Kingdom of Arzialla by Marilyn Arias (best books to read all time TXT) 📖

“PRINCE. PRINCE ZELIMIR, DID YOU fall asleep up there again?”

Seems unfair that a royal soldier must awaken me even when I don't have to. You would assume that after two years of being a “prince” that they’d know by now how I’m not a morning person whatsoever.

While letting out a groan, I shifted somewhat to my side on the branch, careful not to fall off the tree. I all of a sudden felt something fall off my lap however and remembered how I fell asleep reading.

“Prince, don’t be like that. Come on please come down,” the soldier said. I hate the soldiers in the kingdom. I feel like they’re too courteous, too respectful only because the king took me in.

“Prince, you must get down here,” he said.

My hand reached up for anything—anything at all that might have hung from a branch above me. I found something hard and round, probably a nut, and threw it at him without glancing at him.

"Please, it's—", he was interrupted by the nut and by the sound of it, my blind aim was accurate. "Your Highness!"

Annoyed, I sighed and dropped myself from the tree branch. I gracefully landed on my feet and walked past the soldier after picking up my book.

“I’m not a prince,” I muttered.

After leaving the garden, I almost crawled all the way through the entire palace, into my room, and into the master bathroom. I turned the faucet and let the bath tub fill up with warm water. As the tub was filling up, I walked back to my room and plopped onto my luxurious bed. I sighed out of exhaustion and hated the fact that I must go to school only because I promised the king. Since I wanted to be the best educated soldier, I promised that I'll do what I must. Whether I'm his adopted son or not, one cannot disobey the king.

It’s almost over, Zel. Only one week. Just got to go through one more week: the knighting ceremony, a graduation party, and Syveria’s birthday. All within a single week I told myself.

At the moment, I’m a soldier in training, assigned to work in the dungeons, but as soon as I graduate, I'll be ranked up. King Zysman wanted to put me into a higher place but I wanted to be equal with my classmates. Like I told him two years ago, I don’t seek fame, fortune, or glory. I just want the best education to achieve my goal, which is to just protect the people. I refuse to look down on anybody and to let anybody look up to me just because I’m most likely heir to the throne. Frankly, I don’t want the throne.

Plus, I get to see Orde once in a while whenever I can.

A raspy meow alerted me and I lifted my head up from my bed to glance at Cally. She’s already grown big compared to when I first found her. She’s even learning to roar. She likes to meow a lot lately, only this time, it sounded more like she needed something.

“What’s up, girl?” I asked her.

She gave out another meow. For a second, she sat there staring at me as if expecting to know what her necessity was. Then she walked over to her golden fish-shaped food bowl—yes, the king even went out of his way to make my cat’s food bowl made out of pure gold. She sat next to it, glanced at it, looked up at me, and meowed again.

“Aw, are you hungry?” I said as I got up and walked over to her bowl. Her food bowl was empty.

I groaned again, wondering if it’s really that hard for any of the king’s servants to at least remember to feed my pet. For one who annoyingly gets treated like they’re royalty, I don’t always get what I rarely ask the staff to do. I don't ask because I expect them to as a prince, but as a favor since I usually don't have time to get ready in the morning.

I walked out the room with it, Cally followed me eagerly. I went back downstairs and into the kitchen. Chefs and waiters busily moved around in preparation for breakfast. The smell of eggs sizzling on pans over lit charcoal and bread in the oven filled the air. Potatoes sat in bowls to cool after being left in boiling hot water and fresh strawberries, apples, pears, kiwis, and other various fruits were placed in a small basket, waiting to be chopped into a fruit salad.

Without caring if anybody noticed me, I took a small saucepan and an open skillet and placed them on an empty spot on the counter. I opened a drawer and found the box of matches that I needed to light up the charcoal. I found newspaper lying around in the corner of the kitchen and lit a couple of pages on fire after rolling them and folding them like pretzels. I threw the lit newspaper into the charcoal and that’s when someone finally approached me.

“Prince, is there something you wish? You mustn’t be here,” a chef said. He was rather large and wore a thin, curly mustache.

“It’s okay. How about you make yourself helpful and start this fire,” I told him without glancing at him as I placed the saucepan and skillet over the fire. I stepped aside, found liquor in one of the cabinets and poured some in the warm saucepan.

