Paper Rings Part IV

7 March 2995

Secret meetings with Caleb under the cover of night had become normal for Marie, and tonight was no different. She met him in the back alleyway, as had become their routine, and he whisked her off, the hood of a cloak over his head and his hand in hers. 

It was a nice night, but his face would have made her think otherwise. Even in the dark, she could see that his face was pallid, his mouth set in a thin, unbreakable line. It was far from his usual demeanor.

Her voice sounded strange in her ears, as they rounded a corner and she broke their silence. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, but he pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“Your face says otherwise.”

“It’s just pressure,” he said. He wouldn’t look at her, his eyes trained on the dirt street ahead of them. “Always so much pressure. It’s on me again, and I think this might be the worst it’s ever been.”

“I’m sorry.” 

It wasn’t enough and she knew it, but what else was there to say? Night after night, she would think about him and ask herself, How long before he forgets about me? How long before I’m nothing to him, before he gets bored of me? How long before he stops playing games and realizes that this can never work? The thought forced its way into her head each time she allowed herself to get her hopes up because she knew that she couldn’t be what he needed her to be. She didn’t know what it was like to be him, to feel the weight of the world’s eyes on him at all times and to know that one day, everyone’s fates would be in his hands. He couldn’t do what he wanted or go where he wanted. He couldn’t even choose the people he was surrounded by. It was the reason they kept meeting under the cover of darkness in the first place. 

“I was hoping that it’d help to see you. It usually does, and I think it is a little, but not enough.” His grip on her hand broke, as he finally looked at her. The space between them was physically small, but to Marie, it felt like chiasm had opened. “It’s just that I have to do one thing after another thing after another, and as far as my dad is concerned, I never do any of it right. I shake hands wrong, I have conversations wrong, I give orders wrong… Apparently I even sit and walk wrong. He’s always been hard on me, but lately, it’s been different. He’s just on my ass all the time in a way that he never used to be.”

His chest fell, as he exhaled sharply through his nose. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I have to wonder if maybe the reason it’s so bad now is because it has to be… I have to wonder if there’s something going on with my dad, some reason why I might have to take his place sooner than later.”

Under the cover of his hood, his expression was as dark as his eyes were green. There was more that he wanted to say, something lingering on the tip of his tongue. Sometimes she could finish his sentences for him, but not this time. He needed to say the words himself, whatever they were.

He looked away from her again, this time watching his feet instead of paying attention to what was ahead of him. “He’s not my favorite person in the world, but that doesn’t mean I want to lose him. He’s still my dad.”

“Of course he is.” Good relationship or not, a father was a father. Marie couldn’t fathom the thought of losing hers. “Maybe it’s nothing. You’re getting older now. It’d make sense to be pushing you harder, right?”

“Yeah,” Caleb said, a sigh on the edge of his voice. “That’s pretty much what Vance said, and I’m sure you’re both right. It’ll be my job someday and they can’t let me stay in the background until then. I have to know what I’m doing.”

“You sound sad.”

“I’m just accepting that my life is over.”

“What?” Marie let out a nervous laugh. She couldn’t say why, but the butterflies in her stomach lurched forward so violently that she felt them in her toes. “Your life isn’t over. You’re nineteen. Your life is just getting started.”

“No, Mae, it’s not.”

“Caleb—”

“No, think about it,” he said. “I’ve spent my entire life behind those walls, getting told what to do and what not to do every second of every day. But I always had a little bit of freedom. That ends the moment that crown is on my head.”

“You really believe that?”

“It’s kind of hard not to.” His hands stuffed in his coat pockets, his shoulder brushed hers in a way that was almost purposeful. “I was around five or six when my grandfather died and my father took his place. I was young, so I don’t remember much, but I do remember a little bit of my father before then. I remember him being happier and nicer, a lot more pleasant to be around than he is now. When he wanted me to know how to do something, he’d be patient and teach me instead of just expecting me to know everything. I remember him having a lot more empathy.”

In all the time they’d spent together, this was a side of him she’d never seen. Of course, he had alluded to his feelings many times, but he had never put them into words. He had never let down the wall that stood between the bright and shiny version of him that she had first interacted with and the near-hopeless version of him that stood before her now. That wall was crumbling now, but still, he was holding back. 

He continued, voice grim, “I’ve been getting to know his advisors more.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“They’re just more people there to tell me what to do, and that’s exactly what I don’t want,” he said. He had removed his hands from his pockets and started making wide gestures, his motions somehow round and sharp at the same time. “The king doesn’t have to take the advice he’s given, but he really should. You can’t keep the throne if all the most powerful members of your court want you off of it.” He sighed. “I just… The line is so thin.”

“It definitely is,” she said. “And there needs to be that balance, at least to some extent.”

The balance created by one small group of people influencing one man who would make decisions for thousands, though, was hardly a balance at all. Silence passed between them, as they continued to wander aimlessly through the dark village, him staring ahead and her staring at him, wondering if she should ask the question that was lingering on the tip of her tongue. 

She decided it was better to get it over with. If she didn’t ask now, she’d still have to ask at some point, and it was starting to eat away at her. His answer, she knew, could change the way she looked at him.

