"We argued over something stupid," Alex began. "He slapped me, and it really hurt. When he ran out into the street, I chased after him, and we argued again. He told me I disgusted him, and when I grabbed his wrist, he…"
He pressed his hands to his head; the pain and guilt still clawed at him.
His mother brushed her fingers along the back of his neck, and that gentle touch eased him a little.
"He just collapsed. He was shaking and crying, and I've never seen him cry—not even when he got hurt because of me. He fell apart, Mom, he fell apart right in front of me. And I'm scared it's my fault."
His mother stayed silent for a moment, then drew her chair closer and sat beside him.
"Why do you think you're to blame?"
"Because he told me he doesn't like being touched, but I did it anyway. And even if it wasn't the first time, maybe I shouldn't have done it."
"Then maybe you weren't the one who hurt him. Maybe he was already suffering, and your gesture only brought that pain to the surface."
"But if I hadn't done it, he…"
"Did he tell you he was suffering?"
"No, but maybe I should have realized it."
"And how?"
Alex shook his head and rubbed his forehead.
"I don't know, he's… very stiff. All he does is scold me, but he's never told me I disgust him. I should have realized something was wrong."
"Sweetheart, don't overestimate your ability to read others. Sometimes the people around us do everything they can to hide their suffering. They laugh, they joke, they pretend they're fine, even when they're breaking inside. I don't know William the way you do, but his composure and distance might be how he protects himself."
Alex's eyes widened; and for some reason, he blushed.
"How did you know I was talking about him?"
She smiled. "You've been talking about him a lot lately. And you certainly weren't talking about your father or your sisters."
Alex looked toward the window, embarrassed. The sky had turned shades of gold and bronze. Dinnertime was close, but he wasn't hungry.
"Mom… do you think I disgust him?"
"Why would you think that?"
He flushed. "Well, because I… you know, I have fun with, uh, people. You know what I mean?"
She laughed, and Alex ran a hand through his hair.
"He doesn't do that. I think it scares or disgusts him. And today… he sensed something through our bond. I don't think it was a pleasant experience."
"So you two argued because of that."
"Pretty much, yeah. That's why I think it was my fault."
His mother's expression darkened. "I don't think you disgust him. I think William has a very deep wound inside him—something he can't handle, something that makes him so rigid with others and with himself."
"A wound?"
"You said intimacy disgusts him, and that he can't stand being touched." She looked him in the eyes. "I think you know what I'm talking about."
Alex's eyes widened. An assault? Is that what she meant?
He shot to his feet. "I have to apologize to him."
"No." His mother grabbed his wrist. "Don't. I know you mean well, but you'd only hurt him."
"But he—"
"He doesn't need your apologies or your pity, Alex. He needs someone by his side who makes him feel safe." She let him go and stood up. "And that someone might not be you. So let him decide if, how, and when he wants to reveal his pain to you."
"Mom…"
She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him close.
"I'm sure William doesn't hate you for what you did. You made a mistake, but you didn't act out of malice. And he knows that."
"I wish I could have done something to make him feel better. When he collapsed, all I did was hold him up. I wasn't even able to comfort him."
"Sometimes that's enough, Alex. Sometimes all you need is someone by your side who helps hold you together." She stroked his cheek. "That, too, is comfort."
Alex rubbed his eyes. He felt a little better, just like every time he talked with his mother.
"What should I do now?"
"Stay by his side, but don't suffocate him. Give him time and space to find his balance. When he's better, he'll be the one to come to you."
He could do that. Those were things even a failed prince could manage.
------------------------
Talking with his mother had calmed him down a little.
He still felt responsible for what had happened, but now he needed to understand why the Pact had worked the way it did.
And the only one who could help him, without judgment or scolding, was Gregoris, his father's Court Mage.
By the time he reached his quarters, the sun had already set. He knew the mage had returned that very morning after some time away from the palace, and he hadn't seen him yet.
Stopping by to grret him seemed like a good way to break the ice.
He knocked. A few moments later, the door opened, and the elderly mage's cheerful face lit up as soon as he recognized Alex.
"Your Highness! To what do I owe your visit? Ah, don't stay in the doorway. Come in, come in."
Alex stepped into the small study and looked around, a bit uneasy. A couple of bags, still unpacked, stood in one corner.
"Maybe I'm disturbing you."
