Page 35 of Rise of a Fallen Man

The sun had set already, but strings of golden lights illuminated the paths between the flowerbeds.

I turned east at first. But as the heels of my dance shoes clicked against the bricks, I remembered that the path in this part of the gardens was damaged last winter. It’d been repaired that spring. The summer rains might’ve washed Salas’s blood off the bricks by now. But I couldn’t bring myself to have this conversation with Leafar while walking on the bricks that Salas had carried on his back.

“This way, please.” I turned west instead.

The prince followed me without questions.

All the patio doors to the ballroom opened at once. As servants secured them in the open position, the courtiers spilled out from the crowded room. No one dared follow us into the gardens, but they didn’t hide their curiosity, openly watching us from the patio.

I didn’t mind the attention. Prince Leafar’s reputation was safer this way. No one could accuse me of taking advantage of him or compromising his virtue when hundreds of witnesses were watching our every step.

“Do you miss home, my prince?” I asked him.

“As my homeland, Olakrez Queendom will always hold a special place in my heart, no matter where life may take me. But I grew up knowing I will have to leave it for good one day.”

It was a good answer, but judging by how smoothly it left the prince’s lips, he must’ve practiced answering this question.

“Do you not have something you’ll miss when you leave? Special places? Friends? Pets, maybe?”

His brow furrowed for a second, but his voice came out just as evenly as before.

“Pets can possibly be brought along. New friends can be made. And special places can live forever in one’s memories.”

Another smooth, practiced answer. The conversation with him was easy. Easy and useless. We could spend an eternity tossing back and forth the canned questions and answers from our expansive collections of small talk tools and learn nothing about each other.

As we passed by a bush of fragrant jasmine, the prince tore a small bunch of partially opened ivory-white flowers.

“Do you like jasmine, Your Highness?” he asked.

“I do. I enjoy the smell.”

He offered the flowers to me, and I accepted.

“Tell me about your childhood.” I twirled the branch with the flowers in my free hand.

“There is not much to tell,” he replied modestly. “But if Your Highness has questions, I’ll do my best to answer them all.”

What would drive him out of this polished shell that had been manufactured for him by his handlers? I knew what I had to do tonight, but I wished to get at least an idea of what kind of person Prince Leafar really was. It saddened me to think that there might be nothing real left behind his perfect behavior and well-rehearsed answers.

“What was it like to grow up as the youngest in your family?” I asked, not giving up. “Were you picked on by your sister? Did your parents spoil you?”

His facial features shifted again, but only for a fraction of a second. His eyebrows twitched, but he replied smoothly, just like before.

“My older sister is the Crown Princess of Olakrez. However, our Mother, the queen, has always treated us equally.”

“I doubt that,” I said, maybe a little more snappy than I should have. “Royal children are never treated the same. You didn’t have the same opportunities as your sister. From the dayyou were born, your future was to leave your country, whereas hers was to lead it. Everything in your upbringing must’ve reflected that.”

“Well, I...” He blinked, biting his lip. For once, the prince couldn’t find any words in his pre-approved collection of answers.

A part of me felt sorry for him, but I had finally spotted a crack in his veneer and had to pry it open wider.

“I know what it’s like to have a queen for a mother,” I said. “She’s never just your parent. The country often needs her more than her children do. But I was sixteen when my mother adopted me. I was old enough for her to teach and mentor me for my future role as her successor. We spent a lot of time together and grew close. Who was there for you when you were a child?”

“Um...” He twisted a silver button on his suit coat. “I have a stepfather. He is a strong, handsome man.”

It was a well-known fact that Prince Leafar’s biological father was executed for treason when the prince was only seven, but I didn’t want to probe him about the tragedy. I hoped to open his heart with my questions, not to re-open any of his old wounds.

“I’m glad you’re close with your stepfather.”

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