The city square buzzed with activity as preparations for the Harvest Festival reached a fever pitch. Stalls were being erected, colorful banners hung from every available surface, and the hum of cheerful voices filled the air. Alexander moved through the throng with an easy smile, nodding at merchants and townsfolk who paused to bow or greet him. His presence seemed to bring a sense of excitement to the bustling preparations, but Alex barely noticed. His thoughts were already on the mountain of tasks ahead.
At the edge of the square, a member of the royal council stood waiting for him, his fine robes standing out amidst the simpler attire of the festival workers. Councilman Arden was a portly man with a polished demeanor and a reputation for opportunism. His eyes lit up as Alex approached, and he offered a deep bow, the movement more theatrical than necessary.
“Your Highness,” Arden said with an exaggerated flourish. “A pleasure as always.”
“Councilman,” Alex replied with a polite nod, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He could already feel a lecture—or worse, a favor—brewing. “How can I help?”
“Ah, ever the diligent prince,” Arden said with a chuckle, his tone oily. “I simply wished to commend you on the splendid progress here. The festival will surely be one to remember under your watchful eye.”
Alex’s eyebrow twitched at the overly saccharine praise. “The credit belongs to the people working hard to make it happen,” he replied smoothly. “I’m just here to ensure things go as planned.”
“Of course, of course,” Arden said, waving a hand dismissively. “But your presence is invaluable, Your Highness. Speaking of presence…” He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping conspiratorially. “I was hoping you might grace my humble manor with a visit this evening. A quiet dinner, a chance to unwind after your busy day. My family would be delighted.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed subtly. He knew where this was going. Arden’s family was infamous for parading their daughters before the royal princes, each introduction dripping with unsubtle intention. Both Jackson and Damien had been subjected to these thinly veiled attempts at matchmaking, and now it seemed Alex was the next target.
“That’s kind of you, Councilman,” Alex said, his tone light but with an edge of detachment. “But I’m afraid I’ve already committed myself to reviewing the festival grounds this evening. There’s still much to oversee.”
Arden’s smile faltered slightly, though he quickly recovered. “Oh, surely the festival can spare you for an hour or two? My daughters would be thrilled to meet such a distinguished guest.”
Alex resisted the urge to sigh. “I appreciate the invitation, but my duties come first,” he said firmly, a trace of finality in his voice. He stepped back slightly, putting more distance between them. “Perhaps another time.”
Arden’s expression tightened, though he plastered on another smile. “Of course, Your Highness. Another time, then.”
Alex offered a polite nod, already stepping away. “Good day, Councilman.”
Alexander left the bustling market square with a mixture of relief and frustration. The vibrant energy of the festival preparations—the merchants calling out their wares, the workers stringing colorful banners, the occasional sound of children’s laughter—faded behind him as he wove through the stone streets of the capital. The encounter with Councilman Arden still nagged at him, the man’s persistence in flaunting his daughters both amusing and irritating.
“Dinner at his manor,” Alex muttered to himself, shaking his head. “As if I couldn’t see right through that.”
He adjusted his pace, nodding absently at the occasional soldier or servant who greeted him along the way. The castle loomed ahead, its tall spires catching the afternoon sunlight, a reminder of both his heritage and the responsibilities that came with it. For all the excitement of the festival and the energy of the city, there was something grounding about the familiarity of the palace walls.
Passing through the gates, Alex greeted the guards with a casual wave, their respectful bows met with his usual easy demeanor. Inside the courtyard, he paused for a moment, glancing up at the grand structure before him. The weight of his father’s expectations and the comparison to his brothers tugged faintly at the back of his mind, but he pushed the thoughts aside. There was no point dwelling on them now.
Instead of heading to his chambers or back to the festival grounds, Alex turned down a quieter corridor, his steps leading him instinctively toward the throne room. After dealing with Arden’s ploys, a conversation with his father seemed like just the reprieve he needed.
The heavy oak doors to the throne room stood slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of light to spill into the hallway. Alex pushed them open gently, stepping inside. The room was quieter than usual, the absence of court proceedings lending it an almost serene air. At the far end, seated on the intricately carved throne, was his father.
The king wasn’t wearing his crown, and his regal robes were replaced by a simpler tunic and cloak, a sight that never failed to make Alex smile. It was a reminder that beneath the grandeur of his title, the man who ruled the kingdom was, first and foremost, a father.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
“Planning on running the kingdom in silence today, Father?” Alex quipped as he approached.
The king looked up from the parchment in his hand, his face breaking into a warm smile. “Alexander,” he greeted, setting the paper aside. “What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be out overseeing the festival?”
Alex shrugged, stopping at the base of the dais and leaning casually against the arm of the throne. “I was, until Councilman Arden cornered me. He tried to invite me to dinner at his manor.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can guess why.”
The king chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. “Arden and his daughters again, I presume?”
“The very same,” Alex said, rolling his eyes. “I’m starting to think he’s determined to pair off every royal in the family.”
His father laughed, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong. He tried the same with Jackson and Damien, though neither of them lasted long enough for a second invitation.”
Alex grinned at the thought, imagining Jackson’s fiery retorts or Damien’s calm but decisive refusals. “Well, I think it’s safe to say I won’t be breaking the streak.”
The king’s laughter faded into a fond smile, his eyes softening as he studied his youngest son. “You’ve always had a way of avoiding what doesn’t suit you, Alex. Though I’m sure Arden’s persistence won’t be deterred.”
Alex shrugged. “He’ll have to find someone else to charm. I’ve got enough to handle with this festival as it is.”
