Thom found Dedric at the balcony of the reading chamber. The sound of crashing waves and the smell of salt water were a serene combination. Along with it, day gracefully gave way to night—the horizon religiously shifting from blue to blood-red orange.

As he stood, unsure if he should approach his brother, Thom recalled the day of their first palace-break. It had been three years ago, on the night of his twelfth birthday. He’d been told the city in the night was a ghostly and mysterious sight. And though the palace towered high above with a panoramic view, all he ever saw was a thick blanket of mist—far from ghostly or mysterious.

Nights in Alpenwhist were known to be cold and misty. Fog would creep up the streets and rest till the break of dawn. Canvas lanterns hung throughout the city, glowing through the darkness and casting unearthly shadows on the ground and walls. When Thom had heard enough about it, he wanted to go on a childish adventure. He begged his parents for permission to leave in the dead of night. But unfortunately, all his efforts were futile. Eventually, Dedric heard of Thom’s desire and promised to be his guide. So upon the arrival of the great escapade, Thom saw no reason to back out.

Dedric had prepared two long, thick braided ropes on the balcony of the reading chamber. He’d tied one end of the ropes to the balustrade. Handing a rope to Thom, he told him to tie the other end around his waist.

“Just watch how I do it,” Dedric said, looping the rope in and out and tightening it around his own waist.

“Are you sure it’ll hold?” Thom asked.

“Trust me. I’ve done this before.”

After Thom was certain the knot around his waist was secure, Dedric climbed onto the balustrade and reached for the saw-toothed wall. Thom couldn’t help but take a long look down as he briefly hesitated to follow.

“Come on, we don’t have all night,” Dedric said, beginning his descent.

“I can barely see the wall. How would I know where to step?” Thom asked, still within the safe boundary.

“You won’t get another chance. Have a little faith, brother,” Dedric replied.

“But what if . . .”

“Believe in yourself.”

Mustering his courage, Thom hurried after his brother. When small gusts of wind blew, he dug his fingers deeper into the rocky crevices and pressed his body against the cold stone. It took an immense amount of self-motivation to keep going. And after he’d convinced himself he wasn’t going to fall to his death—mentally chanting that princes didn’t die as easily as the common man—he bravely glanced below to see where his brother was. Thankfully, they weren’t far apart—Dedric kept a turtle’s pace for Thom’s sake, but only for a while. Upon Thom’s tenth glance, Dedric had disappeared. The darkness filled in his absence, and Thom panicked.

“Dedric!” Thom shouted, attempting to maneuver downward faster.

When there was no reply to his call, the pumping in his chest pounded in his ears.

“Dedric! Where are you?” Thom shouted again. His faint voice traveled through the breezy night. But Thom knew he couldn’t compete with the loud waves, slamming against the cliff.

Halting, he contemplated climbing up. But the longer Thom debated, the more his arms ached and the quicker his grip weakened. He would’ve denied it now, but back then, he was sure he was done for.

“Princes don’t die easily. Princes are chosen by the gods—they don’t die easily,” Thom muttered repeatedly. But as odd a faith, it couldn’t save him. Fortunately, he had his brother. In the swallowing blackness, Dedric reached for him and tugged him sideways. Thom gasped and shut his eyes tighter than ever before.

“You’re not dead . . . yet,” Dedric said with a chuckle.

When Thom pried his eyelids open, he found himself sprawled on wet, rocky ground. His brother had pulled him safely into an opening in the cliff. Jumping to his feet, Thom cautiously peered off its edge—it was still a long way down.

“Are we . . .” The thought of another arduous descent stole his remaining words.

“No. We go in,” Dedric said. He gestured for Thom to untie his rope and knot it around a stalagmite.

“It’s so dark. We don’t have a torch,” Thom stated.

“We don’t need one.”

Thom silently followed Dedric, venturing deeper into the cave. When the moon’s pastel glow met the limit of its reach, the brothers stood in unwelcoming darkness.

“Now what?” Thom asked. His voice resonated down the endless burrow.

