The carriage hopped once from a nasty pothole. Bellavarn barely noticed as he kept readjusting his clothes. They were tighter than usual. He wore a light grey overcoat with blue trimming. His father wore a similar style suit; only his was a shade darker. Black was a color only used for war, and white was for weddings. Thus the mostly grey apparel.

Trisha Sallow wore a silver gown with accents of green mixed in. Green was good luck when it came to children. People were very superstitious regarding color in high society. It made little difference to Bellavarn, though. He would rather have worn a formal business suit from back home than continue to wear this flashy outfit.

Why was he dressed this way? Because meeting the King required him to be dressed all fancy, even though they were celebrating a new addition to the Sallows and not the Lionels.

"Don't be so nervous, dear; you look dashing."

"I feel like someone used me to play dress up."

"We all feel like that. It's procedure."

"Still, we are a ducal household. I had hoped that we needn't be so formal when it is a private dinner."

Braster shook his head.

"The King is the King. Even if he wasn't, King Francis is a stickler for tradition."

Bellavarn became quiet then. Anything he said would either come out wrong or was needless banter. King Francis Lionel is old. How old? Old enough that he can no longer be the surrogate for future children. He was lucky enough to have four children back-to-back at an advanced age.

Why didn't have any earlier? No idea. Maybe he was impotent and then suddenly became blessed by God. Maybe he is secretly in the closet but needed to have an heir, so reluctantly made some children. Or perhaps he lost the love of his life young and was forced into an unhappy marriage. Did it really matter?

The Queen passed several years ago; Bellavarn has memories of attending the wake. So... Now it was only Francis Lionel at the old age of 68 and his four children. All of them barely a year apart. The Queen must have been exhausted from half a decade of being pregnant.

"Are Henry and Krev are following along?"

"Along with your mother's aide, yes."

"Why not Oslo?"

"Because it would be rude to bring more. It might imply we don't trust his majesty."

Bellavarn was glad to have the two guards with him. Kerv was the one he trusted the most. Henry...

I don't really know a lot about Henry. He is assigned a lot of work outside, so I don't see him often.

"We'll have to make sure Kerv doesn't open his mouth in front of others."

Braster rubbed his temple. Bellavarn only smiled wryly.

=

The ride from their mansion in the capital to the palace only took a few hours of travel as opposed to the days/weeks it would take from their ancestral home in the North.

There were many buildings within the confines of the palace walls, including a vast lawn and the famous Antithetic Royal Garden, but none of the holdings on the palace grounds could outshine the Millenium Palace. Its shadow cast across all those entering, serving to intimidate and impress. The tall and thin bones reminded most of holistic sites rather than anything imperial. The long walk towards the entrance doubled as a deterrence to intruders and a way to give guests time to appreciate the structure in all its glory.

They arrived just as the sun dipped below the sky-blue roof, making the structure glitter in the twilight.

"It really is grand."

Bellavarn tugged at his collar, trying to get some air. Trisha looked back at him with a motherly smile.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Be sure to repeat that to his majesty. He never tires of hearing it."

That said, King Francis was only the current occupant. It was too large to be built in a single generation.

"We arrived a bit early, so we may have to wait a short while."

When they reached the entrance, at last, a butler guided them through a winding maze of corridors and dionic pillars carved from marble. As soon as Bellavarn was about to complain his feet were getting sore they reached a waiting room. Inside was a short girl dressed in delicate pinks. Her large blond curls plopped on her shoulders demurely. The second princess, Anne Lionel, greeted them.

Braster and Trisha both bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

"Princess Anne, thank you for taking the time to greet us."

Princess Anne curtsied with perfect etiquette, her billowy pink dress being held up with small hands. A ducal authority was the highest position in the Kingdom next to the King. They commanded a modicum of respect even from the royal family.

"It is my pleasure. Father is still tied up with work, so I thought I would come early and be the first to congratulate the Duchess."

"Thank you, Princess. It has only been a year since we've last met but you've grown even more lovely."

Anne smiled brightly—the image of purity and grace. Her blond hair bounced in delight.

Braster turned slightly to introduce Bellavarn, who stood slightly behind his parents.

