“Your father was looking for you earlier, and his business is my business, so I would say you do answer to me. Should I say you were daydreaming on the roof again?” Snake smirked at him as he brushed his thin, blonde hair from his face with a black gloved hand.
“You can tell my father whatever the hell you like and then you can move out of my way before I make you beg for your life.” Matthias raised his brow at the male before him.
Snake had earned his name from fellow Thorns. He was tall and slim, but built with a good amount of muscle. With long blondehair that reached past his shoulders, he was somewhat attractive, though always appearing when you least expect it and never to be trusted. He was his father’s favoured advisor—someone to do his dirty work. A sneaky, good-for-nothing creature that always lived in the shadow of a king. It wasn’t just his appearance that earned him the name, though.
When he was a boy living in The Grey, a snake had bitten him. It hadn’t killed him, but the poison had tainted the skin on his hand in a brackish green colour—he’d kept it covered with a glove ever since.
“Your father will be so disappointed to hear that instead of leading groups of hauntings through The Grey or putting Thorns in their place, you were instead lazing about the grounds with that animal of yours.” Snake grinned, but it wasn’t pleasant, his off-white teeth gleaming under the low light.
Matthias unfolded his arms and stepped towards the advisor. Grabbing him swiftly by the lapels of his jacket, he caught Snake off guard as he shoved him hard up against the stone wall. “My father is the disappointment. How about you tell him that and piss off?”
Snake hissed as Matthias released him and took a step back.
“Somebody is quite testy today,” the advisor muttered.
Looking his opponent up and down, Matthias decided he wasn’t worth one more breath.
With the conversation over, Matthias offered a rude gesture and moved down the hall. Let the advisor tell his father all about their little incident. He didn’t care in the slightest. The prince already knew how his father felt about him. For his entire life, there’d been a daily, one sided conversation about how pathetic Matthias was. How he was a failure of a prince, a stain on the royal pride. The king would rant about supporting the monarchy, overseeing territories, or representing the Kingdom—all duties that Matthias flat out refused to partake in.
He slammed his bedroom door behind him. Bones flopped down in front of the fireplace and dozed. Matthias sat down at his desk and thought of his cabin in the woods. He sighed as he pulled a small brown leather book from the wooden drawer.
His secret keeper, as he liked to call it, was filled with songs he wrote. He could sit here for hours, playing music on his veslo, but he was so annoyed by the interaction he’d had with the king’s advisor that he couldn’t concentrate. He itched to be free of the palace walls.
“Stay here, Bones,” he said, walking to the balcony from his room. He glanced down below and off either side, ensuring no one was around. Then he simply disappeared, reappearing moments later in a dark alleyway.
This gift of winnowing was given to him upon birth and was very rare. How he received it was unknown to him, and he wasn’t sure his father even knew he could do it. Being the son of an evil king had one perk, it seemed.
Matthias had first discovered it when he was playing hide and seek with Bones out in the woods as a young boy. It hadn’t even been intentional. He told the wolf to stay and then imagined himself running so fast from Bones to the other side of the forest and, within seconds, he was there. Not wanting to get into trouble for his newly found gift, the young prince had kept it to himself.
He’d hidden it ever since.
Shivering with the bite of the cool air, Matthias sauntered out into the pale sun, trying to warm himself with its weak rays. Town wasn’t much better than the palace, but here he knew he wouldn’t run into Snake, Jes or his father. Tucking his wings closer to his side, he moved through the streets with ease.
Music touched his ears and piqued his interest. A man wandered through the crowds with an accordion, playing a tune of sorrow and woe. It told Matthias a tale of love lost but forever forgotten. Thorns wandered about, entering stores or leaving others. The water fountain in the centre of the square trickled with very little water, as if the very statue itself was crying.
Cold hands grasped his arm, and Matthias swung around to see who touched him.
“Please, Your Highness. Those men stole my bag, it has all my belongings in it. I need your help,” the sad-looking woman cried.
Glancing towards where the woman pointed, Matthias pulled his arm free of her clutches. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Take the matter up with the king.”
Stepping away from her, the prince moved off towards the shadows. Never once had he feared for his life outside the walls of the castle. Most Thorns paid him no mind. Sometimes, they greeted him with a small nod, but mostly they cowered under his gaze and kept out of his way. Whispers told him he was known amongst the commoners as an exceptional fighter, and he presumed no one dared to test that theory.
The atmosphere grew loud, and Matthias reached for the blade at his hip. Just the touch of the smooth walnut handle against his fingers brought him comfort. The town turned into a blur of muted colour and drunken brawls as the sun began to set.
Sighing, Matthias knew it was time to leave. It would be dinner soon.
He never ate too much before a fight, but that dose of adrenaline earlier with Snake had brought on a small appetite. Finding privacy in a dark alleyway, Matthias winnowed back to his balcony.
Seated already at the long wooden table topped with baked meats, a few varieties of charred vegetables, and a large selection of wine was the king. He didn’t bother looking up as Matthias entered the room. Black wings brushed the ground as the prince seated himself down a few chairs from the king. Matthias liked it that way. His father wasn’t someone whom he cared to join in conversation with very often.
A subtle glance towards his father showed him buried in his plate of food, his black hair framing his face as it skimmed his shoulders, the crown on top of his head slightly crooked and too big. Matthias was certain his father used to be a fine-looking man in his younger years.
But centuries of hatred will make you ugly.
Turning to his plate, which was clumsily placed in front of him by a scared-looking woman, Matthias forced himself to eat, each mouthful tasting like a mix of sweetness and dirt. After finishing as much as he could stomach, he pushed the plate from him. A fewcourtiers and noble folk were also seated at the table. Jes sat next to the king, and Snake sat next to her.
The advisor threw him a sideways glance, just as ugly as the smirk that danced upon his lips—as if he knew something the prince didn’t.
