by Lisa Lee
Incredulous, he turned his head to look at the speaker. It was Luke. Luke and James both stood at the left side of his bed.
Gideon sat up, groaning and making a big show of rubbing his eyes. “What are the two of you doing here?”
Luke and James shared a look before Luke spoke again. “We are your personal guards. Where else would we be?”
Gideon felt a surprising burst of gratitude that his father still cared to send the guards, but he wasn’t sure why both would be with him. “Shouldn’t one of you be with Gabe?”
“Your brother is the one that sent us here,” James said, his tone carefully flat.
Gideon looked more closely at him and noticed how tired he looked, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual. With surprise, Gideon noticed the gray silently creeping into James’s hair at the temple. Looking sideways to Luke, Gideon could see his eyes were bleary from lack of sleep.
Even more surprising, the guards weren’t dressed exactly alike as they usually were. Their daily uniform was a well-cut black suit, tailored white shirt, black tie, dark shades, and professionally shined black shoes. Today, Luke’s tie was missing, and the top button of his shirt was unbuttoned, while James kept his tie but left his jacket. Both had more stubble on their cheeks than Gideon had seen before.
Steeling himself, he asked, “What has happened?”
Again, Luke and James shared a look but remained silent.
Irritated, Gideon sat up straighter. “Tell me. That’s a direct order.”
Luke and James looked at him as though he had grown two heads. “We don’t take orders from you,” they said in unison.
Gideon sighed. “Ugh, back to this again. I know you take orders directly from the king, blah, blah, blah, and blah. I’ve heard it a million times.”
“You’ve heard it a million times because it never sinks in,” said Luke.
“So why are you here on Gabe’s order if you only take orders from the king?” Gideon asked.
Both Luke and James flushed red and avoided looking at him before James finally said, “We’ve been suspended.”
“What!” Gideon said, shocked. His father’s trust in Luke and James had been unwavering. What changed?
“Was it because . . .” Gideon stopped, unsure of how much the guards knew.
“Yes, it was because of that,” Luke said, his voice not quite managing the same level of neutrality that James had achieved earlier.
Gideon felt even more shame. His disgrace was their disgrace as well, for they had failed to inform the king of all of Gideon’s social activities. Gideon was never explicit about his relationship with Angel, but it wouldn’t have been difficult for the guards to figure out why Angel spent significantly more time than was necessary in the Merman Hotel’s Royal Suite. When Angel would arrive at the suite, Luke, the guard normally assigned to Gideon, would frequently go and stand outside to “stretch his legs.”
Beneath the thin infirmary sheet covering his lower body, Gideon’s hands clenched the bedding beneath him as he took a breath and said, “I’m sorry.”
James waved off the apology, shaking his head. “No need. We were negligent in our duties.”
“We weren’t exactly negligent,” Luke said. “It seems someone forgot the rule that one should be careful about accepting food and drink.”
“Luke!” James whisper-shouted in a stunned tone.
Gideon was shocked too. Luke and James enjoyed being the enforcers of the king’s orders with respect to the princes, but they never took that authority too far.
“How did the first king die? His ‘lady of the evening’ poisoned him through a bottle of red wine she gave as a ‘gift,’” Luke continued on, unrepentant. “But Romeo over here just had to—”
“Enough!” Gideon interrupted as anger, shame, and guilt spiked through him.
“Shhh . . .” said a querulous voice from the patient on the right of Gideon.
James said, “Sorry, sir,” before turning his attention back to Gideon. “We don’t want to distress you. We know the punishment could have been worse.” They all knew the punishment could have been immediate dismissal and permanent disgrace, so James was correct, but Gideon didn’t like being the cause of their current suspension.
“If you’re suspended, why are you here again,” he asked.
“Actually, your father did fire us,” James began.
“What!” Gideon exclaimed. “I thought you said you were just suspended.”
“This is an infirmary, not an arena. Shhh!” The patient to Gideon’s right sounded more irritated.
