Modern Magick

Royalty and Ruin: 5

Baron Alban's words echoed in my mind. The next heir to the throne of Mandridore. 'But,' I said, and took a breath. 'But you said— did you lie? You said you were not born to eminence.'

'No! I didn't lie. That was true. I am a commoner, same as you. I mean— wait, I didn't mean that.' He gave a great sigh and sank down to the floor, resting his back against the ballroom wall. 'I was given a barony years ago, for services to the Crown. And after that there were a lot more services to the Crown. The rewards piled up. Houses, lands, wealth... for a time, I admit, I was delighted with it all. I'd spent long enough in rootless poverty to appreciate plenty when it came. But it came at a price.

'See, Their Majesties are childless. That's a huge problem for them both personally and... and professionally. No family, no heir. And the queen's been too old to bear children for some years now. Something had to be done.

'What's less widely known is that she is sick. She's in no imminent danger, but there was no time left to adopt and raise an infant. They needed a capable heir, and fast.

'So they chose me. They knew I could handle the duties of the monarch, I've proved it enough times. And we are... fond of each other.' He stared sightlessly into the middle distance, not looking at me. 'I knew what it would mean if I said yes: nothing about my life would ever be my own again. But how could I refuse? In effect, they were my family already. And they were desperate. So I agreed. That was a year and a half ago.'

He fell silent. 'So you became the crown prince,' I prompted. 'And got married.'

'Some say monarchies are outdated in these modern times, but regardless, they're still here. And they operate according to all the same old rules. The line of succession's been in doubt for long enough. Ysurra wants to see it secure before she dies.

'So they chose a bride for me. Her name is Marit. She's the eldest daughter of the king and queen of Arenmark, the troll kingdom of Norway. She is a good woman.' He paused, and sighed deeply. 'Ice cold, a princess to her fingertips... but I cannot rightly fault her.'

I sat silent, my mind reeling. My jovial, easy-going, occasional colleague Alban was a married crown prince, preparing to take the throne of Mandridore.

In truth, the married part did not altogether surprise me. It had previously entered my head to wonder why so popular a man, with so many obvious advantages, had not been snapped up by some pearl of ladykind long before. Of course he wasn't single. What kind of an idiot was I, that I had accepted this apparent incongruity without ever thinking to ask?

But the rest left me reeling.

'Why,' I said after a while, 'were you flirting with me when you're married?'

He looked rather sadly at me. 'Because it is what the old me would have done.'

The old Alban, just a baron and not a prince. Free to explore, free to flirt, free to choose. I watched him for a moment, trying to read his face. I saw mostly sadness. 'Do you regret saying yes to this new life?'

'Sometimes,' he said, so softly I barely heard the word.

Despite my anger and humiliation, I felt a stab of pity for him. He'd trapped himself, and if he was to be believed, he had done it for laudable enough reasons. I tried to imagine the loneliness of the life he had described: married to an assigned partner, chosen for every advantage but your own. Constantly flattered and courted, but incapable of being truly close to anybody. I could see why he'd enjoyed his interludes with me. It must've been like having a holiday from his new self.

'What was it you were planning to do with me?' In all fairness, I couldn't accuse him of having done anything all that much wrong. He'd flirted, but he hadn't seriously courted me. He'd taken me out to breakfast, but we'd never had a real date. He hadn't even kissed me.