The Autobiography of the Dark Prince Page 15

  "They're motivation." He continued. "If I can't best my father at ruling Mournhelm, then I'm determined to best him at publishing histories."

  Even though Elias had been expecting something like that, he couldn't help raising an eyebrow. "You do realize that actual history is written without embellishment, yes?"

  "Oh, Elias," the Prince said. "I've already told you I'm only embellishing because we're writing an autobiography. It's one thing to get a bunch of stuffy, old scholars interested in where I come from—present company excluded, of course." He added the latter quickly, seeing the way Elias's eyes narrowed. "But it's much harder to get nobles and commoners interested in the whos and whats of a place they've only ever heard about in scary bedtime stories."

  "So you plan to draw them in with a colorful biography—"

  "Autobiography."

  "—and then unleash true history on their unsuspecting minds?"

  The Dark Prince laughed. "I do absolutely adore the way you put things. Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Father is the foremost Mournhelmian scholar in the entire Kingdom of Mournhelm. What better way to surpass him than by not only being the foremost Mournhelmian scholar everywhere outside the kingdom, but also to reach a broader audience than he ever did?"

  Elias, to his great surprise, was actually impressed. For the mad plan of a royal looking to upstage his father, it was well thought out; and it even involved Elias's primary area of interest, which only increased his approval. There was, however, one detail the Prince seemed to have overlooked.

  "If your goal is to surpass your father, then shouldn't you be writing your biography yourself?" He frowned as something occurred to him. "Unless the Dark King didn't actually write all those on his own either…"

  Which would be very disappointing, because Elias had started to greatly respect the Dark King as a scholar based on what he'd already read from the man.

  The Prince just grinned. "Not at all. In fact, he would respect me even more if I ended up surpassing him in his own field by taking a completely different path than he did."

  Elias wanted to sigh—it was, after all, against his nature to take credit for accomplishments which he hadn't actually accomplished—but there was a kind of convoluted logic at work in the Prince's reasoning he couldn't help but respect.

  "Especially since I've gotten the greatest scholar of our time to write my books for me." The Prince added with a winning smile.

  Elias felt himself start to flush, then froze. "Books?"

  "Never mind about that," the Prince said, waving a dismissive hand. "I just complimented you. You should be basking in that, not worrying yourself about ancillary details."

  "Ancillary—" Elias shook his head. "I agreed to one book. Not to become your personal scribe—"

  "Co-author!"

  "—and"—he continued with a glare—"I highly doubt I'm the greatest scholar of any time. You should know me well enough by this point to know empty flattery will not get me to agree to be your co-anything."

  "Elias," the Prince said with a soft sigh. "You really should learn to take a compliment."

  Elias blinked, surprised by how serious the Prince sounded. He felt the teasing brush of an answer start to return. "I know how to take a compliment I think is deserved," he said slowly.

  The Prince raised an eyebrow. "And you think this one isn't?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Do you see all these books behind me, Elias? I've read them all. Every single one. All written by my father, whom I consider to be one of the greatest scholars that ever lived. I've also read all of your books, and I can tell you without any uncertainty that the worst of them is better than the best my father has ever written. You have an insight into people he lacks." The Prince smiled. "And I find I can hardly wait to see what happens when you turn that insight onto me."

  Elias opened his mouth to argue further, but something the Prince said nagged at him. Reflexively, he thought back on his first interactions with the Prince. It was something he'd often done, when he'd been trying to figure out why the Prince affected him the way he did, but he'd never been able to separate his feelings of frustration and annoyance and actually look at them dispassionately. It took him only a moment to realize that, while he'd still ostensibly been changing his behavior towards the Prince to help with his "research", he'd actually completely forgotten to apply the same principal towards going back over his memories. In fact, if he was being completely honest, he'd been spending too much time enjoying his newfound friendship that he'd barely remembered he was supposed to be researching anything. But that one comment from the Dark Prince pulled up two memories he hadn't thought about in days.

  The awareness, ethereal and formless and just out of reach of conscious recognition, suddenly exploded forth from murky recesses of Elias's mind with all the force of a battering ram.

  It was the bloody books!

  Elias was so caught up in his revelation, he completely forgot to berate himself for using such coarse language, even in the confines of his thoughts. The first time he'd ever met the Prince, he'd had little trouble treating him the same way he'd always treated vain, irritating nobles. It wasn't until after their second meeting, the one where the Dark Prince had told Elias he'd read his books, when he'd truly started being affected in that unexplainable way. He'd thought, at one time, he'd become so angry when he went to the Prince's room that first night because the royal had gone to the king behind Elias's back, and later on because of what the Prince had done to him with his magic. But that didn't explain why he hadn't gone right back to his usual, indifferent self after the Prince had apologized for using his magic on him. Elias had never given that night much thought, both because it was a particularly unpleasant memory and because he thought he'd already mined it for any useful information related to his problem. He had never bothered to think of his first three meetings with the Prince as an evolving, interconnected event, rather than three separate meetings. And, he realized with the kind of dismay that could only come from finally seeing something that had been right in front of him from the beginning, therein lay the key to his mystery.