“Would you ever consider taking advice from people who aren’t…” She hesitated, unsure of the right language to use. “Noble?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” It was her turn to avoid eye contact. “You could have town halls or votes, or you could choose people who aren’t part of the court to come up to the palace and give their input. There are so many ways. I just think that the advisors probably don’t know much about what most people go through every day. Do they? So how exactly are they supposed to know what we need?”

His face twisted in thought. Based on the way he had spoken to her about his dreams in the past, she had believed that maybe something like this had already occurred to him, but maybe she had only believed it because she wanted to. Even if a better world was what he wanted, there was a good chance that he had never thought through what it would really mean to create one. It had never truly occurred to him to bring up the people below him and consider the interests of more than just those who were already privileged. His better world was based on the assumption that the few would act in the best interest of the many, something that almost never happened.  

Marie couldn’t help the frown that crossed her face. Caleb wasn’t as open-minded as he thought he was. Or he was too naive to know better. Odds were that it was a little bit of both.

“I’ll have to think about it,” he finally said. “I’m not sure how that would work… It might be too difficult to pull off.”

Her stomach went hot, and when she spoke, her tone was far harsher than she meant for it to be. “You can figure anything out if you’re motivated enough.”

His face flashed like lightning in a stormy night sky. Nobody talked to him like that; she could tell. Nobody but, most likely, his parents. He had told her in the past about how he could usually tell that people were sucking up to him because of who he was, complaining that nobody was ever real with him. It was time to find out if honesty was something he could truly handle.

“You bring a different perspective,” he finally said, his voice light despite the look that had only just crossed his face. “I like that.”

Even as he continued to go out of his way to see her, she continued to question what he was thinking. His willingness to sneak around didn’t necessarily equate to his willingness to do anything more. There was no reason for her to think that he would listen to her. He was born for greatness; she was born to have an average existence. Unless she wasn’t. 

Marie couldn’t help the high pitch of surprise that her voice took on. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” He looked at her, eyes wondering. “Everybody is always the same. They think the same things and do things the same way that they’ve always been done, and they’re— Well, they’re boring.”

She laughed, and he smiled. “They’re boring?”

“Yes! They’re all so boring.” Caleb feigned a look of despair so overly dramatic it almost looked practiced. Maybe if he wasn’t a prince he would have been an actor, traveling around the Empire performing plays. The thought made her smile. “You know, the council chamber has a wall that’s made of glass. Sometimes I’d rather break that and jump than sit through those boring meetings with all those boring people.”

She shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I absolutely do. It’s insufferable.”

“Caleb.”

“Okay, fine,” he said. “Maybe I wouldn’t take it that far, but you get my point, right?”

“I do.”

They were close to the palace now, the shadow of its dark brick walls looming over them from atop its hill. Caleb took her hand, his grip tight. Although she could also feel that he was trying to fight it, she could sense the muscles in his shoulders tightening as they got closer.

She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she held herself back. Regardless of how much he trusted her, he was still sensitive when it came to the idea of letting himself be vulnerable in front of another person. She was still waiting for the day when he would finally let her see him, all of him, for who he was without a wall to hide behind.

As if he could hear her thoughts—as if he knew he needed to distract her—he led her into a thin space between two small buildings. They could have been houses or businesses, probably the latter, but it didn’t matter. His movements were swift, so much so that she didn’t have even a split second to register what he was doing.

He kissed her. Quick, just enough to tease her, to make her want to reach up and pull him back toward her and never let him go. But even as her back made contact with the wall of one of the buildings and he pressed a hand up against it, beside her head, he stayed back, his free hand held up like a barrier between them. 

“Someday,” he said, voice low, “I’m going to take you up there, and I’m going to show you more than just the ballroom. You’re going to see the throne room and the portraits in the Hall of Kings and the towers of books in the libraries. You’re going to see my room. You’re going to see all of it.”

Her stomach fluttered. “Your room?”

“My room.” 

His hands were cold, as he ran them through her hair, leaning in to close the space between them again. She could remind herself again that she shouldn’t trust every promise he made her—he may still just be a young prince having fun—but any concerns she had were very quickly diminishing. Every cell in her body wanted to treat his every word like a prayer.

Someone cleared their throat, and Caleb broke away from her just as fast as he’d pulled her in. There was a man standing nearby, a man Marie didn’t recognize but who was dressed in military uniform and who, based on the sheepish look he was giving to his toes, Caleb appeared to be familiar with. 

He rubbed his lips and looked back up, straightening his spine. “Hi, Miller.”

“Your father wants to see you,” the man, Miller, said. He wasn’t looking directly at them, his gaze focused past them instead. It was difficult to see in the dark, even standing only a few feet away from him, but she swore his face was just as pink as Caleb’s. She was sure hers was even worse, especially as Miller’s eyes trailed in her direction. “Her too.”

Marie’s heart stopped. It flipped, it twisted, and it turned itself inside out. For the first time, something had clicked in her head. Caleb’s father wasn’t just Caleb’s father. He was a king, the King, and he came from such a very, very long line of former kings. 

They didn’t have a choice. She didn’t have to look at Caleb or see the horrified apology in his eyes to know it. What the King wanted, the King got.

TO BE CONTINUED…