A few hours earlier...

It is always an obnoxious day when one is awoken from their sleep at the crack of noon to speak with their father in the royal chamber.

To have to get out of bed and instantly into full royal attire… well let’s just say it is not my ideal morning. It is the first day of the holiday break—or, at least it is my first day of the holiday break. Whether or not I am supposed to be in Ancient Myths and Legends class in ten minutes is not the point.

What can the teachers do to stop me from taking my break two days early?

I finally got my ass back to my castle where I could rest and this happens.

The worst part is how much the staff rushes me. I hardly have time to button up my suit before I am ushered out of my room.

My father, a larger man, but in pure structure and height, sits upon his throne of red velvet and gold as I step across the long, marble floor of the hall.

When I reach the bottom of the platform his throne sits upon, I kneel as one does to the king and bow my head.

“You’ve summoned me, father?” I say. Daddy dearest and I have never exactly been pals. Our relationship is professional and strict like it has been since I was born.

“Prince Rhett, fifth son of the crown, in three days it is my birthday, and for the eighth year in a row, I do not believe you have presented me with a gift,” Father says in his deep, booming voice.

Luckily, my head is still low, so he doesn’t see me roll my eyes. “Of course, father. Is my life as your son not gift enough?”

I stand as I say it and emphasize the sarcasm as much as I can without being disrespectful to the crown.

Well, not too disrespectful, anyway.

Father shakes his head in the same disappointment I’ve seen my whole life. “Of all my sons, you are truly the biggest failure.”

I shut my eyes, suck my teeth, and take the insult with grace. Believe me when I say I am used to this kind of talk from my father.

He continues on, “You have no future position, no personal wealth, no prospects for marriage, and no skills as a wizard despite the best teachers in the kingdom.”

“With all due respect,” which is hardly any, let’s be real, “I am seventeen, father.”

“And your brothers had all of this at your age.”

“I am not my brothers.” This is a phrase I say often. It is practically my catchphrase these days.

“Too true that is,” my father stands from his throne, likely to tower over me even more. That may be threatening to common folks, but to me, he is still dear old daddy. “I’ve decided to collect on my gifts.”

“What is it that you want from me?” I ask, ready to get to the point. The insults are getting older and older by the day.

“There is a boy, off in some forest village on the edge of one of our neighboring kingdoms. He has shown signs of magic just over an hour ago,” Father says.

What did I care about any of this? Children show signs of magic in all areas of our kingdom every day. Another kingdom’s child is no concern of ours.

“What business of mine is this?” I ask.

Father takes one step down from the platform. “This boy is from a magicless family, in a magicless village, of a near magicless kingdom, and he is not much younger than you, son.”

A teenager? Of non-magical lineage? Who showed signs of magic? That is unusual, for sure, but I still do not understand why I need to know. Couldn’t his own kingdom handle his obscurity?

“Again, I ask, what of this business is mine?” I stand tall as Father approaches. Even on low ground, he towers over me, and I am taller than most my age.

“I have a few strings I can pull, and I intend to pull them and get this boy an invitation to Wizard Prep.”

Father says it so strictly and so seriously, but I burst out laughing. The echoes of my levity bounce off the walls of the empty chamber. “You can’t be serious? A new student? From another Kingdom? As, what? An eighth year? He’ll get eaten alive.”

“Your task is to make sure that does not happen,” says Father, and all the humor is immediately sucked out of the situation.

“My task? You want me to babysit some new wizard?” That sounds miserable. This kid is probably some stuck-up, snobby, know-it-all who thinks he is the coolest kid in town for having the tiniest ounce of magic. And I am going to have to put up with that? To what? Tutor him in potion making? Please. 

I have more important things to be doing, like skipping class to hang out with my friends.

Father’s eyes squint, more serious than ever. “Trust me when I tell you I wish I had someone of actual wizarding skill to watch over this boy, but unfortunately, I am stuck with you. You better not fail me, or you will be out of that school before you can blink.”

I swallow hard. A knot twists in my stomach. My father isn’t threatening… until he is. But I stand strong regardless. “You can’t kick me out.”

“I am the King, my boy. I can do anything,” he says with the slightest crack of a crooked smile. “I know your grades are only above failing because your teachers are too frightened to fail the king’s son. Succeed in this task, and perhaps I won’t send you to my army when you graduate. If you graduate.”

Me? A soldier. Now that is a threat I can’t stand up against.

I would not make it as a soldier, and we both know that.

Silence overtakes the room as I stand, utterly still, ingesting every word from my father. 

He breaks the silence first, knowing he has won. He is the king, after all.

He turns back to the throne and walks away saying, “A letter has already been sent in advance. You will leave now and meet the boy at his school and convince him to attend Wizard Prep. After the break, you will catch him up to the rest of the class and be sure he passes his midterm entrance exam.”

The large double doors behind me open up and a few of my father’s guards walk in, ready to pull me out of the hall and sweep me away to whatever middle-of-nowhere village this cherished wizard-boy lives in.

There is nothing left to do but accept my fate. I bow my head—a sign of acceptance—and head out with the guards.

But then, something comes over me. A feeling boils over in my gut, and I can’t ignore it.

I stop, turn to my father, and yell down the large chamber, “What exactly is it that makes this boy so special? Why is he so important?”

“Is this kingdom not built on the equal opportunity for success for all citizens?” My father asks with his arms wide and a hearty chuckle. I don’t find it nearly as amusing. This kingdom is not built on equal opportunity for anything.

I take one step back into the room. “And yet you care more about this boy’s success than that of your own son?”

Father’s smile vanishes and he says strong and finite, “I do.”

I will not pretend there is not sting in those two words. Sure, I am used to being the king’s failure-of-a-son. The fifth son under four prodigies of magic and political prowess. The lazy son. The unintelligent son. The reckless son. That is me, and I am fine with all of that.

But something about this strikes a chord. Though, I cannot show it.

Instead, I simply bow my head again and say, “Then I will not fail you, Father.”

I leave with the guards to be portaled to this unknown village, to talk some boy, who probably has practically no magical talent, into joining my school. At least one part of that will be simple.

Who doesn’t want to attend Wizard Prep?