The Rest is Silence

by Chii Rempel

  “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” I mutter and rub my temples. These boys are going to be the death of me. “You two are so stubborn! And unbelievably stupid, if I may add.”

  “Hey!” Xavier protests.

  “Hey!” comes a muffled sound from behind the door.

  Xavier and I turn to face it. “Alexander are you listening in through the door?” I call.

  Nothing.

  I roll my eyes and lean back against the wall. Then, a silent voice says: “Maybe? I was lonely.”

  That’s enough. Frustration and lack of patience bring me to my feet, so I grab the door handle and give it a good yank. It gives in without resistance, Xan must have unlocked it before. I hear a surprised yelp and suddenly I have a prince at my feet. His eyes are so vibrant that I forget myself for a moment and just stare at him. Sometimes I forget how devastatingly beautiful he is. Not that I would describe him as perfect … he is too lanky, his nose is a little too long, his chin a little too sharp … but there is something about him, there has always been something about him, that catches the eye and makes him beautiful to watch.

  “A little help here?” I realise I must have been staring for too long, but so must Xavier, because neither of us has done anything to help Xan up. Xavier immediately sets on to change that and pulls his best friend carefully into a standing position. Xan mutters something unintelligible and straightens his clothes. The dark colour of his garments make his golden locks shine like a dying star. He knows exactly how he looks in black, that’s why he chooses this colour for his bad days.

  “Finally ready to talk to us? You know we’ve been dying with worry?”

  Xan looks me up and down. “You look pretty alive to me.”

  That comment is worth an eyeroll that would make me blind, unfortunately I am quite fond of my eyesight, so I keep it to the usual annoyed level. It makes Xan huff an amused laugh and I have to turn my head so he doesn’t see my satisfied grin. At least he is talking.

  Xavier puts his teacup onto the little table by the divan – I briefly wonder where my cup disappeared to, it’s probably rolling down the corridor – and walks back to Xan, moving unexpectantly close. I can see Xan’s eyes widen as Xavier’s hands cradle his face in both hands.

  “You’ve been crying,” Xavier observes.

  Xan blinks up at him, surprise clearly written in his eyes, that is quickly replaced with fond gratefulness. I swear to all gods new and forgotten, if these two don’t get their shit together soon, I will break something. Preferably some of their bones, so they can lick their wounds together.

  Somehow, I feel like I am intruding on a private moment. I know those two don’t mean to exclude me, but I am out of place here. Before either of them can notice, I slip out of the room. There’s no need to worry anymore, Xan is in good hands now. I’ll see him tonight anyway, then I can make him tell me everything.

  Something rolls down the corridor as I accidentally kick it with my foot and I look down to find my discarded cup. The rest of the spilled tea has already seeped into the carpet. I pick it up and make my way down to the kitchens.

  Xavier

  I am not entirely sure what I’m doing. Scratch that, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. It was an impulse that drove me this close to Xander and fuck that impulse, because now I can see every speck of colour in his green eyes and smell his ridiculously expensive cinnamon soap and his face is right there and if I don’t back away right now I’m going to do something very stupid.

  I try to move slow as I peel my hands off him and take a good step back. I don’t want him to grow suspicious. Suspicious of something I haven’t even figured out myself yet. What the hells am I even doing?

  “Where’s Arcadia?” he suddenly asks.

  I haven’t even realised that she left. I haven’t thought about her for one second since I’ve seen Xander. This can’t be healthy, I’m becoming obsessed. I make a mental note to apologise to Cadi later. Xander gives me a small smile and that’s when I realise how tired he actually looks. There are shadows beneath his eyes and his shoulders are sagged in a posture he would otherwise never allow himself to have.

  “Let’s sit down,” I suggest and we move to position ourselves on the divan. I am torn between leaving a sensible space between us and pulling him close … we’ve been friends for ages, we’ve always been close. But I feel like I am betraying him when I touch him and have … these feelings, that he doesn’t know about. Am I still allowed to touch him? Wouldn’t he find it strange if I didn’t, given that we’ve always done that? Again, I have no idea what the protocol is here.

