Chapter 4
The Clashing Tides
Ash listened to the gently rolling waves to calm himself, but it did no good. Once again he was in the long, marble-floored hall standing eye to eye with Philip, waiting for Sir William’s signal. The surroundings were the same as they had always been, the circumstances, completely ordinary. But although things seemed exactly the same, they had changed since the last time they had crossed swords. At least, for Ash they had. It amazed him how things could become so different in so short a time. Two days ago, he had not known that Philip was his brother. Then, Philip had been just an unusually grumpy rival with an unreasonable grudge against Ash. But now that Ash knew the truth, he realized that Philip’s grudge was not so unreasonable after all. He realized that he had stolen the throne from Philip- the thing his brother had desired more than anything. And though there was nothing Ash could have done to prevent that, he felt guilty. He was personally responsible for Philip’s misery. Worse, there was nothing he could do to correct it. Ash had spent the past two days racking his brain, trying to find some solution to this mess. But there was nothing. He could never give Philip what he wanted. This frustrated him more than anything. He didn’t want the crown, would gladly have given it to Philip had he the choice. But Ash had been born to rule Kanto. He would disappoint so many people if he gave up his birthright- his father, Anna, the
whole kingdom. He couldn’t do that. But maybe there was another way to appease his brother. If only he could talk to Philip. There had to be
some way to make him understand.
But it was hard to believe that when he looked into Philip’s eyes. They held an expression of utter disgust. Philip looked at Ash the same way he might look at a rat that had found its way into the castle kitchen. The expression reminded Ash of another time, another duel from years ago. Philip had beaten him soundly, which was not unusual. But he remembered what Sir William had told him.
“Ashton” he had said,
“do you know why you’re never able to win?”It was a rhetorical question, but Ash shook his head in reply.
“It is because you don’t want to win. You have to desire victory like Philip does, or you will never achieve it.”And then Ash had looked over at Philip, still practicing his fencing stances. Their eyes had met, and in that instant Ash finally realized what it was in that glare that intimidated him so- hatred. Philip hated him, wanted to hurt him. Those eyes had not changed in all that time. They bored into Ash’s own now, daring him to challenge Philip. He could barely maintain eye contact at all. The air was so thick with tension that Ash found it hard to breathe. And when Sir William finally gave the signal, he was so distracted that he made no move at all. Philip took advantage of the moment and landed a heavy blow to Ash’s right shoulder.
“Ow!” Ash cried, flinching and clutching his shoulder.
The pain of the hit echoed through his collar bone and knocked the wind out of him. He sank to the ground, gritting his teeth against the hurt, and rocked back and forth to dull it. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he could feel Sir William’s disapproving gaze like a weight upon him.
“Let me have a look at it.” Sir William said.
Ash was finally able to open his eyes as he pulled the sleeve of his tunic down, revealing the nasty purple bruise that was forming there. Sir William knelt down beside him and roughly grasped the shoulder, testing the bone with his thumb. Ash sucked in air through his teeth as the pain surged back.
“It’s not broken,” Sir William informed, “but you can’t hold a sword in that condition. We’ll stop for today.”
Then he turned to Philip, seeming genuinely angry for once.
“Philip!” he yelled. “This is the second time in as many practices that you’ve injured Ashton What do you have to say?”
Philip seemed as surprised as Ash at his outburst, but he somehow maintained his attitude.
“I’m not the one you should be angry at.” His reply was cool, but his eyes were smouldering like coal embers. “Unlike that
buffoon Ashton, I’ve kept up with my training. It’s not my fault if he’s too slow to react. After all, Sir William, have you not always told us yourself that politeness has no place in swordplay?”
“And that is true, but there is no need for such brutality, Philip! Your father is going to hear about this!”
“Good.” Philip said, crossing his arms. “Maybe that will help that dull-witted old man realize which of his sons is truly fit to be his heir.”
At this, Sir William completely lost his temper and struck Philip hard across the face.
“How
dare you speak of your king that way!” He bellowed. “You will
never say such a thing again! Now get out of my sight!”
For an instant, Philip lost his perfect composure, a dazed look flashing across his face. But in one more instant, his brow creased and the corners of his mouth turned down into a wicked frown. Too proud to rub his stinging cheek, he glared fiercely at Sir William. And suddenly, Ash had a vague notion that this had happened before, a long time ago. Only it seemed it had been someone else then, not Philip . . .
But before he could dredge up the memory, Philip turned his red hot glare on him and stamped briskly in his direction. Ash cringed, expecting Philip to strike him, but he did not. He simply brushed past him and out the arched doorway, though in a terrible huff. Ash looked after him for several moments before the sudden quiet in the room became uncomfortable.
“Um . . .” he said, trying to think of something to say to lessen the tension.
