by J. Naomi Ay
Tonight, Katie didn’t respond at all. No matter how many times Luci called her name there was no reply, only the quiet whisper of the night time wind outside her window.
Luci sighed again, feeling worse than she had before. Even in her imagination, she couldn’t summon her best friend. Rolling over on her side, Luci closed her eyes, before they spilled a stream of tears.
“Go to sleep, Luci,” she commanded. “There’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better than today. It always is, if you think positively enough.” She knew it wouldn’t be, but it didn’t hurt to hold out some hope. Otherwise, what would be the point in waking up?
Far down the hall in another bedroom, beneath another king-sized, four-poster bed, Ber was tossing and turning. Practically next door in the adjacent room, Leta-Reta was lying in a similar state. Although the reasons for the girl’s agitation was not the same as what bothered Ber.
Leta was silently practicing all the words she intended to share with the Duchess Luci in the morning. She’d mention Marik and the need to find their old acquaintance Ber-Kie Korelesk. But, more importantly, Leta would casually introduce the plight of the Beckwadian king and queen. Surely, the Duchess would be sympathetic to the noble refugees.
Reta, in the meantime, was focused on the young man who had answered the manor house door. Although he looked just like Marik, there was something else about him that was niggling at the back of her brain. His face seemed so familiar and not because of the resemblance to their young boss. There was something else. She thought she knew him, but from where?
Ber jumped from his bed and began to pace the room. Never in a million years would he have imagined Princess Leta-Reta in the room next door. As he envisioned her dressed in a nightgown, the soft duvet pulled up to all four of her rosy cheeks, her two heads of auburn hair spilling across the pillow, Ber realized he needed to go out for a run. Or, have a cold shower. Or, do something else. Simply lying her fantasizing was an unproductive waste of time.
“I always liked her,” Ber announced to the walls of his suite, hastening his pace, practically galloping back and forth across the room. He broke out into a sweat. Sweating felt good. It cooled him down, or at least he thought that was what it was doing. If anything, it served to get his mind off the Princess and her body. But, only for a minute, maybe, two.
“Maybe, I even loved her,” Ber continued telling the walls. “From afar. She never knew that I existed.”
Although, he was still a bastard son, he could be a duke if he played the cards he had been dealt. He’d have to suck it up to the Emperor, swallow his hatred, and get along. Definitely, not kill the man, as he had intended. No, if Ber wanted to win the princess’s single heart, he’d have to wear the shield of the Korelesk duchy on his sleeve.
“It would be worth it,” Ber decided, falling back on his bed.
He rolled over on his stomach and gazed at the pillows, imagining Leta-Reta opening her arms and welcoming him into them. Ber’s new body quivered with this thought.
“It would be a perfect marriage,” he declared to the ceiling. “Just like a fairy tale,” he told the windows and the walls. “Two Beckwads together for our whole lives,” he shouted to the stars outside. “Two heads, two sets of lips, and two noses, just like the two moons shining above.”
Unfortunately, it was then that Ber remembered he was only one.
Chapter 17
“I’m a bit concerned,” Marie yelled, although her sister still couldn’t quite hear her. “He stays in his room all day. The only time he comes out is at night to get a bite to eat. He doesn’t shower, or brush his teeth. His hair looks like the fur of a rat.”
“What?” Queen Elana III yelled back, her lips tightly smiling. She held up her left hand in the royal half-wave. Elana nodded her head slightly, regally, in her best queenly way, while pretending she cared about her citizens.
Marie smiled and nodded too. She waved her hand a little bit, while considering that it had been years since she stood on this balcony looking down. The last time was when her parents were still alive, and Loran was just a toddler. Petya had stood behind her, next to Marik, who was behind Elana with Angelica in his arms.
It seemed to Marie, back then the crowds were much larger. Yes, she remembered the people overflowing throughout the mall. Nearly a half mile back, she could still see them anxiously cheering, and standing on their toes.
