Shortcake

 

I watch her walk down the hall. Her face had gone so pale at the sight of that body, yet that showed how strong she was. If she had been any other lord’s daughter se would have fainted before she could even scream. Maybe it’s because we’ve spent so much time together growing up, or maybe she’s just made of sterner stuff, but Novra seems to recover so quickly. She must have seen a dozen dead bodies now.

I’ve half a mind to ask my father to send her and her father to the summer palace to oversee its winter doings, but for purely selfish reasons I want her here. I’ll be straight, I like her, even love her. Today when she grabbed my hand I felt something within me melt a little. She’s clever, sweet, understanding, patient, beautiful, strong, I could go on and on. I’ve wanted to tell her for a long time how I felt, but I can’t subject her to that. I know her position, I know how the other nobles treat her.

“She’s not of noble blood,” they say, “She can never be one of us,” they whisper, “She will never understand our ways,” they think. It’s my fault that she’s had to withstand this slander, my fault for keeping her so close and in the crossfire. No one cares that she wasn’t nobly born, that’s just the excuse they use to reticule her. They never say anything to me, they know that she is my friend, but they still say things against her when they think I’m not listening.

I ring for my dinner to be sent up and lay down on the couch, it still smells like her, like a fresh breeze from the planes of Gravshter. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them again Lukas, my attendant is hovering over me.

“Lukas!” I shout, “You weren’t to be back till overmorrow.”

“I was, but I heard about your father and came back to assist you,” Lukas says.

“Well then you’ve heard more then I,” I say pouring myself glass of water from the pitcher on my desk, “Tell me what you know.”

“It’s not my place,” Lukas says.

“I’m the prince, I’m your superior, and if something has happened to my father then I’m the king. So speak,” I say.

“Sire,” Lukas says bowing in submission, “I’ve been told your father is very ill, and is unlikely to recover.”

“Is it so bad?” I ask.

“They say it’s tetanus,” Lukas says.

“Lockjaw?” I ask.

“It appears so sire,” Lukas replies.

            “How long has he been sick?” I try to stay calm, it could be relatively early, he could still live.

            “Five days, he’s not expected to make it another day,” Lukas says. I can see it really  pains him to tell me this. Lukas though a servant for my family has been with me as long as Novra has. We were always together and he’s just like a brother to me.

            “I see,” I say sitting behind my desk and folding my hands.

            “Sire, respectfully, it would be best if you prepared for the worst,” Lukas says quietly.

            “I know,” I say resting my chin on my folded hands. I shouldn’t have let Novra away, I could really use her support right now. If my father has been sick for a week and no one has told me then that means the lords have been trying to make decisions without me. “Okay make a list,” I say pushing pen and paper to Lukas. He takes them and nods telling me he’s ready. “Okay have all the lords meet me here tomorrow, make arrangements for my father’s power to be transferred to me, send a request to Novra for her to meet me for breakfast tomorrow; and get me a list of all laws, taxes, basically and document that’s made a difference in the kingdom since my father became ill.”

            “Anything else?” Lukas asks.

            “No, that should be enough,” I say. He bows and leaves. Within minutes a young boy brings in a pile of papers. He bows and says,

            “Master Lukas sent these my lord,” he placed them on my desk, bows and leaves.  People must get dizzy with all that bowing.  I begin to sift through the papers, anything that looks suspicious goes into one pile and anything inconsequential goes into another.

            It isn’t too long before I hear a knock on my door. “Come in!” I call, not bothering to look up. Someone puts a dinner tray next to me on my desk. The food smells so good, its steak, potatoes, and green beans tonight. It’s my favorite.

            “You’ll go blind reading all those yourself,” Novra says. I look up surprised; she should have been asleep by now.

            “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I ask.

            “Lukas told me what’s going on,” she says. She’s in her nightgown; it’s a scarf dress like the ones sold in the town. She doesn’t look tired or like she had been awoken, she must have been reading again. She’s always got her nose in a book.

            “You didn’t have to come,” I say.

            “You can’t read all these yourself,” she says taking the bottom half of the pile in my hands.

            “I’ll have the made bring you up something to eat,” I say.

            “Strawberry short cake,” she says half mindedly as she reads the documents. Her favorite and mine; we used to have short cake every day as children. It’s nice to know some things never change. I send the attendant next to the door to send for the food and return to my desk.

            “Did you know that we have a tax based on how many books you own?” Novra asks.

            “No how’s that work?” I ask.

            “Apparently the more books you own, the better read you are, and better jobs are available to you, and the more money you make, so the more books you’ll buy,” Novra says summarizing it.

            “Remind me to repeal that later,” I say.

            “It already has been, this document was passed because no one abided by the tax, because no one counts the number of books they own. And we should not punish people with taxes because they want to read,” Novra says.

            “Good, who proposed the annulment of the law?” I ask. She runs her finger under the words so as not to loose her place and when she finds the name she says,

            “Lord Fort.” We continue to sift through the papers talking about various proposals, laws, and documents that surprise us or catch our interest. We are making good time when a made brings in our shortcake and ice cream, and we put down our papers.

            “You’re jumping right into your work I see,” Novra says sticking a spoonful of ice-cream into her mouth.

            “What do you mean?” I ask.

            “You’re not dealing with the fact you’re father is dyeing, you’re working,” she says after another bite.

            “I’m just trying to…” I can’t finish the sentence. She’s right, I am, but what else is there to do? I can’t stop him from dyeing, I can keep the country from destroying itself because of the noble’s greed.

            “I know, but still you should go see him,” Novra says.

            “I don’t know if I can,” I say. My father is a great man,  a man who lead with strength and power. How can I look him in the eye, knowing he’s dyeing, and say anything? How could I bare to look at him, and see him look back at me? What if all he sees in me is weakness? What if all he sees in me is a failure? Novra puts down her spoon and places her hands over mine, she looks into my eyes, and I know she knows what I’m thinking.

            “Go see him,” she says quietly. I just nod, she pulls her hands away and continues eating. We finish the dessert in silence and when it is gone a young made comes and takes away the dishes, and in silence Novra and I return to our work. Novra soon finishes the papers, and falls asleep while I finish my stack. I bring her a blanket from my room, that is joined by a large door to my study.

            Her face is so placid when she sleeps, it seems to be the only time anyone could see her real face. Even when we are alone it feels as though she wears a mask. She stirs a little in her sleep as the blanket touches her skin but soon regains her peace.

            I blow out the candles in the room and leave her to sleep. I walk out of the room into the main hallway. I’m going to see my father.