Sir William sighed deeply, almost ruefully, Ash thought, and then glided out of the room himself. Ash was left standing alone, unsure of what to do. Finally he decided that as no one present to judge his etiquette, it didn’t really matter, so he left too, still a little confused by what had just happened. He would never have expected Sir William to strike Philip like that. Philip was his star pupil, and though he often had to discipline him, it was always a half-hearted rebuke. But not this time. This time Sir William had truly been angry. But then, Philip had never gone that far before. Sir William was a knight after all, unfailingly loyal. Of course he would never let anyone who insulted his king go unpunished. Not even his own star pupil.
But there was something else puzzling Ash. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that Philip was becoming even more aggressive than usual lately. Why was that? Things had recently changed for Ash, yes, but Philip knew nothing about that. Or did he? And if he did, why would it make him angry? The thought nagged Ash and distracted him during class.
Today he was playing chess against Misty. He was no good at it, of course, just like everything else that involved school. This was bad, because a chess match was always part of the program when King Ashton checked on his son’s progress. Fortunately the cunning Mordecai had come up with an ingenious system. Ash and Philip would play, and when Ash lost (as he always did), Philip would teach him how he had been beaten, move for move. Then, when King Ashton’s visit arrived, Ash and Philip would play the same game, but with their roles reversed. Ash could tell that it infuriated Philip to have to play the loser, but he acquiesced. He seemed smart enough to know that it was better to give his father what he wanted than to try to show off. And though it was only for show, Philip’s detailed walkthroughs had helped Ash improve. But Philip was conspicuously absent today. Ash thought it was useless to play Misty; she was never his opponent when his father came. But Mordecai said that it would be good practice.
Ash stared at the board. Misty was winning; she had all but cornered his king. Ash thought carefully about his next move, turning over all his options in his mind. There was no way he could beat Philip at either physical or mental tasks . . . Besides, he wanted to befriend his brother, not worsen the grudge. So he would have to reason with him. But how would he do that? What would he say? The most important thing to make Philip understand, Ash thought, was that he didn’t want to be king. He hadn’t
willingly stolen the throne. If he could only make Philip see that he didn’t want to be enemies. It sounded easy. But Ash knew that Philip’s intense hatred wouldn’t be easily quenched. He would have to choose his words carefully. If he said this to Philip, how would he reply? Or what if he said that? How would the conversation play out? Ash furrowed his brow in deep concentration.
“Hmmm . . .” he hemmed.
Misty sighed impatiently.
“Ash, would you make your move already?” She said. “You’re going to lose, no matter what you do.”
“Huh?” he replied.
“Make your move ”
“Oh, right.” Ash said.
He quickly moved his pawn to a space near Misty’s knight.
She stared curiously at him.
“What?”
“You spent all that time thinking just do
that?”
Ash laughed, but nervously.
“I guess I’m just not as smart as you, Misty!” he said, a little too cheerfully to be believed.
“Well I know
that.” Misty agreed with a laugh. Her expression softened. “But are you sure you’re all right?”
Ash was silent. Normally, he didn’t mind telling Misty his problems so much. He was always reluctant to talk at first, but she usually wheedled it out of him eventually. And he had to admit, he usually felt better afterward. But this was different. This was between Philip and him. Misty seemed to understand his mood. Her brow was still creased in a worried frown, but she wasn’t going to press him any further. Ash thanked her mentally.
Misty returned her focus to the game. She picked up her pawn and set it next to Ash’s king, completing a ring of black pieces that surrounded it.
“Check mate.”
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Dusk was falling. The torches set into the halls had already been lit, and they cast dark shadows. Ash watched them dance across the red carpet while he waited for Philip. He had been standing there for at least an hour. Philip had disappeared earlier after their sword match, and Ash hadn’t seen him since. He half hoped that he wouldn’t appear at all. His brother intimidated him, and he was nervous about talking to him. Even now, his heart pounded in his chest. But Ash didn’t want things to continue this way. It hurt to have his brother hate him so. It wasn’t right. And he didn’t think he could take the anxiety of waiting much longer. The sooner the conflict was resolved the better. And so he stood in the hall, a little ways away from Philip’s room. Surely he would return soon. It was growing darker, and it would be time for bed before long. Ash sat down, tired of standing. The anticipation was wearing off, and he was getting bored. He must have drifted off to sleep at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to footsteps coming down the hall. He turned his head toward the sound. The torches were burning low now, but he could just make out a shadowy silhouette.
“Philip?” he called to it.
“Ashton?” it
was Philip. “Taken to sleeping on the floor like a dog, have you? How appropriate.”
Ash chose to ignore that statement.
“Philip, I need to talk to you.” he said as he stood.
Philip didn’t answer, but he made no move to unlock his door. Ash took this to mean that he was listening. But he couldn’t think of how to start. Finally, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.
“Philip, we’re brothers.”
“Really? And how did you come to this fascinating conclusion?”
“Anna told me.” Ash knew that Philip’s reply had been sarcastic, but he held his irritation in check and answered sincerely. “I didn’t know until recently. No one told me before then.”
Philip gave up his feigned curiosity and his face hardened back into that perpetual scowl.
