He would do a lot of things on a normal morning. The regret tasted bitter–not like his coffee, heavy on the cream and sugar.
The warden stood before them and yelled out the charges.
“His Majesty, Dynast Eifion Black-Augustine, son of former Dynast Jihu and Dynasta Dasom, Her Royal Highness, Dynasta Thesdi Black-Augustine, daughter of Ambassador Soo and wife Yul, and Her Royal Highness, Crown Dynast Jay'lis Black-Augustine, daughter of Dynast Eifion and Dynasta Thesdi, heir to the throne, hear this decree. You have all been found guilty of high treason against Augusta!
The punishment: Death by shooting.”
The warden took a step back and a tall man with rich sepia skin and frizzy curly brown hair stepped towards the edge of the execution platform. His style of dress was tacky and hard on the eyes–something that looked like it had been lost and found on the back shelves of a failing thrift store.
“There is a saying,” he said as he observed the crowd before him, his thin lips looking like an open wound. “In a progressive country, change is constant, change is inevitable. In order to usher in the swell of revolutionary change and give life to the new, the old must be eradicated. I have found it impossible to smother the remnants of antiquity nor have I been able to subdue The Royal Family’s acts of outright treason against Augusta. I am powerful and the vision I have for all of Augusta is a wondrously powerful thing indeed. The best vision, believe me. However, in order for that to vision to come true, some things must part ways with the world of the living. There are consequences.”
“What about the storms?” The question was yelled from deep in the crowd of onlookers with the passing ease of someone asking just about the weather.
Eifion’s heart clenched. The storms. The storms! What about the storms!
Eifion’s goal had always been to wean the people of Augusta off the power of his family. He wanted to give them a chance to grow from up under the constant weight of dependency. To do that, he wanted to move them to the Northern Wastelands, a land with peaceful skies but contaminated Earth. The anticipated move required expeditions, analysis of the soil, and water, and terrain. And it would have worked. All they needed was enough clean land and it would be enough to forever eradicate the fear that Augusta could not survive without the Black-Augustines. They could find peace, the only kind of peace that finding security in their safety could offer. He’d been wrong. The Northern Expeditions brought just as much turmoil as the Effect. With every advancement, discovery, and monumental breakthrough came bad news. People came home sick, some people came home dying, and some never came home at all. Their fear of North outweighed their fear of the storms. That caused insurmountable fear for the citizens of Augusta; enough to accept what was happening today.
“We have not seen the storms in over a hundred years!” the man answered. “The Black-Augustine Royal Family’s hold over us is nothing but an unadulterated lie!”
“We haven’t seen the storms because they keep the storms away!”
“Do they?” The man took a step closer to the crowd. “Do you have proof? Or are the “saviors” of Augusta the main characters in the fables from your childhood? Are they stories fabricated by the same Royal Family who tell you day in and day out that you need them? The same family who crafted laws around that incessant need? To make you dependable on the lie that Augusta would not stand if it were not for the Black-Augustines?” The man laughed. “It’s a fairy tale.”
A murmur of discontent rose from that revelation.
“Fear not, good people of Augusta. I have a plan, one that will keep you safe from the harm caused by the Black-Augustines’ lust for power. How many of you have lost a loved one to the Northern Expeditions? Or you, yourself, have fallen ill? Do you not understand that your very tax dollars fund these deaths? I will end this! There will be no more suffering at the hands of Eifion!”
“But the storms–”
“We still have the domes,” the man answered with a note of finality.
That’s right, Eifion thought as he looked towards the sky. He could see one of the generators that created the “domes”. If the storms come back…the domes...the domes will protect everyone. He breathed a small sigh of relief. He did not want his people to suffer.
“Your Highness…” The man turned towards Eifion, his smile saccharine sweet. A hundred times Eifion had wished death on him, wished for the lick of flames at his feet or the sting of a whip across his back and a hundred times this man had persevered in spite of. Today made one hundred and one. “Do you have any last words?”
Eifion licked his dry lips and with a desperation that shook his very soul, he let go of his pride and did what he swore he would never do. He begged. “Please…let me wife go. Let my daughter live. Please! They can be good to your vision. Loyal to it! Thesdi will help organize your inner court! Jay’lis can be a way to reach the hearts of those you haven’t captured! Once I’m gone, she will be loyal to you and Augusta!”