“My apologies,” Gideon said as he nodded his head respectfully, thinking the other patient probably didn’t know he was talking to a prince.
“Brother Li, I still need to finish my daily check for you.” The man in the doctor’s coat had turned toward them, speaking authoritatively. “Please wrap up your conversation in the next ten minutes.”
Brother Li? Gideon thought to himself before he corrected the doctor. “Actually, it’s Prince Li, and I’ll need fifteen.”
The doctor opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he nodded respectfully and turned back to his desk.
Gideon turned his attention back to the guards and noticed Luke was shaking his head at him. Gideon raised one of his eyebrows in silent inquiry.
“You never change—” Luke began but was cut off by James, who waved his hands as though shushing Luke.
“Getting back to the original topic, your father was rightfully angry with us and terminated our employment,” James said.
“Told us never to show our faces in front of him again,” Luke interjected.
“That too,” James admitted. “Unfortunately, Gabriel came in right at that moment to ask what was going on—”
This time Gideon interrupted. “Then he doesn’t know the situation?”
James shook his head to indicate no. “Your brother doesn’t know the whole situation, and your father refused to tell him. I think he was afraid Gabriel was still too sick to be told bad news.”
“But then Gabriel became just as angry as your father,” Luke said. “He said if King Li—he used your father’s official title—was going to fire us, he would just rehire us. Then—and you’re not going to believe this—your father said he didn’t fire us; he just suspended us.”
Gideon didn’t know what to say. “So that’s why you’re here?”
“Well, your brother said we were his employees for the duration of the suspension,” James replied.
“Wh-What?” Gideon stammered in disbelief. His family was extremely civil to each other. They didn’t act like characters in some sort of Korean drama.
“Your brother is worried about you being at the temple,” James began. “He knows that there is something more at issue than . . .” James stopped and looked around before continuing, “Minister Kang’s daughter.”
“He is worried about me,” Gideon said, realizing that a part of what had him unsettled was the physical separation from his brother. They rarely spent a day without conversing in person. Even with Gabriel’s marriage, he still lived in The Red Palace.
“Yes, he is worried about you,” Luke said, like it was hard to believe. “Do you know when your father will let you back?”
Gideon shook his head. Luke and James both seemed to go pale as their shoulders slumped in disappointment.
“Hey, hopefully, it won’t be too bad,” he said. “I heard they did away with the dungeons underground.”
“You really are a piece of work, you—” Luke began in anger.
“Luke, take a walk,” James said firmly.
Without a word, Luke turned and walked out of the infirmary.
James took a deep breath, bowed respectfully, and said, “Prince Gideon, my sincere apologies on Luke’s behalf.”
“Why is he so angry?” Gideon asked.
James hesitated, looking uncomfortable.
“Please tell me,” Gideon pushed. He had never known Luke to behave so u
nprofessionally.
James sighed. “Prince, when one becomes a royal guard, one agrees to put another life before one’s own in all respects. My time and allegiance belong to the royal family.” Here, James hesitated again.
“Go on,” Gideon encouraged.
“It’s not quite proper for me to burden you, sir, with my own issues.” James was clearly uncomfortable with their conversation.
“Do you want me to tell my brother and father that Luke should just be fired for behavior unbecoming a royal guard?” Gideon asked with one eyebrow raised. He saw the anger in James’s eyes before he lowered his gaze.
“Luke’s father-in-law, my uncle, is dying. The doctors say no more than six months,” James said, his voice strained.
“I’m sorry,” Gideon said, surprised that James and Luke were related by marriage.
James nodded, a wet sheen on his eyes. “Luke is also nervous about his wife. She is not handling her father’s situation well. They are both hoping he can last long enough to meet his first grandchild.”
“She’s your cousin?” Gideon asked.
James nodded.
“And she’s pregnant?” Gideon asked, surprised again at how little he knew about the guards.
