Harsh Love (manxman)✔

Chapter 9

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"Bay..." Nico whispered in the quietest voice I'd ever heard him use since I first met him. "You need to come and see this."

Slowly, I peeked out from behind my hands. "I don't want anything to do with that, Nico. You'd better bring it back to the noble or I'm not talking to you ever again!" I tried to put on a no-nonsense voice but I just ended up sounded like a petulant child. 

Nico gave a loud sigh of annoyance. He gave the parchment a flick to straighten it out and rolled it into its original shape. "I'm leaving the scroll here." He placed it on the edge of the marble table. "It's up to you whether you would like to read it or not. But I suggest you do, it holds many answers."

He picked up his portrait from the easel and walked to the door. "And many of those answers pertain to you." 

And then he left for the night.

~~~

I fiddled with the scroll in my hands as I stood by the window. Ever since Nico had left it there 2 days ago I could think of nothing but the darned parchment. And with his and Rowan's absence because of the anger they felt, I had absolutely no mood or feeling to do anything, let alone paint. 

I remembered Rowan murmuring that night. Something about 'lord knows the number of guards your father has out searching for you'.  And how Nico had said 'Many of those answers pertain to you.' 

Add to that, the story of the missing prince which I just could not get out of my head.

My grip on the scroll tightened. 

Fine! I give up. I'll open the darn scroll.

Grasping the edges of the thick paper, I unfurled it slowly. 

Gradually, the image of a male came into focus. Blonde tresses cascaded down the sides of his head, framing a petite face, with delicate features, along with rosy red lips. He was dressed in a red silk velvet full dress doublet, with a sash running from shoulder to hip, littered with medallions and badges. His gaze was a strange combination of haughty and arrogant, but with an air of misery embedded within. And as I looked upon his face, and jerked my eyes up to stare into the mirror on my dressing table, it occurred to me that there was some semblance shared between his and my appearance. 

Trembling slightly, I continued to open the rest of the scroll.

Name: Castiel Gideon Maguire
Age: 21
Title: Grand Prince of Kestal
Description: The Grand Prince had upon him, his agate signet ring, embossed with the crest of the royal family and his initials. He is believed to have been wearing a brown mink-fur coat, with a gold-trim along the hem. Above is a recent depiction of the prince on his 19th year of birth. 

A long paragraph followed, with the command for any sightings of the prince to be reported back to the headquarters immediately, and a handsome sum to be given for the return of the prince.

A heartfelt plea. To all my loyal Guard, I regret to say that I have fallen deathly ill. The royal physician sees no hope of a cure, and it seems only a matter of time before I succumb to this illness which ails my very soul. I have a final wish, and that is for my eldest, Grand Prince Castiel to be found. 

The kingdom needs him, for he has a heart so compassionate, that the people would be blessed under his rule. His younger brothers are both young still, fresh and inexperienced, and they have a long way to go if they are to be anywhere near attaining the crown. 

But besides the fact that Prince Castiel would be a capable king, it is also my love for him as a father that leads me to call upon all Royal Guard to try their best to find him. Please. I beseech all Guard, help this father to find his son, to see him once more. So that he can finally rest in peace.

Below was a signature, signed with a heavy flourish of a fountain pen, followed by a title. King of Kestal. And a heavy stamp. Private and confidential. It made sense that this would be highly confidential information. It would be detrimental to have the people of Kestal knowing that their king was very ill. Especially with the rebellion arising, as Nico had told me previously. The people would jump at the opportunity to usurp the throne. 

I released a long, shaky breath, Rowan's and Nico's words, along with this leather, the undeniable resemblance I had to this depiction on the parchment, all the evidence was just stacking up and pointing to one common truth. 

Shaking, I turned around to try and find a chair to sit, only to be met with Rowan, who was staring wide-eyed at the piece of parchment in my hands.

We looked at each other silently for what felt like an eternity. I wanted to scream. To cry and shake him and demand he answer me. To tell me why he had hidden something so major from me.

But instead all I said was, You knew.

Whether I was referring to my name, my status or my background I did not know. But I stared unblinkingly at Rowan who gazed back at me grimly. His lips were pressed together in a tight grimace, his face seemingly set in stone. And his eyes were swirling pools of barely contained emotion.

Then he gave a long sigh and grasped me by the hand in a gentle grip, pulling me to sit on the bed with him.

'We have much to discuss.'

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