The City of the Broken (Prince of the Broken) (2 page)

“
This is absolutely crazy, Goodbye” I say turning back towards the overgrowth.

“
Wait, there’s something else” he says longingly.

“
What?” I yell, losing my patience and self confidence by the second.

“
Would you like to go out with me?” he asks.

And suddenly my interest is rekindled.

Now I am confused .He has exceeded even my expectations of him.

“
But you’re a prince, I felt out of your league even before you told me this”.

“
But Seren I like you. I’ve been curious about you ever since I first saw you. I knew I’d have to pluck up the courage to ask you to be a citizen. That was my formal reason to ask you here, but casually it was always my intention to ask you to date me”

This boy fascinates me in a way no human ever has before. Its because there is a mystery or charisma I can
’t put my finger on.

“
Okay, yes” I smile shyly

“
Brilliant, I’m so pleased. I’ll meet you tomorrow in college, then afterwards we can come straight here and I’ll give you a guided tour” he smiles, his eyes glowing with expectation.

Wow. He makes me feel so alive.

We walk back through the thorns and through the gate.

“
Are
really
a prince?” I ask. This is so overwhelming.

He opens up his blazer and inside is a stitched coat of arms, C.B with a dagger through a broken heart.

“I’ll show you the palace tomorrow if you don’t believe me” he says.

“
So, library tomorrow at 12?” he asks.

“
At my table” I smile

“
Your table” he says as he takes my hand and kisses it.

He
’s like a chivalrous knight. I feel like a Maiden. I flush from embarrassment and joy. If  you have to be depressed to be a member of this city, he isn’t going about it in the right way.

Chapter Two.

The Cit
y of the Broken

After returning from my eye opening experience, I reflect on what I have encountered. Should I be offended that I
’ve been asked to be a member of a city where its necessary to be ‘broken’ to join or be elated that I’m dating Calix? I feel a connection to him like I’ve known him from before.

Tomorrow I want to look stunning. I go for my red crochet dress.

Next day in college, there
’s only one person I’m thinking about. The boy who last night transported me into another world.

At
break, I head over to the tuck shop. Waiting in the queue I overhear a conversation.

“
Do you know Calix in Amy’s history class”?

“
Oh yes. I know who you mean” says her friend enthusiastically.

“
Well, Amy used to date him and she told me he’s a pathological liar”

“
Really? He doesn’t seem the type”

“
I know .She‘s better off without him.” says her friend as they walk away.

I
’m left shell shocked, what an odd thing to say. I pay for my chocolate and head back to class.

I thought I
’d spend the rest of class excited about seeing him at lunchtime. Instead I’m worrying. Pathological liar? Perhaps the whole prince thing.

Of course! What a fool I
’ve been to believe an 18 year old college student to be a prince. He’s probably been sniggering behind my back all day. This is must be his idea of a joke, messing around with the feelings of plain girls like me. How childish. So he wants to play Prince does he? Well today I’ll be a warrior queen. But as I’m preparing to go into battle, a cloud of doubt crosses my mind. He couldn’t fake the city, I saw it with my own eyes. But it does not make him a prince.

As I enter the library I march to my regular table ready to unleash my outburst. But he
’s not there. He would have let me down anyway, even if I hadn’t overheard that conversation.

I
’m just about to leave when he bursts in.

“
Sorry I’m late. My teacher just doesn’t stop talking.” And seeing him innocently apologetic, my rant is forgotten.

“
It’s okay, I’m always late too” I  giggle, like those girls whose brains have turned to mush.

“
So you’re a prince, are you?” I say coldly, raising my eyebrow in a questioning manner. That’s more like it.

“
Yes. We established that last night, is everything okay? You seem a little distant” he says sounding concerned.

Oh don
’t act innocent with me.

“
Well what proof do you have? Anyone could just say they’re a prince” I say ,hoping he’ll confess to this prank.

