Page 50 of Songs and Spun Gold
Axel sat at his desk with his forehead resting on his crossed arms. It wasn’t even lunchtime, and he’d had quite the day between his boundary-lacking personal guard and his overbearing, unreasonable father.
He could only imagine the kind of day it had been for that poor girl his father had dragged to the capital. Honestly, commanding her to spin gold to save her family’s livelihood? What was Father thinking?
A thoughtful prince might try to comfort her, but Axel wanted nothing to do with her. Not with talk of him marrying her floating about.
He would rather marry a different near-stranger.
The current mess highlighted Otto’s words to him. Axelhad no control over that aspect of his future; it would be cruel to seek out his theater girl when he could only offer friendship.
And friendship would be dangerous once his father forced him to marry a dull, shallow, sniping member of the court. It would be best to never have the temptation.
Unless…unless he defied his father and married the girl he wanted. What could his father do, after all? Disinherit him?
He lifted his head, leaning on his elbows. And if Father made their lives miserable, they could flee to Daraigh and stay with Michael.
Until it caused conflict between the two kingdoms or the absence of the heir caused inner turmoil in Ralnor.
Axel brought his fists up to prop up his head. It would be incredibly selfish to follow such a course. He couldn’t do it. Not even for her.
A light tap sounded on his door, but he ignored it. After a minute, it sounded again, a little louder. He closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “I’m not here. Go away.”
The door opened a crack. “Your Highness, you have a visitor.” When he didn’t respond, the door opened far enough to admit Bertram’s head. “Are you indisposed?”
“No,” Axel replied, dragging a hand down his face. “Give me a moment.”
Scolding himself for his moping, he pushed himself to his feet and shook out his hands. It didn’t matter that he wanted to crawl out his window – if it weren’t on the second floor – and disappear into the solitude of the gardens. He was an actor. He’d been acting for years, and it was time to put on his act once again.
A mirror in his study had never been necessary, so he combed his fingers quickly through his hair and hoped it was sufficient. He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, remembering how it felt to stand on the stage with the curtainsopen. The beauty of the auditorium and the peacefulness of a note dissipating in the vast space drifted through him, chasing away his blues.
He donned his pleasantly-receptive expression, opened his eyes, and crossed to the door to welcome his visitor.
“Director?” Axel’s eyebrows rose as he surveyed the theater’s operations director standing outside his door again. As before, the man’s shoulders were hunched, but this time he gripped a satchel with both hands in front of his chest. “Back so soon?”
The little man cringed. “I am so sorry to disturb you once again, Your Highness. If I could have avoided it—”
“No trouble,” Axel assured him with an easy smile. “Please, come in.”
He stepped aside to allow the director to pass through the door. Waving the man into a seat, he crossed behind his desk and rested his arms on the back of his chair, leaning against it instead of sitting in it. “What can I do for you? Is there a problem with the repairs?”
“No, not precisely.” The director fidgeted with the satchel in his lap. “The repairs are progressing as expected, but there have been additional accidents.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?” Axel asked with a slight frown.
“No, no,” the director assured him. He rubbed his hands together. Unfastening the clasp on his satchel with shaking hands, he reached in and drew out a handful of paper. “No, it is the notes that concern me. I didn’t mention them before, but…”
Axel leaned forward, curious to see what kind of notes would be so distressing to the director.
“We’ve found them all over. On my desk, tied to the lift lines, nailed to dressing room doors, stuffed inside the score sitting on the piano.”
“Surely it is someone connected to the theater, then,” Axel mused, lightly tapping his chin with one finger. “Unless you have seen someone wandering around who does not belong?”
The director shook his head and stared down at the stack of paper in his lap. “No, no one has seen any strangers. No one has seen any evidence of the person leaving the notes.”
“Not that they are telling you, at least,” Axel added.
Pinching his lips together, the director said, “Precisely.”
Axel tapped his chin a few more times before straightening up and raising a single eyebrow. “While this is all very fascinating, I am afraid that I do not yet perceive the manner in which you believe I can assist you.”