"Oh no, not at all." Gregoris wrapped an arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair. "Goodness, boy, have you grown even taller since last time?"
"I don't think so. Maybe you've gotten shorter."
The mage laughed, genuinely amused, and he didn't seem like a man in his sixties at all. "Quite possible; these old bones are really giving out."
He guided him toward two armchairs and gestured for him to sit.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes, thank you."
Gregoris uncorked a bottle of liquor and poured a good pour. He handed him the glass and sat down across from him.
"So? How are things going with William?"
Alex lowered his gaze to the amber liquid. "I don't know. Sometimes I struggle to figure him out."
"I can imagine. He's always been a complicated boy, but I assure you he's sharp and capable. And very loyal."
"I noticed. Sometimes he's almost too loyal."
Gregoris took a sip and nodded. "That's why I hope your presence will help him loosen up a little. You two are as different as day and night; I'm sure that difference will help both of you grow."
"Is that why you put his name forward?"
"Yes, and also because he's truly powerful. Caedos is among the oldest spirits still alive. It had been centuries since he chose a human, and he picked that scrawny, brooding boy with the sharp tongue. I took it as a good omen."
Alex tightened his fingers around the glass and was about to take a sip, but changed his mind. Maybe it was best to avoid anything that could affect William for now.
"We argue a lot. Sometimes I wish we got along better."
Gregoris smiled and patted his knee.
"You're both young; arguing is more than normal. Your father and I did nothing but shout at each other in the beginning. A couple of times we even threw punches. As far as I know, you two don't go beyond arguing."
"More or less." Alex blushed. "Have you known him for a long time?"
"Oh yes, I'd say so."
A gentle smile appeared on the mage's wrinkled face, his gaze drifting away as if he were lost in memories.
"The first time I saw him, he was a child buried in books. Quiet and serious, he almost looked like a statue." He chuckled. "But by the spirits, he had so much affinity for magic I couldn't let him slip away. I paid for the Academy—his parents could never have afforded it."
"Was he brilliant in his studies?"
"Yes, very. Will spent his childhood reading; compared to his peers, he always had an edge when it came to knowledge." He grimaced. "But he always had a lot of trouble socializing."
More than trouble—he was simply hopeless at it.
"Can I ask you some questions?"
Gregoris emptied his glass and nodded. "Of course. About what?"
"The Crown Pact. I'd like to understand how it works. And its limits."
"Did the king not explain it to you?"
"Not much. He was vague, and I don't really understand what it implies."
Gregoris crossed his legs and took a few moments to think.
"In truth, it's all quite simple. You're bonded, which means William is the only one who can draw on the magic inside you. No one else can."
"I didn't know that."
"Think of it as a safeguard. In exchange for this exclusive use, William is bound to protect you. Because your lives are tied."
"And are we bonded in every way?"
Gregoris lifted his white eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
Alex blushed. "I know that if I get hurt, he gets hurt too. And if I die, he dies. But it doesn't work the other way around."
"Correct. And that's why you should be very careful with his hemophilia."
"But he… could he sense anything else?"
"What do you mean?"
"My emotions… or my mood. Can he sense those?"
Gregoris shook his head. "No. The Pact works only on the physical level. It's meant to force the mage to protect the king at the cost of his own life."
"Doesn't it seem cruel to you?"
"Perhaps. But I never minded protecting the king." Gregoris spread his hands. "Think of it as taking care of each other. Risking your lives together is something that bonds people together."
"But I…" Alex hesitated, uncertain how to continue.
The mage tilted his head and studied him thoughtfully. "Did something happen?"
The prince lowered his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. "If I tell you, will you promise not to say anything to anyone? Especially my father?"
"Only if it doesn't contradict my duties."
"This afternoon I was with a male prostitute, and William… sensed something that shook him."
Gregoris frowned, the jovial expression vanishing from his lined face.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. He says he felt everything, but he didn't go into detail." He took a deep breath. "He was shattered. I've never seen him like that. And I thought maybe it was my fault—that I hadn't understood the limits of the Pact properly. That I'd done something I shouldn't have."
Gregoris folded his arms across his chest and looked up at the ceiling.
"The Pact shouldn't work like that. It shouldn't bind you on such an intimate level."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm certain, Your Highness." His gaze returned to pierce him. "When you performed the ritual, something must have gone wrong."