Interview with Fairivel, Part 4

Part one here.
Part two here.
Part three here.

“Were you ever in love with anyone before Varia?”
He considers a moment, then shakes his head. “I never had many friends. I thought I loved a girl when I was thirteen, but I never really knew until I met Varia.”
I look at the question this leads in to, one from Nathanael, and wince. I forgot to explain to everyone that he didn’t know his wife was a sorceress. He’d have to message me that question later, if he wanted it answered.
Fairivel is staring at me. “Do you have any more?”
“Um, yes.” I fidget, hoping, hoping, hoping he didn’t hear me. “Nathanael asks if you have ever wondered if your son had contact with Varia secretly?”
“Oh, I know he has. Though I don’t know why she would come back just to see him.”
I know why. I ask another question to keep from thinking about it. “Emily asks if you’ve ever tried to reconcile with your son.”
“After he left? No. I can’t just go gallivanting off when I have a country to run.”
Touched a sore spot there, Emily. “Amanda asks why your son doesn’t respect you.”
Fairivel slaps his hands on the table. “I don’t know. I just don’t. Are you quite finished with questions about my wife and son? Because I have a meeting to go to.”
“I only have a few more.” I begin to get nervous until I realize that he can’t possibly go anywhere unless I let him. "Sandra/Charis asks what kind of books you like to read. History, nonfiction, poems, romance? Or a little of everything?" I narrow my eyes at him. "This is a good friend of mine, so be nice."
"Romance," he begins, his tone echoing my own views on the subject, "is a waste of time. I prefer history and nonfiction with the occasional poem, but usually only historical poems. Fiction itself isn't very ... productive."
"Which is why you exist only in fiction. If I thought the same as you, then you wouldn't exist."
"That's different."
"So you say. Nathanael asks if you’ve had any military training, and if you have, what the story is behind that.”
Fairivel squints up at the ceiling again. “Not military training, exactly. I know how to fight and I theoretically know how to lead an army, though I’ve never brought one to field. I learned that because any prince is expected to know it.”
“This is from Amanda: how do you feel about your brother running away?” Another how do you feel question. Oh joy.
“We never got along very well,” Fairivel replies, stacking the empty bowls together. I bite into the bread again. A maid comes to take the dishes. “I was always wishing I was the firstborn and he was always wishing he wasn’t. Though he’d never have let me have the privilege. Not willingly. I suppose I’m glad he’s gone. I can only imagine what he’d say about me ruling.” He rolls his eyes.
And I can only imagine what you’d say if you knew he had a country of his own, I wonder smugly, catching the thought and tucking it away before he sees it. I’m getting pretty good at this. Too bad I didn’t figure it out sooner. “Do you wish you knew where he was now?”
“Not a bit.” He fidgets, glancing at the sun and how far it is above the horizon. “I really –”
“Why did Vytorin run away?” I say, unconcerned about his meeting. I’m finally in control of the interview. Maybe I could handle a villain after all.
“No one really knows. Barron Rey had no idea and mother was too upset to try to figure it out. But” – and here his face takes on the air of someone who has had an idea for a long time and has only now found someone to share it with – “I think Barron Rey – father – was trying to make Vytorin into something he wasn’t.”
“Vytorin didn’t want to rule?”
“Not at all. He didn’t care about who ruled, but he did know that it would be hard work and trouble if he did. He was always lazy.”
“Did you want to, or was it forced on you?”
He looks down, forgetting to fidget. “Yes. I wanted Barron Rey to see me rule and see how well I could do it, but I only got to rule after he … after he died.”
“Two more questions,” I say gently, not wanting to watch him remember his father. “Amanda wants to know why you never sing if you love music so much.”
He rubs his chin again and smiles. A wry smile this time, one that does reach his eyes but in an odd, jaded way. “No use embarrassing myself. Listening is plenty.”
“Embarrassing yourself?”
“I’m about as musical as a boghopper.”
“Nah. With that voice of yours –”
He bows his head and takes the compliment graciously. “Thank you. I’ll just listen.”
“Someone told you that you couldn’t sing, did they?” I demand, leaning across the table over my cooling bread.
He makes a meaningful gesture at the notepad. “What is the other question?”
I won’t forget that, and he knows it, but I let it rest for the moment. “The last one is from Emily, and she wants to know what you thought about her accidentally calling you a girl, which she apologizes for.”
Fairivel smirks. “I thought it was funny. I’m not like a lot of kings who are all worried about their honor, so you may put your friend to rest. Although no one had better tell my son.”
“Don’t worry.” I know he takes it to mean that I won’t tell, but of course his son already knows. I cover up a smirk of my own.
“Well,” he says, standing up. “It has been lovely, my girl, but I’m afraid I need to run.”
“So do I.” I look down at the bread and wonder if I could eat all the rest of it in one bite, because I can’t bear to leave it behind.
Fairivel hears me and winks. “Go ahead. I won’t look.” He bows from the waist; I nod back, and he leaves.
I glance down at the bread, at the kitchen staff – all busy – and pick it up, and fold it, and smell it one last time, and stuff it into my mouth.
I walk out of the kitchen, swinging my arms.
Maybe I could take a villain after all.
Maybe. Maybe next time.