What Power Could Name the Autumn Prince?

The Autumn Prince had spent years wandering this path to the palace alone; in that time it became loaded with sad, painful memories. Now that he walked it with company, the poor young man almost wished she’d leave.

This strange lady frightened him in ways he’d never thought possible.

Kelsea had fixed her eyes on some point straight ahead, and her arms trembled. Whatever the Barn Owl said to her had clearly caught her off-guard.

But she was braver than the Prince, for she was the one who broke the silence. “What are you, Caspar? How do you have a talking owl?”

He held his breath. For the first time, he wished the owl could be here to speak for him—but she deserved to know the truth before she reached the palace.

Kelsea turned to him, her amber eyes wide with—was that anger? Alarm? The Prince could not decide. “Is this some kind of play?” she whispered. “Or a cult? I don’t know how to look at you anymore!” Turning away, she then mumbled, “Maybe Em was right.”

The Prince realized quickly that he was losing her, especially since she was starting to agree with her paranoid friend. “There is much I have to tell you,” he blurted out in a broken voice, “if you want the ball gown. But—Lady Kelsea—”

“You don’t have to call me that!” she insisted. “Drop the act, Caspar. There’s nothing royal about me!”

He swallowed. “But you are different,” the Prince said, remembering when she asked to be his princess. “I don’t understand you, but I feel that—that I should trust you. I want to trust you.” I want to trust someone.

“You don’t understand me?” she repeated in a whisper. “How do you think I feel? It’s like I walked into some ridiculous…medieval movie…”

Lady Kelsea looked down at the pendant he had given her, perhaps trying to draw from it some meaning.

“I don’t interact with people except on Halloween,” he explained, staring at his feet. “Because people react like this. I am not like you, Lady Kelsea. I don’t have a phone. I know little about your community except what I observe when I venture from my palace.”

“Palace,” repeated Kelsea in a whisper. “Caspar, there are no palaces here. I would know, for goodness’ sake! It’s where I grew up. I know every inch of Bennett—”

“No,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t know. The palace is hidden in the heart of the forest. It cannot be found except by one who already knows where it is. I want to show you the palace, and the ballgown, and then I would like to tell you who I am.”

Kelsea gaped at him. She looked so different on her own, without Emily whispering in her ear. She looked like a warrior, especially in the fearless manner with which she heard his speech.

“The fact I’m here with a stranger is insane,” said Kelsea bluntly at last. She paused, her hand closing around the amber pendant.

Something in her eyes softened; he let out an unexpected sigh of relief.

“But I trust you,” she whispered. “Even though you’re strange. I’m going to give you a chance, Caspar—if that’s really your name.”

He hesitated, wondering if he should admit that he didn’t have a name, but she spoke before he could make a decision.

“Show me,” Kelsea said. It sounded like a command; no one had ever spoken to him with such an attitude before. “I want to see this palace.”

He remembered her warrior-like stance moments before. The Prince could not refuse her, even if he wanted to—he brought her this far, and at some point during their stroll, all authority had been passed to her.

Nodding, he whispered, “This way.”

As he listened to her determined footsteps behind him, the Prince realized that as long as she kept calling him Caspar, he did have a name.

Somehow, in her authority, she’d named him.

What power could name the Autumn Prince? I’ll give you one guess.

With this we kick off the second week of The Autumn Prince. He’s warmed up so much to the idea of belonging that he’ll take the name given him; he’s throwing his tradition out the window for the sake of a girl who scares him very much. I wonder, does he want to find a princess, or does he just want to stop being Prince?

If you missed the first week, start at the beginning of our tale by clicking here. In the last five episodes, the lonely Autumn Prince has found a lady who asked to be princess–but I think he misunderstood her context.

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-Mariella Hunt

Filed under: The Autumn Prince Tagged: fantasy, kelsea, literature, novella, reading, serial, the autumn prince