Dedric remained mum as the answer to Thom’s question revealed itself. The concave wall lit in short streaks of pulsating glow—brightening a pathway through the wide cave, in what seemed like preternatural light.

“Magic,” Thom whispered in awe.

“Not magic. Glow worms.”

“Glow what?”

“Worms—billions of them. Magic doesn’t exist, dimwit.”

The notion of glowing worms was rather hard to believe. Magic made more sense, but Thom didn’t see it as a case worth arguing. Shuffling after Dedric, Thom eventually exited the cave into an unkempt alley between the palace grounds and the neighboring army training camp.

That night—like every other night—the air was wet and chilly. A pale mist twisted around them, as Dedric led him through the empty streets. When Dedric halted, they’d arrived in the ear-ringing marketplace. Low lanterns hung from the walls of the shops, with their soft glow seeping into the misty trails. Thom watched, eyes wide with excitement, as the ghostly mist swept his breath away.

“Wait till you see this place in the day,” Dedric said with a grin.

“I already have,” Thom whispered, in fear of waking the kingdom.

“You have as a prince, but not as a commoner. It’s different.”

“How different?”

“Very different.”

“Can we come again in the day then?” Thom promptly asked. A mischievous smile crept up his face.

“Sure,” Dedric responded, resting an arm around Thom’s shoulder.

Nodding in glee, Thom was excited for another day of adventure. Gazing up at Dedric, who was a head taller than him, he knew he could count on his big brother.

When Thom returned to the present day, night had fallen upon Alpenwhist. Dedric had also turned to face him with his arms folded. Despite being eight years apart, Thom had grown to match Dedric’s height—it was no longer easy to dodge his brother’s unfriendly gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Thom said.

“Of course you are.”

“I really am. I didn’t expect that to happen. I was just trying to be nice to that girl of yours.”

“You could’ve stayed away. Or were you just sore I no longer carried you around on my shoulders?” Dedric narrowed his eyes.

“What? No, I’m my own man. I don’t need to—”

“Tail me like a puppy?”

“I do not tail you. And I was just trying to be nice.”

“You can lie to yourself. But you can’t lie to me, Thom. I know you’ve always wanted what is mine. I know you’ve always wanted to be me. And you can’t stand a moment of my happiness.”

“That’s not true.” All Thom wanted was fun. He might’ve overstepped, but that was all he wanted—all he cared about.

“Tell me, is it the crown you’re after?” Dedric accused, in a rather calm and unmoving manner. “Have you been planning to steal my birthright?”

“What? No—of course not. I don’t want the crown. Why would I even . . .”

Thom couldn’t believe the words Dedric threw at him. Where did they come from? Had Thom done something else to offend his brother? He had no idea. They’d been on friendly terms just that morning.

“You’re such a fool, Thom. Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Notice what? I’m not doing anything,” Thom insisted.

“A fool and a liar.”

“Believe what you want, but I’m not lying.”

“Do you know what they do to liars?” Dedric didn’t wait for Thom, and proceeded to answer his own question, “they cut their tongues out.”

“Then, they should have yours cut out for calling me a liar,” Thom snapped. Dedric’s allegation bubbled within him, tempting to explode. Holding back an impulsive punch had never been so difficult.

“They don’t cut out the tongues of royalty, Thom. I have nothing to worry about . . . unlike you. Liars like you will have their heads pierced on spikes, too.” Dedric smirked, knotting Thom’s stomach uneasily. His brother was a carbon copy of their father, which meant he inherited the king’s infamous sinister smile.

“What are you talking about?” Thom asked, ignoring the wicked expression in attempts to make sense of Dedric’s words. But instead of a sensible reply, Dedric burst into false laughter.

“You’re crazy. I came here to apologize, but you accuse me and then laugh me off like a mad man.”

“You know what’s crazy, Thom?”

“I don’t know—what can be crazier than everything you’ve just said?”

“The fact that you’re not even my real brother,” Dedric placidly replied. He casually slid his hands into his pockets as he strolled toward Thom. “You don’t have a drop of royalty in your blood. Do you know that?”

