Royal Fools

XXVII. Belong

Emory lightly tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, his thoughts traveling miles, making turns in every possibility, formulating plans until his temples throbbed. He fixed his gaze on the carpet at the center of the elegant drawing room, on the spot where the beam of sunlight from wide windows landed.

When faint footsteps from outside came closer, he blinked and crossed his leg over the other.

The doors opened, the royal butler walked in and announced, "His Royal Highness, Prince Cassian of Gavaria, Your Majesty."

He gave a curt nod, and the man stepped to the side to let the prince walk into the room.

Cassian may look similar to his older brother, but the subtle differences were enough to tell Emory that he called for the right brother. This one would easily give information. He was the second born. The spare. From Florence's stories, Emory thought he knew this brother the most.

"Please feel at ease," he said, breaking the silence, gesturing to the seat opposite his.

Cassian smiled as he settled. Not like a man who would rule, but one who knew how to. He looked around the drawing room, eyes jumping from one painting to the other. "Your collection?"

"No. Reginald."

The mention of the king Emory's father dethroned many years ago caused Cassian to raise his brows in amused surprise. "Trophies?"

"No. The old man simply has great taste."

"Indeed," Cassian replied, admiring the paintings of Sutherland's countryside. When his gaze landed back on Emory, the small smile at the corner of his mouth remained. "I have to be honest, Your Majesty. I did not expect you'd call for me."

Shifting one leg over the other, Emory shrugged. "I sensed you are the better brother."

This time, Cassian playfully narrowed his eyes at him, giving Emory a glimpse of the man when he was most free. He could picture him climbing over a wall in Gavaria to escape the palace with Florence in tow. Or swimming in the ice cold fountain under the moonlight during winter with the rest of his sisters and the rest of their cousins.

"Has your sister told you how the mishap in Birchfield came about?" Emory started.

"Of course," Cassian said, eyes glittering with mirth. "She tricked you a few times, I believe—" He stopped and hastily added, "And she regrets doing so."

"I'm sure," he murmured wryly.

"She and Lucy told me everything about Birchfield. About Henrietta," Cassian added, shaking his head at Emory. "And Florence keeps lecturing me about eggs and why I could not have too much firewood in my room. She never fails to remind me how much trouble it takes to cut and carry them to a hearth."

Emory faintly smiled and let the quiet linger after his words. "I wonder why she didn't go far. She could have gone somewhere else." She already told him her reasons, but it wouldn't hurt to know what she told her closest brother.

Cassian shrugged. "My sister can be quite prideful. She wants freedom, but she also wants status. She says she wants to be queen."

He nodded, smiling as he pictured Florence declaring herself as queen.

"May I know why you called for me?" Cassian asked, fixing him a curious smile.

"I intend to marry your sister."

The prince froze in surprise and blinked at him. "You cannot. Not anymore."

"I'm not asking."

The prince grinned. "She's promised to another."