At one moment, I was brushed behind Lawrence and the next, I was pulled up against Oliver. His arms wrapped around me protectively as he turned me away from Sawyer. I clenched my fist, trying not to get blood on his shirt, but it was too late for that. I looked up to apologize, but his eyes were elsewhere. He was looking over his shoulder, his jaw tense. I leaned to the side just enough to see what was going on.
Sawyer was resting on the ground, propping himself on his elbows. His sword was nowhere to be seen, but Lawrence's was pointed directly at his throat. Sawyer spat out dirt and glared up at Lawrence.
"Well, isn't this a familiar site," he sneered, wiping his mouth. His eyes darted to me, and he began to stand up. I stiffened, and though he still hadn't looked at me, Oliver's arms instinctively held me tighter.
Lawrence twisted his sword in his hand, the point still trained on Sawyer as he dragged himself to his feet.
"Relax, cousin, I've been unarmed," Sawyer said, raising his hands in defeat. Lawrence didn't move, and his expression only hardened. Their eyes met, and Sawyer snorted at the man who dared to stand up to him. Sawyer turned his head to scan the crowd. He seemed to expect the crowd to look at Lawrence with the same disbelief. But he froze as he realized that everyone's cold eyes were instead glued onto him.
His face reddened, and breathing quickened as he frantically looked through the crowd. He was the crown prince, the future emperor, and was used to having all eyes on him, but never like this. A few were brave enough to display their disgust, but most looked at him with pure, unadulterated fear. Fear of what he had done, fear of what he would do again, fear of what it would be like to have him as a leader. And they had every reason to be afraid.
"No one will speak of this," he said, his voice deathly calm, "do you understand?"
No one spoke; no one even nodded their head.
"I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" he screamed, his now shaky voice reverberating off the walls. There was a strained collective murmur of yes from the crowd. It quickly fell into a silence that was only broken by racing footsteps and a door slamming open. Ryia ran to my side and immediately twisted me out of Oliver's hold. He started to say something, but her glare shut his mouth immediately.
"Give me your hand," she demanded with a tone I'd rarely heard from her. I held it out, too intimidated to refute. She uncurled my fingers and gritted her teeth as blood began to seep from the cut again. After looking it over, she let go, only to unravel the gauze in her other hand. So that's where she went. She haphazardly wrapped it up, knotting it a little too tightly. It was messy but enough to stop the bleeding momentarily. As soon as she tied it up, her eyes shot up towards Sawyer.
"You!" Her voice cracked, devoid of the warmth and grace it usually imbued with. Widening eyes focused on her, but she paid no notice as her body shook angrily.
"What is wrong with–"
I gripped her hand hard enough to stop her. For a second, her glare turned to me. Her expression dropped as she realized what she had done. She took my other hand without hesitation and led me out of the tense air of the training ground. As the adrenaline left my body, only to be replaced by pain, I was more than thankful for her.
Ryia's furious steps rattled down the dimly lit cobblestone hallways as she snaked her way through the maze of tunnels, with mine weakly trailing behind. I had no clue how she knew the way, but she moved with enough confidence that I trusted her. We came upon a rusty, wrought iron door that she didn't even bother knocking on.
Ryia opened the door with enough force that the physician, a young woman with curly brown hair and dark eyes, rocked in her chair. The physician took one look at the mess the two of us had become, drenched in sweat and splattered with my blood, and beckoned for us to sit on the bed. She rushed to and fro, gathering all sorts of medical supplies.
The burn of the anti-septic hurt more than the stitches. I shifted on the bed, grimacing as the physician knotted a dozen sutures. I could feel Ryia's fury grow with each stitch that was tied, and it didn't dispel even as the physician finished wrapping my hand with rough cotton. She turned to find a fastening to keep the wrap together and looked back over in time to catch me as I flexed and curled my fingers.
"No excessive movements," she reprimanded, brushing back the chestnut ringlets that had fallen in her face as she worked. "It will be about ten days before the stitches can come out. Wash and rebandage the wound at least twice a day before that."
She continued listing care instructions until a knock on the door turned all our heads. I perked up immediately as the physician called for them to enter. A meek assistant scurried in, quickly dropping a stack of papers on the physician's wooden desk before leaving just as fast as she had come in.
"There's a meeting that starts in about five minutes. Otherwise, I'm sure he'd be here," Ryia whispered as she leaned close, her temper finally cooling. "And I'm only slightly offended that my presence isn't comforting enough."
