Human Again

by E. L. Tenenbaum

  “I sent Bram to the castle with a note to let them know where we are, Your Highness,” he told me without looking up. “I’ll wait here until Jaxel and Kellan arrive.”

  I nodded even though he wasn’t looking. “Thank you,” I said simply, the words extending far beyond the simple sending of the message.

  Daimyon didn’t say anything at first, didn’t say anything at all while he finished working, cleaned off his knives then made them vanish somewhere on his person. Not much passed between us as we awaited my guards the rest of the afternoon, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I was tired enough so I was sure I dozed at one point, only becoming aware of this as I felt myself waking up to everything just the way it was but now illuminated by a late afternoon sun. The bat was back, hovering in the air over Daimyon’s head, waiting for him to finish up so they could be on their way.

  Daimyon must have heard the approaching men, because well before they came into view, he was beside me, extending his hand in parting.

  “Thank you,” I stared to say again, but he waved away any need to show him gratitude.

  “A small repayment for taking me in,” he said. “Remember what we spoke about. Remember you can decide. Highness.”

  He backed away with a slight bowing of his head and was gone just moments before the men came crashing through the trees. I turned long enough to confirm who they were, and when I looked back there was no sign of Daimyon, not even a swaying tree branch to give away where he’d gone.

  Jaxel and Kellan had brought a makeshift carrier with them, but both ignored it as they ran over to examine the stag.

  Kellan couldn’t hold back his low, appreciate whistle. “That, Highness, must be the grandest deer a man’s eyes ever saw,” he said, visibly awe-struck.

  “A sure sign of the magnificent reign awaiting the prince’s future,” Jaxel added more tactfully.

  At that point, all I wanted was to go back to the castle, set eyes on Kiara’s beautiful, glowing face, soak in a bath, then curl under a blanket and sleep until the party. It was only a few days away, but it felt like weeks considering the intensity of all that had occurred.

  “Let’s load it up and get out before the wolves come,” I snapped at them instead.

  Home is Where a Heart is

  Daimyon’s departure signaled the imminent arrival of Kiara’s party. The anticipation of what would be, of how the first soiree thrown by the banished prince and the first social event this castle had seen would play out, increased daily. Enough that I had to take constant breaks outdoors, away from the flurry of activity, to shut down all thoughts and feelings and immerse myself in the most mind-numbing tasks. I stayed away from people and interacted with the servants as little as possible. I had never been so careful in my life, which didn’t make the days any easier, because a man walking on shards of glass simply cuts his feet slower.

  Kiara was the only one for whom none of this applied. As ever, and perhaps even more, she was my sun, my light, the only calm in the churning ocean of my silent, violent fury. Because I had no idea of what would be after, I jealously grabbed every minute I could with her, found little reasons to be near her within the endless swirl of preparations. I wish I could say her face always brightened when she saw me approach, that her step was lighter whenever she drew nearer to me, but I have no proof of either. Her face was always bright, her step always light, and her smile graciously extended to everyone.

  When we finally sat down to peruse the final guest list, we discovered—to my surprise, at least—that almost everyone who was invited had agreed to come. There would be eighty-seven villagers and twenty-four nobles, along with their staff and ours, so the castle would have to be readied for over one hundred and fifty visitors. At the palace, such a crowd would still be considered a private affair, but for a man who’d lived alone for well over a year and a half, the number was staggering.

  Also, despite my reticence, Kiara and I continued to debate about whether or not to invite my parents and sisters.

  One, we had never celebrated my eighteenth birthday, so it seemed right they should join in the celebration for my twentieth now.

  Two, we didn’t want them hearing about the party from someone else, so it was best I tell them about it directly.

  Three, they were my family after all, but I didn’t want them seeing me in a magic induced haze. I didn’t want them seeing me at all until I was altogether cured. And if I never was, then so be it. Let them remember me when I still had some humanity, when I was still occasionally gregarious and social, let them never be given an excuse to banish me, or my memory, from the palace for good.

  Four, I could not yet bring myself to forgive my father for the way he’d abandoned me the night I was cursed, for the way he had looked at me without a trace of compassion, as if I couldn’t even disappoint him anymore because he no longer expected anything else from me. My heart had hardened toward the man who had hardened his toward his only son. Not that I ever told Kiara that.

  In the end, we decided to send an invitation and a personal note to Amellia, informing her of the party and asking her to relay the information to the rest of the family. At the same time, the note would politely but firmly suggest there was no need to attend, as their duties surely kept them bound to the palace, which they couldn’t possibly leave for the two weeks it would take to travel back and forth. Besides, there was still a war on, after all.

  In that vein, the morning I came back from the hunt, flush and triumphant with my prize, I hurried to my room to clean up and set myself to rights before I saw Kiara again. As we had traveled through the night to reach the castle as quickly as possible, and to avoid attacks from predators catching scent of our kill, the three of us arrived spent and exhausted. I relieved Jaxel and Kellan of their duties for the rest of the morning and intended to sleep till afternoon, after I saw Kiara.

