Star tossed and turned on that huge bed, the silk sheets twisting around him like snakes. He couldn't sleep... not in this strange place, with the king's words ringing in his ears. "You're mine." What a joke. He stared at the starry ceiling, his mind drifting back to how it all started. The journey to the capital... it felt like a lifetime ago, even though it was just hours. Maybe if he replayed it in his head, he could find a way out of this mess.
It had begun right after the guards dragged him away from the farm. His mother's tears, his father's silent nod... it all blurred as they shoved him onto a horse. "Hold on tight, boy," the bearded guard grumbled. "It's a long ride."
Star wasn't used to riding. His butt hurt after the first mile, bouncing on the saddle like a sack of potatoes. The group was small... six guards, all tough-looking with scars and stern faces. They rode fast, the village shrinking behind them until it was just a speck. Fields gave way to forests, then hills that rolled like waves.
At first, Star kept quiet, too shocked to speak. But as the sun climbed high, his anger bubbled up. "Hey!" he called to the guard in front, the one with the bushy beard. "What's your name, anyway? If you're kidnapping me, I should at least know who to curse."
The man glanced back, smirking. "Call me Garrick. And it's not kidnapping... it's royal orders."
"Same thing," Star muttered. The other guards chuckled, but it wasn't friendly. They looked at him like he was some oddity... a farm boy turned consort. He caught snippets of their talk when they thought he wasn't listening.
"Why him?" one guard whispered to another, a skinny guy with a mustache. "The king's had suitors from noble houses lining up for months. Lords' sons, even princes from allied kingdoms. What makes this peasant special?"
Garrick shrugged, his voice low but carrying on the wind. "Who knows? His Majesty keeps his criteria secret. Something about a prophecy... or maybe it's just whim. I heard he rejected Lord Varyn's nephew flat out. Said he wanted someone 'pure of heart' or some nonsense."
Star's ears perked up. Prophecy? Pure of heart? That sounded like more fairy tale crap. He leaned forward, pretending to adjust his bag, but really straining to hear.
Another guard, a burly one with a bald head, snorted. "Pure? Ha! Bet the kid doesn't even know which fork to use at dinner. The court will eat him alive. Remember the last consort pick? That one lasted a week before running off."
"Yeah, but this one's different," Garrick said. "The king insisted. Sent scouts to find him specifically. Must be something from his past... maybe a debt or favor."
Star's heart skipped. A past? Did they know about Eli... about the forest? No, couldn't be. That was years ago, forgotten. But the words stuck in his mind like thorns. If the king was picking based on some secret, maybe Star could use that to argue his way out.
As the road wound on, Star's thoughts drifted to his simple life back home. He closed his eyes, letting the horse's rhythm carry him into memories. Mornings waking to the rooster's crow, the smell of fresh earth after rain. Helping Pa mend the barn roof, laughing when they both slipped in the mud. Ma's stew on cold nights, thick with carrots and herbs from their garden. No worries bigger than a bad harvest or a sick cow.
He remembered festivals in the village square, dancing under lanterns with friends. There was that one boy... Tomas, with his shy smile and strong arms from blacksmith work. They had shared a kiss once, behind the haystacks, but it was nothing serious. Just kids exploring. Star blushed at the thought. He wasn't against liking guys... but a king? That was too much. Too big. He liked his life small and safe.
"Why me?" he whispered to himself, the wind stealing the words. In his mind, he vowed: When I get there, I'll reject it all. Tell the king straight up. "Send me home, Your Majesty. Find someone else for your throne games." Yeah, that sounded good. He wasn't cut out for palaces and politics. He was Star Farewater, farmer's son. Not some royal plaything.
The group stopped at a stream to water the horses. Star slid down, legs wobbly like a newborn foal. "Can I... you know, relieve myself?" he asked, nodding to the bushes.
Garrick nodded. "Make it quick. And don't try running. We're faster."
Star wandered off, but not too far. He did his business, then splashed water on his face. The cold shock cleared his head. Escape? Maybe. The forest was thick here, full of hiding spots. He could slip away, head back home on foot. But what about his family? Would the king punish them? No, better to face it head-on. Reject at the palace, make it official.
Back on the road, the guards' talk turned lighter. Jokes about court ladies, complaints about pay. Star even joined in a bit. "You think the food's good there?" he asked, stomach rumbling.
The skinny guard laughed.
"Better than your slop, kid. Roast pheasant, wines from across the sea. But watch out... some nobles spike it with poison if they don't like you."
Star's eyes widened. Poison? Great. More reasons to hate this.
As afternoon faded, dark clouds gathered. Rain started, first a drizzle, then pouring like buckets. They huddled under trees, cloaks soaked. "Curse this weather," Garrick growled. "We'll camp here tonight."
Camp? Star hadn't thought about that. They set up tents... small ones for the guards, a bigger one for him? No, he shared with two of them. Awkward. He lay on a thin blanket, listening to snores and rain pattering. Sleep didn't come easy. His mind raced with vows. "I'll reject it... I will."
Morning brought sun again, drying the mud. They rode harder, the capital drawing near. Star saw it first... towers piercing the sky, walls like giants. "Wow..." he breathed. It was bigger than he imagined, buzzing with life.
At the gates, guards saluted. "The consort arrives!" someone shouted. People stared, pointing. Star felt exposed, like a prize pig at market.
They entered the palace grounds, dismounting in the courtyard. Garrick clapped his shoulder. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it."
Star nodded, steeling himself. Time to reject. Demand to see the king, say his piece, go home. Simple.
But as he was led inside, that vow felt shakier. The luxury hit him... marble, gold, scents of flowers. And then, the throne room. The king... Eli.
Back in his quarters now, Star snapped out of the memory. The journey had been rough, but it hardened him. He still vowed to reject... but after seeing Elandor again, feeling that pull? It wasn't so simple anymore.
He sat up, grabbing the letter opener again. Escape tonight? Or wait for morning? The palace was quiet, but his heart wasn't. Ontop of everything he wasn't so sure what to do anymore. Sure there was a huge resolve within him to maintain his freedom by rejecting the king's proposal, but a seed of doubt had been unknowingly planted in him...the luxury...the feeling of being important....the concept of Elandor...all these paired up to create that seed of doubt....now the question, What next?