Chapter Twenty: Frog

I looked all around me, taking in the familiar surroundings. I was back at my high school in Indiana, in an empty hallway. But how did I get there? I saw a man approaching. I recognized him. Mack. But no, his name was Boris. Then something hit me in the neck from behind, and I passed out.

I blinked awake. I wasn't at the high school. I was in my bed in my room in the castle. It was a dream. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, recalling that bizarre day when Boris had kidnapped me and taken me to some cave in Gulbrania. But there had been someone else, hadn't there? Someone knocked me out from behind.

My musings about that event gave way to the thoughts that had been filling my mind for the past couple days. My father was dead. I was supposed to be king. I groaned and held my head in my hands. I had cried about it, I had screamed about it, and now I just felt numb. It didn't seem fair that right after my father had come back into my life, he was killed. I had spent so little time with him. And then, of course, I felt terribly guilty about the immature, disrespectful way I had acted right before he died. A part of me wondered if he might have avoided getting shot if he hadn't been distracted by my ungrateful behavior.

There was a soft knock on my door, and a moment later, my mom stepped in. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there was a defeated look about her, but she was holding it together. She had to, she was the queen. She had had years of practice. She knew what was expected of her. But me? I had no idea.

She came and sat next to me on my bed, taking my hand. "I'm sorry that things have to move along so soon," she said, "but the country can't stop because we're grieving."

I looked away. I knew where this conversation was going, and I just wasn't ready for it.

"We've scheduled your coronation for Friday."

I looked at her in alarm. That was only two days away.

"Don't worry, Frederick, you don't have to do much. Just walk down the aisle and receive the crown."

"Yeah, but what about after that?" I asked. "You know, the part where I'm supposed to be in charge of this country?"

"It'll be fine," she responded with a small smile. "You'll have a grace period where you can defer to me or to your advisors while you learn. No one expects you to step in and take control immediately."

I let out a long breath, feeling completely deflated. "Mom, I'm sorry."

She put her arm around me. "It's not your fault."

I dipped my head. "I hope not."

She took my face in her hands and turned it to hers. "It's not your fault," she repeated forcefully. "Some things are beyond our control." A tear ran down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. "I'm going to go meet with the council," she said, standing. "You can take some time for yourself this morning, but you need to be prepared for some important meetings this afternoon."

I gave a small nod. My mother gave me a quick kiss on the top of my head, then left my room.

Two days. Two days and I was supposed to magically get over the fact that my father was dead and be prepared to take his place. In two days I was supposed to get past all my insecurities and bad habits. I had never despised being royalty so much.

I didn't know if two minutes or two hours passed, but suddenly Zane was tentatively coming into my room.

"Hey Frederick," he said quietly, "I'm sorry about what happened."

I grunted, not sure how to respond. It probably wasn't very kingly, but at the moment, I didn't care.

"Well, anyway," Zane continued, "I got your phone fixed." He held it out to me, and when I didn't reach for it, he just put it on the bed. He turned to leave, but he hesitated at the door. "You're going to do great, Frederick," he said. "I've always looked up to you. You've got a stronger will than most people I know."

I looked up at Zane, surprised by his observation and vote of confidence. "Thank you," I said, and I meant it.

He smiled and ducked out the door. I slowly let my gaze travel to my phone on the bed. I picked it up and turned it on, not sure what I was expecting to find. There were some texts from Milo about some calamity in physical education class, and there was a voicemail from Kayla. I turned the phone off and set it on my nightstand. It wasn't that I didn't care about Kayla. In fact, I loved her, and I knew a part of me always would. I would always remember our interactions and her kiss and I would always dream about her. But now there were so many facts and differences and responsibilities that separated us. A relationship with her was impossible, so why should I even try?

I fell back in my bed and decided to sleep for a few hours before I had to start preparing to be king.