Free Prince of Fog: Book One by Y. M. Rinde Page B

The little boy blinked up at Charce, trying to see his face to decide if the Prince was kidding. About his mom being gone. About going with him. About not being able to see her again. Living here, he had seen other people dying from the same illness, but he never thought it would happen to him. The Prince was kidding, right? But he couldn’t see the Prince’s face from the hood shadowing him. Where was his smile?
    “The illness. You might have it. I can cure you if you develop symptoms.” Charce’s voice was measured and steady, exerting as much control as he could. His chest rose and fell heavily, still exhausted. “It’s what your mother would want you to do.”
    The little boy frowned, shaking his head, tears springing from his eyes. “W-What? No. No. How do you know that? You couldn’t save her. She was going to celebrate my birthday. By the river tomorrow. She can’t be dead. You’re lying. I wish you never came.”
    The little boy wailed loudly, collapsing into a ball on the ground. Charce stooped down, his hand reaching out, hovering over the boy’s head as he continued to sob.
    “You’re useless. You couldn’t even save her. You’re not a Prince. A real Prince could have saved her. You killed her. The rumours are true. You’re the cause of the Black Crest.”
    Prince Charce’s hand recoiled briefly, then reached forward again. But he couldn’t touch the boy. Not just because of the heat from his hand, but because… the boy was right. He stood back up, then turned and left. Walking past the front door and seeing his retainers line the path made him feel like the messenger of death. They stood outside along with the earlier crowd, all of them looking towards him. He had no answers though. Without a word, he strode forwards. Two retainers ran inside the house to find out more.
    He had always felt like a fraud. Today was no different.
    The news of his failure spread even quicker than the news of his arrival. By the time Charce was back where the people had been the thickest, there was now an empty street. Without breaking stride, he entered the carriage, waiting there. It was a few minutes later that his oldest and most loyal retainer, Wilfred, entered with the little boy sobbing onto his shoulder.
    “You’re going to be staying at the Prince’s castle from now on. We have an orphanage wing there.”
    The boy started crying even louder.
    It reminded Charce of when he had heard his parents had died. Wilfred had tried to comfort him then as well, but even knowing he would stay at the palace from then on was scarce comfort. The little boy wouldn’t stop crying tonight. Maybe not for the whole week.
    Under his hood, Charce turned towards the outside streets as the carriage started moving, the slow clip clop of the horse hooves announcing his departure. Madness was repeating itself. So much for being a Prince.

Chapter 2
     
    “It’s the King! It’s the King! King Aether!” High-pitched screams and manly yells pierced the air as the procession passed through town. The King sat in an open-air carriage, surveying his people. His wild blond hair was adorned with flower petals flung by the dancing maidens. Dressed in rich accoutrements, he was smiling and waving at the gathered populace. His piercing blue eyes surveyed his realm. All was well and so was he.
    “Oh, look at her.” King Aether whispered to his most loyal attendant seated next to him. Aether locked eyes with a buxom blond on the street, smiling at her, and then winking. There was a loud sigh from the gathered crowd and a few of the women suddenly dropped out of sight from the crowd, fainting on the ground.
    “Your Majesty, might I remind you that this is a public parade, and it is not kingly to flirt with the citizenry.” Guste sighed.
    “I’m not flirting! I’m just spreading love and happiness.” Aether winked at another lady, a brunette this time. She blushed and started fanning herself.
    Aether held his hand out. A small blue