Victor, interestingly, turned a shade paler. He didn’t look very good anyway; he’d clearly not slept well the night before, although he could hardly still be footsore a week later. No, this was likely due to overindulgence of his drug of choice. His face and hair were so haggard he resembled a vagabond. Only the clean clothes he wore gave the illusion he was a prince.
Still, he seemed to realize he’d pushed his father too hard. And for once, his mother wasn’t coming to his defense.
“She came on to me!” Victor protested. “She approached me, wanting a night of fun!”
King Patrick lifted his head. He still didn’t look at Victor but instead at me. “James, if a young girl approached you and offered sex, what would you say?”
“Eww,” I replied promptly.
“Of course you would,” Victor yelled at me. “You like men!”
“Even if it had been a young man, or any young person not of age, my answer would beeww,” I corrected. Why must I explain this? Wasn’t it obvious? Victor’s moral compass was truly broken. “What’s so sexy about bedding achild?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter if she came to you first,” King Patrick snarled, finally turning his head so he could glare at his son. “She should never have tempted you. Worse, you threatened our relationship with the Crovans with this stupidity. I realize you’ve never paid the right attention to your lessons, but surely even you know the Crovans have been a long-standing support to the throne! Do you not realize how much damage you nearly caused us?”
I did because I’d lived through it. The lack of support from the Crovans had almost cost us this entire country. Their military support had always been instrumental, from the very beginning of this country, as they were one of the founding families. I could believe Victor didn’t know, though, because he truly didn’t pay attention during his lessons.
Victor seemed to realize arguing wouldn’t gain anything in his favor and snapped his mouth shut.
“Duke and Duchess Crovan have demanded justice for their wronged daughter, and I agreed. It’s the only sensible way forward.” King Patrick kept glaring. “Which is why you’re not getting any further chances. Victor, from this moment forward, you are stripped of the nameKronenscheld—”
Victor sat up abruptly, jaw dropping, spluttering out a denial that didn’t even make sense.
“—and stripped of the title Crown Prince. You are no longer considered a member of the royal family.”
“You can’t do that!” Victor’s voice went up into the frequency of attic bats.
“I’ve already done it.” King Patrick picked up a folder off his lap and practically threw it against his son’s chest. “The judges signed off on it without any deliberation. No one wants you ruling over this country.”
Victor yanked open the folder to stare at the first page, and I watched with morbid fascination as all color drained from hisface. Indeed, entombed bodies had more color than he did. Had he been warned of this very moment so many times that the words had sounded like the wind passing by? Had he failed to realize he’d shaved away people’s patience and mercy with each heinous act? He truly looked gobsmacked to be sitting there with a decree denouncing him in his hand.
“Your mother has some mercy for you,” Patrick continued, “which I’ve taken into consideration. For your many sins, you’ll serve on board a naval vessel for one year—”
“You can’t!” Victor blurted, animated once more, this time with horror. “You know how seasick I get!”
Oh, he got seasick? Evenbetter. A year of continuous nausea sounded like a fitting punishment to me.
“I can’t trust you on land,” King Patrick stated flatly. “I can’t even put you in a monastery for fear you’ll charm your way out again. So a ship on the high seas it is.”
The idea of this degenerate in a monastery sounded hysterical to me. Could we try that if the ship failed? Because I wanted to watch that show.
“After you’ve done a year on the ship, you have two options,” King Patrick said. “You can be in exile at one of your mother’s villas, with a limited staff and budget, for the rest of your natural life. Or you can be exiled to another country entirely with only one lump payment. Which will it be?”
Victor stared at his father for a long moment, as if doubting his sanity and his ears. Then he croaked out, “Is there absolutely no possibility of me returning to my rightful seat?”
King Patrick was brutally honest and brusque in his response. “No.”
A fine tremor invaded Victor’s limbs and he abruptly turned the other way. “Mother?”
She still shed silent tears while staring at him. Only now, disgust was mixed in with her sorrow. “The only thing I’ll do for you is provide a living. Make your choice.”
Poor Victor stared at her, aghast, like he had no idea what to do from here.
I was quite curious as to what he’d choose. This punishment and options of exile hadn’t been presented to him in the first life.
How far did the thread of fate extend? Did it wind through even death, ensuring the person still died in the same manner? Or would it only insist on dying at a certain time? Could death be cheated altogether if fate was changed enough?
With Victor, I had a feeling I’d find out. And the answer with Victor would tell me if I could save Edwin this time. Or what I had to do to make sure Edwin wasn’t killed.
