Chapter Two.
The City 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 it’s 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 school, 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 high school 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 it’s better like this?”
This lie has gone 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 school 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 school, 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 school 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.
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 spiraling 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 it’s because I’m with the prince but then I realize, it’s 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.
“Let’s 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, although 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. It’s 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 walk 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 detached, melancholic.
We walk through the grand entrance. The lengthy hallway has black carpet running down it, it could be velvet it’s so luxurious. There is an extensive array of ornaments and vases, everything black, purple or gold. The only light comes from 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 everywhere. It’s 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 the 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 it 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.
“This way,” he smiles beckoning me to follow him. He opens an oak door.
“This is my bedroom, do you like it?” he asks.
It’s black but it seems lighter in here than the other rooms. There is a king sized bed with a black satin duvet emblazoned with the purple B. Glossy black floorboards are covered with woollen rugs. Books line the walls.
“Dad says I should keep these in the library downstairs but I like them in here with me,” he says, observing my fascination.
“This is what I want to show you.” He leads me to the window.
“You know, this is the only window in the whole palace. Dad won’t allow them anywhere else.”
I thought it seems lighter in here.
Opening the glass doors, we step out onto a vast balcony that overlooks the palace garden.
“This view is absolutely breathtaking.”
“Yes, I like to sit out here sometimes in the night air and read for hours.”
This boy is the most fascinating being I’ve met and it isn’t because he’s a prince, he’s like a human masterpiece. Sometimes I think he’s not even human, his jet black hair shines in the moonlight. His blue eyes have changed to violet and I’m yet again alive, struck. All this from the girl who thought she would never find anyone who interests her. He’s an enigma.
As I gaze into his luminous eyes, we embrace and kiss- sweet, tender, perfect.
This palace is an otherworldly dream. Marvellous as it is, it sets me on edge. It’s eerie, hidden. I know it has a secret.
After our kiss, my first kiss, a sweet introduction, we head back into palace grounds. I
see some beautiful swans on the lake among the black ducks. It’s a striking monochrome scene.
He holds my hand and we walk among the flowers, violets. They are a deep purple like the ‘B’ on the flag.
“So do you believe I’m a Prince now?” he asks.
“Well, I think if I still doubted you I’d be a very sceptical person,” I smile.
He smiles back and we walk back towards the underground at midnight.
Back at the gate that leads to ‘reality’, we kiss once more. Wow.
It’s evening and we are sitting by the lake, the lamp light illuminating the water, the musical song of the water birds playing as the background theme. Just my prince and I. He leans in close and just as I think he is going to kiss me, he whispers in my ear “I break girls hearts so that they can join my city,” and suddenly his face is dark and calculating, a professional heart breaker.
I wake up with tears streaming. Whoa!
Getting dressed for school, I cannot get that nightmare out of my head. Is there an element of truth to this notion? You do need to be broken to join and who better to break a heart than a beautiful-genius-prince? I bury the thought into my subconscious.
Even though I have had many conversations with my prince, I still don’t really ‘know’ him. I’ll ask him about his life, try and uncover the real him.
Looking at the clouds outside, I start to dream. Lately all I can think about is him. That’s completely normal for most girls. But not me. I don’t fall in love easily. This is rare, this is something else. This is him. Every single second does seem to drag. Usually I pay close attention to my tutor . Not today. I wonder if my prince and I will go to the city tonight, dance in the black ballroom again. I should get more black clothes, I don’t fit the dress code at all. I feel like I’m becoming an annoying girl who can’t stop thinking about a guy. And for the first time ever it doesn’t bother me.
Finally it’s lunchtime. I see him chatting in the foyer to a male student who always looks upset. He’s probably scouting for more citizens. I smile at the thought. He’s dressed head to toe in black and he looks smouldering hot. His eyes illuminate when he sees me. He says a final word to his peer and then walks over to join me.
“Hi, who was that?” I ask
“That’s Jason, he’s a boy in my class,” he says.
“Were you scouting?” I ask
“Ha! Yeah, you got me,” he confesses.
“My Father has given me a task of getting at least 15 new members. It sounds easier than it actually is. People don’t like you telling them that you think they’re depressed,” he says sounding stressed out by this responsibility imposed on him.
“Do you still want me to be a citizen? I mean, don’t you think I’m too cheerful now we are dating?” I ask. And as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel I have said the wrong thing.
He looks at me seriously.
“You think I make you happy?” he asks horrified.
“Well, yeah. Don’t I make you happy?” I ask feeling unsettled by his negative reaction.
“Seren, you don’t understand. You can only be a member of the city if you are unhappy, you can only be my girlfriend if you are broken.”
“How could I possibly be unhappy when I’m with you?” I ask frantically.
He looks at me like an idea has struck him.
“You are Prince of the Broken, so are you unhappy? Is your Father unhappy?”
“Of course, of course we are,” he holds his head up with an arrogant defiance as if he has proclaimed a statement he is proud of. A badge of honour.
“This is so challenging. I’ve always been unhappy, people would tell me to cheer up. Now when for the first time I actually feel happy, I need to be broken.” I say feeling confused.
“Seren, it’s difficult I know. Come to the city today, it’ll help,” he says.