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CHAPTER 2.
ASA



Wind pushed his hair from his forehead as he walked across the fields of the palace, the trees, the flowers, the sounds, a distant presence he barely noticed. He hadn’t known where he was going until he was there, the pale golden light of the morning blinding him through the pond in the center. Asa let himself fall against the grass. He picked a rock and threw it in the water, splashing his shoes and his arms as it went in. 
Here, they’d played. Here, in this place no one else knew, the only thing really sacred between them, Asa had patched him up after a quarrel that left a solitary scar on his abdomen, just above his right hip. Here, he thought his brother would die in his arms, at fourteen. 
He’d promised not to tell their parents, and he had kept that promise. Acel had walked funny for weeks, and always leaned on Asa when no one was looking, but whenever they went to the lake, or came down here to the pond, Asa’s eyes would trail down to that scar, almost invisible if you didn’t know where to look.
There was no scar on the corpse down at the tombs of the palace.
Asa threw another stone at the pond. The fish feeding just below the surface of the water skittered away. 
“Why did you do it, you bastard?” he muttered to the grass. 
Not just the running away, but—well, everything. The lies, the death, the treason.
The day they’d made the agreement flashed before his eyes, and his throat closed, heat spreading across his cheeks as his eyes welled up and spilled. 
That moment certainly felt like the beginning of the end now. How angry Acel was at his proposal, how desperately Asa wanted him to agree. Instead, Acel threw his weaknesses at his face. 
The thing was, Asa had never wanted to be king. Yes, it was his birthright, but the idea gave him nightmares, made his breathing catch. The mere thought of being king filled him with dread. And Acel—he made more sense. He really did. He wasn’t as unreliable, wasn’t as complicated. 
Well, he didn’t seem as unreliable. 
So Asa made him an offer.
He’d intercepted Acel when he was returning from the gardens, grabbed his elbow and made him turn back around. To their secret place.
“What are we doing here?” Acel asked, looking around nervously. It must have seemed strange to him that Asa had dragged him to their secret place after the fights they’d been having for the past few weeks. “I’m meeting Chrissie for supper in the terrace.”
Asa’s heart stopped at the mention of her name, the casualness behind it. He wondered if an invitation for him to join them would follow that, but none came. 
He knew they spent time together. Ever since she moved to the palace to take care of the wedding arrangements they’d been finding excuses for it, which Asa thought was fine at first. He was glad of it, even. If they could get along, marrying someone he didn’t love—hell, someone he didn’t even know—would be a little more bearable. 
And it worked. Acel and Chrissie had gotten along famously, and knew each other a little too well. 
“How is Christianna?” Asa asked, trying to keep the bite of jealousy from his tone. “I haven’t seen her in days.”
Acel sighed, his breath already coming out as fog, and cast his eyes down, suddenly finding the grass incredibly amusing. 
Asa didn’t look away, urging him to answer.
Acel looked on the verge of passing out. 
“Never mind,” he said, and squared his shoulders. He opened his mouth and closed it again once, twice, before the words actually came out. “Do you think our lives are fair?”
Acel narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “What do you mean?”
“I’m going to be King and you’re not. Do you think that’s fair?”
Acel’s eyes softened. “It doesn’t have to be fair, Asa. It’s just the way things are.”
“But don’t you want to be king?”
“It has nothing to do with what I want. It’s the law. Don’t worry about me.”
But he wasn’t worried about Acel. He was jealous of him. He envied his freedom to choose what path in life he wanted to follow, to choose who to marry instead of having some princess chosen for him. To simply choose. It was a luxury not everyone got. Him, least of all.
Asa inhaled, the air painfully heavy with the premise of what he was about to say, and when he exhaled he let the words fly out. 
“I don’t want to be king.” He didn’t think he’d said it out loud before. “I want you to be king in my place.”
Acel’s eyes widened as he crossed the distance between them in two long steps. God, Asa hated his agility, his effortlessness, how much better he was at everything. He hated that his face wasn’t scarred because he never went out, never did anything improper, he just wasted his time being a prince instead of being out there enjoying himself.
“You wish to abdicate?” Asa didn’t miss the tone of hopefulness in his brother’s voice.
“No,” he said, slowly. “I want you to be king in my place.”
Acel blinked rapidly. “Right. Abdicate. You wish to give me the throne?”
Acel did want the throne. Of course he did. 
The tiny speck of hope Asa had allowed himself to have grew twice its size. It gave him the courage to keep going.
“I don’t want to abdicate,” Asa said. “I want you to be king as me. And I’ll be you.”
Acel stepped back, his eyes not looking at Asa anymore but at some point ahead. His eyebrows furrowed, almost touching; his lips parted, a thin line of space now separating them, and his blue eyes almost disappeared behind his lids, his expression going from hope to confusion in seconds.
His eyes went back to Asa. “But I don’t want you to be me. I want to be me.”
“And I want to be me but we can both agree I will not make a very good king.”
“Then decline!” Acel said, his confusion turning to anger quickly than he’d had anticipated.  “Give the throne to me!”
Asa’s hands fisted, he tasted the venom in his voice before he spoke.
“I’d rather fake my own death than have all of Thysia thinking I’m incapable.”
Acel’s eyes dropped to Asa’s wrists, the gesture as painful as a punch in the face.
