Chapter 1 - A Promise
That day, as on so many days before, Crown Prince Antonius asked his nursemaid to let him visit his mother's chambers.
Though he had only recently turned nine, he had already become a source of endless headaches for those charged with raising him.
“Your Highness,” his nursemaid said with a troubled sigh, “a crown prince should not remain so dependent on his mother.”
Antonius did not even blink.
“Mother is nearing her due date.”
His tone suggested he was correcting an obvious lapse in judgment.
“Any decent man would be concerned for a woman in such a condition. If something were to happen on a day I failed to visit her, what then? Would you be prepared to accept responsibility?”
The nursemaid found herself at a loss for words.
As always.
And so, as always, Antonius made his way to the Queen's chambers without further resistance.
One of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting opened the door for him. Inside, Irina was waiting in the sitting room, a gentle smile already on her face.
“Anton, my precious boy.”
She opened her arms, and as always, he stepped into her embrace.
Yet almost immediately, Antonius tilted his head.
“Mother, are you feeling unwell?”
Irina blinked.
“What makes you think that?”
“You seem less cheerful than usual.”
For a moment they simply looked at one another.
Then a soft laugh escaped her.
“You notice everything, don't you, Anton? Perhaps you've inherited my gift of foresight.”
“I don't need foresight to understand you, Mother.”
Antonius lifted his chin proudly.
“If something is troubling you, perhaps I can help.”
Irina laughed outright.
When her laughter finally faded, a trace of sadness lingered in her eyes.
“I said goodbye to a dear friend yesterday.”
“Goodbye?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the room.
“I won't be able to see him again.”
Antonius fell silent.
Several seconds passed as he thought carefully.
Then he looked up.
“If you can no longer see this friend of yours...”
The words came slowly, the product of earnest thought from a young mind.
“Then perhaps I may meet him someday.”
Irina froze.
“If I do,” he continued, “would you like me to carry a message for you?”
Her eyes widened.
For a long moment, she stared at her son as though she were looking at a stranger.
Then, at last, she smiled.
“Yes... perhaps.”
For some reason, her voice had grown hoarse.
“If you ever meet my friend, Anton...”
She paused to think.
“Try not to be too hard on him.”
Antonius looked genuinely offended.
“Myself? Toward a friend of yours? I would never do such a thing.”
“Oh? Are you certain?”
“Of course.”
Irina raised both hands in surrender.
“Very well. I concede.”
She pulled him into her arms.
The boy in her embrace was still small.
Yet one day he would become a man.
He would walk far beyond even the future she could see.
“Anton.”
“Yes, Mother?”
Irina rested a hand upon her swollen belly. Then she took one of his small hands and guided it there as well.
“Will you be kind to this child, too?”
Antonius brightened at once.
“Of course.”
There was not the slightest hesitation.
“If it's a princess, I'll protect her with my life.”
Then he added, with a hint of pride,
“And if it's a prince, I'll train him properly—so long as he remembers who's first in line.”
Irina burst into laughter.
She laughed until tears gathered in her eyes.
Only when she finally regained her composure did she speak again.
“This child will not be a prince.”
“Then a princess?”
“No.”
Antonius tilted his head.
“Not a princess either.”
Still smiling, Irina rested her hand upon her belly.
“Even so, Anton...”
Something in her voice changed.
The seriousness in it was impossible to miss.
“Please help your brother.”
Antonius listened without interrupting.
“Be kind to him. Stay by his side.”
So he is a brother of him, yetvneither a prince nor a princess.
Antonius had never heard of such a thing.
The notion left him bewildered.
But if his mother was asking this of him with such earnestness, then there could be only one answer.
“I promise.”
He took her hand and pressed a respectful kiss to its back.
Irina smiled.
It was a smile filled with boundless tenderness, yet beneath it lingered a deep and inexplicable sadness.