  Elias had never gotten much recognition for his books. He'd always told himself he was fine with that, he wrote them for his own edification and to add to the well of knowledge in the world—should anyone ever be interested in pursuing similar areas of study—and because it was a pastime he was passionate about. But that wasn't exactly true. Even Elias, as disdainful as he was about fancy and fantasy, wasn't entirely immune from prideful daydreams. The simple—and somewhat embarrassing—fact was he had fantasized about being recognized and appreciated for his repetitive offender studies. Never consciously, perhaps, but he did have vague thoughts of being praised by one of the brightest minds in the admittedly small field; Berensaville, perhaps, the man who had pioneered many of the analytical practices Elias had adapted for his own purposes. He'd even entertained the idea of one day coming across a group of scholars fiercely debating some of his theories in a forum somewhere. He would listen for a while as they argued over their own interpretations of his work, and then step in, only to watch as they realized they were talking to the very man they were discussing. One of them would find the courage to speak up and tell Elias how much his work had inspired him, and Elias would happily join in the debate, whiling away the rest of the day, teaching his theories and methods to a truly appreciative audience. He never dwelled on these fantasies, but they were there, in the back of his mind, waiting for a particularly boring day or a sleepless night to creep up towards the surface of his thoughts. Very specific fantasies which involved a very specific type of person.

  A type of person who was nothing like the Dark Prince. And that, in the end, was the very simple reason why he'd always bothered Elias so much.

  The Dark Prince was the first man to actually praise Elias's books. And in no way did he live up to Elias's fantasies.

  He bothered me because he gave me respect without being the kind of man I could respect in tur
n.

  Elias almost groaned.

  I can't possibly be so shallow…

  And yet, apparently, he was.

  If there was a part of him that noticed all his subconscious fantasies involved men that appealed to him in some way, it was quickly, and efficiently, ignored.

  "Elias?"

  Elias blinked rapidly as his eyes refocused on the Dark Prince. He looked concerned, like the friend Elias was beginning to know, and not the arrogant noble who wasn't worthy of praising his books, and, to his horror, Elias felt himself start to flush again.

  What is wrong with me?

  "I'm fine!" Elias said, somewhat more forcefully than necessary.

  The Prince raised a skeptical eyebrow. Elias was grateful, because at least that was something he could focus on, which brought out a familiar feeling. Even if he found it harder to get annoyed at the Prince now that he knew why he'd been affecting him so oddly.

  "Unless you think me so unable to handle a compliment that encountering one would send me into a swoon?" Elias said, almost forgetting to make his voice biting and scornful.

  The Prince just grinned. At least it had the desired effect. Elias paused. When did that become the desired effect?

  "Perish the thought," the Prince said. "Never would I presume to think that something as lowly as a compliment from me could send Elias Sutterby into something as uncouth as a swoon."

  Elias narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the thread of irony he thought he detected running through the Prince's otherwise serious words, but he decided to take them at face value.

  "Exactly," he said primly, causing the Prince to chuckle.

  Elias's lips twitched as well and he internally shook his head.

  Who would have ever thought he would enjoy sharing laughter with the Dark Prince?

  Their conversation continued from there, but Elias still found an excuse to leave earlier than he'd been making a habit of. If the Prince noticed, he never said anything, and Elias was absurdly grateful. He went back to his room at a pace that was just slow enough not to be considered fleeing, and spent the rest of the night trying to come to terms with his latest revelation.

  Elias had never considered he might have desires as base as wanting praise, and he was still slightly appalled that he'd been having ridiculous fantasies for years without knowing about them. But that wasn't what was troubling him the most. Perhaps it was due to his habitual lack of introspection, but Elias had always thought he knew himself, that there were no unplumbed depths to who he was as a person. To find out there were shook his entire sense of who he was; a feeling that was wholly uncomfortable. After all, if he had one desire he'd always thought was base and beneath him, how many more might he have lurking below the surface? Was his friendship with the Dark Prince one of them? Or only part of one?

  Needless to say, it was a long time before Elias finally got to sleep.

  Chapter 14

  In many ways, Elias's revelation was a turning point for him. The problem was trying to figure out which direction he was turning.

  On one hand, since he now knew why the Dark Prince affected him, it was a lot easier to temper his reactions. Gentle teasing was met with responses in kind, instead of barely contained anger and self-recrimination. Arrogance and vanity, while still very present and no less appalling, were easier to deal with, or at least ignore, because he realized there were depths of character behind those traits of which Elias was somewhat fond. The only thing that Elias still wasn't sure how to handle were the Prince's infrequent, yet always perfectly timed to cause the maximum amount of confusion, compliments. He'd settled on an exasperated eye roll as his default response, but he always had the unsettling feeling the Prince could see right through it to how he was really feeling. Which was doubly annoying since Elias could barely figure that out himself, half the time.

  Which brought him to the other hand.

  Knowing why he was affected did absolutely nothing to help Elias figure out what he was feeling.

