Piper slipped through the door to his bedroom and heaved a relaxed sigh. He'd made it back to the privacy of his room and avoided as many people as he could. He unclasped his cloak and pulled the wool from his shoulders, draping it over the back of the chair in front of the fireplace. Piper walked around to the front of the chair and pulled the halves of his flute from his belt, then sat down heavily.
He clicked the pieces of his flute together and licked his dry lips, about to play, when the door opened and his parents marched in.
"Piper!" His father yelled, his face contorted in anger. "What were you thinking? Leaving the castle without an escort!"
Piper sighed, knowing he was really in trouble, and stood, answering through his flute. "I want my freedom, Father."
His parents' faces remained stony. "Piper! You're the prince! You cannot go running off! Who knows what could have happened!" Lillian, who was usually calm and collected, said furiously.
Piper didn't want to know what they would do if he responded the wrong way. So he kept his flute silent. In his mind, he was yelling right back at them. I'm not a child anymore! You can't keep me locked behind the walls of this castle forever! I'm an adult! I don't care if I'm the prince!
He clutched his flute in white-knuckled hands, desperately wanting to tell his parents what he was thinking, but not wanting to anger them further.
"Piper, you are banned from riding your horse. Or any horse. Until we say otherwise." Harold said in a voice that left no room for argument.
Piper nodded reluctantly. At least Arco wasn't being sent away. His parents turned and left his room, and Piper was left alone. He looked down at his flute and walked to the bureau, laying the instrument on the smooth wood.
Turning, Piper trudged to the fireplace and placed his hand on the mantle, once again looking intently into the ever-changing flames. He thought about all that had happened that day. The royal ball for his birthday, the news that his parents would be preparing him to rule Far Far Away, losing his sister, losing Arco.
Would it never end?
Piper had moved from the fireplace to a chair, a book in his hands when the right chime of the clock pulled him from the story. He closed the book, setting the leather covered volume on the floor next to his chair. He really didn't want to make an appearance at dinner and have his parents yell at him again. But it would be worse to postpone any further yelling, as that would only make it worse.
He made a detour to the bureau to retrieve his flute and left his room. Piper wound his way through the castle to the large dining room, each step feeling like he was walking through thick mud. It was the family's first dinner without the cheerful, energetic comments from Fiona.
His father had told him they would discuss the topic of his birthday at dinner. A conversation he wasn't too anxious to have. But he plastered a smile on his face and walked into the dining room. His parents already sat at the long table, Harold ruling at the head with Lillian at his right hand. Piper's chair was to his father's left. Fiona usually sat next to their mother.
Piper kept the smile on his face as his gaze lit on the empty chair next to his mother, hiding his sadness. He pulled his chair from under the table and sat, lifted his flute to his lips, and played a greeting. "Good evening, mother. Father."
"Good evening, son." His mother replied.
Harold's fingers were steepled in front of his face, and he nodded to Piper. "Son."
Piper's gaze drifted to the empty seat to Lillian's right. His mother followed his gaze. "Piper." She said, drawing his attention back to her. "We would like to talk about your birthday."
Piper hastily played his answer, "What would you like to talk about?"
Harold cleared his throat, drawing Piper's attention to him. "We were hoping you would assist in planning the event."
Piper balked. His mother and sister always took charge of events. He answered quickly. "I'd rather Mother organize it." He lowered his flute and waited for his parents to say something.
Lillian looked at him, and then at his father, and then back at Piper. "Are you sure, son?" She asked.
Piper nodded.
Harold looked at Piper as well, his face unreadable. Then he nodded. "Very well."
Piper heaved a silent breath and relaxed. Then tensed when he remembered that his parents were going to begin preparing him to rule as soon as he turned eighteen. Which was only three days away. He wasn't ready to take the crown. He wasn't ready for the obligation. He wasn't ready to rule.
He wasn't ready for any of it.
Piper stood at the top of the flight of stairs leading down to the castle's ballroom. Dressed in a white tunic and cape with intricate designs sewn into the material with gold thread, a gold belt at his waist, gold hose, and white boots, he felt more like the prince of Far Far Away than he had since Fiona left. If only he hadn't taken so long to find the jeweled coronet that wrapped around his head. He also wore the necklace Fiona had given him, the thin silver disk shining against the white and gold of his tunic.
