Chapter 13: Don’t Start A war

Asher stood frozen long after the door clicked shut behind Aaron.

The ring sat heavy on his index finger, dark metal catching the soft glow of the lanterns. He stared at it the way a man might stare at a snake that had just wrapped itself around his hand and refused to leave.

"...You have got to be kidding me."

His voice came out flat.

He grabbed the ring and tugged, but It didn’t budge.

He twisted it left, then right, then tried pulling while spinning it. Then he stuck his finger in his mouth and tried to slide it off with spit, which only made him feel ridiculous and slightly violated by his own saliva. But even that hadn’t worked.

"Oh come on," he hissed at the ring. "You’re metal. I’m flesh. This should not be a competition."

The ring remained perfectly, stubbornly in place.

Asher dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at the ceiling. There was no smiling water stain here. Just expensive carved wood and the quiet realization that he had somehow gone from nearly homeless to accidentally engaged to a Crown Prince in less than a day.

He pressed both hands over his face and groaned.

"Marcel is going to kill me."

No, Marcel was going to kill Aaron. And then possibly kill Asher for making him travel all the way here just to clean up the mess.

Asher sat up straight. The letter, he still had to finish the letter.

He scrambled back to the desk, nearly knocking over the inkwell in his haste. The half-written page stared up at him, looking far too calm for the current situation.

He dipped the quill and began writing with the desperate energy of a man trying to explain why the house was on fire before the landlord arrived.

Also, he put a ring on my finger and said I was his. I tried to take it off, but it will not come off. I am currently being held hostage by jewelry. Please come get me, preferably before he starts introducing me to the court as his future something.

Satisfied that he had properly conveyed the appropriate level of panic, Asher folded the letter, sealed it with the palace wax, and left it on the desk for a messenger in the morning.

Then he tried the ring again, but his efforts yielded no real results.

He eventually gave up and collapsed onto the absurdly large bed. The mattress was so soft it felt like sinking into a cloud that had never known hardship. Asher stared at the canopy above him and muttered to himself until sleep finally dragged him under.

***

Morning arrived far too cheerfully. Sunlight poured through the thick curtains and the rays soon found Asher’s closed eyelids. Asher sat up with a start, looked at his hand, and confirmed that the ring had not magically disappeared overnight.

"Still here?" he asked as if the piece of jewelry could hear or reply to him.

After that he headed to the bathroom, washed his face, changed into the clean clothes the servants had left for him, and opened the door ready to demand answers.

Two maids stood outside, and they both bowed the moment they saw him, a gesture that left Asher stunned for a second.

"Uh. Good morning?"

"Good morning, my lord," the older one said with a bright smile. "Would you prefer breakfast in your rooms or in the dining hall with His Highness?"

My lord? Asher’s brain short-circuited for a second.

"I’m not a lord."

The maid’s smile didn’t falter. "Of course, my lord. His Highness requested that we address you properly from now on."

Asher looked down at the ring, then back at the maids.

"...He already told the staff, didn’t he?"

"Yes, my lord." The older maid answered.

"When?"

"Last night, my lord. Shortly after he left your room."

Asher closed his eyes and counted to five.

"Right. Of course he did. Because why keep a spontaneous declaration of ownership private when you can announce it to the entire palace before breakfast?"

The younger maid looked confused. The older one simply waited with the patient expression of someone who had dealt with eccentric nobles before.

Asher sighed. "Breakfast in my room, please. And if anyone asks, I am not available for conversations about rings, partnerships, or sudden changes in my social status."

"Yes, my lord."

They left, and Asher shut the door, leaned against it, and whispered to the empty room, "I hate this place."

Breakfast arrived on a silver tray that probably cost more than his old room. Fresh bread, fruit, eggs, and something that smelled like it had been cooked by people who had never skipped a meal in their lives. Asher ate while staring at the ring between bites, occasionally giving it a suspicious glare.

He was halfway through a piece of bread when the door opened without a knock.

Aaron walked in like he owned the place, which to be fair, he sort of did.

He looked even healthier than the night before, and at that moment Asher didn’t know if he should be happy for the prince or angry. He was a lot less annoying when he was on his death bed.

"Good morning," Aaron said with a perfectly calm look on his face.

Asher pointed at him with the remaining half of his bread. "You told the entire staff."

"I did."

"Why?"

"So they would treat you properly."

"I was being treated fine. They already knew I saved your life."

Aaron walked over to the small table and sat across from him without asking. "There’s a difference between being the fortune teller who saved the Crown Prince and being the man the Crown Prince has claimed."

Asher nearly choked on his bread. "Claimed. You make it sound like you put a flag in me."

Aaron’s mouth curved slightly. "In a way."

"Take the ring off."

"No, it stays."

Asher leaned forward. "I have a life outside this palace. I have people waiting for me. One of those people is a Vampire Lord who is going to be extremely unhappy when he finds out about this."

Aaron’s expression didn’t change, but something colder settled behind his eyes. "I’m aware."

"Then why do this?"

Aaron looked at the ring on Asher’s finger for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

"Because every time you left in my dreams, I died. And I am done dying."

Asher understood why the prince was worried, but this was just absurd. He couldn’t put another man’s life on halt just to save his own, that was just very selfish and unreasonable.

Aaron stood. "Finish your breakfast. I’ll be in the training yard if you need me. The physicians want to check on me, but I feel better than I have in months."

He paused at the door.

"And Asher?"

"What?"

"Don’t try to leave the palace. The guards already know you’re not to go beyond the main gates without me."

The door closed behind him.

Asher stared at the spot where Aaron had been standing, then looked down at the half-eaten bread in his hand.

"I am so screwed," he muttered.

He finished breakfast in silence, tried the ring one more time, and eventually wandered to the window. He just hoped the messenger had succeeded in delivering his letter, he didn’t think he’d be able to survive staying here for another day.

Asher pressed his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes.

"Please don’t start a war," he whispered to the morning air. "I really, really don’t want to be the reason a Vampire Lord and a Crown Prince try to kill each other."