“
I’ll show you my palace today if you want proof but I have to say, it saddens me that you don’t trust me. I wish you’d just like me for me rather than the title” he says looking genuinely upset.

Don
’t try and turn this on me.

“
I wanted to go out with
you
. I went on a date with you before you started pretending to be a prince. Do you actually think you need to be royalty to get girls to like you or did you just want to make a fool of the lonely library girl“?

There I said it. Frank and honest, unlike him.

“I’m not making this up. I only told you because I wanted to be up front from the start. Surely its better like this”?

This lie has g
one far enough.

“
You’re not a prince. I heard people call you a liar. I’m serious now, this prince act is grating on me”.

“
I really don’t like liars. If  you don’t believe I’m a prince I will prove it to you today if you insist”.

I
’m not letting this go, if he’s keeping up this pretence.

“
Oh I do. I look forward to seeing this palace of yours” I say trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“
But if we are going to date, I do ask one thing of you” he says.

“
What’s that?” I ask

“
Don’t listen to what people say about me” .

Is he really this self obsessed?

“Okay” I say.

We head back to class. I
’m feeling a little mean because he looks disappointed, much different from the bright eyed excitement he exhibited when he arrived from history. Maybe he’s telling the truth? I  guess I’ll find out today.

When I
’m in maths class, I stare out  of the window. In the college car park, I spot a black vintage Rolls Royce Phantom. Then I see him. He’s taking some books from the back of the car. It must be
his
car.

I
’ve gone from dismissing this guy as deluded or untruthful to feeling guilty for harsh judgement to having concrete proof thrust in front of my eyes, all in an hour. Such conflicting emotions in a short space of time.

When I head out of col
lege, it’s a fine day. The mountains are highlighted, and the gravestones have a golden glow. I didn’t tell anyone about my date because they’d only talk and tomorrow the whole college would know.

At the gate, I
’m greeted by a gothic beauty. He’s dressed all in black, looking very Victoriana.

“
Hi”  he says.

“
Hi” I reply in a softer tone than lunchtime.

“
Lets go, I want to give the grand tour” he grins.

I follow him and we walk through the gate. Even though it’s sunny, its cold. I shiver.

“
Cold?” he enquires

“
Yes”.

Now I
’m here in the daylight, it’s a different experience. Not sinister at all. This really does look like a garden, alas one that is unkempt. There are rose bushes, that explains the thorns. Crab apple trees, hedges, bushes and weeds. A bank of trees stand like protective guards remaining perfectly still. The doorway to the city.

We walk through the archway of leaves and branches and behold, the city. Here it is, black and graceful. But there
’s something that didn’t occur to me before, an eerie feeling. It feels like a dark forest or maze, unexplored, forbidding.

“
Hold my hand” he offers.

He has the longest, most elegant hands. I oblige. One thing that catches my eye is the black post box, it even has a Royal Mail logo on it.

We go into the centre of the city. There is a spiralling escalator that leads to a glass arcade. Every person on it is dressed head to toe in black. They stare at me. At first I think its because I’m with the prince but then I realize, its because I’m wearing red. I must look like a freak to them. The people here look so pale and mournful and broken. I’ve always felt the moodiest in the room now I feel like a sunbeam in comparison.

“
Lets go to my palace” he says.

Oh yes, I
’m on a date with a prince. It feels like a funeral.

“
We’ll take the underground” he says pulling me in another direction.

“
Do you take it often?” I ask

“
No, this is so exciting. This is the first time I’ll take it” he says exuberantly.

The underground has the same circular logo as the one in London, altho
ugh in keeping with the local charm this one is black, as are the trains. We jump on. He looks surprised at the amount of people. We sit there ignoring everyone, with eyes only for each other. But everyone is staring, at my clothes and at him. I hear whispering.

“
Isn’t that the Prince ?”

“
Yes it looks like him”.

He is getting increasingly anxious, clinging tightly to my arm, staring anywhere but at our fellow passengers. I hold his gaze for a moment and he looks sad and distant, a look I haven
’t seen before.