  As I entered my rooms to wash and change, I noticed an envelope had been left on my writing table addressed to me in my sister’s handwriting. In the letter, my sister wrote about how happy and relieved she was to hear from me, knowing I’d been sent to help quell the “trouble” on our border, and having been “worried sick” once war broke out.

  Then came the postscript.

  My sister “reminded” me about her upcoming wedding, the first I was hearing of it, though considering how long it had taken the rest of her letters to reach me it could have easily been lost. That or Father never bothered to inform me. She urged me to “take leave from my heroics on the battlefield” so I could make it home in time. Enclosed was a sketch of a happily smiling Amellia with a man I understood to be her future husband. I examined the drawing very carefully. From what I could make out from his crest, it seemed Father had nabbed for her the son of one of the most powerful dukes in Delphe.

  I didn’t take time to process much more or think through any part of this not-wholly-unexpected milestone, because suddenly the ice clenched my chest and the darkness overwhelmed me, releasing the beast with a vicious roar that surely shook the very foundation of the castle.

  Is this what my life had come to? My sister, the supposed “Heir Presumptive,” was to be married and no one had seen fit to notify me about this new addition to the bloodline and very real threat to my seat on the throne?

  I forced myself to sit on one of the bolted chairs in my sitting room, but stood abruptly when the next thought slammed into me, nearly toppling me over as the implication sank in.

  What if Father had already given up on me? What if Father no longer saw me as the future king but was marrying off his daughter to whomever this nobleman was so he could soon crown her heir?

  Was I so lost, so not worth the wait, even if I could never be Adlard?

  Was I so inept, so unworthy of my name, that I could never be as victorious as the first Azahr?

  Why was he so certain that I would never sit on his throne?

  I’m not entirely certain of what came next, because my vision was so filled with fury, the detai
ls are still hard to discern.

  When I returned to myself, the fire was still smoldering with remnants of the beautiful hand-carved wood paneling that had only just lined my room. The stuffed layers that had padded the stone to protect my body from impact and block the echo of my bloody shrieks from the rest of the castle were scattered about the room like the last vestiges of melting snow. Hours had passed, but with the sun still shining through the tall windows, I didn’t know if it was already the next day or merely late afternoon.

  My body felt heavy, pinned down with sharp icicles, chunks of broken expectations and ruined dreams. I tried to lift my head, but it wouldn’t budge, it couldn’t. I tried to raise my arm, to push against the floor and raise my body up, but I lacked the strength. I considered staying there and letting the demons engulf me, let them consume me wholly and finish the work begun long ago, the work which had only intensified with the faery’s curse. Let my sister have the throne, let her give it to her heir. I didn’t want it anymore.

  Somehow, the thought came to me that if no one had come to find me, that if I hadn’t woken up to a circle of concerned faces, then no more than a few hours could have passed. I didn’t need to rush downstairs because I wasn’t yet expected, nor did I want to. Slowly, I managed to drag myself into my bedroom and look up at the ribbons of the family portrait leaning against the wall.

  “I’m done,” I told them, looking each in the eye, beginning with myself. However much a beast I was then, I was still double the man I had become. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the son you wanted me to be. I’m sorry I wasn’t the brother you should have had. Live and be happy. Live and forget about me.”

  My head sunk to the floor, exhausted from the strain of staying up and pushing so many words out of so raw a throat. All I wanted was to sleep and never awaken, to drift off into the endless, barren wasteland and never have to see what would become of me.

  With such morbid thoughts crowding my mind, I unexpectedly remembered the faery’s mirror, remembered her sneer when she told me I could use it to see the throne and the power I had forfeited in my indecency toward her. Abruptly, I was overwhelmingly curious about what it would actually show me. What did my mind, my heart consider most beloved at an hour when nothing mattered anymore, at an hour I wished was my very last?

  I rather ungracefully hoisted myself onto my mattresses and from there immediately flopped over. I could feel the blackness tugging me downward again, and though it was so tempting to give in, I resisted. I hadn’t once used the mirror since the faery had given it to me but the burning question compelled me toward it now. I slithered up the bed and rolled over to the side closest to the wall, just under the corner, always at hand but never touched was the mirror.

  I wrenched the mattresses up and grabbed the handle, slamming them down again in defiant exclamation of what I was about to do. I set the mirror facedown beside me, then took a breath and steeled myself for the upcoming moment of truth. What was most beloved to me at that point? Was there anything left to reignite the fire of life, anything left to fight for? I closed my eyes and tried to clear my thoughts.

  I didn’t entirely succeed before I gave up. I didn’t have time to restore my mind to a safe enough place. I shakily held the mirror up, willing it, daring it to show me what was most beloved to me at a time when even life itself wasn’t. What could it possibly show to give hope to a blackened, crumbling soul?

  The silver warbled and spun as my reflection fell away to be replaced with one I could never see enough.

  “Kiara,” I whispered, raising a hand to stroke her cheek, to brush back a curl.

  I wasn’t surprised to see her there, should have expected it really, so the mirror only confirmed for me what I had suspected. Seeing her meant more to me than the head of the largest stag ever could.

