Chapter 2: Edge
Edge stormed through the gates of Eblan. "Welcome home, your highness!" greeted one of Eblan's sentries.
Ignorant little git, thought Edge. Can't you see I am brooding here?
Edge deliberately kept his face forward, refusing to make eye-contact with the sentry. He forced his face into an expression of purpose—or it could have been irritation—and continued his flight through the castle and up into his private room in the tower. I dare anyone to greet me again!
Upon reaching his room, Edge carefully shut himself inside. His quick, quiet walk through the palace had dissuaded many from speaking with him, and he was hoping that the nosey chamberlain was not yet privy to his return. Edge really needed some downtime.
"How could I be so stupid?" he asked himself aloud and pressed his forehead against the door. He stifled the urge to slam his head against the wood. Again, it would be too noisy!
Edge, you behaved like a child. What is wrong with you? Of course he knew, yet he continued to chide himself. She is just a woman, a woman like any other. You have had your pick of the ladies your entire life, and this one is no different!
He sighed longingly as he removed his head from the door. But she is different.
Quietly he whispered, "She's wonderful."
Crossing his large room, Edge made way toward his dressing chamber. A full length mirror stood in the corner, and he paused to reflect on his appearance. I look like crap.
It was no overstatement—he looked terrible, and felt just as bad to match. Several strands of silvery-blond hair stood on end reminding him of a young boy's bed head, sweat drenched the edges of his suit leaving behind unappealing dirty-brown watermarks on his collar, and to top it all off, his cloak was wrinkled. Moving closer to the mirror, Edge attempted to inspect his advanced case of 5 o'clock shadow. Instead, his breath left cloudy circles of condensation, obscuring his view. He caught a whiff of something terrible and realized it was his own breath bouncing off the mirror into his nose.
Well, I guess this isn't surprising, he thought. I look as good as can be expected.
The moment he could politely leave the wedding reception he had bolted. He barely bid the newlywed couple good-bye before he was out the door. There was too much happiness…too much beauty…too damn much love! He had to get out of there before he went crazy—or worse! What if Rydia tried to speak with him again? He'd already made an ass of himself—he couldn't bear a repeat performance! Needing a drink, he stopped for the evening at a tavern in Baron. Just how much did I drink last night, he pondered. Vaguely Edge remembered the Baron tavern-keeper forcefully removing him from the pub for disturbing his other customers. That was all he could recall—he'd awakened this morning next to a dumpster outside the bar with a raging headache and a truly foul tasting mouth. Maybe next time I plan a depressed, drunken binge I will remember to pack a toothbrush!
A knock on the door brought him back from his musings. "You really don't want to come in here," he shouted to be heard through the heavy wooden door.
"I'm sorry my lord, but the chamberlain thought you could use some strong coffee," replied a servant. Damn that man! Edge mentally cursed the man's intuition. I really thought I'd escaped his mothering this time!
"All right." So much for being an all-powerful king. He resigned himself to whatever ministrations his caretaker planned. He knew he wouldn't have a choice in it anyway. "Enter."
Nervously the young woman entered. It was once quite an honor to serve the king in his chambers—the rumors among the kitchen and serving staff suggested that Edge was definitely, um, appreciative of fine customer service. Yet his lustful reputation was no longer. Instead, Edge's foul moods were replacing his amorous legend in the castle. The last person who brought him tea during one of his dark spells spent a week in the infirmary nursing second degree burns.
Today, Anya was the unfortunate one to draw the short straw. She stepped carefully knowing that she did not want to suffer the king's wrath should she spill coffee on her tray. She stifled a shudder as she thought about her colleague's burn injuries. Whatever happened to the days when he would lewdly ogle his lucky serving maid and pin her on his four-poster bed? She wondered. At least those encounters did not end with one participant in the hospital wing…well, not usually anyway! There was that one time…
After setting the tray down on the bedside table, she stole a brave glance at her master. The exquisitely handsome man stood at his bedroom window, his back to her while he surveyed the activity below him in the courtyard. Her eyes lingered on his tight, gently rounded buttocks. If only this were the old king, then the short straw would be one heck of a straw to draw!
