Family Line (Royalty #6)

My mother, Yvaine, and Dax’s mother, Leah, were complete opposites, despite both being born to noblemen and getting married to people high in the Worcester kingdom, my mother to my father, Louis Worcester, first in line to the throne at the time and Leah to Ichabod, my father’s second in command. We were only born two weeks apart, and we spent so much time together that people thought we were brothers despite our different colored hair and eyes. We were inseparable.

I stood out among most of the royal family for my dark red hair, while most of my relatives had blond or brown hair. It was a surprise to everyone when I was born, but if you traced it back, my mother’s side had some redheads, and my grandfather was a redhead. People teased me for it and said maybe I wasn’t a legitimate heir, but I ignored them. They shamed my mother, but she told me she had always been faithful to my father; not once had she strayed. She loved him, and I later learned that would be her downfall.

My father was hopeful Dax would be the perfect second in command for me when I took over, since he was his best friend’s son and my best friend, too. We would play hide and seek and tag in the castle constantly.

But a lot of what they taught us we found boring, we thought there were better, more fun things we could be doing, and so we snuck off sometimes. When we were six, my little brother Dante had just been born, with the same bright hair. I was glad I wasn’t the only one with the feature in the family anymore, we snuck out of class. I took Dax’s hand, pulling him along through the halls, careful of the guards and other people spotting us. We made it to a secluded courtyard with high hedges and a fountain. Dax and I sat at the fountain’s edge, picking the coins out of it and looking at them; our sleeves were soaked.

Sometimes all I wanted to do was hide in this fantasy world of ours, where it was just us forever. Someone found us eventually, and my father was mad.

“You have to set a good example for your brother, you are the next head of the country, you can’t just run off, you have responsibilities,” he exclaimed, grabbing my arm harshly enough to bruise and dragging me away from the fountain.

I looked back at Dax, who looked sad and hurt, sitting next to the pile of coins we’d fished out of the fountain as his father yelled at him, too. We were both given stern talks about how important it was for us to fulfill our roles and learn to lead our kingdom properly. But as much as it scared me, I don’t think it actually sank in. It did with Dax, though, every time I suggested skipping a class or sneaking out at night, he had an excuse now.

One thought stuck in my mind, the thought of his hand in mine as we ran through the halls. I wanted to hold his hand again. The thought stuck with me.

By the time we were ten, our parents were taking us to parties to introduce us to other royals and their families, but mainly to meet their daughters and hope that we would choose one to marry. We both stood in a line with many other boys across from the girls and were told to pick a dance partner. We had all been taught to dance as it was a custom and necessary for these parties. When none of the boys picked, probably because we were in that phase where girls still had germs or whatever, or we just had no interest, Dax’s father picked a girl for him and sent them off to dance. I watched them awkwardly try, but I also noticed Dax looking my way multiple times.

I wondered why, but I didn’t get an answer anytime soon. At least he didn’t give me an answer. I came up with theories of my own, but none of them seemed possible; they were just hopes and dreams that would probably always remain fantasies.

As we grew more, I felt a growing distance between us. Dax only seemed to hang out with me when our parents permitted it. I thought we were friends, but why weren’t we like my father and Ichabod? They hung out and had drinks and laughs. Why didn’t we? I missed him.

At fifteen, I became fed up and didn’t show up to my classes one day. I went to the fountain where Dax and I had fished out the coins. It was a lot more overrun by foliage and hidden away; it wasn’t well cared for, and it wasn't a place people often came. I picked out a bunch of coins, I realized I had feelings for Dax, and I was frustrated with both him and myself. I, for my feelings, and him for at least not acting like a friend and being there for me.

I knew people would be looking for me, but I didn’t care. If they were going to neglect me and my feelings, why should I do what they want or listen to them?

I sat back on a bench and started throwing the coins back into the fountain, saying, “He loves me, he loves me not,” as I did, as if it would give me the answer to Dax’s feelings or the way he was acting.

With each coin, I came close to running out and wondered what the universe’s answer would be. I didn’t even hear the footsteps coming; I was so distracted.