He looked down at the guests milling around the huge room, his grip tightening on the flute behind his back. He swallowed as the music stopped and a man announced him. "Presenting: His Royal Highness, Prince Piper."
Piper forced a regal smile to his taut mouth and walked down the flight of stairs as hundreds of pairs of eyes watched his descent. The crowd of well-wishers bowed and curtsied to him as he walked to the dais where three, there had been four until Fiona had been sent away, thrones stood. He walked up the set of steps to the throne at his father's left hand and sat. He rested his flute in his lap and placing his arms on the armrests at his sides.
The music resumed and couples began dancing. Piper looked around the room, not focusing on anything or anyone. He turned to his parents and swallowed when he saw his father looking at him expectantly. "Son, go dance, enjoy yourself. Do not stay here with us all night."
Piper was about to decline when one of the guests, a girl of about sixteen years, with red hair and freckles, stepped up to the dais and curtsied to the three of them. "Your Majesties. Your Highness."
Piper nodded to the girl. His parents responded in turn.
The girl turned to Piper. "Your Highness, I wonder if I might trouble you for a dance." She shuffled her slippered feet under her light blue skirt.
Piper looked at the girl like she'd grown another head, then lifted his flute and replied, "No. I'm perfectly fine right here."
"Oh." The girl said quietly. "Alright." She turned away.
"Young lady." Piper's mother said.
The girl stopped and turned back to face them, her cheeks red with embarrassment. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
Piper's mother stood and turned to him, her hands on her hips. "Piper. One dance will not kill you." She said sternly.
Piper swallowed the lump in his throat. He wouldn't win this battle with his mother. She had "the look" on her face. The look that said arguing was pointless. He sighed and nodded reluctantly to his mother, then stood and placed his flute on the cushion next to his throne. He walked stiffly down the steps of the dais and held out his hand to the girl, who took it and followed him to the center of the floor.
"I'm Lady Sophia, by the way." She said as the music started.
Piper nodded, wanting to get the dance over with.
He didn't want any attention on him and this girl, who seemed oblivious to everything around her. She chattered on like a magpie. And Piper focused on the wall over her head, which only reached his shoulder.
Finally, the song ended and he was able to release her. She curtsied and Piper forced a bow, then turned and walked back to the dais, and sat heavily in his chair. He couldn't be more grateful that the ordeal was over. He picked up his flute and held the instrument in his hands, absently running his thumb over the keys.
His father looked at him and turned to his mother, then touched his shoulder. "Piper. Is everything alright?"
Piper raised his flute to his mouth and played, "I'm fine."
His father smiled and stood, holding out his hand to his wife. "Darling, might I have a dance?"
Piper's mother smiled and placed her palm on her husband's, letting him lead her out into the crowd. Piper was now alone on the dais, and that was fine with him. He watched the couples spinning around the floor and touched the disk of silver resting against his chest, feeling the uneven texture and remembering Fiona's excitement when he'd opened the bag it had been in.
He watched the couples and turned when a blonde girl in white walked up to the steps and cleared her throat. "Your Highness." She curtsied.
Piper inclined his head.
"Might I trouble you for a dance?" She asked quietly.
He really didn't want to. But, reluctantly, he nodded and stood. Piper held out his hand and flinched when the girl's palm touched his. Good Lord, her hands were as cold as ice. He stiffly guided the girl through the dance, wincing when she stepped hard on his foot.
"Oh, I'm sorry Your Highness." The girl said anxiously, stepping back.
Piper forced a taut smile and bore the painful throbbing in his toe. It's almost over. Almost over. He repeated in his mind.
Finally, the dance was over and he hobbled to the dais, up the steps, and sat down heavily. His parents had returned to their own seats and had been watching him and the girl.
"That was quite a spectacle, son." His father said with a laugh.
Piper gritted his teeth.
Harold saw Piper's face and sobered. "Are you alright?" He asked, pointing to Piper's foot.
He nodded, then shrugged.
Lillian stood and walked up to Piper. "Can you walk?"
Piper nodded.
"Good. Then go have fun. It's your birthday celebration. Go find someone to talk to."
Piper picked up his flute and smiled indulgently at his mother. He stood and left the dais. The minute he entered the crowd, a group of twittering girls descended on him like flies to honey. And he was sucked into a never-ending question and answer session.