“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” — Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

  ???

  The rays of the afternoon sun were streaming in through the tall windows of the study, casting golden light over the books and papers scattered across the surface of the desk, and even the edges of the map.

  It was the usual time for Rem’s lessons with Gaius Merren. The advisor conducted these sessions twice weekly, teaching the Crown Prince the responsibilities of governance, and everything else he would need to know to rule a kingdom.

  Gaius’s calm voice was the only sound that filled the study that generations of Alathian kings have used since the inception and founding of the realm. And now, that study belongs to Rem.

  The advisor waved a hand over the map of Alathia spread across the desk, his finger tracing the lines marking the eastern border of the kingdom.

  “If we restructure the levy like so,” Gaius was saying, placing a small red marker beside another marker that represented a village, “the provinces can be fortified without drawing too heavily from the central reserves. We’ll preserve the stores of the capital. Just barely, but it will also reinforce Lord Kael’s perimeters before winter hits.”

  Across from him, Rem sat hunched over the table, surrounded by piles of books, papers, and even ledgers. His brows furrowed as he tried to keep up with what Gaius was teaching him, his quill scratching furiously across the parchment, his eyes constantly flickering from the map to his notes.

  A knock on the door interrupted them, and Gaius frowned. “Enter,” he called.

  A maid peeked inside, bowing quickly to both Gaius and Rem. There were wet splotches visible on her apron as she straightened. “Apologies for the interruption, Your Highness, Lord Merren. But Lady Yuliana is here,” she said apologetically, her voice tinged with urgency. “She’s requesting for an audience. It seems urgent.”

  Rem’s eyes widened. “Yulia?” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He looked towards Gaius for guidance.

  The royal advisor merely raised an eyebrow, but he gave a small nod. “Send her in.”

  The maid bowed again before retreating from the study. An uneasy silence then followed, with Rem fidgeting uneasily in his seat, hurriedly gathering loose parchment and shuffling them into neat stacks.

  “I haven’t seen Yulia since her father’s funeral,” Rem murmured. “I heard that she’s busy managing her lands. What is she doing here, I wonder?”

  Not to mention that every single time Rem crosses paths with Yulia since Luca was sent away, it normally ended up in either an argument, or have Yulia furious at him all over again.

  Gaius was silent, even as he cleared away some of the books and papers, knowing that their lesson was more than likely over. “I have a few guesses why she’s here,” he murmured.

  There was a knock on the door once more before it opened, admitting Yuliana Nightray. She’s taller now since the last time Rem had seen Yulia in person nearly four years ago. Her face is sharper, and she carries herself differently in a way that reminds Rem painfully of the late Lord Hamilton.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Yulia’s dark cloak fell around her shoulders, her boots still caked with dust from travel, even as she bowed politely to Gaius and Rem.

  “Your Highness. Lord Merren.” Yulia’s voice was stiff and devoid of warmth when she addressed Rem. “My apologies for the sudden visit.”

  Gaius inclined his head politely. “Lady Yuliana,” he said evenly. “What brings you to the Imperial Palace today?”

  Yulia said nothing for several moments, only inhaling through her nose as if steadying herself, before she then turned her attention to Rem. “I am here to formally request that the Crown send immediate aid to the rural provinces, especially for those within Lord Kael’s territories near the northern border, and even towards the east.” Her voice rose with every word she spoke. “People are starving. They’re dying. They require aid that was never rendered to them since the war ended. The Ten Great Houses are bleeding coin just to hold our own provinces together, and even then, we can only do so much! We cannot keep this up alone!”

  “Uh, well…” Rem hesitated, almost hunching in on himself, visibly shrinking beneath her stare, seeing the look on Yulia’s face: the one that told him she’s going to render him to cinders if he says something she doesn’t like. “Parliament said at the last meeting that the kingdom’s resources are already stretched thin. We can’t divert more without—”

  SLAM!

  Yulia slammed a hand hard onto the desk, causing the ink bottle and quills to rattle, with the sound ringing sharply throughout the room. Gaius didn’t so much as flinch. Rem, however, nearly jumped out of his seat.