  Luckily, he puts me out of my misery by arranging his long legs on top of the cushion and dropping his head into my lap.

  “That’s okay, right?” he asks, looking up at me.

  I take a deep breath to sort my mind and then smile. Of course, it’s okay. He shouldn’t ever feel like it isn’t okay for him to touch me. So I do what feels the most natural to me and place one hand on his chest and the other to carefully tread in his hair. I don’t want to ruin it, he hates when his hair looks messy, but I know for a fact that he secretly adores having someone play with his hair. Xander closes his eyes and smiles satisfyingly, burying himself deeper into the divan.

  He looks so peaceful I almost regret it when I ask: “You want to talk about it?”

  A little flutter of his eyelids is the only indication I get that he’s heard me, his smile stays intact. “Not really. There’s nothing to talk about that you don’t already know.”

  “So they’re serious about sending you away.”

  The sentence hangs in the room, all wrong and unfair. It makes me itchy just thinking about this place without Xander in it. He brings life to these walls. The castle would feel empty without him.

  “Yeah.”

  “You know I won’t let them, right?”

  His smile becomes wider. “Yeah.”

  We remain like this for a while, relishing the silence and each other’s company. All the while my fingers remain where they are, but my eyes travel up and down Xander’s lean frame. With his eyes closed, I take it as an invitation to look my fill. Not that I don’t usually look at Xander, but I try to keep my staring to a minimum. Now, I can freely observe without being afraid to get caught and maybe finally take some time to understand what it is that keeps my gaze travelling to him no matter where in the room he is. He is good looking, I never doubted that – actually, scratch that, he is gorgeous and there is no denying it. But his handsomeness is not what keeps my eyes on him. It’s not the carefully styled locks, that I want nothing more than to mess up with my hands, or the curve of his upper lip, that holds my attention far longer than anything has a right to do, or even the shade of his forest green eyes, that … that are currently looking back at me.

  My brain does a summersault back to reality, while my heart starts a running contest without me. I should look away, avert my gaze and play it cool – I was only looking, nothing wrong with that. But there’s something in his eyes that I can’t quite decipher and that holds my gaze even beyond all embarrassment.

  “Fancy a drink?”

  I blink a few times before his words seep through. “Err … what?” I ask eloquently.

  With a smirk he sits up and looks at me mischievously. “A drink, Colson. I’m pretty sure you’re experienced in the matter.”

  I still don’t understand where this is coming from. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re upset. It would be better if we talked –”

  “I don’t want to talk. I want to drink. With you,” he insists, green eyes burning into mine. “Don’t play the saint with me now, Xavier, you’ve looked for release at the bottom of a bottle more times than I can count.”

  “Yeah, those were clearly my best moments,” I object. “But who am I to deny the prince some release?”

  He raises an eyebrow amusedly. “Good call, Colson.”

  I grunt as we peel ourselves out of the cushions. “You onl
y call me by my last name when you’re drunk. You’re not drunk yet.”

  “Practice, darling, practice. I’m planning on getting spectacularly drunk.”

  I sigh, knowing that there is no stopping Xander when he has his mind set on something.

  We end up walking the path leading from Trelburg into town. The forest around us keeps most of the moonlight away, but I could navigate the way blindfolded. Xander has stolen two bottles of rum from his father’s old cabinet, claiming they’re his now anyway, and taken a couple of good swigs right away. This is not going to end well.

  I’m keeping hold of the second bottle – he’d haunt me forever if I let him die of an alcohol poisoning – while we stroll over the gravelled road, Xander’s arm hooked through mine.

  “Let’s go there!” he announces suddenly and yanks me off the way and into the trees.

