The Witch's Cursed Daughter

53. Royal Brothers

The announcement echoed in a never-ending fashion as the three stared in the direction of the doorway. Anticipation wrought upon their nerves like swift fingers playing a harp; the only course available to them was about to wait for the new arrival to walk into the room.

Julian's stance turned rigid, prepared for open battle. His older brother was highly intelligent; if he had wanted to keep his sword skills a secret, he never would have demonstrated his ability to kill so blatantly before Voster.

Stepping past the mantle of the doorframe, the first prince revealed himself without an aide by his side, sword at his hip. The crisp on-coming summer sun burned golden against his brunette hair and the blackened skin beneath his eyes. Wen's features almost perfectly mimicked his father's, minus the timeless beard.

"Good morning," Julian's voice interrupted the echo that still hung in the air.

"I'm glad you responded to my invitation," Wen monotonously replied, walking towards him.

A crooked smirk appeared on Julian's face, "I wouldn't call it that."

"What does it matter?" Wen responded indignantly. As he stopped before his younger sibling, Wen looked around the entrance hall considering its quaint nature compared to his own palace. Catching sight of a pair of neatly dressed maids by the staircase, he suggested, "Shall we discuss in a more private area?"

Following Wen's line of sight, Julian realised how odd the picture of the princes conversing would seem. Their dislike for one another was well-known after all. Julian's illegitimacy did not keep him from his succession rights: however, his tainted blood prevented his siblings from considering him their equal.

Nodding, Julian motioned for Loem, who had found himself in their company as professionally as a butler can, to lead the way to the study. Arriving at the oaken doors, the first prince made it clear that the conversation should not be privy to others' ears. Leaving Romile and Voster waiting intensely in the corridor, Wen and Julian positioned themselves on opposite sides of an antique desk strewn with papers and books. The rug beneath them created an area similar to a boxing ring, its square border marking the limits of their conversation.

Placing his hands out before him on the table, Julian opened their discussion, "It's a rare occasion that we meet, and I was stunned to hear about your so-called deal."

"True, it's not every day that I can find a purpose for your existence," Wen replied; his sarcasm was evident, but Julian steadied his frustration, ruffling his hair.

"What is it that you want?"

"I have already stated my intentions clearly to your Mage. Twice," this time, irritation coloured Wen's voice as he swiped his finger along the underside of the desk.

"You want me to become king," Julian pressed, "But why?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Sighing, Wen rose from his chair, pacing along his side of the carpet, weapon clinking at his waist, examining books, swords, and art that lined the walls. Pausing before a pencil portrait of the deceased concubine, he spoke, "As you must be aware, in the time since our father has risen to the throne Waldemyre has sunken into debt; we face invasion from Rohnelle in the north, our armies are barely subsisting, and exports have dwindled. My role has been twisted into a shadow king while our father plays away out of sight. Do you believe he should be allowed to continue ruling?" As he finished, Wen brought his gaze to Julian. There were no similarities between them; the green and silver of their irises clashed passionately as each fought for control in the conversation.

"I agree that he should be dethroned. However, I assumed that you would want to become the new king," Julian queried.

"I have had enough of ruling. All I desire is a renewed Waldemyre and a place to rest," Wen replied as he returned to his chair, his etiquette lessons visible in his movements and demeanour.

"I see," pausing, Julian observed Wen from his seat. He was unequivocally positive that Wen was hiding information, but Julian had to concede to his opponent without any tells to act as hints. Releasing a long groan, Julian stated, "I'll have you know that I still don't trust you."

"I don't trust you either. That is why I won't be handing over Evianna until your objective in this deal has been completed," Wen grinned, similarly to Illea.