Before Beauty (3 page)

Ever had been thirteen when it
happened. The day had started out beautifully. It was the morning
of the Spring Holy Day, and he was out exploring the Fortress’s
lands, as usual, before it was time to watch the annual procession.
He remembered it so well because he’d nearly fallen out of a tree
from shock when his father had suddenly appeared in the clearing
below him.

“
Everard,” Rodrigue had called. “I
can feel that you’re near. I want to speak with you.”

Ever knew what his father wanted
to speak of must have been something of great importance. His
father never fetched him personally. He always sent a servant
instead. If it had been a servant calling him, Ever might have
dropped out of the branches right in front of him for fun, but he
knew pranking his father would end badly. He climbed down
instead.

“
Yes, Father?”

“
Ah. Garin said you’d be here. I
want you to return to your chambers and prepare for the
procession.”

Ever had known better than to
question his father, but he was confused. The procession was still
two hours away. As if Ever had spoken his thoughts, his father
answered them. “This year you will be riding in the procession with
me.”

As they began to walk back towards
the Fortress, Ever had turned and looked up at his father in
wonder. He’d never been allowed to hold a place in any of the
capitol processions.

“
You are old enough,” King
Rodrigue continued, “to be seen as a leader. When you take the
throne one day, I want them to be confident in your strength and
ability to protect them. If we begin showing them now that you are
indeed serious about your duty, they will accept you readily, even
hungrily when I am gone.”

“
Yes, Father.”

“
Before we leave, there are
expectations you must know about, duties that if you neglect them
today or any other time, could be disastrous to your future rule.
Do you understand?” Rodrigue had turned his gray eyes and glared
down at Ever through the blue rings of fire, and Ever had nodded
ruefully. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like these rules.

“
First, you must remember that you
are to be present with the people, but you are above them. And that
includes the servants. You are not to speak with them unless giving
an order. While I wish you would adopt these habits in court, the
way I’ve been telling you to for years, you cannot forget them in
public. You know our strength makes us responsible for these
people. We must protect them from our enemies at all costs, but to
be vigilant, we must be removed. You cannot be scanning the horizon
for spies, so to speak, when you are giving your attention to one
or two peasants in particular. Distraction makes us
vulnerable.”

“
Will we be looking for spies
during the procession, Father?”

“
We are always looking for spies.
You are no longer a child, Everard, and today is the day I expect
you to begin acting like a man. Now go to your chambers, and the
tailor should have your clothes ready. You will meet your mother
for the procession when you’re finished. I will be there soon
after.”

Ever had done as he was told. When
he had arrived on the Fortress steps, his mother was already on her
horse. He bowed to her, and she gave him a small smile and nod
before turning to instruct one of her ladies-in-waiting about the
smelling salts she needed to forget the stench of her
mount.

The procession was grander in
person than Ever had imagined. He’d only ever seen it from balcony
windows. His horse was stationed behind his father and mother’s
horses. All around them, tall flags with the royal wolf seal were
raised up high on green velvet squares edged with gold braided
trim. The procession always began at the Fortress, moving down the
mountainside and into Soudain. Once in the town, it snaked through
prominent streets before returning back up the mountain in a giant
loop.

Since the monarchs were always at
the end of the procession, the first performers would be returning
to the Fortress before the royals even left. His father’s best
soldiers were scattered in groups of six throughout the performers,
and more were stationed along the procession path. They wore no
bright colors. Gaudy men had never been of any use in battle, his
father always said. They were too easy for the enemy to see. So
instead of wearing the Fortress colors of blue, green, and white,
his father’s men simply had the image of the wolf impressed upon
their chest plates in black silver, burned into the metal by the
finest artisan blacksmiths in all of Destin.

Ever had to remind himself to look
regal. He’d never been allowed to visit the capitol city before.
Soudain was too full of distractions to be good for a prince, his
father had always said. Until now. Now the streets glowed with the
brilliant orange of the setting sun, and flames lit the tops of the
lampposts that stood on every corner. Families crowded one another
on the edge of the streets to wave to their rulers. They always
bowed low before his father, and Ever couldn’t help but notice that
their smiles nearly disappeared when he turned to glance in their
directions. Fear, he decided, was the overarching emotion they
wore. To Ever they remained bowed, but he noticed many of them
dared a peek at their prince. A number of them, particularly the
girls, gambled a smile. He would nod and turn back to the street,
hoping his actions were as his father expected.

As his horse rounded a corner, a
movement in the crowd caught his eye. A few boys were pushing to
get to a better spot in line. One of them shoved too hard, and a
girl who was standing at the edge of the crowd was knocked right
into the street. Without thinking, Ever hopped off his horse and
bent down to help her up. She was lanky with auburn hair and large
midnight eyes. Her dress was simple, but neat and tidy, which meant
her family probably belonged to the skilled worker
class.

As soon as his hand touched hers,
he felt his face redden with shame, and he could feel his father’s
icy glare on his back. So much for staying removed from the crowd.
Helping the girl stand, he nodded quickly at her and turned to get
back on his horse. His father would have some choice words for him
later. He didn’t dare look at the king. The procession had come to
a halt as the people watched the actions of their young prince with
a sudden pride, but none of their opinions mattered. He had failed
his father.

Eager to be on his way and ready
to forget the whole ordeal, Ever was nearly on his horse when he
felt a tug on his sleeve and a gasp from the crowd. Turning, he saw
the girl had lost her bewildered expression of shock, and had
followed him to his horse, and even dared to do what his servants
did not.

