"I put spiders in his bed," Laurent said matter-of-factly.
"You did what? To our uncle!" Auguste stood up and put his hands on his hips, glaring down at where his little brother sat perched on the edge of Auguste's bed.
Laurent did not look guilty at all, simply blinked his big blue eyes at his brother. "Well, he was very rude to me today, Auguste. You remember."
No other seven-year-old would have perceived it as rudeness. Then again, no one else was Auguste's little brother.
That day, Laurent had joined Auguste, their father, and his courtiers in a royal council meeting regarding their treaty with Akielos. Laurent's brief visits were a symbolic gesture, just like Auguste's had been twelve years before, but Laurent took them far more seriously than Auguste ever had. As their father's advisors talked and talked and talked, Laurent listened. He listened and listened, his blue eyes darting about the papers scattered on the table. His tiny finger traced a line on the giant map at the center.
Councilor Herode had been the only one, other than Auguste, who was watching the little prince at all. "What do you think, Prince Laurent?" he asked.
"All my tutors say that all Akielons are barbarians," Laurent said to the council.
"Then they are teaching you well," their uncle said, smiling through his heavy beard. No decision was made at King Aleron's court without his brother by his side. Auguste found the man overbearing and unkind. No one else seemed to share his opinion.
Their father said nothing.
"I think if they really were barbarians, they would not be a threat to us," Laurent said.
Their uncle threw back his head and laughed. Councilors Guion and Jeurre joined him.
"Maybe the boy is not old enough for these meetings, Aleron," their uncle said.
"If I'm wrong, tell me why," Laurent said calmly, a blush covering his cheeks.
Auguste hated to watch it. It was rudeness – an incredible level of disrespect to any prince, even a child. But when he opened his mouth, their father laid a hand on his arm. "My brother means well."
He does not mean well, Auguste thought. He does not like it when other people are smarter than him.
But he had listened to their father and said nothing.
Auguste breathed deeply and tried to look even more disapprovingly at his brother, who was still smiling over his prank. "He was rude to you, so you put spiders in his bed?"
Laurent rolled his eyes.
"Laurent…" Auguste sighed, and then his eyes widened as something occurred to him. "They weren't poisonous spiders?"
Laurent rolled his eyes again. "Where would I get a poisonous spider?"
His little brother's eye for revenge should not have comforted Auguste so much; but now was not the time to mention that.
"You know why what you did was wrong?" Auguste said in what he hoped was his sternest voice.
Laurent looked ashamed for the first time since coming to Auguste's room with a sly grin on his face, eager to tell his brother what he had done. "I don't like him, Auguste."
Laurent had a better instinct about people than Auguste ever had; but now was not the time to mention that, either. "You outrank him. You know that, don't you?"
Laurent shook his head, his gold hair swaying with the motion. "I won't have any authority over him until I come of age."
"Then you can get poisonous spiders, right?" Auguste scolded.
Laurent looked down at his feet, kicking them back and forth on the end of Auguste's duvet.
"I am going to fix this," Auguste said, trying to keep the disapproving edge to his voice, "but next time you make a mess, you will clean it up yourself."
Laurent nodded.
"Stay here," Auguste said. He did not let himself laugh until he had turned the corner at the end of the hall. His little brother would be fine. Auguste used to worry, when Laurent would crawl into his bed after a nightmare, that if something ever happened to him, Laurent would suffer alone, but he did not need to worry anymore. His baby brother was growing up as lethal as any courtier.
The doors to their uncle's private chambers were locked, but before Auguste could knock, he heard a scream. Auguste muffled his laughter.
"Get them away!" shrieked a second voice.
Auguste stopped laughing.
This second voice was small and shrill. Perhaps it was a woman's; but it did not sound like one. Auguste's insides started to churn.
"They're not poisonous. Look," his uncle said in a scolding tone. "Besides, they are dead. I killed them."
The second voice was crying.
Auguste pounded on the door.