“Let me tell you something right now, Ashton.” his words came out sharp and deliberate. “You are my brother by blood, and unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do to change that. But I will
never consider you family. To me you are nothing but a thief who stole my birthright. I want nothing to do with you, so stay out of my way!”
He turned swiftly to unlock his door.
“Wait, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about!” Ash cried out, running toward him. He snatched the key out of Philip’s hand. Philip glowered at him and Ash backed away, but he kept talking. ‘I know you hate me, but-”
“You know
nothing! I was supposed to be king! I
deserve to be king!” Philip loomed over Ash, backing him into a corner. “But you took that away from me.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you, I don’t want to be king! I don’t want you to hate me anymore! I’m not your enemy, Philip!”Ash was getting frustrated, and there was an agitated edge to his voice.
“You may not be
my enemy, but I will always be yours,” Philip responded cooly.
“But
why? I would be happy for you to be king! It doesn’t even matter to me!”
“Which makes me hate you that much more. Do you know how it feels to have to watch you bumble your way through every single day, knowing that
you will be king instead of
me? You, who aren’t worthy to lick the dirt from my boot, will one day sit on
my throne. Your very existence makes me sick!”
Ash felt a surge of renewed guilt. His brother was right- Philip was much more fit to be king than he was. But it also made him angry that Philip was so impossible.
“But it’s not my fault that things happened the way they did!” He cried. “I can’t do anything about it! You’re being unfair!”
“Don’t you
dare complain to
me what’s
unfair!” Philip yelled back. “My entire life has been unfair! You took everything
I wanted, but when one small thing doesn’t go your way-”
“But I told you Philip, I don’t want the same things you do!” Ash countered. “I’m not any happier about the situation than you!”
Philip sneered at him.
“Oh, poor little prince, your life must be
so hard.”
“I’m serious!”
Philip laughed bitterly.
“Well, in any case, it doesn’t matter,” he said,“I hate you all the same.”
Ash could see that he was getting nowhere trying to reason with Philip. He decided to try a different approach.
“Fine,” he said, holding back anger and frustration. “But isn’t there some way I can make it up to you?”
“Yes, you can die!” Philip paused for a moment. “Or better yet, you can suffer. I should take away something precious to you, just like you did to me. What about that girl you’re always with?”
“Misty?”
“Yes, her. Would you be terribly miserable if you didn’t have her?”
Only now did Ash get mad.
“Leave her out of this, Philip!” he shouted.
Philip smirked.
“Ah, so she
is important to you. But don’t worry, little brother, I promise I won’t hurt her.”
“I mean it, Philip! Don’t you touch her!”
“I won’t! I gave you my word, didn’t I?”
Ash thought about this for a second. He had never known Philip to break his word. But then, he had never known Philip to give his word. He was about to say something, but Philip grabbed his key back and had the door unlocked before Ash could form the words.
“I hope you sleep well, Ashton.” Philip said as they parted.
Of course, Ash did
not sleep well. In fact, he didn’t sleep at all. For hours, he laid on his back and stared at the canopy over his bed. He was upset that Philip still hated him, but more than that he was worried about Misty. He wasn’t entirely trustful that Philip would keep his promise. What if he sneaked down to her room in the night and . . . Finally Ash couldn’t stand it anymore. He got out of bed and went to the oaken chest at its foot. It was filled with ceremonial clothes, but he pushed these aside until he reached the chest’s bottom and found what he wanted- a dagger. Ash held it above his head, letting the rubies in its hilt sparkle in the moonlight. It had been given to him by his father on his last birthday, but he’d never thought he would need it. Now, he was glad he had it. He slipped the dagger into the pocket of his night shift and sneaked downstairs. Everything looked different in the dark. The unnatural quiet made Ash a little edgy, but the suspense was somehow exciting. His senses were heightened, and he could really feel his blood pumping. Finally he reached Misty’s room. She was sleeping peacefully, totally unaware of the danger she was in. Ash gazed at her as she breathed. He fondly remembered all the stormy nights they had spent here together as children, both cowering in fear of the thunder.
“Don’t worry, Misty,” he whispered to her,
“I promise I won’t let Philip hurt you.”
“Ash . . .” she said.
Ash froze. He was caught; now he was in for it.
“. . . you’re an idiot.”
He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that she was talking in her sleep.
He sat down beside her bed, dagger in hand, and waited. He was a little afraid, and he still did not want to hurt his brother, but . . . he was almost hoping that Philip would show up. He felt very manly protecting Misty like this. This was what being a prince was all about. His heart pounded in anxious anticipation. Ash chuckled to himself as he imagined Philip on his hands and knees at the point of his dagger, begging for his life. And Misty, of course, would be eternally grateful when she found out what he had done for her.
But as the hours passed, the excitement dulled. It was becoming more and more unlikely that anything would happen, and Ash was growing sleepy. His eyelids started to feel heavy. He kept them open for as long as he could, but it was a losing battle. The rhythm of the sea filled his ears, and soon his dreams.