Thom shook his head and rolled his eyes. It was obvious—Dedric’s attempt to get back at him. Still, Dedric had an innate ability to lie convincingly.

“You’re lying. You’re the liar,” Thom said, briefly buying his words.

“Do I look like I’m lying?” Dedric challenged. He stopped a few feet before Thom and set a pensive gaze.

“I don’t have time for your idiotic games.”

Thom gave Dedric a hard shove, and turned toward the door. There was a concoction of hostile emotions within him, as he left his brother and stalked to his bedchamber. With his heart raging in his chest, he found himself quickly drained of both mental and physical strength. So that night, he didn’t bother washing up or changing. He slumped onto his soft-feathered bed and tossed three times before falling asleep.

When morning arrived, Thom seated himself at the opposite end of the dining table. Dedric didn’t say a word, nor did he glance in Thom’s direction. Though Dedric was ignoring him, he was his old self again—not the manic, sneering replica of their father he had been the previous night. Thom, however, remained bothered by the previous night’s event. As childish as it was, he couldn’t help but scowl as he forced his breakfast down.

When Dedric was done with his meal, he waved for a maidservant and said, “I’m going to see the queen. Prepare me a basket of fresh fruits to take along.”

Thom eyed Dedric, as he casually strolled out of the room after his order. Once there was no one left to glare at, Thom returned to his unappetizing meal of bread and oats. When he eventually grew bored with playing with his food, Thom decided to see what his brother was up to. Besides the fact that he was curious, he had nothing to do—his aging tutor had fallen ill again. So, he saw no reason he shouldn’t be doing something productive with his time, like spying on his insane brother.

Just as Dedric had mentioned, Thom found him and his mother in the royal garden. The two sat by a faultless, stone-carved eagle fountain, in the center of neatly trimmed bushes sprinkled with autumn bloom. The pair was having a conversation in whispers, which Thom thought was extremely odd; they never did that. Getting on all fours, he crawled closer, squeezing himself between the flowerbeds. If someone were to spot him then, they would shake their heads disapprovingly. Still, Thom didn’t care. When he was finally within earshot, he lay on his stomach and strained his ears.

“Why did you say that?” his mother scolded.

“I’m tired of keeping it a secret.”

“Do you wish something ill to befall Thom?”

“Thom’s the reason I got in trouble, mother. And father would—”

“You were the reason you got in trouble, Dedric,” his mother corrected. “Not Thom.”

Dedric grunted in disagreement. “Why do you always take his side? Do you love him more than you love me? I’m your son, mother. Your real son. Have you forgotten?”

“Dedric—”

“Thom isn’t even royalty.”

Thom wasn’t sure if his ears were hearing correctly. He was now more bewildered than he was petulant, as he tried to digest their words.

“Don’t you let anyone hear that,” his mother said.

“Oh, imagine what father would do.”

“Dedric!” his mother snapped.

“For all we know, he could be an Eklaysian—an Eklaysian ruling Alpenwhist. Now what would this kingdom become?”

Upon those words, his mother rose to her feet while Thom scrambled to his. Stumbling from his hiding spot, he demanded, “Is that true?”

Both his mother and Dedric turned to him in surprise. They seemed lost for words as neither of them spoke.

“Is that true? Am I . . .” Thom couldn’t even say it.

Was he adopted? Could he be an Eklaysian? It didn’t make sense. He was raised in the palace—he was a prince. They always told him he was a prince chosen by the gods. His mother often said he had her eyes, and that his skin was simply tanned from constantly being under the sun—how could he be one of them? What would his father do if he was? Did his father even suspect?

His fate was far worse than death if he really was Eklaysian. Forget being adopted, that was the least of his worries. Thom grew knowing the king had no pity for scum. He loathed the slave race with all his might. He would’ve killed them if not for the need for cheap labor. No, Thom couldn’t be an Eklaysian. It was simply a cruel joke.

