Charles had flipped the envelope over. It was addressed to "Io", his nickname. When he was younger, he wanted to be called Io, short for his middle name Ione, because he thought Charles was too common a name. Only one person ever obliged to call him that.
Did no one see this? Charles wondered.
Charles broke the seal and pulled the letter out. The edges of the parchment paper were lined with gold. He ran his index finger over the gold border and watched as a few tiny gold flakes stuck to his skin. This determined that the letter was authentic. He read the letter.
__________________
Dear Friend,
I hope time has treated you well since last we spoke.
As I'm sure you know, I have always held your family close to my heart, even your father is a dear friend of mine, as you are too. How long has it been that we have known each other? I still remember the day you were born. I was there to give my blessings. I have always done my best to support the Kingdom of Isadora, and support you as its future king. I am so proud of the fine young man and magnificent leader you have become.
Time and again, you have sought my counsel, advice given with your best interests at heart, and it seems to have served you well. However, word has reached me regarding your recent inquiries in Amara. Regarding this matter, I must warn you that some knowledge comes with a heavy cost, a price beyond your means to pay.
I ask you to cease your inquiries and instead protect that which you seek to understand. I take no pleasure in issuing such harsh warnings, yet I must remind you: even a Prince can be found a traitor.
Please understand that I say this as a dear friend with the best of intentions. And I trust you know, the safest place for this counsel is in the ashes.
It has been too long since we have last seen one another. My family and I, especially my daughter, look forward to your presence at the ball.
With care,
AF
__________________
After he had read the letter, Charles stood there, frozen, somewhat in disbelief that the emperor had personally written to him about Benjamin. Charles grabbed the metal canister and a box of matches from under his desk, and soon only ashes were left of the letter.
Charles was baffled. What was so important that it had been buried for years, and had Farrokoh personally writing to him to cease the investigation under the threat of treason?
Why is he asking me to protect Benjamin? This can only mean one thing. Benjamin's life is in danger. Is that why he lives like a ghost, ready to vanish into thin air at any moment? Who is Benjamin? Will I be able to protect him when I don't know even know who— or what— is after him?
Charles let himself fall back into his chair, dizzy from a tornado of questions swirling through his mind, and the worst part was that he did not have answer to any of the questions.
Earlier in the day, he had also received news that the Mid-Autumn Ball would be held at the Imperial Palace. The ball had always been held in Isadora unless there were special occasions to celebrate. On hearing this news, Charles had to reach out to everyone involved to halt their preparations.
The change of venue didn't sit right with him, but before he could delve into it any further, his guards had come to report on their mission.
Sitting in his chair, Charles leaned back and stared up at the tall ceiling. For the first time in many years, Charles was unsure of his next steps. He couldn't see a path forward. He knew that if he could just see the path, he would raze his way through. But now, it was if a dark veil had dropped, clouding his vision, blocking his path forward.
** ** ** ** ** **
As Charles had waited patiently for Benjamin in front of his clinic, Charles he thought about what Benjamin had gone through in the past five years. Did Benjamin realize the sheer scale of the danger he was in? He must have suspected something, given his cautious nature and the way he carefully guarded his past.
Charles wondered if Benjamin would ever trust him enough to confide in him, or how he would even begin to approach such a heavy conversation. But as soon as he saw Benjamin's face, those questions faded.
Even if Benjamin chose to keep his secrets locked away forever, Charles knew he simply wanted to be there for him. Whether it was to offer a listening ear or just to provide a few hours of normalcy, he was determined to stand by him, regardless of the storm Benjamin was weathering.
"Charles? Have you been waiting long?" Benjamin asked. He had just returned from Madam Wagner's.
"No, just an hour or so," Charles said, letting out a laugh. "I'm joking!" He wasn't joking.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I was at Madam Wagner's. I didn't know you were coming by today."
"It's fine. I didn't get to see you yesterday, so I just wanted to check in." Charles studied Benjamin's face. The doctor looked weary.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Charles asked.
"No, no. Why would you think that?" Benjamin plastered a fake smile on his face.
"I can tell you're totally faking it," Charles said flatly.
"How do you know me so well?"
"So... What is it?" Charles prompted, waiting.
In that moment, Charles was the last person Benjamin wanted to face, yet strangely, he felt a sense of relief. He wasn't sure how he felt about that man, and it seemed that the more time he spent with him, the more confusing it became for him. But, seeing Charles standing there waiting for him, he found himself unable to turn him away.
"Would you like to come inside? I can make some fresh orange juice. A patient brought me a whole bag," Benjamin asked as he unlocked the front door of the clinic.
"I'll help," Charles said.
Charles began wiping down the counters while Benjamin gathered the cutting board and knives. He started rinsing the oranges under the tap.
