Chapter Text
Only the blue light spilling onto the hardwood floor from the screen interrupted the stark darkness of the living room. The crackle of static from the old box television almost overpowered the broadcast's audio and the faint squawking of a bird. I hunched closer to the screen until I could count each multicolor pixel and strained my ears to listen.
“The recent loss of Arbendale’s late royal highnesses, our King, Queen, and Princess, has deeply saddened and shaken to its core not only my family but the kingdom of Ardendale as a whole.” The prince spoke, looking down at a parchment scroll to read from every once in a while. I guess the prince or whatever remaining advisers that puppeteered his every move had decided that he was finally presentable to the public again. This appearance was much later than I had expected. A real leader wouldn’t need a whole week to mope and recuperate after a single attack. The carnage of war was unavoidable and nothing new after all.
“Penswill’s latest attack will not bring Arbendale to the brink of ruin.” He continued, quickly dabbing at his face with a handkerchief while swallowing up any underlying emotions that may be present to resume reciting the lines that had been shoved down his throat. “My priority is the safety of my fellow subjects. I will see to it that the preservation of Arbendale will be rebuilt to assure the national security and strength that is required during these times.”
I knew that civilians would be mindlessly crawling at every inch of the palace’s perimeter, desperate to get close enough to listen and obey the new command of their leader. However, it was evident that one would be shot dead if one were to make an advance towards the last of the Evrindind lineage. Guards armed with rifles, staff, arrows, and every other weapon imaginable surrounded the balcony from which the prince had delivered his speech, scanning the somber crowd for squabbles. But still, loyal subjects had flocked together to seek out a drop of hope from another one of their all-mighty ruler’s empty promises. But their all-mighty ruler was dead and in a golden box now. Only the last remaining and weakest of the heirs could deliver a false sense of security to them now. What a pity.
Where was this urgent state of melancholy for the last hundreds of massacres? Those were just another headline or the rare footnote on some royal decoration. The kingdom only weeps about whether or not your mouth is stuffed with cotton when you have a crown atop your head and a fine pedigree of diamonds and gold.
The squawking and chirping started up again, becoming louder this time. All that feathery fool had been doing since it arrived a week ago was making nonstop noise. I’m surprised that I haven’t become so familiar with its noisiness that I could block out its cawing completely. Why had we even brought that thing here? All it did was keep us awake and ornery. The earlier we could get rid of it, the quicker I would be given some peace.
Already kneeling on the floor, I leaned forward until my nose nearly bumped into the television screen and squinted to analyze each detail on the prince’s face. Was he crying? I couldn’t tell for sure whether his tears were genuine but I would bet anything that this was just another part of his performance for the public. His advisers must have drilled into him how to play the part of the perfect victim. Droop, quiver, and now cry on command like a good little puppet. Your subjects who used to cheer your name and swoon until they dropped when they glimpsed your smile will now be mourning for you, suffocating you in sticky sweet sympathy.
This idea of portrayal of our leader seemed pretty foolish to me. Do we want to give Penswill the impression that our soon-to-be ruler was already unfit and too weak to fill his father’s position? Why don’t we just invite them right back to finish the job? Send Arbendale palace crumbling down and turn the lands to rubble and soot.
The television feed flickered off the view of the guard-lined palace balcony and to another commercial memorializing the tragic loss of our loving royal highnesses, but my attention was elsewhere.
“It’s a shame Penswill couldn’t pick them all off. It would save us some work.” I hear deeply muttered from inside the kitchen.
Oh lord, did we really have to kidnap another one?
“I don't know. Maybe there is potential from this outcome.” replied another. There was a pause in between the hushed voices. I flicked off the television. The room was shrouded in black and only the static in the air like rolling thunder remained.
“What are you getting at?” The first voice repeated my same thoughts. How could the prince's survival be beneficial? After all, he was the one that we had attempted to snatch up all those years ago. How ironic it was that he was the only survivor.
“Think about it,” the second voice began. “With the King and Queen gone, Prince Ridryn is vulnerable. We could use his delicate state to win his trust and get closer to the crown. Then we can dispose of him by whatever means we see fit. No Prince Ridryn, no heir, no hope. Then we can step in and get ahead.”
“Do you suppose we just waltz up into the palace and go skipping off into the sunset with the prince? I don’t reckon that's the best idea considering the last time we tried to pull something similar to this we nearly blew our cover to the entire kingdom. Doing as much as showing our mugs around the palace again could get us sent straight to the gallows with rope necklaces.”
“I wasn’t insisting that this was a job for the two of us.”
I froze. They were in the other room but I could feel their eyes searching through the dark and the walls. I watched the open doorway into the kitchen, the faint warm light leaking into the shade, knowing that it was coming at any second now. Waiting.
“Come here, Kyrol.” my father finally called out.
I scrambled to my feet and scurried to the kitchen. I clutched the doorframe while poking my head into the room. Father and Mother are staring right into me, waiting expectantly for me except their silent invitation to the privilege of joining their conversation. Nails tapping on the table, half-empty wine glasses set down, and bird cooing, I took a step across the kitchen threshold.
I stood and watched and waited, not daring to say a word to beckon further elaboration.
“Your mother and I have a request for you,” Father said.
By request, he meant demand. I could take his wishes as a request if I chose, but what kind of loyalty and dedication to my family would that show?
“Pertaining to getting acquainted with the prince?” I asked for confirmation while my father picked up the wine glass, taking a slow sip while listening to my question.
“Oh, so you’ve overheard?” He nearly cuts me off.
I look down at my feet and then back to his eyes, realizing the fault I had made by his snide comment.
“Yes,” I admit to him with enough regret in my tone to serve as an apology, but not enough to make me seem too timid and unfit for the possible task at hand.
“Well, considering you were eavesdropping, I’m assuming that you’ve guessed that we could get closer to moving the prince out of power through you.”
I wasn't opposed to the idea, but the plan was a bit inconclusive. I had absolutely no ties to the prince, or anyone close to the royalty for that matter, so the chances of suddenly becoming buddy-buddy with the prince were practically nonexistent. I couldn’t even imagine how I would go about meeting and befriending the prince, especially in times of such high security when he was locked up in his castle day and night.
“How exactly would we put this plan into action? The entirety of Arbenbdale is locked down? I’d think it would be difficult to make any interaction that would get the idea of me stuck in the prince’s mind.” I voiced my doubts. Just then the crowing rang out again. I could now see the source of the noise as my focus was pulled to a birdcage veiled by a burlap covering set on the floor beside my father’s chair. My father turned and bent down to pick up the cage and place it on his lap, the clucking intensifying. He tapped on the cage, ratting the metal bar in an attempt to silence the chirping and flutter of wings. A grin stretched across his face as he hushed the bird before turning his attention back to me.
“I want you to take a trip to Arbendale palace tomorrow,” Father said while lifting the fabric covering the birdcage just enough for me to see the bird's fiery red feathers. “I believe there is a certain prince who is missing his lost pet.”
With his comment, I understood his intention. This was our decoy. The phoenix.