  The image blurred and I thought it was the mirror until I felt the tears leak out onto my cheeks, the first sign that a thaw was possible, before the dam broke and a torrent of cool, bitter tears rushed out of me. I sobbed and sobbed, clutching the mirror to my chest and releasing my disappointments with myself in the river of tears that wouldn’t cease.

  I cried because I finally admitted the truth to myself, finally acknowledged the rightfulness of Daimyon’s words when he’d warned me that I would have to set her free. I cried over my powerlessness to stop the ice that was even now frosting over my heart, not even allowing these tears to break its hold over me, this one chance to regain my footing as a human being.

  I cried for the man I could have been and for the man Kiara so dearly wanted me to be.

  I cried for what I would never, could never, have.

  And I cried because, even then, I couldn’t give up the beast and its power.

  I carried on until there was nothing left inside of me, nothing but an empty cavern of darkness housing a beast that mockingly lapped at the salty pool of my tears. I gulped in deep breaths and willed my heaving heart to regain its usual rhythm. And only when I stopped, only when my room was quiet enough to hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, were my thoughts allowed to form once more.

  At that moment, I made a few important decisions about my future.

  One, despite everything, despite all the words of encouragement and all the acts of kindness, I was finished. I could not live with myself, could not live in myself anymore. I was tired, so, so very tired of knowing that whatever I did, whoever I was, it would never be enough.

  Two, I would not think about the future, I would focus on the now, living out every last day to its fullest.

  Three, after the party, after all had been cleaned and put away, I would release Kiara, chase her away if I must, as long as she went far away from me. Ms. Potsdam, Alvie, Kellan, and Jaxel would all be relieved of their duties. The other servants as well. I would unleash the beast and run them all out of the castle, anything to make sure I was left alone, and they had a chance to live out what was still left of their lives.

  Four, I would lock myself into the forgotten cells of the dungeon and stay there for my remaining days, throw the key out of reach, then hope and pray the beast would end me by dashing my head against the stones in a futile, fatal attempt to break through them.

  With such thoughts in mind, with such dark resolutions made, I was finally able to lift myself out of bed. I cleaned up once more and took extra care dressing, turning out the best and most admirable me that I could.

  Then, I shut off my emotions, coolly straightened my spine, thrust back my shoulders, and went to find Kiara, to help prepare a birthday celebration that would also commemorate my end.

  The night before the party, Kiara and I sat up late in the parlor. It was one of those moments when we both knew we should be grabbing some much-needed rest before the flurry of the next day began, yet neither one of us moved anyway. Besides, I was relishing this quiet time when I had her all to myself.

  I eyed Kiara where she half-sat, half-lay on the sofa across from my big chair. Her hair was mussed and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she seemed content, as if everything was just the way she wanted it to be.

  Realizing this would be one of our last nights together before I let her go, I wanted to converse with her, to soak up as much of her goodness as I could, but I floundered for an opening. She was usually the one to start talking and I would simply follow after her, but she wasn’t taking the lead tonight. I would’ve loved to speak with her about what I saw in the mirror, but I had let go of hoping for such things. Especially as it was prompted by the letter from my sister, which I would much rather forget.

  But not before remembering that Kiara also had siblings.

  I cleared my throat to catch her attention and she turned her head toward me quizzically. “Your sisters,” I began, then couldn’t remember just how many there were, “they’ll be here tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Kiara replied with a grin that stretched across her beautiful face, her joy at my taking the initiative to ask about her family apparent enough
to make me squirm.

  “Won’t you tell me about them?” I asked.

  Kiara straightened a little in her seat as she warmed to the idea. “Well,” she began, “I have two sisters and though the three of us share our coloring, we are very different in temperament.”

  “What are they like?” I pressed gently. “Do they play the harp as well? Or are they just very good at arranging parties?”

  This at least drew a laugh from her and I savored its magical chime. If only there was a way to make it the last sound I heard down in the dudgeons before I was lost to this world forever.

  “Trina is the oldest,” Kiara said, “and she’s married to Heinz. She remembers Mama the most, of course, and claims to look the most like her. She was raised together with the lord’s oldest daughter, so she grew very used to that lifestyle and was always certain she’d marry at least a baron.” Kiara shrugged. “Heinz is also a merchant, but he does well enough that Trina has a maid and a cook in her household. Still, she never truly let go of her dreams of being a noblewoman. She doesn’t like to work very hard and would rather own a pot of honey than a sheep, because the honey doesn’t need tending to.”

  I would’ve rolled my eyes at such a ridiculous notion but resisted, especially as Kiara bit her lip then as if she’d said too much, too severely. My own life of royalty didn’t exactly necessitate the kind of work that went into watching flocks of sheep, but only the really incompetent of nobility were ever idle. Most were still governing their lands, petitioning the king, monitoring the needs of their people, and implementing trade. As a crown prince, my life should have been busy with areas of governance, dreaming big, implementing large. Women also had much to worry about in running large households, including keeping accounts, training servants, and raising children. Granted, we spent much more time than common folk in planning parties and engaging in other types of political mingling that seemed frivolous, but anyone worth their title worked for their positions and leisure, we didn’t laze about all day.