"Fishing," Halt's father had said, "is an important skill to have. It teaches patience and alertness."
So here he was, seated in a rickety little boat, dipping the end of a rod into a lake and waiting. Just… waiting.
Ferris had already caught two fish and looked pleased with himself. Halt, who hated being one-upped, had caught none.
He decided he didn't like fishing.
"Something bothering you, big brother?" asked Ferris a little too innocently.
"Of course not," snapped Halt. "What on earth could bother me while fishing? It's too damn boring to be bothered about."
Ferris shrugged. "I suppose it isn't for everyone."
Halt had a strong urge to snap back with a certain line. He knew he was asking for trouble, but he couldn't help it. "You know, Ferris, you're right. You are much more suited for this kind of thing than I am. After all, as the future King of Clonmel, I won't really have time for leisure activities like fishing."
Ferris's eyes burned with hate. Halt stared back, unblinking, cool and confident. Finally, Ferris dropped his gaze. He'd never been able to hold his own against Halt. He wasn't confident enough, or smart enough. God forbid he ever becomes king, thought Halt. For the sake of Clonmel.
They drifted a little farther out on the lake, bobbing slightly. Halt couldn't wait to get back on dry land; here, in the middle of a body of water, he felt oddly exposed. Any enemy of his would be able to strike him down easily in this position.
Just as the boat passed under a hanging vine, Halt caught sight of a flurry of movement in the corner of his eye. Before he could react, Ferris had already leaned over, grabbed him, and shoved out of the boat. Maintaining a strong grip on Halt's tunic, he proceeded to dunk his older brother into the water and hold him there.
Halt struggled against Ferris's grip, kicking and splashing wildly. The other boy, driven by hate and jealousy, had an almost inhumanly strong grip on the tunic.
But Halt was stronger. With a Herculean effort he broke free of the grasp and propelled himself away from the boat, stopping only when Ferris was a good thirty feet away.
Ferris was apologizing profusely, holding out his arms for Halt to take, calling for the guard's help. But Halt had had enough. This racked up as the fifth attempt on his life by Ferris.
Was it worth it, staying here? His parents despised him, his brother wanted him dead. He was destined for a position he didn't want. The only bright side to it all was his sister, Celina.
In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't worth it for Halt to stay any longer. He wasn't welcome in the royal family of Clonmel. It would be better for everyone if he just vanished.
Ferris was still calling him. Halt fixed him with eyes colder than a Skandian winter before swimming smoothly to the opposite bank. Once his feet were on dry land again, he pulled off his gold jewelry and the emerald amulet that marked him as Prince Halt O'Carrick. Prince Halt was dead now, as far as anyone was concerned. He'd drowned while fishing. The Crown Prince was now Ferris O'Carrick.
But Halt didn't intend to go out as a nobody. He would forge his own path. He would become a legend in his own time, if it was the last thing he did.