“Four weeks to go,” James said and held up his right hand to show his crossed fingers.
Gideon nodded before saying, “I understand he’s under a lot of stress.”
“Thank you for understanding, Prince,” James said with a slight bow to his head.
“But, James,” Gideon said. “With his family situation, shouldn’t Luke be home with his family? Can’t he request three days of family leave?”
James gave a wry smile. “Your brother was very clear, sir. We can’t leave here—at all—until you do.”
Gideon and James looked at each other, one gaze stricken and one gaze sad.
* * *
“You know there are more efficient ways to kill yourself,” the infirmary’s physician stated. He had introduced himself as Dr. Jo.
“What?” Gideon responded, shocked.
“When you came in, your blood alcohol concentration was .35 percent.”
“I drank that much?” Gideon asked, surprised.
“Yes, you did. Any higher, and we would have been hard-pressed to save you,” Dr. Jo answered. “As it was, I had to arrange for the air medic to be on standby in case we needed to transport you to the hospital.”
Gideon felt sucker punched by the information. Life was turning to quicksand around him. He managed to croak out, “Thank you, doctor.”
“You can thank me by living right,” Dr. Jo said sharply.
After Gideon’s nod, he continued. “Did anyone explain the rules of the temple?”
“Brother Jo?” said the same querulous voice from earlier.
Dr. Jo immediately went to the other man’s bedside. “Yes, Brother Adam?”
“You have plenty of work. If you don’t mind, I can explain the rules to this young brother.”
“Of course,” replied Dr. Jo, bowing respectfully. He threw Gideon a contemptuous look before moving on to his desk.
Gideon tried to keep his face impassive as he absorbed anew the truth that he was a man worthy of condemnation. He turned to face Brother Adam, his mind in turmoil. He doubted he could retain anything Brother Adam had to say about the “rules.”
“Your spirit is not at peace,” said Brother Adam, his amber gaze on Gideon. There was no judgment in his tone, but Gideon thought he detected sadness. He pushed the thought away. How could this man who didn’t even know him feel sadness for him?
“The last few days certainly could have gone better,” Gideon said, not committing.
“How could they have gone better?” Brother Adam asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t be in this infirmary for one,” Gideon replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Another infirmary would have been better?” Brother Adam asked.
Gideon took a deep breath before responding. “This one is certainly not up to palace standards.”
“But you aren’t at the palace anymore.”
“Do you know who I am?” Gideon asked.
“Do you know who you are?” Brother Adam replied.
Gideon shook his head in frustration, not up for a circular philosophical conversation. He replied brusquely, “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, Mr. It Doesn’t Matter, may I tell you a story?” Brother Adam asked.
Taking Gideon’s silence as agreement, Brother Adam began, “Once upon a time—”
Gideon interrupted, “Are you seriously trying to tell me a fairy tale right now?” He turned on his side, facing away from Brother Adam, even more frustrated than before.
“Ah, but I promise you haven’t heard this tale,” Brother Adam said to Gideon’s back. He continued, unperturbed. “Once upon a time, in Crazy Horse Village, there lived a Lord Hamil who was the authority over the entire village. He lived in a monstrously large mansion seated high on a hill, far away from the villagers he ruled. He wasn’t known as a fair and compassionate ruler, largely indifferent to the villagers. He wasn’t faithful to his wife, and he wasn’t pleased by his lack of sons. Instead, his wife had provided him with three daughters.
“For all his faults, though, Lord Hamil did have one genuine love. He loved his horses. If he wasn’t eating or sleeping, Lord Hamil was out riding or training horses. He was competent at training horses as well, so much so that horses from his stable were much desired. Noble personages from far away would travel to his home to buy a Hamil racehorse. Even the king’s stables were said to have one or two Hamil horses.
