Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 168: Ch. 167: Isolated

Sometimes, offense makes for the best defense.

“Did you hit your head on something and forget how to knock?” I ask pointedly before my older brother can draw breath to speak. I take my time to rise to a standing position and pin Augustus with a hard glare. “Well, what’s the purpose of your presence?”

“Only to pay you a visit,” he says innocently. But I can sense frustration coming off him in waves. It’s unfocused, floating around him like a miasma or my father’s aura.

“No doubt you have something to inform me about or, more likely, you will scold me about something you wish I had informed you of in advance,” I carry on as if Augustus hadn’t said a word.

“So you are aware.” A lone eyebrow perks up in accusation. His tone cools off, icier than the north winds at Elias’ family home.

I grin to myself, eager to usher my young friend from the premises as I can smell a fight brewing. “Elias, I’m afraid our time has come to an end. Do pay me a visit another day,” I say cheerily, pushing his chair towards the door.

“Perhaps he won’t,” Augustus snapped. He looks down at Elias with a displeased smirk. “You are both getting to that age where you must seek playmates amongst your own gender.”

.....

“Elias?” I repeat, ready for him to leave before this pustule of an unavoidable argument bursts and drags Elias into our mess.

“Take care, your highness.” He wheels himself out the rest of the way, with Marie thoughtfully holding the door open for Elias and casting a worried glance my way before exiting as well.

“And yourself, Little Lord Wolfe,” I smirk, waving him off playfully until the doors shut and my smile melts away.

Facing my brother with a sarcastic smirk, I answer his earlier question. “Am I to choose this new friend amongst the group of girls who didn’t say a word in my defense when young Lady Bryce had keeled over in a dead faint that would’ve ruined my reputation? I’m afraid I’m not spoiling for choices.”

“There were a few you stated you had friendly relations with,” Augustus protests in reference to our conversation at the ill-fated opera performance that occurred the next day (I really get no breaks huh?). His heavy footsteps betray his poor temper, although he keeps it reigned in for the most part as he tosses his heavy sheathed sword onto the sofa, startling Devil.

“Friendly relations, absolutely,” I acquiesce. There had been a spark of promise between myself and Elsbeth and Antonia. Although they belong to their own noble families and houses with their own calculations, we all hail from similar backgrounds and elite upbringings. “But bosom friends, no.”

“Then seek out new ones, there are thousands of noble girls in the capital. I can summon a few to the capital for you to choose from. But I’m certain there are more people out there other than that... boy...,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Dearest brother, don’t you already know?” I hiss. I’d still been standing near the door, but rush back to where he sits stewing in entitled anger. “There are few people for me to choose from. We are isolated, this imperial family of ours. In some ways, it makes us strong. In others, it makes us weak. There is a curtain between us and every other noble family in the land.”

I pause, not for dramatic effect, but because I know the surprise my next words will induce. But every word from my lips is true and I know that Augustus must be aware as to why there is no extended family around to protest my father’s somewhat illegal seizure of the throne.

“Your true allies are few and far between, especially since most of our extended family were... removed from the picture by our father. Don’t ask me how I know. I do. Grant me the mercy of not subjecting myself to a dishonest friendship where I must always wear a mask.” The way I do sometimes with you right, I think to myself.

Augustus releases his look of shock and heaves a long breath, his arms finally uncrossing as he settles down heavily on one of the sofas. “I know, Winter. All this I know.”

He does know. True friends are not something a crown prince can easily come by.

“It must be strange, realizing that the throne you are set to inherit is more brittle than you could’ve imagined. Father could not have predicted this debacle when he inherited the throne all those years ago. No wonder royal families were so focused on reproducing,” I sigh, plopping down next to him. I would give a million dollars for there to be several more capable imperial family members who could slow down the encroaching of House Duvernay on imperial power.

We stare out front as if watching an invisible television. Our tiff ended sooner than I thought, overshadowed by the looming truth that hangs over our necks like a sword. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but as the proverbial neck and shoulders, Augustus and I are feeling the weight as well.

