For those who find summer in the depths of winter
TRUTH
“Father doesn’t care about me.”
My mother pauses, fingers clenching around her teacup. She frowns. It’s an unfamiliar expression on her face.
“Why would you say such a thing?” she finally responds. She takes a long sip of her drink, then gently sets it down, the glass clinking against the table. Her gaze doesn’t meet mine. It’s fixed on the honey she swirls into her tea. It’s the same color as both our eyes.
“Because it’s true.” My voice is emotionless—but I am not. Typically, I keep these feelings bottled up inside, as if burying them might make them disappear. As if freezing them might make them harden forever, like the oracles on Moon Isle.
They don’t.
My father barely looked at me before choosing Egan, my older brother, to take on a hunt this morning. They’re going to track down a creature with a crown of enchanted horns. Then, they’re going to train with new swords from the armory. Mother suggested I join them, but he ignored her. Egan shot me an apologetic look as I watched them walk out together, hollowness forming in my chest.
“It’s not true, Oro,” Mother finally says, avoiding my eyes.
But I have known since the beginning; I am second choice. Second son. Only important if something terrible happens to Egan.
My tea is sweet, filled with spoonfuls of that honey, but bitterness fills my mouth anyway. The amber liquid goes down like mud.
Because itistrue. Now I know for certain.
The castle is dark and quiet when my bedroom door creaks open. I’m up in an instant, fire flaming in my palm.
It extinguishes just as quickly when I see it’s only Egan. His golden hair catches the moonlight as he closes the door behind him. “Were you going to set me aflame?” he asks, fighting a smile.
“Maybe,” I say, letting my hand fall to my side. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
At that, Egan’s grin falters. For a while, he used to visit me every night and repeat the same lessons Father taught him. He would tell me every detail of his instructions in military operations or show me with his sword what combat skills they had learned.
He stopped recently.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Things have been busy.”
My life has been anything but. My smile is rueful. “I’m bored out of my mind. I’d give anything to be busy.”
Egan sighs. There are violet crescents beneath his eyes, like he’s tired. He folds himself into one of my chairs, slumping so his neck rests against the back cushion. He’s grown five inches quickly, and it’s like his body doesn’t know what to do with it. His legs look unnaturally long, not fitting the rest of him. We used to be the same height, but now he’s almost as tall as Father. Mother says the same thing will happen to me, in a few years.
“Be grateful you’re not heir.Youget to have a life,” Egan says.
“A life spent cooped up in this dreary castle is hardly a good thing.”
Egan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “To me, your life seems amazing.”
“We could switch,” I suggest, trying to make his smile last.
It doesn’t. It never does. He just lifts a shoulder. “Who knows. Maybe you’ll get to be king one day.”
“No,” I say, scowling. “I never want to be king.” It’s true.
“Why not?”
The answer is obvious, but I decide to humor him. “Because that will mean you’re gone.”
He nods. With a slap against his knees, he rises from the chair with a flourish. “Very true, Oro. And I like being alive, even if training is tiring.” He strides over to me. “Do you still have those swords I gave you?”
I grin. “Of course.”