"You two haven't seen each other since you were little so I'll reintroduce him. This is our son Bellavarn."

Bellavarn felt himself sweating slightly but handled himself with as much grace as possible and bowed his head and back. Respectfully. Just enough.

"It is nice to meet you again, Princess. I regret that I don't recall our previous encounters."

A small nod was his reward.

"It is nothing. I, too, fail to remember moments from so long ago, even without suffering amnesia."

...Crap. She knows.

It wasn't like he was still missing any memories. In fact, he had double. But he couldn't say that. Instead, Trisha spoke for him.

"If I may ask, from where did you hear?"

It was a barb formatted for nobles and Anne handled it with care.

"Only in passing from my brothers. It must have been difficult."

Bellavarn shook his head while giving a restrained smile.

"It was brief. I regained them shortly after. I can't say with certainty that they all returned, but I feel complete, as it were."

"Wonderful. It would have been a tragedy if it caused any trouble or misunderstandings."

"Indeed."

Bellavarn fell silent after that. He didn't want to land on any potential mines before dinner even started. How much did she know about what happened after the memory loss? The Princess likely had an inkling if not the whole picture.

Anne and Trisha got together and started mingling while Bellavarn stood next to his father. There was some tea and cookies laid out for guests that taunted Bellavarn by their mere presence. Desire bordering on desperation filled Bellavarn's gaze, but he kept forcing himself to look elsewhere. If he went over and grabbed one, he would stress eat and devour the entire plate of cookies. It wouldn't be a pleasant scene for anybody.

His father reassured him, producing a cookie in his open palm. How did he do that?

"Don't worry too much. There will be a few uncomfortable moments, but things will pass."

"Mm."

Bellavarn accepted the cookie secretly, while Braster ate one openly. While Bellavarn waited for a good time to inhale his snickerdoodle, he had a sudden worry enter his mind.

"Will you be okay, father? You're... um... you don't think that will act up somehow do you?"

Braster instantly glowered. Someone from the Duke's past cursed him and caused all sorts of trouble. The curse always acted up at the worst of times for no reason.

"It is relatively harmless, if inconvenient. The King knows, and we all have procedures in place."

Procedures? The palace has procedures for the Duke's curse? That's actually... kind of hilarious.

It was maybe twenty minutes of sweating bullets for the both of them before the doors finally opened. A man who could only be a prince walked in. He had platinum blond hair, slightly tanned skin, and a heart-shaped face with a perpetual mask of indifference.

The second prince was the same age as Bellavarn. Since every heir was born in quick succession, they were all a year apart.

The First Prince, Tristan, is 20.

The Second Prince, Kly, is 19.

The First Princess, Lecil, is 18.

Finally, Anne is the youngest at 17.

"Anne. Father is finished with work. He sent me to fetch everyone."

The Second Prince looked around the room while noting everyone inside. There was no change in expression, but Bellavarn noticed how attention lingered on him, even if only for a moment longer.

"Thank you. It was kind of you to fetch us personally."

"No need for thanks. I came as ordered."

Formalities over with, Kly led them away through the interior.

=

The tall winding corridors continued forever. Fantastic artwork and lifelike sculptures adorned the walls while being broken up by the occasional tapestry or door leading to another room. Thin mosaic windows filtered in saturated light even as the world outside was darkening.

Following behind Kly, Bellavarn felt an eerie foreboding. They passed very few others on their way to the dining room, and those they did pass stopped and bowed reverently.

To Bellavarn, the equally spaced windows imitated prison bars. It was suffocating.

Without Kerv to lighten the mood made the walk all the more unbearable.

A grandfather clock struck seven as they passed, chiming a mournful tune among the others that started to ring throughout the structure. The seven chimes spaced out across a few minutes, separated by clicking clock hands.

It felt like they were mocking him somehow.

Bellavarn tugged at his collar again.

Something was wrong.

This palace. This place...

The way the Princess seemed to fawn over her brother, who remained taciturn and unemotional.

Wrong.

It's wrong.

This place is all wrong.

Something was going to happen tonight.

Bellavarn just didn't know what.