Chapter Text
The young prince carefully examined the crown in his hands. A great variety of faceted gemstones glimmered at him, catching the dim light of a solitary candle. He had never seen it from so close before; always worn by his father, the crown had remained something unattainable to the boy. But now it belonged to him. That was what Theo had said before passing it to him. Against his will, he remembered how the head of the Royal Guard unsteadily held the crown using a handkerchief or a napkin, not wanting to get the relic dirty as his hands were stained with dark, almost black, thick blood. A strange, nauseating feeling washed over the royal heir, and he nervously searched for a distraction from the unpleasant thoughts occupying his mind. The flame flickered harshly and mysteriously, and, like every living being, the boy was instantly drawn to it. The gold in his hands reflected the light brightly as well.
Maybe it is enchanted by the fire too, he thought quietly, not wanting to disturb the sudden peace in his tired mind.
A single drop of blood seemed to have reached one of the central gems, and the prince moved closer to the candle, trying to wipe it off. He must have moved his hand too abruptly—the flame flickered once again and went out, leaving behind only a barely visible trail of smoke.
It was his best friend who had found his father dead.
The crown was placed on the large bed where the prince had been sitting moments before. He walked through the bedchamber to the balcony. Thoughts of his friend led him to one of the many gifts he had received from him. It was actually the prince’s favorite. With a neat gesture, he removed the telescope from its tripod, wiped the lens with the edge of his sleeve, and looked through it. A waxing moon appeared before his eyes.
In a few more days, it will be full.
The boy stared at it for half a minute, not daring to blink. Then he returned the telescope to its place and closed his eyes, letting them rest.
The distant sound of someone's heavy footsteps in the corridor made the prince anxious. He would never mistake the thuds of guards' boots striking the palace floor. Before a knock could sound at his bedchamber door, he quickly crossed the distance from the balcony to the entrance and pulled the handle open. He found Theo standing behind it. His hands were clean now, as if he had spent hours washing the blood away, though only one hour had passed. Pure exhaustion and devastation darkened his face; only the prince's reflection in his eyes seemed to warm it.
"Parrot, I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Are you alright, Theo?" The prince ignored the condolences.
The murder of the king was a tragedy indeed, just as every loss of life was. But there had never been a deep bond between him and his father, depriving Parrot of both the love every child receives from a parent and of the grief every child feels upon losing the one who gave them life. Quite a fair exchange.
The silence seemed to deepen. The head of the Royal Guard stepped into the room, nervously looking around. The last time he had been there was almost ten years ago. Back then, the prince had been only five years old and had asked the newly appointed Royal Guard to check whether there were any monsters in his bedchamber. One thing had deeply surprised Theo when he first came to help the prince: the boy had not been scared at all. He had been a smart and cautious child, but still a child—a child who was not particularly well entertained by his parents or nursemaids. So, he had hidden some of his toys throughout the room, curious whether the Guard would find them or not.
Theo did not remember whether he had passed that little test, but he had been the young prince's trusted advisor ever since.
"I should never have let him into the palace, let alone allowed him to live here."
Theo turned away from Parrot. The balcony doors were still standing wide open, and he headed over to close them. The prince followed him, casting one last glance at the moon, now obscured by clouds.
"Who are you talking about?"
The head of the Royal Guard turned sharply toward the prince. He saw genuine confusion in the boy's eyes and sighed deeply. Parrot was still a child, even though he always argued with those who called him one. Theo was no exception.
"I'm talking about Wifies."
Parrot did not reply, and nothing changed in his calm yet empty expression.
"We heard a scream from the King's bedchamber and rushed inside. He was there, covered in blood, standing beside your father. We arrested him on the spot. You knew he was the main suspect, and yet you still spoke to him as if nothing had happened—"
"Because he is innocent, Theo."
"He confessed right after you left the room."
The prince's eyes widened in shock and something similar to disbelief. A moment later, anger flashed across his face as he remembered how unscrupulous law enforcement could be.
"Did you coerce him? Did you hit him?"
Theo took a few steps away from the young prince and leaned against the balcony doors.
"No. Nobody hurt him." He tried to make his voice as conciliatory as possible. Though perhaps we should have, Theo thought, closing his eyes and covering them with his right hand while resting the other on the hilt of his sword.
"We should speak to him again. Let us speak to him together, Theo. There must be some misunderstanding. I'm sure he is as confused and frightened as we are—"
"He is not."
Parrot, who had been pacing nervously around the bedchamber only a moment before, stopped and stared at his midnight visitor. Theo approached his young friend and placed his hands on the prince's shoulders.
"He is not. He was the calmest person I have ever interrogated, and that was terrifying, Parrot."
"I will not believe you until I speak to him myself."
The Guard spent a moment staring into Parrot's eyes, trying to find something that might bring them to an understanding. Then he lowered his hands to his sides and looked away.
