The second prince of Vere arrived a month too soon.
The royal physician somberly informed King Aleron and Queen Hennike that he would do everything in his power to save the child, but also reminded them that he was only mortal, and if this child did not live, they still had a healthy heir. The queen had survived the birth – that alone was a blessing. His assistant, a man named Paschal, was the one to reassure the royal couple that they should not lose hope.
Auguste's brother had come into the world quiet and still, and Auguste thought that must be a good thing. Most babies cried and fussed all the time, and weren't their mothers and fathers always complaining about it? Maybe his little brother would be quiet. He would like that.
Auguste felt out of place standing next to the crib in his mother's bedroom. He wanted to leave, but no one had dismissed him. Everyone was speaking to each other as though he could not understand what they were saying, as though he might as well not be there. How could they not realize that Auguste was twelve years old, so he understood everything now?
Auguste had asked all of the wet nurses at court every question he could think of in the months leading up to his new sibling's birth. They had to answer him honestly – he was their prince, after all, and Auguste wanted to be ready, in case he was ever called upon to take care of his little brother or sister. So now he knew everything he needed to know.
Despite all of that, the royal physician did not seem to think the baby's silence meant anything good.
Auguste leaned over the crib. His little brother looked like he was sleeping peacefully, his impossibly tiny fingers curled into fists. If something was wrong, why could they not fix it? Auguste felt helpless, staring down at his brother. He wanted to do something, so he picked up the baby. He remembered to cradle his head the way the wet nurses had told him to. He held his brother close to him and rocked back and forth.
It was several minutes before he felt any movement in his arms. When he did, he stopped rocking. Big blue eyes that seemed to take over his baby brother's entire face stared at Auguste in a way that convinced him that this newborn could see into his soul. Auguste stared back.
Then his brother screwed up his face and wailed.
Auguste jumped. His mother, his father, the physician, and Paschal all stared at him.
"What did I do wrong?" Auguste said. "I'm so sorry!"
The royal physician scooped the baby from Auguste's arms and carried him to his parents.
"Auguste, what did you do?" his father said sternly, heavy bags around his bleary eyes.
"I just picked him up," Auguste said. "Did I do something wrong?"
His father seemed at a loss for words, and just shook his head, holding his queen closer.
Auguste watched the crying child in his mother's arms. "Hello. I'm your brother," he said to him. "We're going to be very good friends."