The Prince and the Punk [EDITING]

Chapter 12

Xavier

From across the room, I see Janice start to shake. Her hand flies to her mouth and something flutters to the ground in front of her.

"Janice?" I stand and cross the room towards her. She doesn't reply, and the only sound she makes is a shallow breath.

Something is clearly wrong. I bend down and pick up the piece of paper she's dropped. I have to read it three times before it sinks in.

"Is this...?"

"A draft," she pants, clutching her stomach with her hands like she might double over. "They want me to fight. I can't fight."

I clench my fist, feeling the paper crumple in my grip. Anger takes hold of me quickly and completely, and my eyes narrow.

"Stay here," I tell Janice, and storm out of the room, stomping through the winding hallways and carpeted staircases of the palace until I reach the basement floor.

The war room is always locked, but I pound on the heavy black door.

"Open this fucking door!" I shout.

Someone pulls it back a sliver, and I shove it the rest of the way open, not caring about the loud bang it makes when it slams against the wall.

I've never been in here before, and the first thing I notice is how cold it is. I shiver as a wall of freezing air hits me. It's dimly lit except for the area around the map table, which is jarringly bright, like a white pillar in the center of the room. My parents and a few generals stand huddled around it, and their urgent voices cut off as I make my entrance. They look at me like I'm a little old lady slowly crossing the street in front of their car, but I don't let it faze me.

"What the fuck is this?" I slam the draft down on the table in front of my father, who takes one look at it and scowls.

"Where did you get this?" he demands, snatching it up.

"Doesn't matter," I deflect. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but you can't just send her—"

"Can't?" he booms, cutting me off. "If I wanted to execute her, I could, and there'd be nothing you could do about it. Not until you're the one sitting on that throne. So don't you tell me what I can't do."

This terrifies me. Never in my life have I seen such a perfect example of abuse of power.

"You hate her that much? Enough to send her off to get killed?" I ask indignantly.

"You didn't..." my mother interjects, staring in disbelief at my father.

He shoots her a warning glare and she falls silent.

"The draft is a random lottery," he tells me.

I scoff. "You expect me to believe this is a coincidence? You think I'm that much of an idiot?"

"I have no control over it," he lies. "I'm very sorry."

"Undo it, then," I order, taking the paper back. "You have absolute power. Use it and revoke her draft."

"I can't do that."

"Why not? We had a deal!"

"We had nothing! I'm your father and I'm the King, and if I say the girl goes to war, then she goes to war. She's nothing but a distraction to you." He turns back to the map table. "Now leave us. There are more important matters at hand than your little girlfriend."

"Oh, fuck you!" I yell, my anger reaching its boiling point.

He stands abruptly. "Get him out of here!"

One of the generals grabs me by the collar and practically throws me into the hall. I stumble and run into the wall. The door slams in my face, and I stand there feeling smaller and more powerless than I ever have in my life.

I think of Janice in the middle of a battlefield and curse my father, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's doing this to force me back in line. I hate him. I hate him so much I feel it in my bones. I nearly break down right here and now, anger hitting me in waves so powerful I have to sit against the wall for a moment before my vision clears.

Slowly, anger mixes with guilt, fear, and helplessness. I feel myself deflate as I trek back to my room. I stop at the door, not quite knowing how to face Janice. What am I even supposed to say?

In my head, I know this isn't my fault, but a nagging voice in my head insists that it is. I try to ignore the thought as I quietly enter my room.

Janice sits on the floor, hugging her knees against her chest and resting her chin on them.
When I come in, she looks up at me with red, puffy eyes. I shut the door and sit down next to her silently. She leans her head on my shoulder, looking as tired as I feel.

Waning daylight casts long shadows on my floor, and the room seems to grow larger as the setting sun gives it an orange hue. The day has seemed infinitely long, but I feel no relief that it's ending. Janice and I watch as the sunlight fades and the crescent moon takes over the sky.

"How long do you have?" I ask her after a long silence.

"Until December first," she answers softly.

I check the date on my phone. It's November 25, which gives us five days. I have just five days left with her. Suddenly, the passing of time seems like a curse, and if I could stop it right now, I would.

We sit there in comfortable silence, Janice's head on my shoulder. Eventually, I realize she's fallen asleep. Careful not to wake her, I slide her off of me and guide her to the ground as gently as I can.

When I crawl into bed, I toss and turn for a good while. My mind races, and my eyes refuse to stay closed.

After a while, I hear Janice groan and stir somewhere in the dark. I can't see her, but I can hear her teeth chattering.

"Janice?" I call in a whisper, feeling a pang off guilt for leaving her on the ground with no blanket.

"Yeah?"

"Are you cold?"

"Uh-huh," she mumbles.

"Do you wanna come up?" I offer tentatively.

I don't have to ask her twice. I hear her get up and stumble over to the bed, cursing as she stubs her toe on some unseen object. Maybe I should get a nightlight.

I slide over and she burrows into the sheets, sighing in relief. My bed is massive, so there's plenty of room for both of us to sleep in it without having to come in contact with one another.

Still, she feels so close, huddled next to me against the cold. I've never shared a bed with anyone in my life, and with her, I decide I like it.

Before long, exhaustion and comfort mix together, allowing me to drift into a fitful sleep.

++++

It was a draft! Did you see it coming? We're about to get a very in-depth, personal look at how the Zinnan War is going. Hint: Not too well.

Anyway, pretty pretty please leave a comment! I'd love to know what everyone thinks of Janice and Xavier and the King and my writing style and just everything. Feedback is MOST welcome! (Votes are welcome too, hint hint...)