  Elias had never really enjoyed people. That wasn't to say he was a complete misanthrope. He could enjoy parts of his time with others, even the Crown Prince was occasionally not completely awful, but he'd never really enjoyed any person, and certainly not more than he disliked them. And yet he was starting to suspect he enjoyed the Dark Prince.

  It made absolutely no sense, of course. The Prince was the Prince and Elias was Elias. He had studied enough chemistry to be able to make several different analogies about ingredients which did not in any way mix well together, but to his surprise and constant bafflement, he found that none of them actually applied to the two of them. Despite every bit of logical evidence saying they shouldn't, Elias and the Dark Prince actually did mix well. They had enough similar interests to be able to hold entertaining conversations, they were comfortable enough with silence that pauses between those conversations rarely devolved into awkwardness, the Prince was fascinated by Elias's work—and Elias had come to realize how unrealistically important that was as a prerequisite for friendship—and Elias was fascinated by the Prince's home and it's surprisingly rich history. They got on well, and, consequently, Elias's first true friendship was one he was actually glad to be a part of.

  Not that everything had suddenly become perfect, and not just because perfection was a concept Elias didn't believe in. Elias's feelings, while less…extreme than they used to be, were still confusing. He had no idea why he smiled just a little bit wider when the Dark Prince made him laugh, or why his chest tightened when he managed to gain one of those laughs from the Prince in return. He had no idea why he often had to force himself to slow to his usual brisk, but unhurried, pace when making his way to the Prince's rooms at night, or why he never seemed to be more irritated than when those journeys were interrupted. He had no idea why he scowled at every mention the Prince made of Lady Elladora spending time with him—he had thought it to be because of his disgust for the clinging aggravation, but he never reacted that way when the Prince mentioned her in any other context; only that of her spending time with the Prince himself. He had no idea about a lot of things, and for Elias, there were few things more frustrating than the unknown. For a man who had never put as much importance in his own feelings as most people did, it was more than a little annoying to suddenly have them be the thing he spent most of his time thinking about.

  That wasn't to say every feeling Elias had was confusing, of course. The Prince was still very capable of inspiring feelings he was all too familiar with.

  Such as exasperation.

  "No," Elias said firmly once he realized the Prince had actually asked what he'd thought he'd asked. "Absolutely not."

  It was a week after Elias's revelation, and they were in the Prince's rooms as usual. Elias had been looking forward to tonight particularly, since he finally had a few first draft chapters of the Prince's not-autobiography to show him, and he was quite interested in hearing the Prince's critique. Especially since he couldn't resist adding a few veiled references to certain private jokes only the Prince would get. Not very professional, but Elias found himself unable to resist. He could always edit them out during the rewrite if it ended up bothering the Prince too much after all. But instead of the evening he had wanted with the Dark Prince, his friend, he was met with the full force of the Dark Prince, bane of Elias's existence.

  "Don't be silly, Elias." The Prince waved his hand dismissively from where he was standing; between Elias and the door, the scholar noted. He should have realized something was off when the Prince didn't lead him over to their chairs like he usually did. "Of course you'll come. After all"—the Prince smiled winningly—"I'm asking you to."

  Elias's eyebrow twitched.

  "I am not going to the Prince's birthday ball," Elias said, slowly, like he was talking to a particularly stupid child. "If I refused when he asked, what makes you think I would say yes when you do?"

  "You like me more than him, of course."

  I suppose I should at least be thankful I
don't have the urge to throw something at him. Yet.

  "Right now," Elias said, enunciating every syllable as clearly as he could, "what I'm feeling towards you is quite the opposite."

  The Dark Prince knew how much Elias hated balls. He hated everything about them. They had talked about it at length. He would have thought, with the level of intelligence he knew the Prince possessed, he would have been smart enough to avoid this conversation altogether, or at least to accept Elias's refusal immediately if he felt some perverse urge to ask anyway. Apparently, he was wrong.

  "That is the most absurd thing I've heard all day," the Prince said.

  "Then you must not be getting out as often as you should."

  The Prince laughed. "Then you should come with me to the ball so I can get out and experience absurdity in its purest form."

  If Elias was any less annoyed, he might have cracked a smile. "I fail to see any reason why my presence is necessary for that."

  The Prince, it seemed, had no such barrier. "Elias," he said, smiling. "Your presence is always necessary."

  His eyes narrowed even as his chest tightened, which only served to annoy him even more. He did not want feelings distracting him. He wanted this ludicrous argument to be over so the night could be salvaged.

  "I assure you," he said. "It is not. Just like I assure you there is nothing you can say that would make me go to a ball, so if we could move on…"

  Elias made to walk towards their chairs, but the Prince interrupted him before he could do more than shift his weight. "Actually, you technically already agreed to go."

  Elias froze. "Excuse me?"

  "You're my biographer, are you not?" he asked.

  "I thought I was your autobiographer?"

  "Now, now, being snide doesn't become you, Elias. But, yes, you are correct and I'm so glad to finally hear you admit it."

  Elias ground his teeth. Oh, how he hated the Dark Prince. If the man wasn't so infuriating, Elias might have been happy to have nothing but feelings he could easily identify again. As it was, his old urges to throw things were finally returning with full force.