I hear him shake his head, but don’t look over to see it. “Not strange, frightening. House Duvernay, they have more sway than I could’ve ever imagined. I do not know how father has kept them from swarming the entire government like locusts to a field of crops.”

The disgust drips off his tone.

“Through Mother, of course,” I inform him.

“Don’t call her that,” His anger, which had been simmering down, rises anew. He pins me to where I sit with cold eyes, but I return the favor.

“That’s what she is in the eyes of the law,” I point out coldly. “Whether we like it or not. And there was a time when I saw her much more often than you.”

“If my mother hadn’t passed...” Augustus laments, burying his face in his hands. Before they were hidden away, I could see that his eyes longed for a woman he could not even remember.

“You would be dead. And I would not exist,” I finish for him. His are turn red with accusations, so I explain myself.

“House Duvernay was on the verge of rebelling in the years after Crown Prince Wilhelm’s untimely death. Removing the heir to a throne they consider unjustly won would’ve been their first order of business.” I chuckle to myself as if the idea of rebellion is a humorous one.

“You’re smart, Augustus. But you think like a warrior. A proud and honorable one,” I pause and give him a dubious look. “Do you think your enemies will play by the same rules and mentality you limit yourself with?”

I’ve doled out one too many pointers to my old brother and I can all but hear his ears snap shut from my knowing words. “You know what? I won’t take lessons from someone who’s half a babe herself.”

My years of studying political science and marketing, along with my unwelcome internship into the brutal side of court life rear their ugly head. Before I know it, I’ve stood up and gotten right in Augustus’ stubborn face.

“Well take it from someone who has starved until she could count her ribs and someone who used straw as a teething toy rather than a gold-plated pacifier,” I verbally jab. “You aren’t hungry enough for this game. Not like Father. Not like me. You are the weak link that could end the entire imperial family forever. The last generation to carry our proud last name, Erudian!”

The weight on the sofa disappeared, Augustus was on his feet so fast I barely saw his movements. He’s livid. Furious. Cheeks red, eyes narrowed, a powder keg that has finally blown.

“I will hear no more of this! I came to inquire why you would act like a busybody and work behind the scenes to get a divorce filed against Lord Berrick. Don’t know you that he is so loved by the people right now? I am not the blind fool you think I am, I can tell this is part of something grander to chip away at House Duvernay’s presence in the army through the Berrick family. And the same way I can tell so easily, everyone else will too. The case will probably never even reach court and now you’ve just placed a target on your back,” he spits.

“All you men think alike.” I can hear the echoes of Elias’ argument in Augustus’ disapproving tone and swat at the air as if an annoying fly keeps buzzing around me. “Sit back down, I don’t want to argue. All we’ve done is argue with each other lately. It isn’t good for one’s health.” I place a cool hand on my forehead, grounding myself against the raging sea of emotions that threaten to drown us both in its wrath.

“Are you feeling unwell? Shall I summon an imperial physician for you?” In a flash, sometimes I forget that he’s been training since he could walk and is speedy on his feet, he is by my side and placing the back of his hand on my forehead. It’s hotter than my own skin.

“Anyone but them,” I grumble darkly, thinking back to the hectic days on the warfront when I was halfway certain that sometimes they intentionally didn’t heal dying soldiers so that they could log the full extent of my abilities. I don’t like those imperial physicians. And I sure don’t trust them.

“Besides, I’m perfectly fine.”

I don’t know the extent of the healing abilities they’ve been gifted and allowed to use. Within the confines of the rigid system of an empire that largely forbids most forms of magic, individuals blessed with even an ounce of magic only have the choice to study to become a battle mage for the Holy Church or an imperial physician under the imperial family. This effectively concentrates the legal presence of magic to 2 sole parties, my family and House Duvernay.

One party has shown their hand, with the might of the battle mages demonstrated on the battlefield. The other hasn’t, as any video game player knows that healing abilities are often discounted compared to fighting abilities. But if you told me that the imperial physicians were weak and useless at magic in comparison to the battle mages, I would urge you to look again. Something tells me that they just might be my father’s secret weapon in this silent war against House Duvernay.

For that and that alone, I don’t trust them.

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