"It's time to sleep, Your Highness. It's already very late."
"Theo?"
The young prince followed him with his eyes as the Royal Guard headed toward the corridor door. Before stepping out of the room, he turned back to Parrot one last time.
"Come to the Church tomorrow morning. We shall discuss all of this once you can think clearly again."
The door closed behind him, and Parrot could hear the armored boots striking the floor for what felt like an annoyingly long time.
***
"Where did you find this waif, Your Highness?"
A tall figure cast a shadow over the prince and the boy who had come with him as one of the guards stepped toward the two children standing before the palace gates. The boys exchanged glances when the guard addressed the prince.
The sun seemed to have warmed them, and the guard noticed that the heavy cloak the prince had left home wearing was no longer draped over his shoulders. The tall man shifted slightly, allowing the sunlight to fall into the rough-looking boy's eyes once more, making him squint. A brief silence made the murmur of the river seem clearer and more inviting. The ice had melted, and the water shimmered beneath the spring sun.
"He is no waif, sir. He is my friend."
The boy, whose dark brown hair clung to his face, smiled at the prince, though the guard seemed unmoved by the remark.
"Your Highness, you know it is forbidden to let strangers onto the palace grounds. And why are you walking outside alone? Where is the nursemaid who was supposed to be accompanying you?"
The prince shrugged carelessly, but the worried shouts of his nursemaid could already be heard somewhere along the path leading to the bridge.
"Parrot! Parrot, there you are, you naughty boy!"
The two boys exchanged glances once again and giggled at the nursemaid's concern. The guard who had been speaking with them set off at a brisk pace toward the nursemaid, who showed no sign of stopping her exclamations about how the young prince had frightened her and how spoiled he must be. Even if he was spoiled, it was no one's fault but that of his nursemaids, who doted on him and indulged his every whim.
One of the two remaining Royal Guards stepped toward the prince. He knelt before him, and Parrot recognized Theo's eyes beneath the helmet. The armor caught the sunlight and reflected it with a bluish shimmer.
"Parrot, you know he's one of your subjects. You don't need to ask for permission. Just order him to let your little friend in."
The prince seemed to consider those words for a moment. Then he gave a slight nod, and Theo returned to his original position.
The sound of two people walking across the brick-paved bridge drowned out the gentle murmur of the river. The guard appeared to have calmed the nursemaid, and now they were talking quietly on their way back to the palace gate. As soon as they reached the children, the woman resumed scolding her young ward.
"Parrot, thank the gods nothing happened to you! Do you know how dangerous it is for someone your age to walk around alone? Your father—"
"I order you to let me and my friend in."
The prince did not even glance at his nursemaid. Instead, he looked directly at the guard who had refused to let them pass, and who now seemed rather confused by such a sudden command. Parrot must have mistaken the man's hesitation for disagreement with his order and decided to explain himself.
"You are my subject, are you not? Theo said so."
The guard turned toward the prince's silent advisor, but Theo was already staring down at the shimmering river, carefully avoiding his gaze. Then the guard sighed and stepped aside, allowing the boys to enter.
"Of course. Welcome home, Your Highness."
The boys rushed onto the palace grounds, cheering and occasionally glancing back at the guards. The nursemaid quickly said goodbye to her acquaintance and hurried after the prince and his friend, once again shouting that this was no way for the royal heir to behave.
***
The Church welcomed the young prince with its numerous colorful stained-glass windows, where the light refracted and shimmered, creating an enchanting, almost magical atmosphere. The crown in his hands caught one of the rays and gleamed brightly.
It took Parrot a moment to notice the priest's monotone voice reciting a prayer. The morning service would soon come to an end, and the boy realized that he and the priest were the only ones with their eyes open. All the other parishioners had bowed their heads and closed their eyes, as if they had fallen under the prayer's spell. The prince wondered whether some of them had actually fallen asleep.
He stepped between the pews, unsure whether he had chosen the right moment to arrive. The priest finally glanced at him, gave a slight nod, and returned his attention to the thick old book in his hands. His white hair fell over his eyes, yet it did not seem to bother him at all.
Maybe he simply knows the prayer by heart, the boy thought.
Parrot remembered the priest taking his post when he himself had still been a little child, and it was entirely possible that he had served here for even longer. Yet the priest's appearance had not changed over the years. His youthful, cunning face remained the same, as did his snow-white hair.
The creak of a door distracted the prince from staring at the priest, and he turned toward the enormous entrance. Theo leaned against one of the massive doors with all his weight, yet it did not budge an inch. The doors were usually opened by the acolytes before every service and closed once it began. The only exceptions were religious festivals, when they remained open until the very end of the celebration. That was why Parrot had used the side entrance; it seemed that the head of the Royal Guard had more faith in his own strength.
The prince walked over to the door and leaned against it beside Theo. It creaked once again before finally closing with a heavy thud.
