Page 67 of The Nymph Prince
The council left, their long robes swishing with the speed of their departure, and I slumped back in the chair with a long sigh.
I knew not why Father kept them around. They were set in the old ways, arguing against change, and their age had made them bitter. Because merfolk aged slowly, many of the council had been around for nearly a hundred years, which was why some viewed me as nothing more than a boy with no actual power.
“You will be a great king someday, my prince,” Malik said in the kind of tone that made me sit up in my chair and look over at him. His voice had been filled with pride.
“I’ll never be king,” I responded. “Though, I appreciate your words.”
Malik bowed his head before straightening his stance and facing ahead.
Moments later, there was a knock at the door.
Captain Orta entered the chamber and there was a certain power to her presence. Not a magical power like Alek, but one of strength; of muscle and of character. Dressed in full armor, she was a magnificent sight to behold. Leather armor and a metal breastplate covered her torso and gauntlets were on her arms. Her belt had sheaths for small daggers and her sword, and even though I couldn’t see them, I knew she had blades hidden in her boots, as well.
“Your Highness,” she spoke, placing her arm over her chest before bowing. Her dark skin was beautiful. She had yellow eyes and black hair that was braided and pinned back. She was no ordinary maiden, though, and stood nearly as tall as Malik.
“Please have a seat, Captain.”
I informed her of the plans for an addition to the soldier housing, which I said mainly as a lead-in to the real conversation. She knew of Father’s plans for war, or more so, she knew that the human king planned to begin one.
“I am no soldier,” I stated. “And I do not know the men and women as well as you do. The council wishes to give you a list of demands. I think otherwise. You do not need old men who know nothing of war commanding you and your army. Men who’ve never held a sword and who know not of discipline or the ache from a hard day on the field. So, prepare your soldiers for battle in the manner you feel is best.”
Captain Orta bowed her head. “Gratitude, Prince Lorcan. My sword is yours, as is my life should I fall. My army and I will fight for our home until our final breath.” Before she left, she clasped Malik’s forearm. “I miss fighting with you by my side, Captain.”
Malik’s features softened. “You do not have to call me that anymore, Orta.”
“You will always be my captain. Always.”
Their exchange caused a lump to form in my throat.
Malik had shared stories with me about his time as captain, but he mostly kept his silence on the matter. Not because he had something to hide. I felt it was because, maybe, a part of him missed that part of his life. When he was a revered captain instead of the prince’s personal guard.
I thought on this as we descended the steps from the council’s chamber and moved toward the back of the palace.
“Care to share what it is that furrows your brow, my prince?”
“Are you happy?” I asked, stopping at the bottom of the staircase and looking up at him. “Do you wish you were never assigned as my guard?”
Orange eyes swirled with anger. “Why do you ask me such a ridiculous question?” Malik rarely broke his stance, but in that moment, he came toward me and gripped my netted shirt, tugging me closer. “You are my greatest love, my prince, and I would never wish to be anywhere than where I am.”
The lump in my throat grew larger, and I tried swallowing it down. All it did was make my mouth dry. “But you were such an admired captain. Surely you miss it.”
Malik’s hold on my shirt softened, but instead of releasing me, he pulled me in for a hug. My eyes popped open in surprise.
“Watching you grow from the small, tender-hearted boy who never spoke into the man you are today has been my greatest joy in this life. I love you as if you were my own son, and I’m honored to have spent these many years by your side.”
Tears burned in my eyes, and I clutched onto his armor, pressing my face against his chest. He smelled like leather and warm spice, a scent that instantly comforted me. I felt like a child again, crying in his arms. He’d held me a lot more when I’d cried than my father had.
Malik cleared his throat before stepping back and smoothing his thumbs beneath my eyes. “Dry these tears, my prince. You have a mage to find.”
“Indeed, I do.”
I felt lighter as we continued down the winding corridor and down another set of stairs, no longer worried that Malik resented me. He loved his soldiers…but he loved me more. I smiled as I thought of Troy. I was sure Malik cared for him, too.
Leaving the palace and stepping outside, I breathed in the air. There wasn’t much satisfaction to it.
Every day in Avalontis felt the same. Unlike in the surface world where there’d be rain one day and sun the next—cold and then hot—everything stayed constant in the kingdom. The weather was always nice, not too warm or cold. It became monotonous. And even though Alek was there with me behind the barrier, that trapped feeling was slowly returning.
I yearned for the sun again.
