Aster woke to darkness, as he did every morning now for the past twelve years. He was used to it by now, though he still missed his mother’s face. He sat up and rubbed his face, the now familiar chill of his petrified eyes greeting him.

  Hearing the door open, he heard his elf servant enter the room. If Aster remembered correctly, he was about his age. And while he never knew what he looked like, Aster welcomed the sound of his voice.

  “Good morning, Your Highness.” Zyran greeted, his voice portraying the image of an elf about as tall as Aster.

  “Good morning,” Aster answered, stretching and reaching for his blindfold. He never liked the uncomfortable silence that seemed to follow when he entered a room without it. He didn’t want his blindness to be another focus; it was his problem, after all. “What’s on the agenda today?”

  “Oh, not a lot,” Zyran answered, having entered the room and stood nearby to help should Aster need it. “Though there are rumors that the Queen Mother has offered invitations to the kingdom’s nobility for your birthday this weekend.”

  Aster stood and tilted his head back with a groan.

  Zyran laughed. “I know. However, I can’t confirm the rumor myself aside from hearsay.”

  “Where’s you hear the said rumor?”

  Aster listened to Zyran pause in thought, smiling at the little hum his friend gave. “The maids.”

  “Then it’s true,” Aster answered, tying the blindfold around his eyes. “You mind tying this? I always get my hair caught.”

  “Of course,” Zyran answered, taking hold of the blindfold’s ends and carefully tying it into place. “How are you sure it’s true? It’s a rumor from the maids.”

  “Because it’s the Maids, Zy,” Aster answered, feeling the knot tie snuggly to his head. “They know everything.”

  It didn’t take long for the prince to finish getting ready, and with a staff in hand and Zyran beside him, Aster made his way through the palace to the dining hall. In his youth, Kyrie the Wandering Gardener had told him he’d eventually find his other senses grow stronger while his eyesight was no more. It didn’t take long for Aster to see this true; it started with his sense of smell, being able to smell what was being made for meals to the point it became a game for him and Zyran to guess what was being made. Next, his hearing. Eventually, it became nearly impossible to sneak up on Aster, though it remained possible if he was distracted.

  He took a deep breath, smelling the baking that breakfast held for him. He was guessing omelets with peppers, mushrooms, strix oatmeal, and sliced apples with honey. Soon, the doors creaked open to allow him entrance, and he heard silver utensils stop their actions.

  “Ah! Good morning, Dearest Aster,” he heard his mother greet, making him smile.

  “Good morning, Mother,” Aster answered, lightly tapping the end of his staff to find his chair and sit down across from his mother. “And father?”

  “I’m here, son,” King Emrys answered. “I trust you slept well,”

  “I did,” Aster answered, listening as servants filled his plate. Mentally, he tried to map out what the plate looked like and where everything was, though when he reached for a fork for the omelet, his fingers grazed the honey-drizzled apple slices instead.

  “Oh, dear, Zyran, will you-” Queen Yvaine started.

  “No, I can handle it, mother.” Aster insisted, grinning as he picked up the apple and ate, if anything, to cover up the mistake.

  “Y’vaine, must you keep babying the boy?” Emrys asked. “He’s darn near twenty now.”

  “It’s true,” Aster answered. “Besides, aren’t you busy preparing for guests this weekend?”

  He heard his mother shift a bit. “Aster, that was a surprise!”

  “Then perhaps plan when the maids aren’t in the room?” Aster teased.

  He heard a deep chuckle come from his father. “Perhaps we should have named you after the Fox instead of the Stars. You certainly hear like one.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “And lose the nickname of the Starry-Eyed Prince?” Aster asked, finding the fork and enjoying the omelet at last. Indeed, sweet peppers and mushrooms were inside. He missed the scent of goat cheese, though.

  He took a breath and sighed. “Why are you inviting the dignitaries?”

  This time, he heard both of his parents shift and fidget. That alone gave him the answer.

  “Aster, you’re of age to find someone to share your yolk as king,” Emrys answered. “Just as I found your mother.”

  Aster sat back a moment. “It almost sounds like you think I can’t do it alone, Father.”

  Emrys laughed. “Aster, I can’t rule the Elven Kingdom alone, and I have the eyes of a hawk. It’s not a judgment on whether you can or cannot; it’s a matter of having someone share the load.”

  “Wouldn’t that be an unfair load, though?” Aster asked. “Whoever I choose to be my bride someday will have to live knowing I cannot see her face or that of anyone in the kingdom. She would have to be my eyes, on top of her duties as queen.”

  He ate more, feeling the room’s silence like a heavy cloak. He knew his mother was giving him a sad look and was glad he couldn’t see it. Ultimately, he would have to manage things himself upon becoming king.

