As I send a glare in his direction, I see that his attention is no longer on me but is instead on the board. With his chin resting in the palm of his hand and his pencil hovering over his paper, he looks like nothing happened, like our argument was nothing to him.

My eye twitches.

How can he be so... so composed? There must be something wrong with his head. Is he not fearful of what I could do to him? I am the Prince of Gantia. I have the power to move mountains, crush cities, and demolish entire civilizations! Okay, that's being overdramatic, but the point is that I have power. Crushing a pest like him is child's play for me, yet he doesn't look concerned at all.

I have never in my life been denied things I want. Normally I would not get so angry over a seat, but the way he acted like I was nothing made my blood boil. He spoke to me with such disrespect that I couldn't think straight, still can't think straight.

"I am so sorry, Aron," a voice says at my side, breaking me from my raging train of thought. Langley frowns as he, too, sends a glare towards Quinton, who still hasn't bothered to look over at us. He has to know we're staring. "Quinton has always been a stuck-up bastard, but I would never have dreamed he would speak to you in such a way. We'll teach him a lesson."

"Do it. I hate it when others do not know their place."

I do my best to forget about what happened by focusing all my attention on Professor Bennett's lesson. This is, after all, my first day at school. I am now fifteen years of age and mother has finally managed to talk my father, the king, into allowing me to attend Thorton's Academy. To say I'm excited would be an understatement. I'm thrilled.

Being the heir to the throne, my father has always been rather protective of me. I was hardly ever allowed off of palace grounds, except to attend the odd political get-together that would further my father's popularity or the occasional fair, which father would shut down and allow none but the royal family and their bodyguards to attend. I have no siblings, as my mother is incapable of bearing any more due to medical reasons. I am...“protected” from the world for obvious reasons. Not everyone is kind, not everyone likes my father, which means not everyone likes me, and because of that I am watched like a hawk.

The few friends I had when I was younger were either children of our servants, who were more like forced acquaintances that would obey me rather than true friends that would hang out with me. They were never a challenge in any games, always allowing me to win without much effort, always cheering for me while their eyes practically screamed at me that they didn’t want to be within a five-mile radius of me. I would wave them off in the end, pretending to be mad to mask the pain and play alone. It was easier that way. If they weren’t even going to give me a shot, then why even bother?

Then there were “friends” like Langley, kids of other political officials, who I saw on special occasions. Langley and I have seen each other more recently and will continue to do so, seeing as we are roommates now. He hasn’t always been so kind to me, though, and used to behave much like the other children who simply allowed me to do as I wished. He’s much better now, though there are times where I clearly see the difference in our classes, like when he backs down when normally he would say something. It stings, but I’ve gotten used to it.

I have been told that I have a serious issue with communication. I tend to speak my mind without thinking of the consequences. Of course I do—I was never taught otherwise. I grew up in a home where I got what I wanted. Well, most of the time. I suppose father spoiled me because he knew I hated being locked up in the palace all day. I was even homeschooled! It was awful. Not to mention I had to act proper and mature in front of the officials of the court. I was hardly ever allowed to act like a normal kid...

Unlike most children, who learned how to play sports and socialize with friends, I learned battle strategies and politics. While others learned to swim, I learned how to shoot a gun. While others learned how to make friends, I learned how to work a person politically. It was hell knowing that no matter how hard I tried I'd never be like anyone else, though I desperately wished for it.

No matter how much I begged to be put into school so that I could actually make friends, something that everyone should be allowed to do, father said no, but he said yes to just about everything else.

When I was seven I insisted my father buy me an exact replica of a knight’s armor, in my size, of course. A week later father and I had a matching set and we played together every evening, pretending to slay dragons and save princesses for about a month before I moved on to something else.

When I was nine I wanted a home movie theater, so my father tore down part of the castle that was hardly used and built one for me. He even got us early access to movies and we would see them before they even hit the theater. It was great to pretend like I was outside with everyone else watching movies when in reality the only one in the theater was me. (At least I didn’t have to share my popcorn.)

Last year I wanted my own pond on palace grounds so I could go swimming or fishing. Not long afterwards, father knocked down a few trees and gave me exactly that. I even have a dock with a small boat.

I suppose getting what I want has given me an issue with the word “no.” I'm so used to the answer always being yes that when it isn't I'm not sure what to say or do. I have a feeling that this Quinton kid is going to be saying no to me a lot... and I'm going to have to change that.