Through the Archway

Chapter Seven - Part Three

James woke in his bed, shaking. For a moment, he could not remember why he was there. He remembered the archway, the voices... Yet how had he arrived home? He did not remember anyone being with him...

There was a knock on his door, and he shot straight up. A handmaiden stood in the doorway, looking extremely bored. She had lots of curly red hair and startling blue eyes. "Prince James?" She looked at him as though expecting him to confirm that he was, in fact, Prince James. When he did not reply, she sighed. "Your father wishes to see you."

He groaned, forgetting completely about the archways and Sylvain. The handmaiden waited. "Don't kill the messenger," she said. Then under her breath, "Not that it is my job to be a messenger."

He clambered out of bed to see that he was fully dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing yesterday. He followed the girl out of his room, down the glass chambered hall, and into the library. The handmaiden closed the door behind him.

His father stood in the center of the room, his thick, weathered hands clasped behind his back, facing away from James. Perhaps that should have told him how little his father wished to see him, how little he meant to the man, but James swallowed down his doubts and waited.

King Merrik was an intimidating man. He was tall with a large muscular frame. He was wearing a long cloak of deep green, and a gleaming, golden crown made to look like swaying seaweed.

James shifted his footing. "You wanted to see me?" and then, "Sir."

His father turned to him, his face was set into a deep scowl. "Where were you yesterday?"

James did not want to answer, but he knew what would happen if he didn't. So he decided to tell half of the truth. "I was with Evelyn." he said indifferently.

His beady eyes narrowed. "Evelyn?" James nodded.

His lip curled. "When did you start socializing with that tree–dweller's brat?"

He cut his father off before he could say something worse. "Not long ago," he lied. "We're friends, so it'd be great if you wouldn't insult her." As always with his father, his kept his tone neutral. "Please."

His father had detected the edge in his voice and seemed to be taking pleasure in James' rising temper. "You are going to tell me where you were yesterday."

"I already did," insisted James. "I was —"

His father sneered. "Why, then, did we find you at the bottom of a lighthouse?"

James faltered. A lighthouse? He did not understand. It had been a beach. The archway eroded out of a cliff. "What are you talking about?"

King Merrik began to pace. "Lies," he snarled, "that is all I get from a son like you. I shouldn't expect anything less. You disgrace our family. Wi —" something like anguish flashed across his father's face. He shook his head and turned to James. "You are nothing like your brother. You're spineless, a waste. He was a warrior and a leader. A worthy heir. You will never be to me, what he was —"

James gritted his teeth, but was silent. Just ignore him, he'll be finished yelling soon... He was used to this by now. It could have been worse, his father could have been how he was last night. James still ached from the memory; his father's face red with rage; James being slammed into a wall, powerless to fight back; his mother absent from the room. The problem was, he knew he could fight back — knew he had strength that not his father, not even Will, had. But he was afraid to use it. There was too much of a risk that he'd go too far, and then where would he be?

King Merrik stalked from the room, leaving James alone.