Blood Soup - Part #2 (Book 2 - Downfall)
Kelly A. Harmon
Issue #6 (August 2008)
Prince Amalric lifted the bowl to his lips and swallowed the dregs of blood soup which had been prepared especially for his homecoming. He used his fingers to push the remaining bits of apple and pear, sopping with the peppery broth of blood and vinegar, to the edge of the bowl and slurped them into his mouth.
“More,” he said to the kitchen-page, and slammed the bowl down onto the table.
As the page exited through the courtyard, Amalric glanced at the family coat of arms hammered above the foyer lintel. He’d missed the familiar sight of the red and silver crest hanging over the door and seeing the colors duplicated in the guards’ uniforms.
Why had he been sent away for an education? Were there no qualified instructors here? Fostering was such a barbaric tradition. One that kept him from learning about his home–which was wrong. How could they expect him to rule this place with competence once he took the throne? He blamed his father for any limitation of his skills. After all, Theodicar sent him away from home to be fostered.
It felt good to be home, even if the reason for his return embarrassed his father. Could he help it if he was born to rule and his cousins were not? They were going to have to get used to his ordering them about anyway. It might as well be now.
But if he had learned one thing while he was away from home, it was to bide his time. Circumstances weren’t often conducive for retaliation; but he had a long memory. And one day he’d be king.
No one liked to hear that. But truth often tastes sour; and he’d be damned if he’d sweeten it for anyone disrespectful of his position.
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