Chapter 10.5 The Prince No One Chose

Tom had been awake for exactly twelve minutes when he decided the day was cursed. Not mildly cursed, not the sort of curse that made milk spoil or caused rain during a festival. No, this was the sort of curse that was personal. The sort that woke up in the morning and specifically chose him. 

It started with the honey bun. Every morning Prince Cedoric received the same breakfast. A honey bun, a slice of cheese, an apple, and whatever cider Cook had available. It wasn’t a royal feast by any means, but the prince always seemed pleased with it. 

Unfortunately, the last honey bun in the entire kitchen had already been claimed. Tom stared at the tray. The baker stared back. “You can’t have it.” 

“It’s for Prince Cedoric.” Tom explained. 

“It’s for Lord Harren.” the baker explained back. 

“Prince.” Tom clarified. 

“Lord.” 

Tom frowned. The baker crossed his arms. Tom crossed his. The baker was nearly three times his size. Tom uncrossed his. “There had to be another one.” 

“There isn’t.” the baker stated flatly. 

Tom looked at the honey bun. Golden brown and perfect. The finest honey bun ever baked. He could almost hear Prince Cedoric’s disappointment. 

The baker turned to pull another load from the oven. 

Tom looked at the honey bun again. 

The honey bun looked back…

Five seconds later Tom was halfway across the kitchen with it tucked beneath his arm. 

“THOMAS!” 

Tom ran. By the time he escaped into the servants’ corridor, he was grinning. The grin lasted all of thirty seconds. A maid carrying fresh linens came barreling around the corner. They collided. 

The honey bun launched through the air. Tom watched it spin once. Twice. Then land directly in a puddle left behind by a leaking bucket. The maid gasped. Tom stared. The honey bun stared back from the puddle. 

Slowly, very slow, Tom crouched beside it. “I fought for you.”

The maid blinked. “What?”

Tom sighed. “Nothing.” He stood. “Have a good day.” Then he walked away to begin his quest again. 

The second breakfast was considerably less impressive. One roll. One slice of cheese. One apple. One cup of cider. Not ideal, but still acceptable. Prince Cedoric would understand. Tom balanced the tray carefully as he crossed the courtyard. 

Halfway there, he heard the hiss. His shoulders immediately sagged. “No.” Another hiss. Tom turned. The castle goose stood near the fountain. Its beady eyes fixed directly on the apple. “No.” 

The goose spread its wings. Tom took a step backward. The goose took a step forward. 

“You have perfectly good grass.” Tom begged. The goose charged. Tom yelped and sprinted across the courtyard. Servants scattered. A gardener doubled over laughing. The goose gained ground. Tom clutched the tray tighter. “Why are you like this?” The goose offered no explanation. 

By the time he reached the stables, he had escaped with the apple, but lost half the cheese. It was not his finest victory, but still, breakfast had survived…mostly. 

Tom pushed open the stable doors. “Prince Cedoric, you are never going to believe…” he stopped. The words died in his throat. Cedoric sat in the straw beside Ash’s stall motionless. Ash stood nearby, nudging the prince’s shoulder with his nose every few moments. 

The horse looked concerned, which was strange, because Ash usually only looked hungry. Tom glanced at the tray and then back to Cedoric. Something felt wrong, very wrong, and suddenly the goose seemed much less important. 

Tom sat the tray down on a nearby barrel. “Did Ash finally learn how to talk?” he asked. No answer. “Because if he did, I’d like to know before he starts criticizing my breakfast choices.” 

Still nothing. Ash nudged Cedoric again. The prince absently scratched the horse’s nose. Tom frowned, something had definitely happened. Normally Cedoric would have immediately asked what disaster had delayed breakfast, or laughed at the state of the roll, or complained that Ash would steal half the apple. Today he simply stared at the dirt floor. 

Tom carefully picked up the apple. “Well,” he said, “good news.” Nothing. “The goose didn’t get this.” 

Cedoric blinked. “The goose?” 

Tom nodded solemnly. “The most terrifying creature in Korvethis.” That earned the tiniest twitch at the corner of Cedoric’s mouth. Tom seized the opportunity. “It attacked me.” 

“It attacked you.” Cedoric didn’t sound convinced. 

“It did.” 

“Why?” 

Tom looked down at the apple. “The motives were obvious.” A pause, then another tiny twitch. Not quite a smile, but close. 

Tom sat down in the straw beside him. For several moments neither of them spoke. The stable was quiet except for Ash chewing lazily on hay. Eventually Tom asked the question. “What happened?” 

The small smile vanished. Just like that. Tom immediately wished he could take the question back. 

Cedoric looked down at his hands. “I heard something.” 

Tom waited. 

