Chapter 3.
~Karl~
I sat in my room, painting my black horse, Marianne.
The servant my mother had sent to call me already left, thinking I'd follow. But I stayed, hoping for some peace. Then Rowland, my best friend, walked in.
"Greetings, Your Highness," he said, standing behind me as I sketched. I knew what he was here for—the new concubine.
"The queen mother is worried. Your new con—"
"Don't ruin my mood, Rowland," I cut him off, still focused on my painting. My hand tightened on the pencil. "I'm not going to meet her."
He sighed. He knew how stubborn I could be. When I said no, it meant no, even if the sky fell.
"I'm lost for words. Your mother won't be happy you're ignoring the woman she's chosen for you," Rowland said, pulling up a chair. "Poor girl, she might grow old waiting on that bed."
"She wouldn't want to see me," I muttered, dropping the pencil. Turning around, I faced him, revealing the mask that covered the left side of my face. The beast within me, the mark of who I was.
"Why?" he asked, though we both knew why. He was just avoiding the truth.
"I'm the devil, remember?" My jaw clenched. People had called me that for so long, I stopped fighting it. My mother was the only one who believed otherwise, always trying to defend me, even when it hurt her. "You know what happened when I was born… even my father died because of me."
"Let's not talk about that," Rowland said, avoiding my eyes. "You're bringing this up to distract me. The concubine is still waiting."
Before I could respond, the door swung open. My mother walked in, clearly irritated. Normally, she'd knock, but tonight, she was done with my excuses.
"Your Highness, I thought you'd be ready by now," she said, looking around the dimly lit room. Instead of preparing to meet the new concubine, I was painting. She was upset but knew better than to yell. After all, I was the king. "She's been waiting for over an hour."
I sighed. "She might wait forever. I'm not interested."
"You need to be. How else will you produce an heir?"
"I've tried, mother. It's not working," I reminded her. This was the seventh woman in two months. The curse wasn't breaking, and I had stopped hoping.
"You've tried. We're all trying to help you. You can't give up," she said, her voice softening.
"Maybe you should stop trying," I snapped, throwing the pencil to the floor in frustration.
She looked at Rowland, desperate for support, but he had nothing to say. Her eyes filled with tears, and that was the last thing I wanted to see.
"I can't lose you, son," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Her tears were the only thing that ever hurt me. But even now, I felt trapped, like no amount of love or hope could save me from this curse.
"You should stop hurting both of us. I've tried everything, but it's not working," I buried my face in my hands.
My father had unfinished business with a group of witches before I was born. My mother told me that when she was pregnant with me, they couldn't harm the royal family, so they cursed me. I would die once I turned twenty-five.
"You're impossible to convince," Mother finally said.
I chuckled bitterly, shaking my head. "I've got a few months left if I don't break the curse. Sleeping with a debtor's daughter is the last thing on my mind. You wanted me to bring her Xylonia, and I did. Now, you want me to bed her? What's next, marriage? Your demands never end."
"Sometimes I forget how close you are to twenty-five," she whispered, wiping her tears. She knew I wouldn't give in, but that never stopped her from trying.
"We need to find another way," Rowland said, worry in his voice. He feared losing me.
I shuffled through more of my father's old letters, searching for any clue about his dealings with witches or the curse. But there was nothing.
"That's why I want you to keep trying," Mother pressed. "I'm not asking you to marry them—just see if one of them can bear your child. That's all I want."
"I won't," I said coldly. "You can leave now, Mother. I need no more distractions."
Her face fell, disappointment clear. But she was used to it by now. "Goodnight," she murmured, bowing before leaving.
"You should've just done what she—" Rowland started.
"Leave, Rowland," I interrupted without looking up.
"Goodnight, Your Highness," he said quietly before bowing and leaving.
Once they were gone, I felt the weight lift. Solitude was my comfort, the only thing that soothed me.
I thought about going to bed, but my mind drifted to the new concubine. This wasn't the first time I'd ignored one, but she was different. A princess. The daughter of my enemy.
Who would've thought her father would hand her over to me to settle his debt?
I stood up, grabbing my robe. "Let's see the new concubine," I muttered to myself, curiosity pulling me out of my solitude.