Page 13 of The Lost Prince
I pushed on the door, accustomed to it being locked, so when it immediately gave, I fell on my face inwards into the apartment.
“Oompf.”
It was dark. Quiet. Cold. Empty.
Things were missing—many things. Our rooms were small, but they had always been lit and filled with warmth. Now they felt large and cavernous, with mother’s knickknacks, lamps, and her large chaise lounge missing.
What was going on?
“Mother? Are you there?”
I dashed straight into her bedroom, where the doors were also open. Every door in our apartment was wide open.
Her bed was stripped bare, down to the mattress.
But she was there.
Why was she still there?
The stench hit me a moment after I reached her side. She was in the exact same position as when I’d left her and in the same dress. Her head was turned away, but this time I went to the other side of the bed to see her face.
Her eyes and mouth were black, wide and open, a rictus of pain or horror. Her skin was gray and flaking off, looking like a bad rash filled with rocks and soot. The bed all around her was soggy and wet with black fluid.
My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat.
No.No.
Your mother is dead.
That was impossible. She had just gone to bed last night after dinner. She did it all the time. Why was this time different?
The wine; the wine had been from the queen.The queen did this.
It felt right, even saying it in my head. Sweat broke out along my forehead as Fireguards burst in behind me, grabbing me roughly and securing my arms behind my back.
I lost control like a wild animal.
I flailed, I bit, and I writhed and twisted. The Fireguards swore and more came forward to help.
“To hell with this,” one grumbled.
SMACK.
I was stunned senseless as the Fireguard who’d spoken smacked me upside the head. Another Fireguard caught me in his arms stiffly.
“What the fuck, G? He’s just a kid! His mother is dead in there!”
“Save your compassionate bullshit for someone who cares. We were told to bring him back, not to baby him, L.”
Their words floated around the pain in my head as I fought to remain conscious. ‘L’ heaved me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, my body still rigid from the hit to protest or work properly. The other Fireguards snickered and laughed at me as they carried me back to the throne room, which was now empty except for the queen.
Much like my apartments, the space felt cold and lifeless with no people. L tried to set me down gently, but another Fireguard pushed me down. I landed at the queen’s jeweled shoes. The same superior, awful smirk played about her lips.
“Hello, little mudball.”
I couldn’t respond. I tried, but the aching hole in my heart at my mother’s disappearance (because she wasn’t dead!) had me locked in fear.
“Your mother kept you hidden well enough. I’ll grant her that. For the privilege she was given, she did respect my wishes in that way. Shame what happened.”