For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence, the bond between father and son palpable. The king leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the arms of the throne. “You know, your mother would have loved to see you like this—confident, capable, holding your own.”
Alex’s smile faltered slightly, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. “I wish I could’ve known her,” he said softly. “Everything I hear about her makes me feel like I missed something incredible.”
The king nodded, his expression bittersweet. “She was incredible. And she would have been so proud of you. Of all of you.”
Alex looked away for a moment, his fingers idly tracing the ornate carvings on the throne’s arm. “It’s hard not to feel like I’m always catching up to Jackson and Damien,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “They’re out there, doing what matters, and I’m here planning a festival.”
The king stood, stepping down from the throne to place a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Don’t diminish your role, Alexander,” he said firmly. “Every task, no matter how small it seems, is vital to this kingdom. And never forget—you’ve always been the heart of this family. You may not have known your mother, but her spirit lives on in you.”
Alex glanced up, meeting his father’s gaze. The sincerity in his words was enough to ease the weight that had been pressing on him all day. He straightened, offering a faint smile. “Thank you, Father.”
The king returned the smile, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “Now, go on. I’m sure there’s plenty of work still waiting for you.”
Alex chuckled, pushing off the throne. “There always is. But if Arden shows up, I’m hiding in here.”
The king laughed, waving him off. “I’ll make sure to send him your way.”
Alexander exited the throne room, the weight of his father’s words settling in his chest like a warm ember. He’d never doubted his father’s love or support, but hearing it in such clear terms always grounded him. His brothers had their missions, their grand adventures, but he had his own responsibilities, even if they were closer to home. His steps quickened as he made his way back toward the market square, a renewed determination in his stride.
The festival grounds were buzzing with even more energy now, as workers rushed to hang banners, arrange tables, and organize goods for the evening events. Alex’s sharp eyes swept over the preparations, spotting areas where things seemed disorganized. A group of merchants argued near a stall that had collapsed under the weight of too many crates, and he could see that the stage for the opening ceremony was behind schedule.
He rolled up his sleeves, stepping into the fray without hesitation.
“Let’s get this sorted,” Alex said, his voice cutting through the commotion as he approached the collapsed stall. The merchants turned, startled to see the prince, and immediately began bowing and stammering apologies.
Alex waved them off. “Save it. What happened?”
One of the merchants, a stout man with a flushed face, gestured to the pile of crates. “Too many goods, Your Highness. We tried to stack them, but—”
“Stacking heavy barrels on light ones was a poor idea,” Alex interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “Let’s not waste time arguing. Everyone grab something and move it to the adjacent stall. Spread the weight evenly this time.”
The merchants hesitated, but Alex had already bent to lift a crate himself. Seeing their prince working alongside them spurred them into action, and soon the stall was cleared and set up properly.
From there, Alex moved to the stage, where carpenters and laborers were racing to finish their work. He climbed the steps and began organizing their efforts, assigning tasks with quick precision. Under his direction, the stage started coming together faster, and by the time the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the grounds were bustling with an almost celebratory energy.
Alex stepped back, dusting his hands and surveying the progress with a satisfied nod. “That’s more like it,” he muttered to himself.
As he turned to leave, intending to check on the food stalls, his gaze caught on a small group of women walking through the market. They were chatting animatedly, their laughter carrying over the noise of the crowd. One of them, in particular, stood out—a young woman with flowing dark hair, the sunlight catching in her curls as she turned to speak to her companions.
Alex’s heart skipped a beat. It was Raina.
He watched as she stopped at a stall selling fabric, her delicate fingers brushing over bolts of brightly colored cloth. The other women—likely friends or family—lingered nearby, admiring the wares. Raina’s laugh drifted over the crowd again, light and unguarded, and Alex found himself smiling despite himself.
He hesitated for a moment, then started toward her. She didn’t notice him at first, too engrossed in her conversation with the merchant. It wasn’t until he was only a few steps away that she glanced up, her laughter fading as her eyes met his.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Raina’s expression shifted from surprise to something unreadable, and Alex felt the now-familiar pull he couldn’t quite explain. He cleared his throat, offering a small smile. “It seems we meet again.”
Raina blinked, then straightened, brushing her hands against her skirts as if to compose herself. “Your Highness,” she said, dipping into a polite curtsy. Her tone was formal, but her eyes held a flicker of curiosity. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Alex chuckled, gesturing to the bustling market around them. “I think the better question is how you expected to avoid me with half the city out preparing for the festival.”
Raina’s lips twitched, though she quickly suppressed the smile. “Fair point.”
The women she had been with were watching the exchange from a distance, their whispering and occasional giggles making it clear they had noticed the prince’s attention. Raina glanced at them, her expression turning faintly exasperated. “I should—”
“Don’t let me keep you,” Alex said quickly, though his smile didn’t falter. “I wouldn’t want to disrupt your shopping.”
Raina hesitated, then gave him a small nod. “Enjoy the festival preparations, Your Highness.”
As she turned to leave, Alex felt a pang of disappointment. He stepped back, watching as she rejoined her group and disappeared into the crowd. But just before she was completely out of sight, she glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his one last time. The faintest hint of a smile played on her lips before she vanished into the throng.
Alex stood there for a moment, the noise and bustle of the market fading to a dull hum. A soft nudge at his side drew his attention, and he looked down to see a child tugging at his sleeve, holding out a flower.
“For the nice prince,” the child said, beaming up at him.
Alex took the flower with a bemused smile, tucking it into the belt of his tunic as he turned back to the market.