Chapter Seven: Hit With The Real Thing

Night fell. The castle quieted. Lanterns illuminated corridors while moonlight spilled through tall windows.

Jeremy had just finished helping Martha transport supplies to the kitchens when hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway.

A royal messenger appeared. Pale. Breathless. Anxious.

The man's gaze swept across the corridor. Searching. When he spotted the prince approaching from the opposite direction, relief flooded his features.

"Your Highness."

Something in the messenger's voice made Jeremy freeze. Kelvin immediately noticed it too.

He stopped. "What happened?"

The messenger struggled to catch his breath.

Around them, conversations died. Servants fell silent. The entire corridor seemed to hold its breath.

Finally, the messenger lowered his eyes. "The king is asking for you."

A terrible feeling settled in Jeremy's stomach.

Kelvin's expression changed instantly. "What happened?"

The messenger swallowed. Then spoke the words everyone had been dreading. "He says there isn't much time."

The silence that followed felt endless and real, suspended between one heartbeat and the next. And suddenly, the entire castle seemed to stop breathing. The words struck the corridor like a hammer against glass.

There isn't much time.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Kelvin was already walking. Not running. A prince did not run through palace corridors. Even so, there was something urgent in his stride that made everyone step aside instinctively. The messenger hurried after him. Servants pressed themselves against the walls. Nobles lowered their voices as the future king disappeared around a distant corner.

And Jeremy could do nothing but watch him go. A strange helplessness settled in his chest. He had never felt more aware of the distance between them. Not the distance of friendship. The distance of station. Of birth. Of circumstance.

Kelvin was being summoned to a king's bedside. Jeremy was expected to return to work.

The difference felt enormous.

*

By the time Kelvin reached the royal wing, physicians crowded the outer chambers. Some stood in tense clusters. Others quietly exchanged notes. The atmosphere smelled faintly of herbs and candle wax. But not a single person looked optimistic.

The moment the prince appeared, conversations ceased. Physicians stepped aside, making way for the heir to the throne.

Inside the chamber, Queen Vivienne stood beside the king-sized bed. Lady Elaine remained nearby. Neither looked as composed as usual. For perhaps the first time in his life, Kelvin realized how frightened they were. His mother looked exhausted. Elaine looked pale.

And lying on the cloud-soft mattress with embroidered blankets reaching his chest was King Alistair Evercrest. The sight alone stole the breath from Kelvin's lungs.

The king seemed smaller somehow. Not physically. But diminished. The powerful ruler who had once commanded armies and negotiated treaties now appeared fragile beneath the flickering candlelight.

When his eyes found Kelvin, warmth immediately entered them. "My son."

Kelvin crossed the room at once. "Father."

The king managed a faint smile. "Still standing, I see."

The attempt at humour nearly broke him.

*

Hours seemed to pass. Physicians came and went. Medicines were administered. Instructions were exchanged. The king drifted in and out of sleep. Outside the chamber, the castle waited. Inside it, time felt meaningless.

Eventually, King Alistair stirred once more. His gaze found the queen. Then Elaine. Then Kelvin.

"Leave us."

The room fell silent.

Queen Vivienne objected immediately. "Alistair—"

"Please." His voice remained gentle, yet final.

The queen hesitated. Then nodded.

Elaine squeezed Kelvin's shoulder before departing with her.

The doors closed softly behind them.

Father and son remained alone. For a while, neither said a word. Moonlight filtered through the curtains. A distant bell echoed somewhere beyond the castle walls.

The king studied him quietly. As though trying to memorize him. "You look tired."

Kelvin laughed weakly. "I learned from the best."

That earned a smile. Small, but genuine.

A moment passed, and they simply sat together. Neither pretending. Neither hiding.

Then the king spoke. "Do you remember your first horse?"

Kelvin blinked. The question surprised him. "Storm-runner."

"You cried when he threw you."

"I was ten."

"You cried."

Despite everything, Kelvin laughed.

The king's smile widened slightly. "Your mother thought you would never ride again."

"I remember."

"You climbed back into the saddle before sunset."

Silence settled between them. Not uncomfortable. Reflective.

The king's gaze softened. "You've always been brave."

Something tightened painfully inside Kelvin's chest. "I don't feel brave."

"No." The king nodded slowly. "That's why you are."

Kelvin looked away. The room suddenly felt too small. Too warm. Too full of things he wasn't ready to hear. His father noticed. Of course he did. He always had.

"The crown will demand much from you." The king's voice grew quieter. "But remember this."

Kelvin met his gaze.

"The kingdom belongs to the people."

A pause.

"The crown belongs to duty."

Another pause. Then…

"But your heart belongs to you."

The words lingered in the air.

The king smiled faintly. "The crown will ask for pieces of you." His eyes remained fixed on Kelvin's. "Do not give it all."

For a moment, neither moved nor spoke. And Kelvin knew, somehow, that he would remember those words for the rest of his life.

*

Elsewhere in the castle, uncertainty spread through every corridor.

Jeremy found Oliver near the stables. For once, the stable boy wasn't talking. That alone felt alarming. The two sat together atop a wooden fence while horses shifted quietly nearby.

"Do you think he'll recover?" Oliver asked eventually.

Jeremy stared towards the palace. The answer felt impossible. "I don't know."

Neither did anyone else. The uncertainty weighed upon the entire castle. Even Martha seemed distracted. Even Lara's gossip had grown quieter. Even Beatrice appeared lost in thought whenever Jeremy passed the library.

The king's illness wasn't merely a royal problem anymore. It belonged to everyone. Because everyone understood what his loss would mean. An era ending, a new one beginning. Ready or not.

*

Midnight descended slowly upon Evercrest Castle. Meanwhile, physicians remained busy. The council remained anxious. The kingdom remained uncertain, yet King Alistair survived.

Hour after hour passed. Still he endured.

By the time Kelvin finally left his father's chamber, exhaustion had settled into every part of him. The corridors felt endless. The castle felt unfamiliar. The future felt overwhelming. Without thinking, he wandered towards the gardens. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could breathe.

The moon hung high above the palace. Silver light spilled across marble pathways and sleeping flowers. Everything seemed impossibly still. Then Kelvin noticed someone sitting under the old oak tree.

Jeremy.

The servant looked up. Surprise crossed his face. "Your Highness."

Kelvin almost laughed. After everything that had happened today, hearing those formal words felt strangely absurd.

"May I sit?"

Jeremy blinked. Then shifted slightly. "Of course."

Kelvin lowered himself onto the stone bench, and for a while, neither uttered a word. The silence felt comforting. The sort that required no effort.

Eventually, Jeremy asked the question neither physician nor council member had dared. "How is he?"

Kelvin stared at the moonlit gardens. "Tired." His voice caught slightly. "So am I."

Jeremy nodded. No advice followed. No empty reassurance. Just understanding. And that meant more. More than he could imagine.

The prince exhaled slowly. "I don't think I'm ready." The confession escaped before he could stop it.

For the first time all day, Kelvin allowed himself to sound afraid. Not like a prince. Not like an heir. Just a son.

The words faded into the night air.

Then something unexpected happened. Jeremy reached across the bench and gently took his hand. Nothing more. No grand gesture. No declaration. Just warmth. Just presence. Just the simple promise that he wasn't alone.

Kelvin stared at their joined hands.

Neither pulled away.

Above them, stars shimmered across the heavens. And only then since the messenger had arrived did the weight upon Kelvin's shoulders felt slightly easier to bear.