“Loran!” Marie raised her voice, trying to exceed the volume of the crowd, which barely filled the palace’s side parking lot. Were they cheering? It was hard to tell. Some of the noises sound raucous, and a little coarse. Yes, there was definitely some booing and some hissing amongst the clapping.
“What about him?” Elana snapped, as something flew right by her head, splattering on the palace wall next to a guard.
“He’s in his room,” Marie repeated, watching another projectile soar past. Shards of egg shell smashed against the wall, and the yolk rained down.
“So, who in the hell cares? He’s a teenager. Who wants to see him anyway?” Elana backed away, a stricken look upon her frozen face.
“You ought to come in, Your Majesty.” The guard took the Elana’s arm, ushering her back into the safety of the palace.
“What’s going on here?” Marie asked as the egg storm became more prevalent. Lifting her skirts, she scurried after her sister.
“Oh, nothing,” Elana replied. “It’s just the new and unique way my people have of expressing their love. Instead of cheering me on and kissing my hand, they call me names and throw rotten eggs.” Turning into her bedroom suite, Elana shut the door.
“But, why?” Marie demanded. “Elana, let me in. I need to talk with you about this, and Loran.”
“Go away, Marie,” Elana called. “I order you to leave me alone.”
Marie had no choice. The Queen had issued a command which must not be disobeyed.
“But why?” She turned to the guard. “Why does everyone hate her? What has she done?”
The guard shrugged. “You should speak with the Lord Chamberlain.”
Marie had never been involved in state business. Being the second daughter, her duties were those of the spare, and not the heir. This suited her fine, in fact, she preferred it this way, as economics and other hard subjects bored her to death.
However, Marie realized there was clearly a crisis at hand, and during her short stint as Duchess Korelesk she had grown a tiny spine. In her conversation with the Lord Chamberlain, she learned Cyganus was in dire straits. Economic growth was in negative territory and falling, unemployment was nearly the same amount as those who worked. Inflation was so rampant, it didn't pay to eat, let alone get out of bed. Consequently, the population was fleeing to nearby Corganus, which annoyed the hell out of the Corganians, who had enough problems of their own, and didn't want theirs.
"What can be done?" Marie asked the Lord Chamberlain.
The old man shrugged, and shook his head. "Changes must be enacted, but the Queen refuses to address them.”
“Have you advised her?”
“I’ve tried, but the only one she ever listened to was the Emperor, and that was before he went away."
"Well, he’s back now,” Marie grumbled. “For better or for worse, or so I have heard. Might we call him, do you think? Elana might listen to him again."
“You can try,” the Lord Chamberlain suggested, rising from his seat to indicate the meeting was now done.
Marie rose, as well, while considering what her options were. Personally, she despised the Emperor, for he had killed her beloved Petya, and just about everyone else she knew and loved. The question was, could she swallow her hatred to save her even more beloved Cyganus, or would she let her parents’ legacy follow Elana down the hole.
Marie could fix it now, she knew. She could stop the bleeding, patch the oozing wound, and bring about a cure, before the planet of Cyganus finished circling the drain.
"I doubt he would accept your call," the Lord Chamberlain replie
d, ushering Marie to his office door. "A better option might be to go in person to Rozari yourself. Speak directly with Lord Taner or one of the Imperial Princes, if they’ll see you. They might pass the message on to HIM, if you convince them the situation is as dire as it is. Don't wait to do this, dear Marie, for Cyganus shan't be around much longer if you delay. Queen Elana has let things lapse for far too long. I fear revolution is brewing in the streets."
As Marie walked back to her suite, an odd and wicked thought popped in her brain. Although Loran had been denied his rightful duchy, there was another throne just waiting for him to steal. No, that wasn’t the correct word. It was a throne just waiting for him to save. After all, if they didn’t act, her familial throne might disappear altogether.
Indeed, Elana's mismanagement had brought this on, and her heir, Angelica would do no better. To save all that her ancestors had worked for, Marie must ensure Loran was seated in the royal chair.
