's wrong with you?" Raphion said.

Jaicous did as he was bid and closed the window from the cold. They could still hear the bells ringing through the walls. "I needed fresh air, since you won't let me out of here."

"That air will freeze you to death. I won't have it said that my suitor died of a cold before the battle even began."

"How considerate of you. I had no idea my safety meant so much," Jaicous said in a grim, dull tone, admiring the irony whence a cold had become a desired death in the space of one day. He was far more willing to die of a cold than septicaemia.

Raphion paused in step. "Don't," he warned, suddenly looking extremely tired, "if you can't say anything helpful then shut your goddamn mouth. The time has passed for your nonsense." He ran a hand through unkempt blond hair and rubbed his eyes, looking, for a mere minute, petrified. The last war on Aishion raged for generations, seeing the death of three kings and two suitors. For once, the Prince was submerged in something he could not control and Jaicous was along for the ride, however terrifying and dangerous it would be.

He dully decided to ignore it in hope it would disappear. "I assume by the state of your arrival the council didn't appreciate your proposal?"

Raphion broke his stare and paced, deliberating. "None of this leaves this room. Understand?"

Jaicous shrugged. He could tell anyone whatever he liked (upon his eventual dismissal, by which time he might be ninety-two), but if it eased Raphion's tongue it was worth the lie. The corners of his mouth titled up but the humour did not reach his eyes. "Do you want me to promise on my life, or yours?"

Raphion walked to the door and stuck his head out.

"All clear?" Jaicous asked, leaning into his seat.