I laughed half-heartedly before responding. "I promise that your presence is more than enough. And speaking of those two, I'm surprised that Lawrence didn't seem too rattled."
"He was," she lowered her voice, wary even of the physician who had now busied herself with the newly delivered papers. "He'd never outwardly express it, but he was scared. I could see it in his eyes."
"You really know him well, don't you?"
"It would be embarrassing if I didn't, considering how long I've known him for."
"When did you first meet him?" I asked, more curious than anything. I thought my questions would raise some sort of suspicion with her, but if they did, she didn't show it.
"Before I was old enough to remember. Our mothers were best friends and would bring us whenever they spent time together, so we practically grew up together." She folded her arms on the bed and rested her head on them. "I haven't been allowed to spend as much time around him now that I've gotten older, but it doesn't mean I know him any less."
Her honey eyes drifted toward the small, singular window in the room. She was quiet for a moment, lips drawn into a soft smile as she got lost in her thoughts. I thought the conversation was over.
"I didn't realize just how much I'd missed his presence until recently," she said, tapping her fingers on the comforter. Her gaze shifted to me, and there was a hint of mischief in her smile. "I'm glad we've been able to see each other more often now."
❧
"I expected a bigger reaction from you this morning," Lawrence said as the two of them walked the halls toward the meeting room. "I thought you would be furious."
"I was," Oliver responded with an irritated laugh. He had been furious earlier, though more so with himself than with Sawyer. Even now, the guilt that June had gotten hurt due to his carelessness gnawed at the back of his mind "But being angry would've just scared her more, so I just did the best I could to keep her safe."
"I was not talking about June. I meant that I expected a bigger reaction over me nearly losing my head thanks to your little scheme." Lawrence adjusted the collar of his dark grey jacket before dragging his thumb across his neck in jest.
"Blame His Royal Highness for that, not me. Plus, you're fine; I don't see what the issue is." Oliver raised his brow in challenge.
"I could have died!"
"But did you?"
Lawrence went to retort, but Oliver cut him short. "That reminds me, I'll need your approval to speak during this meeting at one point. I have a small plan, but I'll need you to trust me enough to grant me permission to speak."
"Will I nearly lose my head if I do?" Lawrence asked, chuckling to himself. Oliver just stared at him blankly.
"Too soon for that one?"
"Just a bit." Oliver exhaled, more amused than he cared to admit.
❧
The crown prince had gone back and forth with Lawrence over the details of the trade deal with the neighboring Alwyn empire for what seemed like hours now. The Eastern Province had been on the verge of a trade deal with the Alwyn empire for months now but had reached a deadlock. The Alwyn empire was on good terms with the Eastern Province due to Alwyn's Emperor having a close relationship with Lawrence's father, but the trade deal still required approval from Sawyer's father to follow through with it, due to the sheer size and cost of the operation.
"As I've already stated, the Eastern Province doesn't have the infrastructure for such a large endeavor. The investment cost for the Imperial family to support the Eastern Province through this trade deal would be astronomical, I vote to reject the offer," Sawyer pressured his father. "Do you truly believe that Duke Alterio's leadership is strong enough to manage that type of funding properly?" Sawyer looked across the oval to where Lawrence sat beside his father, Duke Alterio.
Of course, the Eastern Province wouldn't crumble under the pressure that the trade deal would create, rather, they would thrive off it. While the return on investment for supporting the Eastern Province would be extremely profitable for the Imperial family, it would pale in comparison to the total wealth and power the Eastern Province would gain as a result of it. Such a gain in wealth that it would end up rivaling the Imperial family's. And Sawyer knew that. This was his last-ditch attempt to prevent the Alterios from reaching that sort of power, and he planned to pressure them until they gave up.
"And let us not forget who would then inherit that responsibility as well," he added snidely, giving his cousin a damning glare that many of the other nobles gathered in the assembly hall mirrored. From his spot against the hall's old wooden walls, Oliver watched as the younger noblemen who, from afar, had scorned Sawyer's behavior at the morning's events, suddenly clambered to his side and eagerly supported him as they questioned the Alterio's capability.
Oliver concealed his laugh with a cough. Sawyer may have been a horrible human being, but at least he was consistent.
He had to give it to Sawyer, though; his plan had worked before in the original novel; Lawrence had crumbled under Sawyer's attacks. His father, Duke Alterio, had been too ashamed of his son to argue, claiming that if his son could not stand up for himself, he did not deserve nor have the leadership skills to inherit the wealth the trade deal would provide. Oliver had hoped that his victory that morning would provide enough confidence to help Lawrence keep his footing through their argument, but Lawrence looked as if he was ready to throw in the towel. Lawrence ran his fingers through his hair, his steel blue eyes wavering as he strained to hold his head high.