“Out of all his horses, though, Lord Hamil had a favorite. Her name was Queenie. She was an impressive height and a beautiful chestnut color. Most importantly, she was able to hold the lead in races against stallions. Lord Hamil loved her above all. He even gave large parties to celebrate her birthdays. He barely remembered, or cared to remember, his wife’s birthday. Perhaps if he had, a terrible tragedy could have been diverted.”
Gideon interrupted Brother Adam, turning to face him. “Let me guess the tragedy. The horse got a larger slice of cake than the wife?”
Brother Adam smiled but shook his head. “I’m not sure the horse liked cake, but that wasn’t the tragedy. You see, Lady Hamil felt her husband put a horse before her in importance. She could abide other women but not a horse. She schemed to get rid of the horse. She found the least intelligent groom and with a bright smile handed him a special meal for Queenie, one laced with a plant root that would make the horse crazed. She hoped the horse would be wild enough to have to be put down.
“But beware the law of unintended consequences, for a crazed Queenie could not be contained by the normal measures, and her powerful mass escaped her handlers, killing two grooms in the process. She ran down the hill from the stables to the village. It was market day in the village, and lots of folks milled around the village square, hawking, haggling, and gossiping. At the sight of Queenie, her nostrils flaring, eyes crazed, and powerful hooves pounding, the villagers ran. Anyone too young or too old to run was carried by someone else. The village did themselves proud, and by the time Queenie stood quivering in the village square, it was empty.
“Into this suspenseful scene, a young boy ran out. Apparently, he had left his favorite toy, a spinning top, in the square. His mother was a widow with four young children, the youngest still a babe. At the first sign of trouble, she had taken her young family to the relative safety of the village store, built with wooden beams. Now, though, she yelled at her other sons to hold the baby and ran back into the square to pull her endangered son to safety.
“Seeing the running duo, Queenie charged. The mother and son were far enough away that they may have just made it back to the store, but when she picked up her son and turned to run, the mother tripped, twisting her ankle. Onlookers looked on with horror as Queenie moved inexorably toward mother and son, and some turned away so as to not see the horrific event sure
to come.
“But instead of horrified screams, they heard three shots ring out. An actor, Jasper, had shot the horse. He was part of a traveling theater group, and while he was a passable actor, he was quite good as a thief. He had initially viewed the whole situation as an opportunity to take a few coins from unattended booths in the market. But observing the young mother struggling so valiantly to save her son, he grabbed a gun from the gunsmith’s booth and shot Lord Hamil’s beloved horse.” Here the temple brother paused for dramatic effect while Prince Gideon rolled his eyes.
“I get it,” Gideon said. “The thief redeemed himself by saving the young widow.”
“No, no, that’s not the point,” Brother Adam said.
“I can’t wait to hear it,” Gideon said sarcastically, even though he was a bit curious as to how the story turned out.
“To make a long story short,” Brother Adam began as Prince Gideon quizzically raised one eyebrow, “Lord Hamil shot the thief, but the thief still held a gun and shot Lord Hamil in defense. Both men fell to earth, never to rise again, at least in physical form.”
“Ugh, let me guess. They haunted Crazy Horse Village forevermore?” Gideon asked.
Brother Adam said, “Patience, young man—oh, sorry—Prince.”
“Are you mocking me?” Gideon asked with a hint of anger.
“No, I am just asking for patience so I can finish the story,” Brother Adam said, unperturbed.
“Go ahead, then,” Gideon said ungracefully.
“Well, the souls of the two grooms, Lord Hamil, and Jasper the thief were all judged on the same day by the same spirit. Which souls went to hell and which went to heaven?”
“I don’t know,” Gideon said, exasperated.
“You are right. We don’t know, and since we don’t know, we treat everyone as a brother, because we don’t know whether we will spend eternity with the man in hell or heaven.”
“That makes no sense,” Gideon said. “You are living this way so you can go to heaven, whereas the thief . . .” Gideon paused.
“Aw, you see. You don’t know whether Jasper went to heaven or hell,” Brother Adam stated.
“But everyone is not equal,” Gideon protested.