Caught in the sudden rush of his own thoughts, he didn’t realize his mother was speaking. When her voice finally cut through the tidal wave, he refused to listen and took off. The questions in his head multiplied upon every unanswered one, and he needed to clear his mind. Speaking to his mother or brother wasn’t going to help. And since the palace only added to his anxiety, he snuck out again to find some peace among the bustling crowd in the city.

Sitting on top of a roof in the marketplace, Thom hid his identity with a worn hooded cloak he’d stolen. He would’ve paid the haggard beggar, but he forgot to take gold with him in the mental chaos. After watching the people go about their mundane routines, Thom decided to go for a walk. He let his legs take him wherever they wanted to, and they led him to the black gate.

Mirroring the entrance of a haunted graveyard, the black iron gate twisted and towered forebodingly. But if he hoped to find a thrilling escapade, he would be sadly disappointed. Behind the black gate weren’t tombstones of the un-dead attempting to rise from their graves. Behind the black gate were simply the shabby homes of the slaves.

Thom had never been through the black gate, and he was warned against doing so. But at that very moment, his curiosity was an unleashed cat. So, he walked straight through without a second thought. The narrow steps and lanes winded between low houses. And the alleyways, too tight for two bodies, forced him to squeeze against the musty walls when someone came from the opposite direction. There was a nose-scrunching stench reeking from the poor drainage system. And the cries and yells of babies and women filled the air. If Thom had not known, he would’ve never believed these people were once an elite race.

Thom wasn’t aware of what he was doing in a place like that, or if it was even safe for him to be there. But, his legs kept moving. If he was indeed one of them, his subconscious wanted to see how his own were living. Despite convincing himself he wasn’t part of the slave race, he dreaded the possibility it might be true. Endeavoring to ignore his daunting thoughts, he found them amplified at the words of a strange old lady.

The hunched old lady was scrawny, wrinkly, and too old for her own good. She grabbed his wrist as he walked by, and exclaimed, “You’ve returned!”

Thom repulsively wiggled his wrist free, and asked, “What? What are you talking about?”

The lady’s glass-like eyes peered up at him, as her small lips parted into an unsettling toothless grin.

“You are Valora’s son. I know you. I’ve seen you before,” the lady said.

Thom was certain the lady was blind. And mad as well—what had the world become?

“I think you have the wrong person.”

“I’m never wrong, my boy. I’ve seen you three times—once as a baby, once as a young boy, and once in the darkness of the marketplace.” The lady reached for him again, and this time held on tighter than before. “You have not changed,” she added.

“I’m sorry, but you are most certainly mistaken.” Thom pried the old lady’s gripping fingers apart before he shuffled off. Even if she was sane and had perfect vision, Thom wouldn’t believe her. Even if it was the truth, it was too horrid to accept. Despite the unexplainable inkling, he ignored it as best he could.

Done and regretting his visit, he hurried back to the gate. As he tottered down the slippery steps, a monstrous black rat scurried across his path. Jumping backward in horror of its cat-like size, he slipped. And with one wrong footing, Thom sprawled onto the filthy, mold-growing steps. His hood fell back as he did, and when a man tried to help him, Thom found the predicament all too familiar.

The man saw the cuff around his wrist and swiftly retreated. His eyes were wide and suspicious, but he said not a word. Soon, others joined him—pushing themselves into the narrow alley. Murmurs traveled as they gathered around, blocking all lanes to the exit.

“What’s the prince doing in a place like this?” a rugged man boldly asked.

“Is your highness lost?” another added. Thom couldn’t decipher the tone—whether it was friendly or threatening—in the midst of warranted anxiety.

“No. I—I was just leaving,” Thom replied. But when he looked around, none made way for him.

It was as though winter had arrived early, with the dreadful cold gnawing at his bones. Not a single face in the group of grimy slaves showed an expression other than passionate dislike. And with that, fear inevitably rapped on his front door. Even if he didn’t welcome it, it forced itself right in.

At least his head wouldn’t be on a spike. That was the only hopeful thought, in what seemed like his last moment alive.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3