“Oh, you’ll fake it, will you?” Acel said, spitting the words. “Where am I going to find you this time, huh? At the bottom of the lake with rocks in your pockets? Or perhaps swinging from a rope tied to my favorite tree? That’d make it nice and personal like last—.”
“It’s not like that,” Asa cut him, his voice too low for it to be convincing. “It’s not like that,” he repeated, surer. “I want to live, but I can’t do it here.”
Acel backed off, his eyes traveling from Asa’s face to his feet and then back up, looking at him as if he’d become a stranger, someone he had seen a couple of times in his life but was just then realizing what a piece of garbage he truly was.
“You’re a coward,” Acel spat, his voice was barely audible. Then he looked up, hardness entering his eyes. “Thysia deserves better than you.”
“Better a coward than spineless,” he replied, regretting it even before the words left his mouth. 
Acel stepped back, a hand on his stomach as if he was having trouble breathing.
Asa was losing him. He could see it in his brother’s disappointed eyes. He was about to walk away without looking back.
“You could have Chrissie,” Asa blurted out.
Acel leaned in, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “What did you just say?”
“I’m not stupid, Acel,” Asa replied. “I know you’ve been seeing each other.” 
Acel clenched and unclenched his jaw but said nothing.
“You could marry her, if people think you’re me,” Asa continued.
“I could marry her if you decline—.”
“She’s not engaged to the crown, she’s engaged to me,” he said, his head tilting forward, his eyebrows going up.  “What do you think people will say about her when they find out she left me for my brother?” 
Acel looked away from him.
“I’m not angry,” Asa said. “I’m just—. I’m offering everything you want.”
Acel laughed, bitterness spilling from it. “No, you’re not.”
Asa nodded once and shrugged. “I’m offering what I can.”
His brother looked at him, up and down, shaking his head, lips pursed. Asa almost dropped to his knees and begged. Their father was getting worse day after day, the regents were demanding more and more from him, and he—. He didn’t know how long he could keep doing it. 
“Very well.”
Asa looked up at his brother, standing just a two feet shy of him, his back straight, his chin high. 
 “I’ll do it,” Acel said. 
And with those words, Asa chose to ignore the way his brother’s eyes were still hidden behind slits, and the way his breathing had gone from heavy to even and calm. Right then, he’d only felt relieved.
He took a single step toward his brother, his twin. Acel mirrored him, stepping back. 
“Swear it,” Acel said, his eyebrows going up, urging him. “Swear no one will find out. Swear we will not die because of this. Swear to me that once the crown is on my head, it is mine to keep.”
Asa nodded ten times in a second. “I swear.”
Acel shook his head. “No. I need you to say it.” 
For as long as Asa could remember, looking at his brother had been like looking at a mirror. Then, his chest rising and falling, his back painfully straight, looking at him with that anger, Acel seemed to be generations older for the second it took him to catch himself and relax his shoulders. 
“Swear the crown will be mine and mine alone,” he said again. “Swear Thysia will belong to my children, and they will never fear a day in which one of yours will come back claiming their birthright. If you will not do it in front of our parents and our people, then at least do it in front of me.”
Behind Acel, the sun was halfway down, its light crowning him as if he was the chosen one. 
Asa stepped forward.
He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and fixed his eyes on the setting sun, the trees catching fire in the distance with the orange glow, the pond turning to liquid gold. 
This was what he wanted, what he’d always wanted. The throne was not meant for him to sit on, the crown not meant for him to wear. He feared that more than anything, had tried all means to escape it. And now he had. But at what cost?
“I decline my right to the throne.” He said the words they were taught in history lessons but were instructed never to use. “I swear the crown will be yours and yours alone. I swear Thysia will belong to your children, while mine will live unaware of their lineage unless you choose otherwise. You are the future king of Thysia. I will disappear.” 
Acel extended his hand.
Asa deflated and took it, warmth spreading through his veins at the touch of their palms. 
“It’s a pact,” his brother said. 
“Thank you,” he replied.
Acel snorted, taking his hand back. “Don’t think for one second I’m doing it for you.”
Then he turned around and walked straight for the sun. 
That was five days ago.
Now Asa stretched on the ground, his feet dangling above the water, the heels of his boots disturbing the peace of the surface just slightly. He flung an arm across his face, shielding his eyes from the sun. Images of the corpse he’d just run away from flooded his thoughts again, how he wasn’t just a lookalike, but an exact replica of the two of them. He was convinced that if he hadn’t been standing right there, his parents wouldn’t have known which one of their sons it was. Their differences were only noticeable when they opened their mouths. 
Asa moved his head sideways, to where Acel would be lying next to him if he were here, and if they were ten, twelve, fifteen again. He could almost see him, almost hear his breathing, his hand ripping the grass from the ground like he always did. And he wondered again why. 
“I’m not going to play hide and seek with you, if that’s what you’re after,” Asa said. No one was here. No one was ever here. “You want to be dead, then be dead. I’d rather Mother believes her favorite son was murdered than to be the one to tell her he’s a murderer.” 
He waited, but ants were already climbing up his arms. 
You’re always on the other side.
He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Because the alternative was to believe they never talked like this before, that he was losing his mind. It was easier to tell him like this, and if Acel didn’t answer, at least he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in front of the birds. 
He waited a bit longer. 
Nothing. 
Asa stood. It was time to believe the corpse on the table was really his brother and move on with his life.