The voices hushed, and his uncle walked slowly to the door. When he opened it, he had a pleasant smile on his face. "Prince Auguste, what a pleasure."
Auguste's head spun. He breathed deeply and tried to think of what Laurent would do in this situation, and the solution became clear to him.
"I'm not here to speak to you," Auguste said. "I need to talk to the young man who is here with you."
His uncle's eyes narrowed. "Who says that anyone is here?"
A boy who could not have been older than eleven or twelve peeked his head into the doorway to his uncle's bedroom. Auguste recognized him as the son of one of the lesser nobles. "May I speak to him?" Auguste held himself at his full height, chin lifted high, and pointed to the boy. He did not know the boy's name, but he was the crown prince, and his uncle could not refuse his order.
His uncle smiled. "Of course."
The boy almost ran to Auguste's side.
Auguste tried to calm his own beating heart. "Goodnight, uncle," he said.
"Sleep well, nephew," his uncle said, the pleasant smile melting from his face as he shut the door.
Auguste led the boy into Laurent's rooms. Dusk was falling, and only a small sliver of sunlight remained. "Won't you sit down?"
The boy nodded and sniveled, sitting at Laurent's desk and running an embroidered sleeve across his nose. He had big blue eyes.
"May I ask your name, young man?"
"Louis, your highness," the boy said, looking around anxiously at what he knew were a prince's rooms.
Auguste realized then how little he knew of children who were not Laurent. He did not know how to begin to talk to this boy, even if they had met under very different circumstances. Auguste thought about what had interested him at that age and made a wild guess.
"Sir Baptiste, who lives at Ravenel, is looking for a new squire. I have come to offer you the position."
The boy's eyes lit up. "Yes, yes, thank you, your highness! I want to be a knight! Your uncle, he said – "
"Never matter what he said," Auguste snapped, not eager to hear whatever came after that. "Go back to your own rooms tonight," Auguste said. "And tomorrow, tell your father that the prince thinks you would make an excellent squire. I will speak with him about the arrangements."
The boy nodded. "Thank you, your highness."
Auguste felt sick to his stomach as he parted ways with the boy and found his way back to his own chambers. He tried to tell himself that he had done his best in an awful situation: if successful, his plan would remove the boy from his uncle's grasp, and give him a chance to be something other than a court pet. He liked to think Laurent would have been proud.
He opened the door to his chambers.
"Auguste?" Laurent stood up. How small and fragile he looked. Auguste picked him up and held him tight, Laurent's long hair draped over his face. "Auguste, is everything all right?"
"You know I'll always be there for you, don't you?"
"Yes, I know," Laurent said, no hesitance or uncertainty in his voice. "Are you all right?"
"Do you want to go for a ride, Laurent?" Auguste said.
"It's very late."
"Yes, but we're both princes, and I want to. Do you?"
Laurent smiled.
At the stables, they found a boy willing to saddle Prince Auguste's horse. "If anyone is looking for us, we will not be far," Auguste said.
He cradled Laurent against his chest as they rode, Laurent's hands tangled in the horse's mane. By the time they reached their destination, the moon had risen, and its light spilled across the ground.
Auguste dismounted and lifted Laurent off of the horse after him.
"It's beautiful at night, isn't it?" Auguste said.
He had led them both to Laurent's favorite part of the palace grounds, a clearing with creek running through it and small pool at its center, fireflies twinkling in the air and reflected in the water silvery with moonlight.
"It is," Laurent said.
"Be careful," Auguste said.
Laurent nodded and ran after the fireflies. He caught them one by one and brought them back to Auguste, who thanked him and let them go. When Laurent was bored with that, he removed his shoes and stockings and waded into the water.
"Auguste! Come in!" He picked his way through the rocks in the creek.
"You wait right there!" Auguste said. As he pulled off his boots and joined Laurent splashing in the cold water, he swore to himself that no one would ever hurt his brother.
He would not let them.