"You cut, I'll juice," Charles said, stepping into Benjamin's space and taking the fruit. "Cutting is easier." He flashed a bright, encouraging smile. "So, tell me. What's got you so down?"
Benjamin hesitated, the knife hovering over an orange.
"I'm sure it's nothing," Benjamin said, focusing intently on slicing the oranges horizontally. The citrus scent filled the kitchen.
"I'm certain it's not nothing. You look sad," Charles countered, leaning against the counter to catch Benjamin's eye. "I don't like seeing you sad, Ben. If you tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help you."
"I don't think you can. We should just drop it," Benjamin replied, his voice a bit too tight. "How was your day today?"
"If you don't tell me, we'll never know," Charles sighed, though he accepted the change of subject for now. "My day was horribly long. Every year, the Kingdom of Isadora hosts the Mid-Autumn Ball. Only the prince and princesses and a handful of noble families from the four kingdoms are invited to attend. I've been in charge of organizing it for the past few years, and it's a massive nuisance.
"But yesterday, out of nowhere, we were told that the ball would be held at the Imperial Palace this year. It is a weight off our shoulder here, but halting all the preparations wasn't easy either."
"I'm sorry. That does sound frustrating. Did they tell you why the venue was suddenly changed?" Benjamin asked.
"That only happens if there's a special occasion to celebrate. But, no one knows why it changed this time around. It's been baffling for everyone."
"I see. I'm sure they have good reason. The ball still sounds like a grand experience. I've never been to one."
"You haven't been to a ball? Well, that's settled then. You'll come with me," Charles beamed.
"Keep juicing while talking," Benjamin pointed out, nodding toward the pile of cut oranges and the pitcher that was barely half-full.
"Alright, alright!" Charles laughed. "Well, this year, I'm sure all the princes and princesses will be attending the ball. I don't think anyone dares to turn down an invitation from the imperial family."
"It really is a grand affair. I don't think I could attend something like that," Benjamin said.
"Why not? You'd be my guest," Charles said with a wink, lifting the now-full pitcher. "And look—all juiced."
"What are you doing with the peels?" Charles asked, watching as Benjamin carefully laid them out on a tray and covered them with a cheesecloth.
"I'm drying them. Orange peels are quite versatile," Benjamin explained, placing the tray near the window. "They aid in digestion and metabolism when made into tea. They can even be ground into a paste for skin treatments."
"I didn't know that. I always learn something new when I'm with you," Charles said. "Now, shall we go up to the terrace?"
As they sat on the cushioned folding beds sipping freshly squeezed orange juice, Charles returned to his earlier point. "So, will you come to the ball with me? You don't have to worry about any of the arrangements. You'll take the carriage with me to Amara and you can even reside with me at the palace."
"I — I don't think I can… There will be a large crowd, mostly royalty and nobility. I'm not one of them. And, I don't think I even have anything to wear for such a grand occasion. Then there's the clinic. I would have to close it," Benjamin felt himself panicking at the invitation.
"I already told you that I'd take care of all the arrangements. That includes your attire. Leave it to me. As for the clinic, I can arrange for another doctor to manage while you're away. I'm only asking you to come with me because I really think you'll enjoy it there. It's a new experience, if nothing else."
"I also know you prefer to keep a low profile, and I'll make sure things stay that way for you. You don't have to go as a doctor if you don't want to. You could pretend to be someone else entirely and I'll go along with it," Charles reached out, winking, taking Benjamin's hand in his and giving it a gentle, pleading squeeze. "Please just say you'll come with me!"
Benjamin's heart raced. This is exactly why I need to stop seeing him. My body reacts so strangely to his presence. Even the chaos of my last heat... He gently withdrew his hand, his skin still tingling from the contact.
"I'll think about it..." Benjamin said. "When is the ball?"
"In about six weeks. The trip to Amara takes about three days, and we've been asked to arrive a day before the ball."
"I see… Well, thank you for the invitation. I'll be sure to let you know if I can make it after I take everything into consideration," Benjamin said.
Benjamin let out a long and deep sigh, before telling Charles about his conundrum. "Earlier, you asked if me something was bothering me. Well, I had dinner with Wren the other night. It was about the private matter he mentioned last week..."
Charles nodded, doing his best to look unfazed, though he was already bracing himself. Every time the name "Wren Baek" came out from Benjamin's mouth, it guaranteed that some unpleasant news would follow.
"Wren said that… Well, he said he's interested in getting to know me as more than a colleague. And… And he asked for my hand in marriage," Benjamin said, letting out another long sigh.
Charles remained silent. Suddenly, he felt a heavy, sinking feeling in his chest. This morning, he had been worried about Benjamin's safety as the sole survivor among sixteen doctors. Now, he was facing a threat he was even less prepared for — Dr. Wren Baek, with a marriage proposal.