“I will not!”
Eifion felt a painful thud in his heart. The cry rang loud from his daughter. He looked over from his place on the raised white platform and his bottom lip trembled. Jay’lis stood, proud as the day she was born, proud as the dynasty she cherished. The wind caused her hair to whip around her face, but the rigid look of steadfast defiance in her eyes could not be missed. She stared the man down, her eyes narrowed and sharp and full of anger.
Eifion had instilled a deep ingrained sense of authority in Jay’lis. Not arrogance or haughtiness or the oppressive blight of superiority but the competency of command. To be the single voice that elicited loyalty. To be the person their people yearned to lead them. He was so, so proud of her. She was his dream.
The man laughed. “Quiet, everyone. Your Crown Dynast speaks,” he mocked.
Jay’lis yanked at her restraints. “You’ll have to wretch the word loyalty from my dead lips, you fascist scum,” she hissed, her voice low and full of venom.
“Those are pretty brave words. I think you actually mean them, my little Blue-Jay.”
“Don’t you dare call me that! I’d rather die,” she growled between clenched teeth.
The man smiled and motioned with his head. The guard positioned behind Jay’lis, his short stature concealed from the crowd by the fluttering layers of her all white dress, took a step towards her and kicked the back of her knees. She resisted falling foward. He kicked again. A look of pain crossed her face but still she resisted, standing taller and holding her head higher. Again, and again, and again, with each kick Jay’lis stood tall. However, he put his weight into a final kick and she collapsed to her knees with a grunt, her face still full of fire.
“So be it,” the man intoned. “Prepare her.”
The guard grabbed a handful of Jay’lis’s hair and shoved her head down, causing her chin to bounce off her chest.
“You will pay for your treason,” she grounded out. “You won’t get away with this.”
The man tilted his head down to look at her. “I won’t?” He chuckled. “Who is going to stop me?”
Jay’lis looked straight ahead, her eyes scanning the crowd. She must have found what or who she was looking for because she smiled. “Someone,” she said, her voice no louder than a whisper as one tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. “Someone will. Augusta will remember your–”
She fell silent when a pistol was placed at the back of her skull.
Eifion began to scream for mercy. Thesdi fainted. A few in the crowd turned their heads. Two did not.
The man was impervious to Eifion’s pleas. “Oh, by the way...” He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Jay’lis’ forehead before standing back. “Happy Birthday,” he whispered.
Boom.
Birds flew.
Hey, ya’ll! The second book is done! You know it isn’t over, over. We have one last book! So if you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it, I would greatly appreciate a short review on Amazon or your favorite book website. Reviews are
crucial for any author, and even just a line or two can make a huge difference. I appreciate you and love you! Bye!
About the Author
[3]
At the not so tender age of eight, when she should have been immersing herself in the pleasure of learning math, Jade Brieanne was busy hunched over a desk–with its own personal cubby hole because elementary school rocked–writing a story about a child who gets a surprise visit from a house-eating robot.
Her love for writing only grew from that point. And it was ugly. Plot bunnies, little green ones with bucked teeth and wild eyes, attacked her at all times of the day, and were relentless at night. Now Jade and these plot bunnies–who get prettier every year–have called an armistice. Instead of the bunnies trying to rip ideas though her hair follicles, they now cultivate together. It’s quite amicable.
And it only took twenty years.
Jade Brieanne is a thirty-something-year-old with the wild imagination of a sugar- addled fifth grader. She is from Fayetteville, North Carolina, and is the eldest daughter of four. She is a member of the IC. She is a Colt from Cape Fear High School, and an Aggie from NC A&T SU. She likes epics, Hip-Hop, K-Pop and manga.
And she’s a writer.
Please visit
iamjadebrieanne.com
for more information about the books, to sign up for the mailing list, and to connect with me!
* * *
[AW1]Final review update info
[AW2]Change Khavah to Spring Danto
[3]New PICTURE
A Third of the Moon and the Stars Struck Page 60