The chef placed more newspaper in the fire and slipped some twigs under the pan and skillet. “But sire, is there something you’d like right away? We’ll take care of it.”

I ignored him as I grinded two sausages and a piece of pork together. After that, I kneaded them together as I sprinkled spices into it. My kitty sat next to my feet, patiently waiting and watching silently.

“Please sire. I’m asking you to tell me what you wish. It’s not safe for a prince to be in here,” he begged as I placed the ground meat in a bowl.

I pretended that I didn’t hear him and said “Excuse me” as I walked around him with the bowl. The skillet was nicely hot so I tilted the bowl over it, making the meat plop into it. The meat hissed pleasantly and I could see Cally getting excited.

“Sire please, I—” his words were cut off when I took the pan of boiling liquor and poured it over the meat, making it blaze. The fire grew in strength and gave out a tremendous roar. I tossed the meat up into the air, mixing it and tearing it into small pieces as it cooked within the pan.

“How about someone bring me two small bowls and a glass of milk?” I asked the general staff without taking my eyes off of the flames. I sprinkled in some herbs and spices into the meat and within no time, it was done. Just as I was about to pour water over the coal, the chef insisted I don’t do that since they’ll make that of use for them. I shrugged and a woman rushed in front of me with what I asked for. I poured the hot ground meat into one bowl and the milk into the other.

I finally looked up at the chef and gave my thanks for letting me use the kitchen. Just as he was about to say a few more words, I walked away and out of the kitchen with the two bowls in my hand.

I walked back up to my room, with Cally following me. When I stepped into my room, I was planning on transferring the meat into her expensive food bowl but then I heard the water running.

“Oh, shit!” I swore to myself as I placed the bowls down right at where I stood and bolted for the bathroom. When I opened the door, I found the tub to be fill beyond over the rim. Water was spilling onto the tile floor and I didn’t hesitate to rush to the tub. I turned off the faucet, reached into the water—in which made more water pour out of the tub—and pulled the plug. I stood up and stared at the wet floor with a sigh. I took two rather large towels and spread it out on the floor, covering whatever was wet. I decided that that was good enough for now and I undressed myself before hopping into the tub.

When I finished my bath and dressed up, I walked into my room and found both bowls to be empty. I glanced around and found my cat comfortably curled up and sleeping peacefully on my bed.

I grinned at her before I left my room and walked down the stairs. I headed towards the dining room, finding two soldiers guarding the double doors as expected. As one, they opened the doors, allowing me to enter. As always, I found the long dining table to be full of food. The king sat in his usual spot, reading a book as he ate. I’ve always wondered if that’s all he does with his life. Read, read, and read. Come to think of it, the books he chooses don’t really change in appearance or cover…

King Zysman glanced up at me before saying good morning. I pulled a chair from underneath the table and took my seat. I grabbed a pitcher of fresh orange juice and poured it into a glass.

“I spoke to the chef just a moment ago,” Zysman said.

I glanced up at him and held my glare for a few seconds before speaking, “I’m sorry.”

“You could’ve just simply asked, you know,” he said before taking a sip of his tea.

“If you want something done right, do it yourself,” I quoted. He arched an eyebrow at me and then sighed. Before he could say a word, I continued. “I don’t want to be looked up to.”

“You can’t help it. When people see that you’re considered to be even at least a friend to the king, they become much more friendly and respectable to you.”

“Well, they can respect me as an equal, not as royalty,” I said while cutting three layers of pancakes into pieces. I took my first bite as Zysman watched me in thought.

“Do you really find the high class to be irate?” he asked.

“It’s not that. It’s…” I trailed off, trying to find the words. When I did, I said, “It’s that I feel like they only admire me for my status, not for who I am. I feel like behind those awe-stricken masks, they’re scared that if they offend me or do me wrong for the smallest, stupidest things, I’ll report it to you and make sure I’ll have them banished from Arzialla or something.”

It was an exhaggeration, I know.

“Sometimes you can’t help it,” he repeated.

We sat there in silence as we ate and after a few minutes, a woman with a teapot entered the room. She offered some tea to the king, delighted when he accepted the suggestion. Looking at her, it reminded me of something.

“Well, if you really want me to make a legitimate order…” I whistled at the lady and nodded her to come at my side. As she approached me, eager to serve me, I straightened myself in my chair with shoulders poised to