I tossed another coin, “He loves me not,” I muttered, but didn’t hear it plop into the water.

I looked up, and Dax stood in front of me holding the coin I had tossed.

I looked away, embarrassed, hoping he hadn’t heard me.

“Why did you skip class?” he asks.

“Why does it matter? It’s not like you care,” I comment, still annoyed with him.

“I do care,” he states quietly.

“If you cared, you would be acting more like a friend. We don’t spend time together unless it’s for those classes. How am I supposed to trust my second in command? Neither of us even knows the other anymore. How can we trust one another?” I question.

He paused as if thinking about what to say next.

“My parents didn’t want me to distract you,” he replied honestly.

“Does that mean we can’t have fun? How are we supposed to trust each other if we can’t enjoy our time together?” I continue.

He sat down next to me, with a deep breath, his eyes on the floor, which was a grey cobblestone. His eyes shifted nervously around as if they couldn’t focus.

“Dax, please talk to me. Why are you so distant? We used to be best friends. What’s going on?” I asked.

He had to drag his eyes up nervously from the ground and up to mine.

“Don’t be mad,” he started.

“Why would I be mad?” I asked quickly. "I know I kind of already am, but it's because I don't know what's going on. I want my best friend back."

He held up his hand to quiet me; he’d never done that, and I could see the fear in his eyes as he did as if I were going to yell at him for silencing me.

He took a deep breath again, his breath coming out in a shuddering noise, and he covered his mouth as if he didn’t trust it.

“Do you remember how we snuck out and came here when we were little, how we were holding hands?” he continued quietly, not meeting my eyes again.

“Yes,” I answered.

“My parents saw us, and they said I shouldn’t hold hands with a boy, especially the prince of Worcester. They said it would have been bad if someone had seen us. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for a long time, though. It was there constantly, I thought about doing it, and the older I got, the more I thought about it. It wasn’t just that; I wanted to be there for you, to comfort you, care about you, and help you. But it was more than a second in command or a best friend should want to be, at least that’s what my parents said when I told them how I felt about you. They said, you’d never feel the same, and they would never allow us to…” he paused, stopping himself. “They said I had a duty to be your second in command, nothing more, nothing less. They said I had to hold myself at a distance or someone would find out, and everything would be ruined, my title, our friendship, everything. As much as I wanted more, I didn’t want to lose you completely either,” he reasoned.

I looked at him before offering him my hand; he looked at it before looking up at me.

“It’s not that simple, Seb,” he muttered, looking away.

“You know what I wanted?” I asked. “You want to know what I thought about every day since that day?”

He looked back at me.

“The same things you did. I wanted to hold your hand, hug you, and spend time with you. When they told us to pick a girl to dance with, I didn’t want to dance with any of them; I wanted to dance with you. I care about you more than I should,” I replied.

“We can’t do this. Your bloodline will die,” he stated.

“Dammit, Dax, I like you,” I exclaim, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer, looking into his eyes. “I don’t care about what they want.”

He reached up and removed my fists from the collar of his shirt, but didn’t let them go. He looked at them briefly before he brought one to his lips and kissed it. His eyes teared up and became reflective.

“What do we do now?” he asked. “My parents said never to tell you how I felt because you wouldn’t feel the same.”

“I do, though,” I replied, “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but your parents are going to be furious. They will never approve of this,” he exclaimed.

“Who says they have to? We just have to wait till I’m on the throne to tell them,” I reply.

“Seb, do you know how far away that is? It could be years, are we really going to hide how we feel from them for that long?” he reasoned.

“Do you want to go back to lying?” I asked.

“No,” he replied quietly, laying his head on my shoulder.

“Other kingdoms changed; we can change ours, too. If we try,” I murmured. “Are you willing to try?”

He looked up at me.

“Yes,” he replied.

I smiled, and we held each other for a while before composing ourselves and going back. Our parents, of course, asked where we’d been. I said I was having a rough week and needed a break, so I left class. I said Dax found me and told me to come back. I made him seem like the hero and me, the lost soul, so they wouldn’t suspect anything. While we said we wanted to try to fight to save each other, we soon learned it wouldn’t be that simple.