“My parents were meeting with the council.” 

That didn’t sound good.

“I wasn’t supposed to hear it. 

That sounded even worse. Tom leaned back against the stall. The straw scratched through his shirt. “What was it about?” 

For a long time Cedoric didn’t answer. When he finally did, his voice sounded smaller than usual. “A marriage alliance.” 

Tom blinked. “Oh.” That seemed like a strange thing to be upset about, but then again, nobles were often upset about strange things. 

Cedoric picked at a piece of straw. “They wanted one of my sisters.” 

Understanding dawned slowly. The Kingdom of Qarthos. The visitors, the celebrations, the endless gossip in the kitchens. Tom knew enough to piece things together. “And?” 

“And Elora can’t go.” 

Tom nodded. That part everyone knew. Ever since returning from Veeque, Princess Elora seemed only half present some days. 

“So they started talking about everyone else.” 

Tom’s stomach tightened. The way Cedoric said it made him think of livestock being inspected at market. Not people. Not family. Just someone else. 

“My brothers were too important.” His fingers tightened around the straw. “My sisters had reasons they couldn’t leave.” 

Tom didn’t like where this was going. “And then?” 

Silence. The kind of silence that tells you the answer before it's spoken. “And then they said my name.” 

Tom waited. 

Cedoric swallowed. “They all agreed.” The words barely rose above a whisper. 

Tom frowned. “Agreed?” 

“Nobody argued.” The prince laughed softly. It wasn’t a happy sound. “They argued about everyone else.” His eyes remained fixed on the dirt. “They had reasons why Wrena couldn’t go…” a pause. “Reasons why Walric couldn’t…” another pause. “Reasons why Leonah couldn’t…” 

Tom felt his chest tighten. “Oh.” 

“When they said my name…” Cedoric shook his head. “Nobody said anything.” The stable suddenly felt very quiet. Ash stepped forward and rested his head against Cedoric’s shoulder. As if even the horse understood. 

Tom stared at the prince, at the boy who spent every morning talking excitedly about horses. The boy who always remembered every stable hand’s name. The boy who never seemed to realize how kind he was, and for the first time Tom understood. This wasn’t about Qarthos, it wasn’t about leaving. It wasn’t even about marriage. It was about learning that nobody had fought for him, or at least that’s what Cedoric believed. 

Tom looked down at the pathetic breakfast. The squashed roll, the half-eaten cheese. The apple he had nearly lost three separate times. Then he looked back at Cedoric. “If it helps,” he said. The prince glanced over. “I would’ve said no.” 

Cedoric stared at him. “What?” 

“I would’ve said no.” 

A faint frown appeared. “Why?” 

Tom shrugged. “You’d forget to eat.” 

For a moment Cedoric simply stared, then a laugh escaped him. A real one, small, but real. 

Tom pointed at the tray. “Look at this.” 

“I am.” 

“I fought half the castle for this breakfast.” Tom assured. 

“That seems unlikely.” 

“There was a baker.” Tom held up one finger. 

“Terrifying.” Cedoric shook his head. 

Tom held up a second finger. “A goose.” 

Cedoric nodded. “Much more believable.”

“And a cat.” 

“The cat won, didn’t it?” 

Tom shook his head slowly. “The cat always wins.”  Another laugh, a little stronger this time. Tom grinned. “There. You’re feeling better already.” 

“I’m really not.” 

“Well, you’re laughing.” Tom pointed out. 

“I can do both.” 

Tom hissed. “That’s probably a prince skill.” For the first time all day, Cedoric smiled. Not a large smile, not even a close, but enough. Enough for Tom to feel like maybe the morning hadn’t been cursed after all. Enough to remind him that the prince sitting beside him wasn’t as alone as he thought. 

A shadow appeared in the stable doorway. Both boys looked up to see Princess Elmara standing there, her dark dress brushing the straw-covered floor. Her golden hair caught the afternoon light. 

The moment she saw her brother, her expression softened. She already knew. Tom wasn’t sure how, maybe sisters just knew these things. Elmara’s eyes shifted briefly to him. “Thank you.” 

Tom blinked. “For what?” 

A small smile touched her lips. “For staying.

Before he could think of a response, she crossed the stable and sat beside Cedoric. Close enough that their shoulders touched. Tom stood awkwardly, this suddenly felt like family business. He grabbed the tray and quietly headed for the door. 

Halfway there he glanced back. Elmara was speaking softly. Cedoric was listening. Ash had stolen the rool…again. The horse was chewing it with remarkable satisfaction. For the first time since entering the stable, Cedoric was smiling. 

Tom shook his head then left them to it. The goose had still been worse than the cat. Nobody would ever convince him otherwise.