Loran must come with her to Rozari. He must demonstrate to the Emperor his new resolve. If the boy suitably impressed His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor had the power to place the boy upon Elana’s throne.
"Loran," Marie called, opening the bedroom door. "Dear, sweet Loran, might I speak with you a moment?"
Loran’s face was buried in a pillow, while his body lay prone on the bed.
“Are you asleep?” Marie whispered, trying not to look at her nearly naked son, or the drug paraphernalia scattered across the floor and bedside tables. Neither did she wish to smell the cloyingly sweet stench of his toxic fume exhalations. “Loran, dear. Time to get up. We have a trip to take.”
“I’m already tripping, Mother Dear,” Loran replied, his face muffled by the pillow, the mattress, and the four blankets beneath his body.
Marie stood in the center of the room clasping her hands tightly to her chest, which had begun to twitch as if anticipating a seizure. Her limbs trembled, as the blood rushed through her veins, rising from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head. Like a dormant volcano suddenly gone active, Marie erupted with a tremendous force. She screamed so loudly, her voice echoed off all six roofs of the Cyganian palace, as well as the parapets, the towers, and the front keep.
“Get up!” she roared. “We’re going to Rozari right this minute. Let me tell you, Loran, I shall personally kill you if you ever use that stuff again.”
“What?” Loran mumbled, poking his head out from beneath the drug borne cloud. “We’re going where?”
“Rozari!” Marie screamed even louder. This time she scarred the dickens out of both the crows and gargoyles resting on the window ledges, sending everyone flying away as fast as they could.
While Loran stumbled to his feet, into the bath, and out again, and into suitable clothing for a would-be future king, two doors down, and to the left, on a daybed she kept for her afternoon naps, Queen Elana III was laughing hysterically at her sister’s tribulations.
When Marie and Loran arrived at the Imperial Villa in Takira-hahr, Rozari, they expected to be greeted as if they were at the Imperial Palace. Instead of being chauffeured into the private parking area, escorted to the Big House by a contingent of Imperial Guards, and offered tea and pastries, while waiting for the lord or lady with whom she had requested to speak, Marie and Loran were dropped off by the city bus outside the villa’s gates.
“Hello?” Marie called, pushing a button, which apparently buzzed at someone’s desk inside. “Is anyone there? Helloooo?”
After a few moments, she heard a click, and then, a voice.
“State your name and purpose,” a clipped Mishnese accent demanded.
“Princess Marie and Viscount Loran of Cyganus are here to see His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor.”
There was a pause, followed by a cough, and finally, a sort of laugh.
“HIM’s not taking any appointments. Thank you for calling. Have a good day.”
“Wait!” Marie pressed on the buzzer and tried again. “May I speak to Lord Taner then? Is he available perchance? We’ve come all the way from Cyganus on important business.”
Again, there was silence at the other end, followed by a snort, and then another chuckle.
“Sorry. No. Taner’s schedule is all booked up.”
“What about the Princes? I know Shika very well. I’m sure he remembers me. We almost dated, once upon a time.”
“Sorry. No. The Imperial Prince Shika is not here.”
“Rent?” Marie gasped, her voice becoming a bit shrill. “I’ve heard he’s quite nice. May I speak to him, please?”
“No. The Imperial Prince Revak is out of the house traveling with his Imperial Brother.”
“Is there anyone at all who I can speak to?” Marie yelled, keeping her finger on the button so it buzzed incessantly. “Damnit, I’m a princess, and I used to be Duchess Korelesk. There must be someone in that household who will grant me five bloody minutes!”
The buzzer went silent despite Marie’s pressing finger.
“Whoa,” Loran said. “I guess we came all this way for net zero effect.”
“I guess so,” Marie mumbled, letting her hands drop, and along with them all her hopes.
“Wait! A dude.” Loran pointed. “I mean, a dudette.”
