Albert

I push the book away again. I'm fed up. The mentor just opens his mouth: "Your Highness, Prince Albert at your age..." and I'm already looking out the window. I've heard all this a thousand times.

Albert is like an ice statue. Handsome, perfect, not a single crack. Everything is easy for him. And I... I'm not stupid, really. But why should I study if every answer I give is compared to his anyway? If I do something, he's already done it better. If I remain silent, he's smarter. I'll never get praised for nothing. But next to him, I'm nothing. I don't want to be second. I'd rather be nothing than his eternal shadow.

At dinner, Father looks heavy. Mother is silent. And Albert smiles his thin smile. Yesterday he started talking about my grades again—loudly, in front of all the servants. I started boiling inside. I picked up his favorite cup—the one with the golden dragon—and “accidentally” dropped it. Bam! The shards scattered across the stone floor.

Silence. Albert turned white. And his father stood up and said coldly, so coldly that it sent shivers down his spine:
"Stay in your room for two days. Only come out for dinner and lessons. And no sweets this week. And tomorrow morning, apologize to your brother in front of all the servants."

The next morning, I apologized. Through clenched teeth, looking at the floor. But when I looked up, my brother wasn't smiling. And that was a small victory.

And then my horse was taken away. Albert told my father that I'd asked him to send her to military school—to become more serious. My father praised me. And my brother looked out the window and smiled his icy smile. That's how he takes revenge. Quietly, beautifully, you can't find fault. And my parents think he's an angel.

This is war. I will not become like him. Better to sit locked up than to turn into a cold snake in a crown. Studying can wait. First, I want to win.