Caspian could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears as he stood before the whole of Aspiria to send his father off to whatever sort of afterlife awaited him on the other side of the funeral. It was far from the first speech he’d ever given to the people, but it was the first without any oversight or follow-up from the man inside the casket. Although the advice Jacob had given him had been good, it hadn’t completely mitigated his anxiety, and he had to take a few long breaths on his way over to the podium before he launched into the address he’d written earlier.

As he began to speak about Atlas, cementing his memory as one of the country’s most powerful leaders by reminding the audience of the laws and decrees he’d enacted during his reign, he felt oddly detached. It was as if he’d split into two separate versions of himself: one who was delivering the message to Aspiria and another who was observing the event from a distance. He was aware that his lips were moving and words were pouring forth, but at the same time, his mind had wandered away from the sentences written on the paper in front of him, preferring to listen and critique as he went along.

Maybe it was the start of his processing or maybe he just had so many stopped-up feelings that they were too overpowering to keep forcing down, but talking about his father as a heroic figure in that moment made him feel like a hypocrite. Their last conversation had been a massive fight over Atlas’s decision to have him institutionalized because the monarch couldn’t believe that his son would take someone else’s side over his. Even before that argument, they’d rarely seen eye to eye on anything. His father had withheld praise and encouragement to the point that if he ever spoke a kind word, it was dumbfounding. In his personal life, the king wasn’t someone he looked up to, so each laudatory word that he spoke over the crowd felt tainted.

The worst part was that as he continued to describe all the ways Atlas had bettered Aspiria, he felt cheated. His father had been harsh and critical on him, but when it came to their country, he’d slaved away until his dying breath to ensure that their people—or at least, the high borns—and the nation as a whole was prosperous. He’d diligently upheld relations with Aspiria’s allies, funneled money into the borders to defend the kingdom from both internal and external threats, made public appearances to assure the people that he was still a capable leader even in his ailing health, and made financial decisions on behalf of the county that had made the richest citizens even more wealthy. He’d dedicated everything to his duties as the king, and in consequence, ruined his relationship with his own family.

In spite of it all though, Cas couldn’t say that he hated his father. He knew he was too empathetic for his own good, but he also understood that ruling an entire country was demanding work, and there was a part of him that still respected Atlas for everything he’d done when he’d been wearing the crown. Because of that, he forced himself to put his own conflict with the monarch aside until the speech ended, the audience applauded, and he stepped off the stage to take up his seat at the front of the crowd while a minister took over to finish the rest of the funeral.

Afterwards, Jacob upheld his end of their deal and palmed him a flask as they headed back to the car, the cemetery and then finally to the palace. Some of the reporters and guests had tried to ask him about the funeral and offer their condolences for his loss respectively, but the guards that had come with him fended them off until he’d made it safely past the barriers at the edge of the estate. Once he was alone, he went back to his room and shrugged off his suit jacket, sitting down on his bed and fishing his phone from his pocket. It was half past nine o’ clock, so he had about thirty minutes left before he could expect any calls from Iris. It was a much-needed breather though. At the end of a busy day, he was just glad to have some time to himself, especially since his coronation was set to happen tomorrow at noon.

Taking a swig from the flask he’d borrowed from his security guard, he bent down to untie his shoes and then swung his legs up onto the mattress to lay down on his back. It was still hard for him to believe that in less than twenty-four hours, he was going to be crowned king. The ground had yet to settle over his father’s grave, and he was going to be taking over the reign of Aspiria. He shook his head at the thought, fixing his gaze absently on the ceiling as he sipped at the flask again. By now, most of the whiskey inside had disappeared. He didn’t know exactly how much he’d drank, but he could definitely feel the effect of the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream. It offered a pleasant numbness, and he closed his eyes with a slow exhale, letting his mind wander to less stressful things.

Almost reflexively, he found himself thinking about Iris, wondering how she was doing since he’d left the Sunset Veil in a rush that morning and wishing he could go back to see her. Even though the timing hadn’t been great, he didn’t regret running off to the resort with her the day before. Knowing that she was in a safe location for the time being gave him some peace of mind, and he’d also enjoyed spending the night with her for the first time. Memories of the previous night flitted through his mind, and he smiled to himself. He’d only told her to call if she needed anything, but he did hope that she would reach out even if she didn’t. When everything else in his life felt like it was moving too quickly for him to keep up, hearing her voice was always a welcomed reprieve.