would scold him if she could see his manners now. He grinned slightly and glanced down at the cold fireplace. The room was dark and had a distinct damp chill to it, but he could not be bothered to ring for a servant to start the fire. Instead, his eyes found the bright moon, shining down upon him through the split of the curtain at the window.
He blinked up at her, just taking in the large bright globe that she was. “You are so beautiful tonight,” he mumbled aloud. “You watch over and protect us all, do you not? How many a sleepless night have you comforted for others such as myself? How many wishes have you captured within your moonbeams?” He chuckled at his own foolishness and then felt the beginning of a sob suddenly launch within his throat. “Can I make a wish upon you now? Will you capture mine and hold it close for me?”
Two great tears welled within his eyes and he quickly dashed them away. Then finding solace in covering his face, Anthony sat up upon the settee and buried his head within his hands. He had so very many wishes to send up—so very many impractical ones. And they all raced through his mind like a cacophony of jumbles and nuisances. After a moment, he cleared his thoughts enough to allow one to stand out singular among all the rest. The wish kept repeating itself over and over within him, until he finally uttered out the words, “I wish—I wish,” he broke as an onslaught of grief overwhelmed him, great sobs racking through his whole body.
He knew, he knew then he could not stop the inevitable.
It was time to let go.
But how? How was he to cope without the best man in the world?
How was he to stand and be all he was destined to become without his great king by his side?
Life was not fair. Life was not free from trials or filth or anything awful.
It would always be there taunting him and forcing him to give up. To collapse under the pressures of an eternal existence of gloom.
He could not live without him.
He had to live without him.
Huge sobs broke free from him—so thankful was he to be all alone in this darkened room, to truly have this moment to let his dear father go.
He sobbed. Oh, how he sobbed.
And when he was done, when he could catch his breath enough to speak, he simply said, “Moon, I wish for the strength to carry on. Let me find it, please. And find it soon.”
After that, His Royal Highness Prince Anthony Jonathan fell to the floor upon his knees, bowed his head into his arms and the cushions of the sofa, and began the Prayer of Watchfulness. The prayer his kingdom had used for centuries to allow their god to know that all will be well and they are finally willing to submit to his watchful eye.
To allow him to provide or release where he sees fit.
Anthony sobbed until his heart broke, and then continued on until stitch by warm stitch he was finally able to breathe, until he was sure his heart was stitched back up enough again to beat upon its own.
And then the handsome prince fell asleep. Sitting crumpled upon the floor, his head buried in his arms resting upon the seat of his father’s favorite sofa.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BY THE TIME ANTHONY was nudged awake by the physician, his father had passed on. He did not quite understand all the words the doctor was saying, but rubbing his face and looking up at the distraught features of his mother told him everything he needed to know. Standing, somewhat stiffly, he walked up to her and held his arms out wide. Instantly, she clutched onto him and he let her weep and mumble incoherent mutterings into his shoulder. She had been up all night. It was nearly ten, and she had fought and prayed valiantly for him to stay with them, but he did not.
He passed sometime in the last few minutes or so. She was not in the room when he went. She had left to fetch a shawl for him—just walked into his dressing room for a few seconds. When she returned, he was gone.
And she was gone as well.
The strong courageous mother he knew was
He blinked up at her, just taking in the large bright globe that she was. “You are so beautiful tonight,” he mumbled aloud. “You watch over and protect us all, do you not? How many a sleepless night have you comforted for others such as myself? How many wishes have you captured within your moonbeams?” He chuckled at his own foolishness and then felt the beginning of a sob suddenly launch within his throat. “Can I make a wish upon you now? Will you capture mine and hold it close for me?”
Two great tears welled within his eyes and he quickly dashed them away. Then finding solace in covering his face, Anthony sat up upon the settee and buried his head within his hands. He had so very many wishes to send up—so very many impractical ones. And they all raced through his mind like a cacophony of jumbles and nuisances. After a moment, he cleared his thoughts enough to allow one to stand out singular among all the rest. The wish kept repeating itself over and over within him, until he finally uttered out the words, “I wish—I wish,” he broke as an onslaught of grief overwhelmed him, great sobs racking through his whole body.
He knew, he knew then he could not stop the inevitable.
It was time to let go.
But how? How was he to cope without the best man in the world?
How was he to stand and be all he was destined to become without his great king by his side?
Life was not fair. Life was not free from trials or filth or anything awful.
It would always be there taunting him and forcing him to give up. To collapse under the pressures of an eternal existence of gloom.
He could not live without him.
He had to live without him.
Huge sobs broke free from him—so thankful was he to be all alone in this darkened room, to truly have this moment to let his dear father go.
He sobbed. Oh, how he sobbed.
And when he was done, when he could catch his breath enough to speak, he simply said, “Moon, I wish for the strength to carry on. Let me find it, please. And find it soon.”
After that, His Royal Highness Prince Anthony Jonathan fell to the floor upon his knees, bowed his head into his arms and the cushions of the sofa, and began the Prayer of Watchfulness. The prayer his kingdom had used for centuries to allow their god to know that all will be well and they are finally willing to submit to his watchful eye.
To allow him to provide or release where he sees fit.
Anthony sobbed until his heart broke, and then continued on until stitch by warm stitch he was finally able to breathe, until he was sure his heart was stitched back up enough again to beat upon its own.
And then the handsome prince fell asleep. Sitting crumpled upon the floor, his head buried in his arms resting upon the seat of his father’s favorite sofa.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BY THE TIME ANTHONY was nudged awake by the physician, his father had passed on. He did not quite understand all the words the doctor was saying, but rubbing his face and looking up at the distraught features of his mother told him everything he needed to know. Standing, somewhat stiffly, he walked up to her and held his arms out wide. Instantly, she clutched onto him and he let her weep and mumble incoherent mutterings into his shoulder. She had been up all night. It was nearly ten, and she had fought and prayed valiantly for him to stay with them, but he did not.
He passed sometime in the last few minutes or so. She was not in the room when he went. She had left to fetch a shawl for him—just walked into his dressing room for a few seconds. When she returned, he was gone.
And she was gone as well.
The strong courageous mother he knew was
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