  “Xander,” I begin, wanting to tell him it’s too dark to be wandering around the woods, but he interrupts me. “No, no, it’s fine,” he mouths happily. My protest dies as I catch the glimmer in his eyes. He looks happy. After the day he’s had, he deserves a bit of carefree happiness. Even if it comes with irresponsible drunkenness.

  “Come on, come on” he chants and pulls me faster through the darkness. How we don’t trip and land on the ground remains a mystery to me.

  Suddenly, we step through the trunks and into a clearing. The moonlight illuminates the little round space between the trees, giving it a dreamlike glow. I throw Xander a surprised glance, only to find him grinning at me already.

  “You forgot about the place, didn’t you?” he chuckles.

  I nod, slowly looking around. There are still a few flowers blooming here and there, a last reminder of the passing summer. They look peaceful in this lonely place, and tragically romantic.

  “We used to come here when we were kids and the grown-ups were impossible again,” Xander recalls.

  I meet his gaze. “Why did we stop?”

  He shrugs and takes a sip from his bottle. “We became impossible ourselves.”

  His words leave an ache in my chest, that I don’t know how to soothe. “Are we?”, I ask, as I sit down into the grass. “Impossible?”

  The ground is cold, but I don’t care. Xander follows me, sitting down beside me so that our shoulders touch.

  I can feel that he wants to say something, but the words never pass his lips.

  “Do you ever think about where this is all headed?” he asks, after the minutes have passed in silence.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Life. Everything. Do you ever think about what purpose we fulfil, what role we have to play in this endless game?”

  “I don’t have to think about it,” I say truthfully, “I know my purpose. I have to see you someday claim the throne of Jütland for yourself. I have to make sure you remain yourself, while you navigate the course of becoming a good and righteous king. And then, hopefully, I can succeed my father and become the captain of your army. That is my purpose.”

  Xander takes another good swig from his bottle. “That’s not a purpose. That is what you have to do, what your father makes you do, not what you want or are destined to do.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s exactly what I want to do – I’m exactly where I want to be. By your side. This is my purpose. You are my purpose, Xander.”

  He groans and buries his face in my shoulder. “I wish you would mean it.”

  Confused, I turn so he has to sit back up and look at me. “I do mean it,” I insist.

  He only grunts and brings the bottle back to his lips. I follow the movement of his throat with my eyes, as he swallows nearly half the bottle. Then he lets himself fall back against my side, head resting against my shoulder.

  “Do you remember the first time we met?”

  I breathe out a laugh. “How could I forget? You were the most ridiculous child I’ve ever seen with your long golden gown and the feathers along your shoulders.”

  He smacks me in the chest with the back of his hand. “You are one to talk. You looked like a rowdy, with your scraped knuckles and scratches all over your chin. I thought you’d beat me up the first chance you get.”

  “Hey, I was wearing my best clothes that day, my father had insisted on that! And I would’ve never beaten up the prince, I’m not suicidal.”

  “Instead, you beat up the armourer’s boy.”

  “I admit, it wasn’t my finest moment.”

  “But you did it for me.”

  “Yeah,” I breathe, “I did it for you. He never made a comment about you being too girly again.”

  Xander sits up and takes his warmth with him. I already mourn its loss. Glazy green eyes look at me.

  “Did you ever think I was … too girly?”

  The question hits me in an odd place. He’s never voiced his concern about that. With the confidence he’s radiating, I don’t think anybody would dare question his character.

  “Honestly?” I ask, “No. You are you, Xander, no matter what you wear or how you behave. There are bigger problems in the world than a man dressing girly. Anybody who thinks otherwise is welcomed to talk to my fists.”

  Xander laughs at that. It’s his chuckling, snorting kind of laugh that he only makes when he’s drunk and I love it. He lets his head fall back against my shoulder.

  “Thank you. You’re my best friend Xavier, you know that, right?”

  I’m still a little confused, but the warm feeling from him being so close makes me smile. And his voice sounds slurry and sleepy, which is frankly just adorable. “Of course. You’re my best friend, too.”