  “Then make them move,” she snapped, her voice tight and taut with frustration. “Or are you just going to smile while they let people starve?!”

  Rem hesitated for several moments, looking from Yulia to Gaius. He opened and closed his mouth for several moments, but couldn’t find his words. His face flushed with shame under the weight of Yulia’s glare, like he’s nothing more than a bug under her boot.

  Rem already knew that this meeting between him and Yulia was going to end in disaster.

  Again.

  Yulia then slammed a file hard onto the desk, with the documents within nearly spilling out from the leather tie. “We have villages starving to death. Children dying.” Her voice was trembling with barely restrained rage and frustration. “Death counts. Testimonies from our outposts. Everything is in there.” She slammed her hand atop the folder. “And you’re letting Parliament stall because you’re afraid of backlash?” Her voice was tinged with fury, and Rem found himself unable to look at Yulia, afraid of what he would see. “You’re not blind, Rem. Neither are you stupid. You’re just afraid to be hated. So tell me, what’s the point of being prince if you won’t act?”

  Rem stared at the folder before he hesitantly met Yulia’s silver eyes. “Yulia, please try to understand,” he said, his voice trembling. “I can’t just overrule Parliament, not when there is a majority vote when it comes to which areas require priority attention—”

  “Then what’s the damn point of you being prince?” Yulia shot back, and Rem flinched. He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked down, ashamed.

  Throughout everything, Gaius said nothing, merely watching and wanting to see what the Crown Prince would decide. And so far, he is disappointed.

  Yulia stepped back from the desk, her hands shaking by her sides even as she clenched her hands into fists like she was restraining the urge to throttle Rem. “Declare martial law if you have to! Pull rank! Do something! Start making decisions for the kingdom! Act like a prince for once! Not Parliament’s puppet!”

  It was Gaius who finally broke the silence.

  “Lady Yuliana,” he said, his voice measured, but also edged with something colder. “I understand your frustration. If you’re willing to provide the full list of affected provinces and their supply needs, I can begin drafting a relief plan immediately. I can’t promise anything right now, but I will do my best to push it forward.”

  Yulia, still seething, only nodded. “Very well. I’ll have the documents delivered by tonight.” Her eyes darted back to Rem. “But if nothing is done by the end of the week, I will take matters into my own hands.”

  She bowed stiffly to Gaius, before turning and leaving the study, her boots making low, muffled thuds against the carpet as she did so, with the doors slamming hard behind her.

  The silence in the wake of Yulia’s departure lingered almost like smoke.

  Rem sat motionless at the desk, his eyes fixated on the folder that Yulia had brought him. Several times, his fingers shook as he reached out to the folder, before changing his mind, and drawing his hand back again.

  Finally, Gaius sighed, breaking the silence. “She’s angry. But I can’t really blame her,” he said. “And you know that she’s right.”

  Rem’s hands trembled. “I… I can’t do everything alone,” he whispered. “And I hear what Yulia is saying, I really do. But a king who is hated is no leader. I need the support of Parliament.”

  Gaius’s face was stern as he shook his head. “That’s not an excuse, and you know it,” he said curtly, his voice hard. “You’re just afraid to be hated. But like what Lady Yuliana and I have told you time and again, a king has to make the tough calls at times, even if it earns you hatred.” He sighed. “Prince Rem, you need to decide. And fast, before you lose all the trust that your subjects had in you, especially Lady Yuliana. Will you start making decisions yourself, or continue letting Parliament make it for you?”

  Rem’s hands shook. “I… I can’t do everything by myself,” he said weakly.

  Gaius sighed. “Prince Rem, I can only advise you and guide you. The same way that Lady Yuliana had been doing for you for years. But even we can’t do much if you refuse to listen to either of us. We can’t lead for you,” he said wearily. “When people starve, and when they die, it will be you that the people will blame. Not Parliament. Not the nobles. But you.” Rem swallowed. “And you need to decide. Whether you want to be an observer. Or do you want to be a leader?”