Edge noticed Anya's movement in his peripheral vision, yet he continued to face the window. On any other day Edge might have made a pass at her. She was cute with her long blond hair and innocent puppy-dog-brown eyes. But today he could only watch the tray she carried. She walked carefully, and Edge could tell that she hadn't spilled a single drop of coffee. Very impressive! He did not notice her gentle smile or her perfect hourglass figure. He even missed the cleavage she revealed when she bent over in front of him to pour his drink.
"Can I get you anything else?" she asked sweetly. Please say no. Please say no, she repeated to herself over and over. I don't think I can keep my nervous hands steady enough to carry another tray in here!
Edge, still looking out of the window, did not answer immediately. He sensed Anya's nervous tension, but he was also well aware of the young lady's wandering eyes. He knew that if he turned around, he would catch her checking him out. She would blush, act innocent, and of course, he would have to comfort her through her embarrassment. He didn't want things to go that way though—for one thing, he still had not brushed his teeth! So, he kept staring out the window. Below him a group of ninjas were practicing weapon drills. Servants hustled this way and that, and in the midst of the commotion, a young couple sneaked a private moment in the courtyard.
He turned to the young lady. "Not unless you care to discuss the meaning of my sorry existence," he replied darkly.
Hoping to raise the king's spirits, Anya responded humorously, "I am not sure that I could find that answer in the Kitchen Maiden's Training Manual."
Edge didn't laugh.
"I, uh," she took several hasty steps backwards toward the door, "I could go look it up, but, in the meantime I suggest you take a nice hot shower and drink your coffee. I will probably be awhile with my, um, research." She felt behind herself for the door handle and turned it. She made to hurry out, but halted abruptly to apologize, "Excuse my insubordinate behavior my Lord. I am truly sorry." She turned to the king, meeting his eyes with a gentle expression of understanding. "If it helps, sir, existence is meaningless only when we choose not to share it with those we care about." Shocked at her bravery, her eyes fell quickly to the floor. "I will go draw your bath, and then I am leaving. Somebody else will bring you your clean clothes." Anya slipped quickly out of the door before Edge could respond to her rather perceptive comment. He was alone once more.
Out in the hallway, Anya stopped to reflect on her encounter with the king. Shaking her head, her thoughts strayed back to Edge's need for clean clothing. Oh well…maybe the laundry maid will get luckier than I did! With that, she returned to her kitchen duties.
Ten minutes later the bathtub was overflowing. Water seeped underneath the door to Edge's room and threatened to saturate an expensive throw rug. Edge didn't notice the water, the chamberlain's entry, nor did he notice when the chamberlain lifted the rug to lay down towels in its place. He stood in his same spot by the window. The pair sneaking kisses in the courtyard had just been caught by the girl's mother. It was quite a sight to see! The angry mom was chasing her daughter's would-be lover through the yard while clumsily attempting to beat him with a spatula.
"A-hem." There was no response. A little louder, "A-hem, your highness, are you well?"
Edge turned away from the window to greet the chamberlain with a blank stare. "Welcome home sir. Since your departure, nothing of noteworthy importance has occurred in the castle. You did however receive this letter from Damcyan." He handed the envelope to Edge. "Sir, I do recommend a bath and bed to cure that dreadful hangover." With that he left the room.
Outside of Edge's bedroom, like Anya had only moments before, the chamberlain paused to reflect. There was no explaining the king's behavior except for, well, loneliness...Secretly he had hoped to walk in and find his king in the arms of Anya. Anya could be the perfect distraction. He knew personally of Anya's special serving skills…She truly has a way in the kitchen, he reminisced.
He brought himself back to the present. Something happened at the wedding that much he was sure of, but he was also sure that there was no way Edge would talk to him about it. Perhaps he will recover tonight, and in the morning I will be able to address this unkingly conduct. But now…He hurried to the throne room to check the mail before the mail delivery maid could take it to Edge. Surely Queen Asura had written back by now. Maybe she can help me help the king. At this point, she was the chamberlain's only hope.
