Harbor (On the Wind #3)

8. Tybalt

CHAPTER EIGHT

TYBALT

I loved breakfast.

It always took place before the day had a chance to turn horrible, and was often shared with enjoyable company—an intimate meal for two, rather than a play put on in the great hall for the entire court.

That morning, I was alone, but I could still breathe easier with only my servants for company and as many lumps of sugar for my tea as a man could wish for.

Unfortunately, I’d let my guard down, suspected that I was safe first thing in the morning, and the illusion was shattered when a servant came bearing a tray with a missive from my father perched delicately on top.

“What’s this?” I asked, reaching for the parchment.

“A message from His Majesty, Your Highness.”

I arched a brow at him. “Yes, that much is clear. What’s it about?”

“I’m not sure.”

Yes, yes, I’d doubted my father would bring a servant into his confidence, but I still liked to prepare myself whenever I thought a blow was incoming. With an annoyed huff, I broke the wax seal and opened the letter.

It was simple, even relatively pleasant.

There was no need for me to come to court that day. He’d be busy and was cancelling his meetings. He even bid me enjoy another relaxing day.

Perhaps I read that last bit snidely, as he’d made it clear that he thought relaxing was all I ever did or was good for, but maybe I was misreading—being unfair to him.

Still, the letter left me ill at ease.

I looked above the parchment edge at the servant. “He didn’t say anything else?”

“No.”

“I—” Scowling, I read through the letter again.

It didn’t sit well with me.

For months, my father had demanded I be at his side for every meeting. Every time he met with a diplomat or a country lord, I was supposed to stand by and learn how to rule the kingdom. Every grueling hour had been so much duller than I’d ever imagined.

Now, I wasn’t required?

That was impossible. If my father thought he donned his socks in a particularly regal manner, I would be required to observe his important work.

Perhaps he was sick. Truth told, I didn’t think my father would turn to me in a moment of need. Still, as heir apparent, there were things I needed to know—whether he was ill, if we were to go to war, that sort of thing. Big, kingdom-influencing things.

So even though I’d been let off the hook, I found it impossible to relax after breakfast. Something was wrong, and I’d rather suss out what it was than step into a mess unaware.

First, I visited my father’s quarters. He wasn’t there, and the servants moved about efficiently, changing linens and whacking the dust from the drapery so that everything was fresh and fluffed for the king’s return.

He wasn’t ill.

There was no point looking for him on the lawn, where men sometimes shot arrows or bowled on the green when it was warm enough. My father had never been a man for leisurely pursuits, but he’d gotten more austere as I’d aged and found that I rather enjoyed leisure. It was as if his abstinence could make up for my self-indulgence.

Or perhaps he just wanted to cast a starker light on all my failings and felt more justified in griping at my fun when he had none of his own.

Still, I walked past the courtyard and did not see him reading in the gardens or anywhere else.

The simple answer—that he was indeed in the throne room but had merely wanted a break from me—was the one that I explored last. Contrary to court gossip, I didn’t want to disappoint my father in every conceivable way, and I would not relish finding out that the only thing he didn’t require that day was my attention.

But there he was, perched on his throne.

And if anything, the room was packed tighter with peers and lookers-on than it usually was.

As I slipped into the back of the room, no one seemed to notice me. The crowd was pushing closer and closer, guards around the dais where the throne sat holding the people back. There was a strange charge in the air.

I wasn’t used to walking into a room without eyes turning my way, perhaps a distant scoff from someone who thought little of me. I looked around at the backs of peoples’ heads and—no. Not one of them had realized I’d come into the room. I’d not been announced.

And then, everyone went quiet.

Though I couldn’t see him through the press of bodies, I imagined my father lifting his hands and moving them through the air, almost as if he were petting it, telling the lords and ladies to settle down.

Then, I heard him.

“I have brought you here today?—”

His voice filled the space, broad and booming. Normally, he spoke in a polite tone of voice, quiet enough that you had to lean in to hear him. Now, I could hear the smile in his words.

“—for a glorious announcement. Too long, has our royal line languished, squandered its potential. The late queen, my beloved Calypso?—”

The blood rushed out of my face.

My mother.

Father never spoke of her. Not to me. Not in front of me.

Just hearing her name made my breath catch in my throat and my world spin.

“—more than earned my loyalty,” my father continued, “but it is time for a new era. A new start. It is my great honor to introduce each of you to my intended, Lady Penelope.”

I watched, mouth slack and cheeks frozen, as the lady in question stepped onto the dais beside my father. I could only see her face because she was standing, but then, my father rose beside her, beaming like this was the very best day of his life.

He looked younger all the sudden. Was this what hope did to a man? What more had I robbed him of, simply by existing at his side?

He hadn’t called me here for this, because I had no place among the new family he was forging.

Lady Penelope smiled sweetly, her cheeks round and pink as she dipped in a curtsey.

She’d make pretty sons.

Proper sons.

The sorts of progeny that Father had always wanted.

And I was irrelevant.

It wouldn’t have stung so much if the entire court weren’t delighted by the news, but as they clapped and congratulated the happy couple, a pile of rocks dropped in my belly.

I’d never be king. How wonderful for everyone.