Page 12 of The Crownless Prince

Should he have done more than wish and dream and hazard on occasion to voice his dissent to his father and brothers? It was true that he hadn’t run away or revealed his father’s plotting and had neglected chances to speak up or act because he’d feared repercussions. What if, had he been more decisive despite the potential danger to himself, he could have prevented the war?

Not yethad subconsciously become his motto back then.It’s not the right time yet. I can’t do anything. Better to wait for now. Things will get better, and I’ll figure out what to do then…

Deep down, he knew he’d been avoiding conflict and hiding from the chance of failure.

Maybe that did make him a coward.

Marcus hadn’t felt like a prince in years, but maybe he’d never behaved like one at all.

Edwin caught his eye from across the table, his expression sympathetic as he gave a small shake of his head.

“Well, I’ve got to see the herbalist before he closes up for the day.” Owen stood with a muffled groan, then lightly tapped the cane against his right leg. “Deep cut during the fighting that was stitched poorly. Trying to get it back to rights again.” He winked. “Which I wouldn’thave told ya if you’d been the king’s men. But no point holdin’ malice, says I. War’s over, and Prince Arlius got what he sowed. This pain’s more his fault than King Mortimer’s.”

With that, the man shuffled out of the inn.

After a few moments of silence, Edwin leaned over the table. “It’s not true,” he whispered.

Marcus sighed and jabbed his finger into the remaining bit of bread. “No, he’s right,” he said quietly. “My father brought this to himself and on his own people. I didn’t make those choices for him.”

“I meant what the innkeeper said. It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe she’s right, too.” He dropped the bread into the bowl. “I could have done more. I—”

“Does it matter?” Edwin interrupted. “You can’t change the past. Perhaps you can learn from it, but you can’t change it—no amount of dwelling on it or thinking of alternatives will allow you to do anything differently. Perhaps nothing you could have done would have avoided this outcome. But what youdiddo had one positive result for certain: you’re still alive. That means you’re free to be more decisive in the future if you so choose, but don’t use your survival to wallow in guilt over an alternate path that you don’t know the outcome of and can’t take anyway.”

Gaping at his friend, Marcus slumped back and chuckled. “That’s rather philosophical and wise of you.” It was also difficult for Marcus to accept, even if he agreed.

Edwin lifted a shoulder. “Four years is a lot of time for self-reflection, and I quickly realized it was also plenty of time for me to wonderif I regretted helping you and getting myself thrown in that tower. I don’t,” he added as guilt pricked at Marcus, “so don’t beat yourself up over that, either. You tried to speak up for me, and I’d known what I was doing. But more than a simple question of regret or not, I realized dwelling on the past wouldn’t help.”

“Well now I feel self-conscious that you used our forced isolation to better your mind and spirit as if we were, in fact, in a hermitage for self-improvement.”

“As if you haven’t become more contemplative yourself and somehow kept hope this entire time, to say nothing of being so quick to question if you could have done something more instead of shrugging it off without a moment of self-reflection.

“Actually, at times…I’ve envied you.” Edwin tugged on a lock of red-blond hair. “Most of the time over these last few years, you’ve been focused on the future and held so much hope. Some days I was trying to just get through the day without losing my mind, and then you’d say something aboutwhenwe get out. Sometimes I couldn’t understand how you were so sure, and yet”—he spread his hands—“here we are.”

“Oh.” Marcus bit the inside of his lip. “I’m sorry…I didn’t realize you were struggling, too. I should have noticed.” He pulled the tankard of weak ale to the edge of the table. “Maybe I should have been honest with you on the days I felt like I was running out of hope and sanity. But I didn’t want to look like I couldn’t handle it…not when you always seemed so calm and put-together in spite of everything. So I faked optimism even when I didn’t feel it.”

They stared at each other for a minute before they both laughed. Shaking his head, Marcus finished off his ale.

“Well,” Edwin said drily, “seems four years wasn’t sufficient to teach us to be honest.”

“We’ll figure it out going forward, I’m sure.” Marcus’s smile faded. “Except…” How was he supposed to ask if they’d be going forward together? “My family is gone. My crown is gone and so is any income, and any way of paying you.”

“So I’m not your servant or bodyguard anymore.”

“You haven’t been that to me for a long time. But I don’t expect you to stay—”

“Nonsense.” Edwin waved a hand. “What else am I supposed to do? You know my parents died when I was young. It’s not as if you’ll hold me back or something. I haven’t had to look for work before, either. We might as well muddle through this together. At least we’ll have each other.”

A relieved smile pulled at Marcus’s mouth. “Yes. Muddling through this together sounds easier.”

“Any idea what you want to do?”

He rubbed his thumb over an indent in the tabletop. “Perhaps it’s foolish, but first, I’d like to go to Faine Principality. Although, I suppose that isn’t what it’s called anymore. No more co-regnant princes, no more principalities… But I’d like to get word of Adriana. Make sure she’s all right. Perhaps attempt to let her know I’m alive.”

Edwin frowned. “Is that safe? Her father just…you know.”

“Wiped out my entire family?”

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