Oliver tapped Lawrence's shoulder, and Lawrence shifted in his seat, allowing Oliver the space to step up when he was ready. Oliver looked over to Sawyer, going over the words he had spent so long rehearsing one last time before he spoke.
"Then what will happen this winter when the Centurial Frost inevitably rolls in?" Oliver interjected, finally taking his spot on Lawrence's right. "If you don't allow the Eastern Province to create the budget clearance they need, then the province's economy will certainly collapse when their citizens need it the most."
Sawyer looked on with poorly concealed confusion, and with a grin, Oliver leaned in and laid it out for him.
"I'm sure you know of it, the Centurial Frost, the utterly devastating winter storm that falls upon the upper half of this empire once every hundred years. It wiped out nearly half the empire the last time it occurred. I mean, you don't seem like the type who would damn a whole province to a frozen yet preventable death simply because you forgot about such a cataclysmic event when considering the economic future of the Eastern Province." Oliver kept his eyes on Sawyer, hoping that he sounded confident enough to throw Sawyer off.
"Of course, I did not forget it. I simply believed that the Eastern Province's economy would not collapse so easily. It's my mistake for putting such trust in them," Sawyer snapped. "And you should watch your words, though I should know better than to expect any sort of respect from you."
"We would not collapse so easily," Lawrence interjected, throwing Oliver an unamused glare. "And if I may, I myself do not recall such an event occurring in my land's history."
"Of course, you do not," Sawyer antagonized.
"Of course, you do not," Oliver echoed the crown prince firmly, though with a different sentiment. "Because it did, in fact, not occur. It never has and most likely never will, at least according to. At least according to all the recorded weather patterns in the last few centuries."
It was a lie, a solid lie that he'd spent nearly five hours in the library the day before crafting. His goal was to force one of Sawyer's supporters into a lie and then use that to take away any of their credibility. The fact that Sawyer had been the one to take the bait was a pleasant surprise.
Most everyone stared on in silence, waiting to see if there was any purpose behind Oliver's daring display. It was a risk on his part, a rather big one, to make a fool of Sawyer so openly, but the skeptical glances shared between the majority of the participants gave him hope that what he'd done would be worth it.
"Considering that not only were you not well enough aware of your own land's history to call out my lie, but you also did not have the good grace to admit the gaps in your knowledge to better help your people, I think it's safe to assume that you should not be over-ruling and criticizing the Alterios in matters that they are much more knowledgeable in."
Sawyer's face grew to an amusing shade of red as whispers of agreement flashed through the assembly like wildfire. This was now what– the third time Oliver had managed to illicit such a response from him? Oliver looked toward his left, where both Lawrence and Duke Alterio sat, half expecting to be reprimanded.
The duke laughed, the sound booming through the hall. "Well, I think that boy makes a good point, though he did so rather crudely." He patted his son on the shoulder, prompting Lawrence to straighten up. "So then, let's agree to let my son and I determine whether we can handle this agreement or not. I assure you that if you give us permission and the financing, we will not only succeed in this trade deal but prosper and will of course, come to you at the first instance of trouble, if any arises."
Oliver could feel Sawyer's eyes burning into him, but that didn't matter once the emperor agreed to grant the Alterio's his support, under the stipulation that they gave frequent reports of the deal's progress. Oliver stepped back as the assembly found another topic to discuss and waited patiently for the meeting to end. In his boredom, Oliver scanned the room for any faces whose description he could recognize. So far, everyone had looked rather indistinguishable. That was until he saw a pair of men who waited by the door, seemingly as anxious to leave as he was. They had matching blue eyes and wavy, pale blond hair that he'd recognize anywhere.
He kept an eye on them as the meeting ended and went to find them once everyone was released. Panic set in as the pair slipped out of the assembly room. He knew just how stressful it would be for June to run into them, the guilt she'd inevitably feel with facing them.
Though he didn't know how he would stop them from talking to June, he knew he had to.
"How did you do that!" Lawrence seemed to pop up out of nowhere as he pulled Oliver to the side. Oliver's jaw tensed as Lawrence began asking a deluge of questions, holding him hostage till he answered every single one.
"Lawrence, please, I–" Oliver's voice trailed off as he looked over Lawrence's shoulder, still trying to get past. He fervently searched the crowd, but the two men were already lost to the crowd.