Chapter 28 - Unmotivated (1/2)

I was at a loss for words. How was I supposed to motivate someone so utterly defeated? I had only taken one abnormal psychology class in college but it was glaringly obvious that the male lead of this novel was depressed.

I had no room to judge. Being shunted to the side and isolated the way he had would be more than enough to damage the psyche of a child.

His natural tendency to give up and run away without trying, on top of his overall apathy, were the clearest signs based on what I had read. I wasn't cut out for this.

”Only because you let him,” I said firmly.

Buck up, buttercup! You're the hero of this story! The Alpheus in the novel was far more capable than he originally believed.

”You aren't the only one who doesn't like Sigmund. If enough people worked together, there's no way he would be able to get what he wants.”

Al seemed surprised by my words. ”I thought you didn't want to be involved in palace politics.”

That was Plan A. Since I had been forcefully dragged into them anyway I had to make this guy start acting like a main character. Plan B was fully underway.

”I didn't, but since I'm here I may as well do something. Wouldn't you rest easier once we leave knowing the kingdom is in better hands than Sigmund's?”

”It doesn't matter to me.”

There was that apathy again. What had Marcy done to snap him out of it? I wracked my brains and couldn't remember a thing.

Clearly I couldn't replicate whatever she did. I needed the woman herself.

With a sigh, I took him by the hand and led him out of the paddock. ”Come on, I want cream puffs. We're raiding the kitchen.”

”Sounds exciting,” he said with more feeling than he had expressed since the subject turned toward his brothers.

So he cared more about dessert than he did the affairs of his own kingdom. Al could be a real piece of work too. Was there anyone actually reliable in this novel?

We had to sneak by quite a few people who would realize I had ditched my bridal lessons, including Madame Chalaise.

It took me back to those spy games Abby and I used to play where we would have to get past our mom in the kitchen in order to swipe bacon or cookies or whatever delicious treat we weren't supposed to have at the time.

What I wouldn't give to see Abby right now. She had always been better with people than me. If anybody would know how to fix this mess, she would.

After yet another close call where we ducked behind a suit of armor, my heart was racing. Al had an indulgent grin on his face.

”Are cream puffs really worth all of this? You can always request them during afternoon tea.”

I could, but that wasn't the objective here. I needed to get this fool into the kitchens for a shot of Marcy Motivation.

”Where's the fun in that?”

”You have the oddest idea of fun. But I suppose that is fun in and of itself.”

”Don't tell me you never snuck into the kitchen before?” I asked in disbelief.

What kid didn't try to poach snacks that would supposedly spoil their dinner? Oh yeah. He's a prince. All he had to do was ask and just about anything would be delivered to him on a silver platter.

”I'm afraid not. Your childhood appears to have been much more colorful than mine,” he said with a slight air of glumness.

Right. Childhood-related topics were taboo.

”Well, you're experiencing it now and that's what matters,” I said brightly before checking to see if the coast was clear and gesturing for him to take the lead. Obviously he knew the castle better than I did.

When we arrived dinner preparations were already underway. The heavenly smell of roast lamb wafted down the hall and I felt myself salivating. Focus! We were here for Marcy and Marcy alone.