"Thank you."
Parrot nodded, and together they walked toward the pulpit, where the priest was still reciting his prayer. He looked up at the prince and the guard, clearly displeased by the loud noise Theo's rashness had caused.
It took some time for all the parishioners to leave the church after the prayer had ended. Theo quietly watched the doors being closed by the four young acolytes. Once the heavy thud echoed through the church again and the acolytes had left them alone, the priest snapped his book shut and leaned casually against the pulpit.
"Have some manners, Eggchan. You're in the prince's presence."
The priest straightened up and adjusted his robes.
"I am well aware of that. I was waiting for you to arrive, Your Highness."
He closed his eyes and smiled smugly, as though he knew everything in the world. Yet there was nothing truly mischievous about the man. Despite his childishness, he always carried out his duties as a priest flawlessly.
"There are two things we need to discuss."
A lock of white hair fell across the priest's face as he abruptly raised his right hand, holding up two fingers.
"First, we need to arrange the King's funeral."
He folded one finger down as he spoke. The mention of his father brought back the memories of the previous night. The prince lifted his gaze to the stained ceiling. A great chandelier hung directly above the pulpit, but it remained unlit, as evening was still far away.
Of course, Theo was wrong about my friend. He does not know him as well as I do. He is not the one who killed my father. He would never do that. Parrot closed his eyes for a brief moment. He winced. Even he did not believe what he had just told himself.
"Second,"
The prince looked back at the priest as he folded down the remaining finger.
"We need to prepare for your coronation, Your Highness."
"How much time do we have?"
Theo glanced at Parrot, concerned that his young friend had remained silent throughout the entire conversation.
The priest closed his eyes and clasped his hands behind his back.
"According to the old tradition..."
The prince missed the entire historical explanation. He was too busy wondering why his friend would do something so terrible. He wouldn't. Parrot trusted Theo. But did that necessarily mean Theo was right? As the head of the Royal Guard, it was his duty to question everyone outside the royal family—their actions, their motives, and everything that had led them to this point. Wouldn't that make Theo biased? But wouldn’t the fact that the main suspect is his best friend make him biased as well? The prince had forgotten that he is the accused now, not the suspect.
Parrot nearly forgot about the crown in his hands. Being made of gold, it was lighter than it looked. He still had not managed to wipe away the drop of blood, which prevented one of the gems from shining at its full brilliance. He did not want to wear it. It felt disgustingly premature. The prince lowered the crown.
His thoughts finally returned to his companions. The priest seemed to have spent quite some time explaining the burial traditions. He tried to include as many details as possible, often wandering away from the main point. Yet it would be unfair to say that his stories were not fascinating. Parrot had always believed he knew the history of his kingdom and its culture well, having spent countless hours in the royal library. Yet the priest recounted the past almost as if he had witnessed it himself.
The bell rang, announcing midday. Parrot glanced at Theo, who shifted his weight impatiently, clearly displeased that the priest devoted so much time to things the guard considered unimportant. Well, people loved talking about the things they knew best. And only the gods knew how many funerals this man had conducted.
The prince felt differently. Not only had the stories distracted him from the burden in his hands, but he had always loved history. Had he known just how much knowledge the priest possessed, he would have become one of the church's most devoted visitors.
"...which led to illness spreading throughout the entire city. One of the few things believed to cure it was—"
"Straight to the point."
The priest opened his eyes and looked at the guard. He seemed genuinely disappointed by the lack of interest in the stories he was trying to share.
"Since death is an inseparable part of our lives, you are surely aware that funerals are held on the fourth day. However, few of you have ever witnessed a coronation."
The priest closed his eyes again, clearly preparing to launch into another story, but Theo coughed a few times, drawing Eggchan's attention back to the present.
"On the fifth day. Coronations are always held on the fifth day after the previous king's death."
The head of the Royal Guard let out a heavy sigh. The next two hours were spent choosing the color of the coffin's drapery, the color of the candles in the chandelier, the flowers that would fill the vases, the flowers that would be planted in the ceramic pots outside the church, the flowers that would be... somewhere else. The prince hardly remembered any of the details. At first, he tried to give thoughtful answers to questions he found entirely pointless. But he soon gave up and began answering with the first thing that came to mind.
His thoughts kept returning to his friend, yet he could not bring himself to face him today. Tomorrow. He would do it tomorrow. He had to.
"We may now move on to discussing your coronation ceremony, Your Highness."
"We will speak of it tomorrow."
The guard and the priest exchanged glances at the prince's words. The young boy quickly handed the crown to the priest.
"It is better for it to remain in your hands until tomorrow."
Eggchan carefully examined the crown and noticed the stain on one of the gems. He wiped it away with the end of his black sleeve, and the drop of blood disappeared almost instantly. The prince smiled faintly and tried to leave the church as quickly as possible.