  He hums in agreement. “Then it’s okay when I do this, right?”

  I jolt in surprise when I feel cold fingers hesitantly searching for my hand.

  “S-Sure.”

  He hums again and threads his fingers through mine.

  9

  Xander

  My eyes are heavy and my head feels like somebody must have run something hard over it, there is no other explanation for the misery I’m experiencing. My thoughts are a blur … I remember late-night-talks and warm fingers in mine. But as far as I know, that could have been a dream. A very pleasant dream. What I definitely don’t remember is how I got into my bed – and into my pyjamas. I pull off the blanket. Oh gods, did Xavier …

  “Rise and shine, princess.” Arcadia storms through my double doors with an amused grin and a very flustered looking Ansgar in her tow. He appears to be holding a tray with what I can only hope is a strong cup of tea. I throw the blanket back over me quickly. No need for a servant to see his prince in such a state of disarray, really. Heavens, I can only assume what my hair must look like … no wonder Ansgar is looking anywhere but me.

  “Arcadia, darling,” I groan over the dryness in my throat, “To what do I owe the pleasure so early in the morning?”

  She shoots me a grin before heading straight for the windows and pulling back the curtains with delight. I let out an undignified squeak when the bright light hits my eyes and think about all the ways I could murder Arcadia without anybody noticing.

  “Not so early anymore,” she chimes and plants herself on the bed next to me. I have to blink a few times to adjust to the brightness, then shoot her a glance that hopefully conveys my murderous intentions. My efforts are in vain, as her smug look remains intact.

  “Thank you, Ansgar, please leave the tea on the bedside table,” she says with a smile. Ah, tea. The drink of the gods and bringer of life. Ansgar nods, putting the tray down and stealing a quick look at me, which I answer with an arched eyebrow. His cheeks flush lightly and he hurries out of the room.

  “No need to torment the poor guy,” Arcadia chides.

  I turn a surprised look at her. “I wasn’t.”

  “Sure.” She reaches for the steaming cups and gives one of them to me. I grab for it with the rush of a man dying of thirst. Of course, I burn my tongue on the first sip. Still, worth it.

  “Sooo ….” Arcadia’s smug grin is back in
place. “Care to share what happened last night?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say into my mug.

  She barks out a laugh. “So you want to tell me nothing out of the ordinary happened while you were out yesterday? Drinking, as is quite evidently written on your face.”

  I bury myself deeper into the mattress. “No.”

  “That means Xavier carrying you bridal style into your bedroom is a typical midnight activity for you two?”

  I nearly spit out my tea. Nearly, as tea is precious and should never be wasted.

  “W-What?” I ask horrified.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t look so shocked.” Her grin turns into a smirk. “He seemed to be rather enjoying himself with how you were clinging to him in your sleep.”

  I let out a groan as I reassess how I can best kill myself instead of Arcadia. She lets out a chuckle and bumps her shoulder into me.

  “Hey,” she says, her voice suddenly gentle, “don’t worry. He’s not mad. You should have seen the look on his face before he saw me approaching. It was as if he finally had you where you belonged, in his arms. You two will make the cutest couple in town.”

  I slide down further and let my head rest against her shoulder.

  “And the hottest,” she adds.

  I snort and she starts laughing.

  “You are being impossible!” I complain, but I can’t hide the grin in my voice. “And I know how much you love to exaggerate. Xavier was just being friendly, I don’t think he had a … a … a look about him when he had to carry me. Except for annoyance maybe.”

  I can feel Arcadia shake her head. “You are an idiot. You both are.”

  “And still you love me.”

  “And still I love you.”

  My mood is distinctly better today than it was the last few days. I have no intentions of anybody – especially my uncle or my mother – ruining this for me, so I attire myself in the best armour I have: A long, entirely golden robe with intricate black embroidery on my cuffs and collar. Gold is for good days.