It’s thundering.
Yay.
It’s been raining all week, on and off. Forbidden Island looks like it’s about to be swallowed up, at the rate Lake Merle is rising. The streets are basically all giant mudpuddles except for Main, since that one’s brick, but it’s on a low elevation. The Dam doesn’t look too happy about all the extra water either.
I’m staring out the library window, so bored that even watching raindrops race is interesting. Forked lightning. Boom.
Sigh.
My brother takes no notice.
I sigh louder.
Still, nothing.
I get up and walk over to the couch he’s sprawled on, deeply immersed in the book he’s reading, flop over the back of it, and sigh loudly in his ear.
“Go away.” He grumbles.
“I’m bored.” I reply.
“Tough. Go pester Bleston.”
Yeah right, I think, That’ll go so well. “He’s all the way across the palace grounds.” I whine.
Ian finally looks up, glaring at me through his reading glasses. “Seriously, Jupe, go find something to do.”
“There isn’t anything to do.”
“Sure there is.”
“Reading’s boring, Ian.”
The look Ian gives me shows his opinion on that, but he doesn’t bother trying to talk me out of it. I’ve never liked reading. It’s probably why my marks in school aren’t as good as they could be.
“Well, then at least try to be a little quieter?” Ian sighs.
“But I’m bored.”
“I know.”
“Can’t you talk to me?”
“Unfortunately, I am right now.”
I scowl. I hate being the youngest. It’s like a free excuse for my older brothers to push me around. And I hate that. I mean-they’re fine. Usually. Bleston’s more of a pain than Ian is, and I know they aren’t really jerks. They’ve…… just had the same misfortune of being born into the royal family that I did, and who actually wants to be raised by a politician? Not me.
Not anyone.
So I sigh and wander off, still bored silly and still very much trapped inside.
I’ve just gotta make it through the weekend. Then school starts back, and Wilfred’ll be back. And Perkin.
Thunder pounds.
I slam the door shut to my bedroom and collapse onto the bed. In minutes, I’m asleep, and for at least a couple of hours no one’s going to bother me…..
oOo
Bang!
Loud swearing, and suddenly I’m awake.
“What are you doing in my room?” I demand.
“Father wants you.” Bleston replies shortly.
A textbook that had been balancing precariously on the edge of my dresser is now on the floor, so I’m guessing Bleston knocked it off. And probably stubbed his toe in the process, so that explains the swearing.
It’s thundering louder than ever outside, like the very sky is raging against some injustice in the streets. Some injustice I can’t see, stuck in the palace as I am.
“Did you hear me? Father wants you. Now.” Bleston snaps.
“Yeah Yeah, I heard you the first time.” I reply, and almost immediately wish I could take the snarky tone back. You don’t snark Bleston. No one does.
He smiles, but it’s that dangerous kind I don’t like. The one that’s almost like a threat. “Father wants you, Jupiter. Don’t get caught napping next time.”
And he’s gone.
Just be nice to him, my Mother’s voice rings in my ears. And what? I want to ask. What then? If he’s not going to return it, why should I be?
I better go see what Father wants. He’s like Bleston-you shouldn’t keep him waiting.
oOo
Remember what I said earlier about how no one wants to be raised by a politician? There’s a reason why I think that.
My Father-King Walter-is probably the best king we’ve had since my great-great-grandfather, Fredric. Before he took the throne most of the citadels more than fifty miles away from us had stopped listening to the Capital, and pretty much just did whatever they wanted. Lots of greedy lords and lots of exploited people. My Father’s brought most of them back under his control, but there’s still quite a few in the far outreaches giving him trouble. But at least the entire Great Wood is back under the monarchy again.
So he’s a good King. A really good King. Such a good King that that’s what people call him-King Good.
It’s why my last name is Goodson.
It’s also why he’s never around.
That’s why you don’t want to be raised by politicians-they never have time for you. Unless they need or want something. But I guess that’s just what a politician is then, right? Personal gain, it’s what they live for.
By the time I reach my father’s office, the sky is beginning to darken. I can hear voices, too, since the door’s cracked.
“You’ll cause a stir,” A voice that sounds suspiciously like Lord Ambrose Blackstar, my friend Victor’s father. What’s he talking about?
“I know.”
“Why can’t you just do it the normal way, Walter? It would be easier.”
“Easier isn’t always better.”
“He’s thirteen, you can’t put that kind of pressure on a thirteen-year-old boy.”
“Sacrifices must be made for the good of the state.”
I put a hand on the wall. I’m thirteen. My birthday was last week. What sacrifices? What’s he talking about?
“The other two won’t know.”
“So you’re asking him to lie too?”
“He won’t have to lie. Just…..keep it quiet.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“Perhaps. Jupiter, I can see your shadow. Come in and stop eavesdropping.”
Reluctantly, I step into the room. I don’t like my Father’s office, it’s too cluttered. I don’t know how he can think, with everything everywhere all the time-papers and ink wells and books on top of books. It drives me crazy, Ian’s the same way. I once offered to clean his room because it was just so awful, and he mumbled something about ‘organized chaos’ and I dropped the topic.
I come in. And something immediately hits me as off. Father and Lord Blackstar are bent over a series of papers, Blackstar still arguing fiercely with Father in low, hushed tones.
They stop the minute I walk in-not surprising-but it’s still off.
Thunder crackles above, and I try not to jump. I also try not to scowl. Wilfred says I’m way too easy to read, every emotion I feel crossing my face, wide open to the world. Wilfred's the opposite, funnily enough.
“There’s no need to be so sour.” Father says, raising an eyebrow but keeping his face turned down to the document.
Apparently, I failed. Go figure.
I nod, schooling my expression into something hopefully acceptable. “Why did you want me, Father?”
Father finally looks directly at me. “I have something to give you.”
And somehow, I know that it isn’t just a dusty old book this time.