  He heard his mother sigh. “I’ve already sent out the invitations,” she told him. “They’ll be here within the next day or so. So if not to find a bride for yourself, perhaps use this to have a happy birthday?”

  Aster sighed. Clearly, his mother had been planning this for a while. At least she’s getting better at hiding events from the maids. “That much I can do,” He agreed, nodding slightly. After all, he doubted any of this would come to anything. His father was still in good health and likely would be until Aster was well into his forties, maybe even fifties, if he didn’t step down from the throne himself. He wasn’t in a hurry to find a bride, which he counted as a blessing.

  Fwing! Thunk!

  “How far off?” Aster asked, a bow in hand, a quiver of blunted arrows with sacks of colored powder on the ends at his side. It was mid-afternoon by now, and Aster was practicing archery. The news of a ball had him unsettled. While he knew most of Golden Leaf knew he was blind, he wasn’t as certain about the dignitaries in the further areas of the kingdom, and it made him self-conscious.

  Zyran was quiet for a moment as he studied the target. A couple of long moments. “Zyran, was it a hit or a miss?”

  Zyran chuckled. “A miss, Your Highness.” He answered. “Though it looks like a sword practice dummy needs a nurse for his shoulder.”

  “So that’s what that sound was?” Aster asked. “Thought it sounded more tree-like.”

  “Then why ask if it was a hit if you knew you hit something?” Zyran asked, a smile in his tone.

  Aster lowered the bow and sighed. “I was concerned that there wasn’t a shout.”

  “Oh, trust me, Your Highness, if you had hit someone, I would have shouted,” Zyran answered. “Why do you wish to learn archery? Wouldn’t swordplay benefit you better?”

  “It’s more to prove to myself that I can do it,” Aster answered, looking towards his friend. “Plus, using weapons that require sight is challenging.”

  “Fair enough,” Zyran replied. “You were three feet right to the target. Pull back more to the left. Are you sure this isn’t because of the guests coming for your ball?”

  “Can we not call it a ball?” Aster asked. “Princesses have balls…”

  Zyran hummed as Aster drew another arrow and nocked it. He waited until Aster pulled the bow back before answering. “Perhaps we could call it your Birthday Bash?”

  “My what?” Aster asked, prematurely releasing his arrow and sending it to the left.

  This time, there was a shout. And to Aster’s ears, it sounded like a woman.

  “Oh, Terra! Sorry!” Zyran called out, and Aster could hear Zyran rushing off.

  Dropping his bow, Aster ran after him, following his footsteps as they rushed towards the woman. However, when he reached Zyran’s side, he heard him lightly chuckling. “Are you hurt?” Aster blurted out.

  “No! Thankfully!” Scoffed the woman. Aster tilted his head; this was an unfamiliar voice. “Though I doubt my laundry basket needs this abuse! What’s the big idea of firing off arrows willy-nilly like that?!”

  “Now, hold on,” Zyran started, but the woman went on, and Aster felt a slender finger poke his chest.

  “You! Were you seriously firing that thing blindfolded? What is going on in that head?? You could have killed someone!”

  “I-Wait, one moment-” Aster started, the tips of his ears turning red.

  “Save it! I’ll be having a word with your master about this!” The woman answered. Aster listened as he heard her pick up the arrow from the ground and shove it into his hand. “I know the saying goes, ‘I can do it with my eyes closed,’ but this is ridiculous! Find a safer hobby! Now I need to rewash these; they’re covered in blue ink powder! Thanks for the extra chore!”

  “Excuse-” Aster started, but he could hear the woman scoff and stomp away, supposedly with the wounded basket of linens.

  Aster stood there for a moment before looking towards Zyran. “Who was that?”

  “I don’t recognize her or her clothes,” Zyran answered, his voice tight. “She sure didn’t recognize you.”

  Aster scowled before lightly pushing Zyran’s shoulder. “It’s not funny,”

  “Oh, it is hilarious, Your Highness,” Zyran answered, snickering openly. “She must be a new maid from a far-off part of the kingdom.”

  “Maybe,” Aster answered. “Though I didn’t think people outside the neighboring provinces of Golden Leaf wouldn’t realize I’m blind… I thought that was common knowledge. Zyran, would you stop snickering already?”

  “Why? The way she told you off isn’t something I see daily!” Zyran answered, finally letting loose and laughing.

  Aster rolled his eyes and tilted his head back. “Hopefully, the maids won’t be too upset at the color,”

  “Blue was a fitting shade with the oranges and yellows she was wearing.” Zyran laughed, though Aster could hear new footsteps approaching them.

  “Prince Aster,” The man greeted as he approached. “King Emrys and Queen Y’vaine wish to see you in the Throne Room. Count Luelle and his daughter, lady Lysandra, have arrived.”