Page 46 of Songs and Spun Gold
Axel
It wasn’t the most beautiful morning Axel had ever seen, but at least he was seeing it from the streets around the castle instead of from a room inside.
In a few weeks, the weather would be a little warmer, but for now, the world around him was firmly convinced it was still winter. There was no snow to visually identify it as such – unless one took hints from the people wrapped in heavy cloaks as they wandered the streets – but the wind whipping around corners and flinging up loose cloak edges cut across his face like a knife. He found it strangely refreshing; at least the pain tingling across his skin communicated that he was still able to feel, not yet numbed to life through his father’s insistence on controlling his every move.
Axel shoved his free hand into his pocket, pulled his cloak tighter with the other, and sighed. He was being overdramatic, and he knew it. Being denied the chance to evendiscussthe possibility of visiting Reineggburg had frustrated him. No matter how expected, his father’s reaction stung. He’d stayed annoyed until he escaped to Tobias’s home in the late afternoon, where he had remained until this morning.
Instead of taking Bertram or one of the others, he’d dragged Otto with him, ignoring the guilt that he had also pulled the guard out of bed early in the morning. Bertram would have felt honor-bound to bring him home before thenight grew too late and would have dutifully ensured that the king knew his whereabouts. Otto, on the other hand, was more laid-back about such things. As long as the king did not command otherwise, Otto ensured Axel was safe and considered his duty met.
Otto was a treasure Axel wished he’d appreciated years earlier.
At the moment, Otto was strolling down the road beside him, his eyes casually scanning their surroundings. Strict adherence to the rules would put Otto behind the prince he was guarding, but Axel never minded when the guard chose to ignore protocol; he preferred to be the one doing the bowing after a performance rather than having others bow to him or otherwise set him on a pedestal.
He understood a prince being in that position. But life would be simpler if he weren’t a prince.
If he weren’t a prince, he would be free to pursue a life as an actor. To be open with his friends. To travel if and where he wished, as long as he had the funds.
To pursue the girl he wanted.
The wind died down briefly, allowing his flapping cloak to settle, before gusting down the street and blowing the lower edge up past his waist, where his tightly-clenched hand prevented the rest of the cloak from following. Next to him, Otto raised a hand to protect his squinting eyes as he continued his perusal of the neighborhood.
Axel scowled up at the overcast sky. Appreciating the ability to feel didn’t mean he wanted to be battered.
Kicking a loose rock, he watched it bounce across the cobblestones of their smaller side street. He began humming one of the villain’s songs from the last production at the theater. Right now, it was more satisfying than the hero’s songs; he was angry, so he wasn’t interested in singing about love or courage or otherbright emotions.
Gradually, he moved from humming to mumbling the words under his breath to singing at a volume loud enough to carry across the street. He allowed himself a few muted gestures with his free hand to aid the cathartic experience.
“Must you draw attention to us?” Otto said in a tight, low voice.
Axel abruptly stopped singing and glanced over at his companion in surprise. Normally, Otto didn’t mind what Axel did as they walked, but he was also normally fairly relaxed. Axel’s own mood had distracted him earlier, but now that he was paying attention, he noticed that his guard’s lips were turned down, the corners tense, and his brows were lowered. In addition, instead of swinging freely at his side, Otto’s right arm was across his stomach, likely resting on the sword hilt that was carefully concealed under a cloak that appeared less affected by the wind than Axel’s. Judging by the way it moved, it had weights sewn into it.
Huh. That wasn’t standard for the guards’ cloaks.
Although on a second look, he realized Otto wasn’t wearing the cloak that came with his guard’s uniform.
“Sleep poorly, did you?” he lightly teased. It was harder than usual to throw up the carefree attitude, but if he stayed glum, the shrewd man next to him might start to suspect things, especially if Axel said the wrong thing in his hearing. “Must have been the strange environs; you’re not usually such a bear in the mornings.”
“You’re not usually such a meadowlark,” Otto snapped back. His ever-moving eyes didn’t pause, not even to focus a glare on the object of his ire.
“Come now, surely I was closer to a dog with that aria,” Axel quipped.
The guard huffed in response. “Do you remember the red-haired stranger from the first morning you took me along as your guard?”
“Hmm, you mean the one that had you so panicked?” Axel replied. He let one side of his mouth pull up, anticipating the coming reaction.
“I wasn’t panicked,” Otto growled. “I was appropriately concerned for your safety.”
Looking up and to the left, Axel pretended to ponder. “Concerned…I suppose you could call it that, but I seem to remember your eyes being remarkably wide for—”
“Can you drop it?” The guard finally turned his narrowed eyes on the prince. “The point is that I saw him again a few days ago.”
Axel stopped walking, his own eyes wide now. “You did? Where? What was he doing?”
Otto motioned for him to keep moving. “Near an inn where I was planning to enjoy supper. He was talking with one of your father’s advisors.”
“Which one?”
Shaking his head, the guard replied, “I don’t know his name. Short, squat, lanky shoulder-length brown hair, favors his right leg when he waddles.”