“
Are you okay?” I ask

“
Sure, hey it’s nearly our stop“.

We get up and get out. As we step onto the platform, he slips on a beanie hat- his disguise. It seems to help, but I can still see people staring.

We head up from the underground. When we exit we are in a more affluent part of the city. We head through a beautiful park and there are black birds on the lake.

Past the mighty trees, I see a palace made entirely of black brick. At the top of the flagpole is an ebony flag, with a purple
‘B’ in the centre. Its stunning. A citadel of the broken.

“
Dad’s home, the flag’s up” he smiles innocently. This is everyday life to him.

“
This is really your palace?” I ask in awe.

“
Yes” he nods

“
Impressive” I say at a loss for words.

Two guards dressed in
black stand either side of the tall gate.

“
Which is the way in?” I ask

We walk up to the soldiers and I feel nervous as they stare menacingly at me, probably thinking I
’m harassing the prince.

“
Hey Jim, this is just my guest”.

Jim opens the gate and we wal
k through. Simple.

Suddenly a crowd of tourists start flashing away realizing the prince has just walked through the gates. Although they are taking pictures, they are unlike what you
’d expect of a

mob of fans.  Far from being screaming girls, they are de
tached, melancholic.

We walk through the grand entrance. The lengthy hallway has black carpet running down it, it could be velvet its so luxurious. There is an extensive array of ornaments and vases, everything black, purple or gold. The only light comes f
rom the crystal chandeliers that line the hallway. Bizarrely there are no windows.

“
This is fantastic” I smile.

He smiles back and takes my hand. Enchanting music plays faintly in the background. It sounds like a harp.

“Who’s playing”?

“
That’s Mrs. S,  Dad’s secretary. She practises whenever she gets a break, she’s an accomplished musician.”

He leads me into another room. A ballroom, lined with mirrors. He turns the light on and it illuminates a polished black marble dance floor. There are candelabras every
where. Its simple but exquisite. He walks over to a gramophone and plays Mozart.

“
Dance with me” he asks.

“
No! I cannot dance” I squirm. I cannot think of anything more embarrassing.

“
I’ll lead, I’m sure you dance well” he says politely.

He always says t
he right thing. He’s such a gentleman.

We dance. Well, he dances, I pretend that I can. I
’m actually enjoying it, much to my own surprise. I feel like a literary heroine from the classics.

At
the end of the dance, he switches the record player off and we leave the ballroom.

“
We tend to hold banquets in there, it’s all very formal. Dad even insists on a gramophone, he’s so traditional. I liked being in there with you, I felt at ease” he smiles at me.

“
Good evening Prince Calix, who is this young lady?” a stuffy woman regards me coolly in the hallway.

“
Hello Jane, this is Seren, I wanted to give her a tour of the palace”.

“
So nice to meet you dear” she says holding out her hand but its feels insincere.

“
Nice to meet you” I say out of politeness.

“
Your majesty” She says nodding her head in acknowledgement at him and arching an eyebrow at me, before strutting down the corridor.

“
Who was that?” I ask him once she’s left.

“
That’s Jane, she’s a lady in waiting. She’s quite old fashioned” he laughs.

“
Come on, I’ve still got so much to show you” he says, pulling me excitedly by the arm.

“
You’re not going to show me every room, are you”?

There must be a hundred.

“No, but there is one thing I really want to show you, come on” and he starts running.

I follow, feeling like a carefree child racing through the palace.

“We can take the stairs or the elevator, which would you prefer?” he asks

I don
’t hesitate in choosing the elevator.

We stare at each other in
the slick elevator. He chooses the top floor. His eyes flashing at me with wondrous excitement. The elevator halts and we step out. This must where the bedrooms are. There are low lit lamps which give a soft, calming effect. The carpet is black, this time with a  purple ‘b’ hologram pattern through it. It makes me feel dizzy.