Coming toward them, from the annex building adjacent to the villa, was a young lady dressed in a severe business suit. Her long blonde hair was tied in a knot, and although her spiked heels were quite high, she was moving quickly across the walkway in their direction.
“Hello,” she called in Rozarian, while unlocking the gate. “I’m Jullee. I’m here to help you out.”
“Are you a diplomat?” Marie inquired, while urging Loran to follow the girl inside. “Or, attaché, or under-under-secretary to Lord Taner?”
“Actually,” Jullee said, leading the Cyganians back to the annex. “I’m an office administrator, but my boss was recently killed. Until they find me a new assignment, I’m basically doing odd jobs. I was asked to get you away from the front door bell. Would like a cup of coffee? We can sit in the cafeteria, and you can tell me why you’re here. I’ll write it up in memo form and distribute it to the interested parties.”
Marie had coffee while Loran ate four donuts. Jullee had herbal tea and lots of gossip to share. By the time their little meeting had concluded, Marie was filled in on the sad state of Imperial affairs. This included the plight of the Imperial Princes, and the Emperor’s drinking binges, as well as the various deaths which had occurred.
“So, I doubt that anyone will be able to help you out,” Jullee concluded, dunking her bag of herbal grinds into fresh water. “He’s denied all aide requests, and even when my boss, Eva was alive, he wouldn’t allocate any funds for reparations. No one knows why, but it seems he wants the Empire to fall apart.”
“That’s terrible,” Marie gasped, while wondering if there was anyone else to whom she might turn. The Princes had gone to Earth to find the Empress, Taner and Kinar were locked in prison cells, and everyone else she knew was dead, or had run away.
“You had better go home,” Jullee advised, clearing the table. “Get out of here before he notices you’re around.”
“Does he come in this annex building?” Loran asked nervously. “I know I’m not exactly on the dude’s favorite list.”
“It doesn’t matter where he is or where he goes.” Jullee ushered the Cyganians out the hallway, and back to the door. “Unless he’s in a drunken stupor, he knows everything about everyone. The city bus comes by on the hour and the half. It only costs a coin to get to the mall. You’ve got my card. Call me if I can help with anything else.”
At the Fashion Mall in Takira-hahr, Marie used a payphone to book a couple of spaceplane tickets back to Cyganus. She decided it was imperative to have a conversation with her sister, Elana III. Unfortunately, Marie’s credit card declined, rejecting the ticket transaction. Her funds had been cut off for no reason she could fathom.
“Ha ha!” Elana chortled, when Marie rang her next. “I know wh
at you are trying to do, and that’s treason in my book, sister. I’ve cut off all your money, so find your own way out of that hell hole by yourself.” Then, the Queen hung up the phone, leaving Marie and Loran stranded.
“What are we going to do?” Loran asked, glancing around the darkening mall. The sun had set, and all the shops were closing. A band was playing in the nearby Cowboy Corral, and people were swarming in and out, but no one knew the Cyganians, nor did they care.
Marie was forced to make the only call that would always answer a collect. She had no choice but to beg for two spaceplane tickets paid in advance.
“It’s not a problem at all, my dear,” Luci replied. “You are always welcome here with me.”
Thus, Loran and Marie returned to Korelesk.
Chapter 18
Marik had Bork arrange for a hired limo to take them all to Korelesk as soon as the sun came up that next morning. Although the boy had slept fitfully during the night, he had a dream about a fairy tale. In fact, it was almost as if someone came to sit beside him and tell him a story.
“Once upon a time,” the mysterious voice said, while Marik was sleeping, or so he thought. In his dream, the boy opened his eyes and wiggled in his bed with excitement. This was a good story so far. The boy loved when stories started this way. “There was a prince who didn’t know who he was.”
“Me?” Marik interrupted. “Am I a prince in disguise?”
“Perhaps,” the voice replied. “Would you like me to continue?”
“Oh yes!” Marik clutched his pillow to his chest, while searching the room for the owner of the voice. He couldn’t see anyone, but it was dark, and after all, this might just be a dream.