“
Thank you, Your Highness,” she
looked up at him with eager eyes. Anger pulsed through him. Why
couldn’t she just let him alone? Impatient to be rid of her, he
roughly pushed her hand off his arm. As he often did, however, Ever
forgot the amount of strength that ebbed through him. What he’d
meant as a simple brush shot blue fire from his arm to hers. She
fell backward, right in front of a cart horse. The horse startled
and reared, and with two sickening cracks, landed on the girl’s
wrist and ankle. Ever watched in horror. She screamed as the
villagers rushed to her side.

“
Everard!” His father’s voice was
sharper than he’d ever heard it. Slowly, he tore his gaze away from
the mess he’d made to look at the king. “On your horse!” The fury
in his words was unmistakable, and Ever miserably nodded and did
his best to finish the procession. But as he rode, he could hold
his head high no longer, and every time he closed his eyes, the
look of pain on the child’s face was there before him. To make
things even worse, Ever’s father was not kind that evening after
the celebration was over.

“
Not only did you deliberately
disobey me, but you made the situation worse with that wretched
temper of yours! Now we have one more cripple to live on the
streets and beg, one more unproductive citizen to waste precious
resources on!” Ever doubted she would live on the streets, judging
by the clothes she was wearing, not that his father would ever
notice that kind of thing. But his father was right. He’d added one
more helpless, unproductive citizen to his kingdom, one more thread
of weakness for the enemy to target. His mother said little about
the incident, except to complain that the pause in the procession
had been bad for her hair. Garin and Gigi were the only ones who
seemed to understand how he felt.

“
And is the young prince wanting
some hot cider tonight?” Garin had slipped in that evening, as he
often did when his duties were done. Despite the enormous load of
work that King Rodrigue placed on the steward, he always seemed to
have time for Ever. That night, however, not even Garin could cheer
him up. The boy had shaken his head as he stared sullenly into the
fire.

“
Come now, Your Highness,” Gigi,
the Fortress’s head kitchen matron slipped in from behind Garin.
Despite his protests, she set a cup of steaming cider down beside
his bed, and proceeded to adjust the pillows around the boy.
“Tomorrow will be a better day.” She smiled gently at him from
underneath her mop of silver curls. She patted his cheek
affectionately with a soft hand before wishing him goodnight,
leaving him alone with Garin. Garin walked around the room
straightening chairs as Ever sipped his drink. The only sounds were
the crackle of the fire and the scrape of furniture against the
floor.

“
I did something bad today,” Ever
finally spoke, his voice cracking twice. Instead of denying it, as
all of the courtiers had done, however, Garin spoke with painful
honesty.

“
I heard about that. How badly do
you think she was injured?”

“
It looked pretty bad,” Ever
admitted. Garin just nodded. He waited a few moments before
speaking, and Ever found himself strangely anxious to hear what the
older man would say. Disappointing his father had been bad enough.
He didn’t know if he could bear to have the steward disappointed in
him as well.

“
We all make mistakes, Sire. Some,
unfortunately, cannot be mended as easily as others. I have found,
in my humble experience, that when we hold positions of power, our
mistakes often hurt more than just ourselves. They hurt others. It
is something we must live with.” He was quiet for a moment before
adding, “But the important thing is that we learn from our
mistakes. What you did today was indeed unkind. But you will be no
better off if you simply regret it. You must learn from it so that
you never hurt another like that again. Everyone makes mistakes,
Ever, but a true leader takes the knowledge he gains with him, and
he applies it towards his future.

“
Now,” Garin gave Ever a smile,
his eyes crinkling kindly in an expression very different from the
one the king had worn when they’d parted. “It’s time for you to
sleep. Like Gigi says, tomorrow will be a new day.” Ever had hoped
their kind words would make sleep easier, but the moment he shut
his eyes, he saw the look of hurt and betrayal in those dark eyes
again.

The incident took longer to forget
than he’d hoped, but eventually, with the help of his father, he
learned to shut it out, along with any other distractions that
bothered him or might steal his attention from defense of the
kingdom. For that was his duty, his father said.

“
Other kings live in soulless
buildings, cold and austere, castles that provide little motivation
for defense other than their own personal comforts. But this place,
our Fortress,” he ran his hand lovingly over the marble walls as
they walked. “This Fortress is the source of our strength. It is
what sets us apart from others of our rank. It must be protected at
all costs, and its kingdom as well. There is no other like it, and
there never will be again. And it knows,” he had turned a sharp eye
to his son, “when we lose our focus. Keep your eyes on the horizon,
Everard. You never know who might be coming to steal that focus and
this Fortress from you.”

It hadn’t been an easy road.
Ever’s father, always able to focus on the horizon, was like a
statue with eyes that never wavered, or even closed for that
matter. Ever didn’t have that kind of vision, the ability to block
out all but the goal. Instead, he was inclined to notice the slight
changes in seasons, or when a servant was acting differently
because of an illness or suffering.

From a young age, he’d loved
exploring the Fortress grounds. He found a peace, a quiet communion
of the soul with the colossal citadel when he was deep in its
sheltering greenery or underneath its stone arches. It took great
effort for him to throw off the childhood desire to pause sometimes
and simply exist in the secret places of his beloved home. It was
somewhat painful to treat the servants like people other than his
friends, particularly those who had been just that during his
solitary childhood years. And yet, his father said, it was what he
must do in order to protect it all from the destructive forces of
those who would destroy such a paradise.

Little by little, under Rodrigue’s
guidance, Ever gained the ability to focus as his father did. His
strength, which had been unusual since he was a small child, was
honed, and by the time he was a young man, he’d been wrought into
the warrior prince not even his father could have dreamed of. The
girl’s face had faded into little more than a bad memory by the
time he was twenty-six years old. She only surfaced when he was
tempted to feel guilt, which thanks to his father, wasn’t often.
She had reappeared, however, the night his mother died.