Who Said Life was Fair? - A Novella

Chapter Five

"Your Majesty." Thousand dipped down in a perfect curtsy. "We're honored."

Lucas bowed clumsily, still recovering from his shock. Sloppy, his brother said. Well, what do you expect? No one ever taught me how to bow properly.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Their governess had attempted, plenty of times. But little Lucas kept getting distracted by rainbows, pigeons and particularly shiny rocks – and after a few months, enough was enough.

Miss Hilda hadn't packed her bags, leaving with a storm of insults – no, she knew that sort of dramatic display would ruin any chances she'd have of finding a new job. Instead, she'd simply given him the cold shoulder for the remaining two years (before his father had caught her with one of the guards and fired her on the spot).

It was in moments like these that he regretted not paying more attention. Fortunately, he was impersonating Rodric, Miss Hilda's five-star student. He was pretty sure his brother had only denied his fully-paid scholarship in Isadaro because he disliked the cold.

"The pleasure's all mine," the king replied, though his tone made Lucas uneasy. What if he finds out? After all, the king's intelligence was well-known in every corner of the world. It wouldn't take long to connect his fumbling and lack of poise to all the news headlines claiming 'Lucas Riel is away on a vacation house in Offoro's Landing'.

Every once in a while, he got angry. It wasn't just that his brother got to hide in their private island, enjoying himself, while the world thought he was away; Lucas thought it would only be fair if Rodric had been forced to act like him. (He had to suppress a snicker at the thought.)

But then again... Life isn't fair, Lucas.

"So, Rodric Riel in our esteemed shores, hmm? Why, I thought you hated the cold." The king's tone was playful, but the acrid tang never left. Lucas rehearsed his response in his head one more time before answering.

"I don't care for it, that's true," he replied. "But the weather really is trivial compared to the heart." He looked at Thousand with what he'd imagine his brother's enamored gaze would be like. Not bad, Rodric remarked in his head. Few words, not overly sappy. Well, the intonation could've been better, Lucas added as an afterthought. His brother never handed out a compliment without some criticism in between.

"The heart!" King Ivory exclaimed. "Well, I wouldn't know much about those matters." A few courtiers around them laughed. Lucas had to contain a frown. They would laugh so openly in front of their governor?

Lucas had scarcely seen Emperor Romull II in his lifetime, but he'd dined with the governor of Feyrgania plenty of times. The thick-headed, arrogant Marcus Razberr had nearly no redeeming qualities, save for being dumber than a rock – and thus subject to Gladys' every whim. Noemia usually did the actual manipulating behind the scenes, but the man was so hopelessly in love with Gladys, that there was really not much to do.

In any case, he might be haughty and dull-headed, but Razberr's name still carried some weight among the common people, as Rodric always warned their family. The rabble doesn't care about Aunt Gladys' money. They care that Razberr is the one in power. A misstep could be fatal.

Lucas tried to clear his mind from his family's political discussion. It had been a while since he'd been invited to one of these meetings – well, meetings wasn't quite right, they were more like fancy dinners with such pleasant topics as wine, the weather, and how to take over the province of Feyrgania – but he couldn't help but try to learn as much as he could. Someday, he would impress his brother.

He could already picture it. He would set his wine glass down after a long sip – never mind that he despised the stuff – and carefully plan out a brilliant tactical move, the kind that would put the neighboring province's governor in their debt for years to come. Aunt Gladys would handwave it away, already more drunk than all of them combined, but it would be Rodric that sat down with his calculating face, before announcing that his brother was a genius (his exact words would, of course, be "It's better than I ever could"), leaving Aunt Primrose to sing his praises. Noemia would then cross her arms, her face almost green with envy, and all would be well in the world–