Days had passed since my meeting with that dark man. Surely, it was all my fault, as I never went to that forest again, and when I went, he never showed up again. It was like waiting for a lady, without any sort of communication or something to talk about. Anyway, I wanted so much to meet Ezron and query him about the statements that man made. It would really be so bad of him to ever do that to me when all along I saw him as a colleague who had chosen to leave all his issues and follow me. How stupid of me, to think he was a friend.
"What is his name again?" Amir asked. We were on the way heading to that hotel. I really wanted to be alone when talking to Ezron, but if Amir becomes adamant, I shall find a way, even in the form of a letter, to ask Ezron for the answers I desired.
"Ezron," I replied.
"How did you meet with that man? Is he of any royal lineage, or does he hold no class?" Amir asked. This man sometimes had a bad-tempered mouth. He was the type of man who treated mere slaves as nothing but people meant to live in poverty, and were lower than him. His pride was a towering cliff; he was so prideful that I sometimes wondered what made me really choose him as a friend. But these small things—like him having my back in times of trouble, him helping me out—it was always something not many friends would do. He was a man of his word, that I knew, but he was only friends with those he regarded as equals. He never, actually, I never saw him befriend a man whom he saw as less valuable to his standards. I sometimes wondered what standards he placed upon me. If I am a bastard, what were really the standards that he placed?
"We met during my escape," I stated, realizing Amir was urgently waiting to hear about what was or rather what made us meet. Sometimes I hated these sorts of conversations—like how you met who and what, especially the place where I would be the one who approached. But for a lady, I would be glad to state that I did the approaching, especially Princess Diana. I still think about her even to date. I think of her really. I am sure she's now kissing her nineteenth or twentieth; she should be betrothed. Princesses were always sent off at sixteen. I wasn't sure what she was waiting for, but she surely has so many men targeting her. She's a beauty indeed. Sometimes I brush off the thoughts of her, the thoughts of our last dance, our last real heartfelt talk. The way she smiled and laughed when I spoke, even not sure if I had cracked a joke or not. I just found out that I was funny in terms of her; she would laugh and be like 'you crack hefty jokes, you shall make my jaws hurt one day.' I may not have documented every ball dance, every anticipation of meeting with this girl; every want of finding a way to have a speech with her. It was all a really great moment. Those are the moments I would say I felt happy—the thought of her choosing to dance with me in all ballroom dances, despite having all the princes in the room eyeing her. She still stared at me, giving me the confidence to approach.
"Brother, are you willing to marry my sister?" Amir asked, pulling me from the deep thoughts I was immersed in.
"To be honest, I find it amusing that you, of all people, wish her to end up with someone like me," I stated. Amir always hated when I made comments that suggested I looked down on myself. He consistently asserted that he saw a great future beneath my world. But to be honest, if anyone were in my position, that is when they would understand my thoughts and worries—why I acted this way and not the other, why I felt some type of way about myself. This was a world I never brought myself into, but I somehow felt, as I got older, it got worse and worse. I was turning twenty-something in the coming years, not yet figuring out whom I am to marry, not yet figuring out the foundation of my life, nor what I shall provide for my family. Why wouldn't I find myself worthy? Maybe sometimes I was too hard on myself, but what happens to one who is never hard on themselves? Lazy, aren't they? Well, that's my opinion though.
"Brother, I… am sorry. Yeah, I am just sometimes… I deserve the beatings you give me. That day, I realized what I was doing to Shahid. She's young; you can't give her everything. You yourself don't even know what you want, not even what you are. You will just make a princess start wiping puke, instead of living a lavish life that she deserves," Amir stated. And if words hurt, these words sure broke. There was nothing of a deal-breaker than someone telling me the real truth of what I was and who I was. 'I will make a princess wipe puke'—a statement indeed, that carried all the weights of pains and hurts. Why would I want Princess Shahid to wipe puke when I know that she deserves the best? But I knew deep down, despite how much anger was fuming and boiling inside of me, Amir had stated it all right; that's what I was—a boy who is a man, with nothing figured out. I started checking all the men we learned with. Amir here had recently gone to war with some nation; he led it, I hear. The Baron's son was lavishly increasing the lands of his father's investment; the Duke of Hastings' sons had started the project of space shift and immersed themselves in science and philosophy. My best friend Nick, a brother whom I met in a certain ballroom, who spent his time embracing his art, had now started a workshop where people would observe his arts, and I recently heard from Amir that he was teaching art at Oxford University. For the first time, I felt lost—hopelessly lost as a Duke's son. I studied everything in English and literature, studied art, studied business as my father desired, and here I was heading to the hotel to look for Ezron to inquire with him about a black man who claimed that he was some spy meant to follow me and protect me. I suddenly felt a deep ache in my chest—an ache of what are you to be, who are you, and where are you heading to? I was heading nowhere, living for the survival of the next day, and living in the mud of 'I am not good enough.' I wish Amir knew how these words broke me—how they literally killed me, should I say. Yes, I will marry Princess Shahidi to prove to Amir that I can provide. How am I to marry this woman if she has no liking for me? How am I to make her fall for me? Or maybe I am to change my mindset. I am a man anyway, and being offered a princess means that I have to act right. And here the dilemma of my life came—the life that would literally change the whole spectrum of my situation, or the specter of life that would make me go back to the past life I was running from. This time, I had no answer to Amir's statement. I always did have a comeback when he attacked me, but this time all the comebacks did not align. They just did not visit. They just never did, and I knew he knew that his words had affected me because of the smirk he put on his face. How I wish I could punch that face right now and then.
"It's not about not being good enough, and it's not about providing. I sure would bleed myself out just to make sure that my family has the best of everything..." As I continued, Amir intruded, "What will you offer? Do you look up to what the Duke has, wishing that he shall provide you a share? Or do you wish the King shall open his eyes and provide you with a share of his kingdom because you are the lost son, and he feels the guilt?" Amir was already getting on my nerves. His statements were hitting deep, deep and sharp like no other human had ever done to me. Everyone I met always sympathized with me, or maybe this is the reason I never thought about my life. Truly, what was I thinking, being a man inside a palace, being nothing but a pianist to children when I have learned all the books of accounts, learned all of English and literature? Shouldn't I think of leaving and finding a life in another world, where I could be a tutor, however, all my paperwork was at home, and going back home would be something else…, I wasn't sure anymore.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked Amir.
"Because you know what you are, who you really are, and the fact that you always sit on that talent," he stated.
"...and what is the talent?"
"Did you ever request or tell me that you can help in the books of accounts? You were always bright in our days, the best in English, and your artwork was profound."
"We are talking about your sister here," I stated.
"That's why, that's mainly why. You are the perfect person for my sister, as you are authentic, a bright mind, and a very good heart. But I already spoke to Father; I told him the truth about your roots and that you don't have any desires for the princess."
"And what did he say?"
"He just stated, 'Stupid boy,' and then left. Another suitor has been found for her. You lost another opportunity. However, we cannot have you under our care for long. Start finding somewhere to stay."
"Was the princess the only reason why I was there?"
"Yes, it was the only way I could convince Father to let you in. I have already done everything for you. Your bags are already at the hotel, as they were packed right when you left, and I'm sure by now the luggage carriage will have arrived. I tried my best, brother. However, your paperwork is sorted. But I would give you the idea of figuring yourself out. Go back to the Duke and get your share, and if there is none you can get, go to the Viscount and ask for yours. And if they send you away, go to the King and demand it, as he will be ashamed of himself. But if he states that you are not to be his, well, I shall be here, and we shall know the way forward. You can be my right-hand man when I be King. The future is promised as long as you shall be with me."