01Zan

"It's time to get up...."

A boy whispered this into his pillow and his dark lashes fluttered for a moment. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He had been tossing for what felt to him like ages, pretending to sleep in. He blinked over at the alarm clock by his bed; it read 9:30 on April 4th, 2006.

The boy named Zanen sat up in bed and gazed around. The room was a profusion of traditional opulence; polished furniture, gilded gold detailing, and tapestry and books lining the walls. It was as tidy as a vacant hotel room with not a thing out of order, but that was how Zanen felt able to function.

He got out of the four-poster bed wearing the usual Egyptian cotton pajamas. He stretched and headed into his adjoining bathroom. After washing and changing into his trousers that waited by the heater he returned to his bedroom to find his nurse-servant making his bed. She had already opened the curtains and morning light illuminated the room into a glorious scene. When she saw him she dropped the blanket and turned to him cheerfully. She was a thin woman with pixie brown hair and perpetually pink cheeks.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she greeted and curtsied. "Happy birthday. Do you feel any different?"

"Oh, you know, I grew twelve inches, gained twelve IQ points and made twelve new friends," Zanen said in a quiet voice.

"Come now, it isn't every day a young man turns twelve," the maid told him kindly. She spoke with a melodic Southern accent. Her voice was close to Zanen's heart and helped him relax.

"Thank you, Miss Emily," Zanen smiled and she turned to straightening the bed sheets. "I don't think I could ever get used to sleeping past six thirty. Now I'm completely lost on what I'm supposed to do with my day."

"I daresay Your Highness should enjoy some recreation," Emily replied, fluffing his pillows. "You're not the king yet, please don't feel so terribly responsible."

"Alright," Zanen said with a small yawn. He crossed the room and pawed through the day's clothes hanging up for him.

"All pressed and ready, Your Highness," Emily stated and she bustled over to join him. She made a noise of discontent as Zanen took them off the hook and laid them on the bed himself. "I know Your Highness takes it as a position of pride but I do wish you would allow me just this once..."

"Miss Emily, please, I am perfectly able to dress myself," Zanen sighed with slight impatience. "If I can't get a button through a hole with my own hands how can I justify making decisions for other people?"

"Your Highness is a strange one," Emily admitted, "what with you dressing yourself and cleaning your own room. My mother and me mother's mother were maids and they died plenty early from overwork. At this rate I will survive to take care of Your Highness in your old age."

"You're always doing things for me, I really wish you'd realize I appreciate everything, even if it is just your job," Zanen said as he put his arms through the sleeves of his cream blouse. He buttoned it, tucked it in and set the silk waistcoat over it.

"I don't take care of Your Highness because it's my job, darlin'," Emily smiled patiently and despite his reluctant expression she fastened his cravat and cufflinks for him. "I am very fond of you. Now, what would you like for breakfast? Choose whatever your heart desires."

"I guess steak and eggs with bhamel sauce would be a nice treat, if it's not too much trouble," Zanen said thoughtfully, brushing out his high collared white jacket, which had gold embroidery and naval style fastenings.

"No trouble t'all, do make sure your hair is in place and there is not a speck of lint on you or Her Ladyship will have my head," Emily said and she trotted her way to the door. The sentry on the other side opened it for her. "Your Highness's breakfast will be served in ten minutes in this wing's dining room," she called and bowed.

Zanen nodded and turned to fix himself in the mirror. His black hair was neatly trimmed and he raised his hand to adjust fly-aways. He straightened his posture and frowned at his reflection. He couldn't shrug off a feeling of restlessness mingled with a touch of anxiety. He remembered to stop thinking himself left out of the meeting in congress. He was only twelve, after all, and could no more help run the country than he could jog the entire coastline of it. Zanen didn't understand what Emily was so excited about concerning the birthday matter.

Prince Zanen was a quiet and serious boy, soft voiced, and his gait reflected this. Though he had impeccable posture he did not strut or march; he walked normally with an air of introverted detachment. He was tall and skinny for his age and his hands were almost disproportionately long compared to his arms, but he showed no signs of clumsiness or awkwardness. He was refined if not a little stiff. The color of his eyes, startling ice blue as they were, was not what characterized them: they seemed to gaze out at the world with acute awareness, and blazed with intense focus.

He left his room ("Happy birthday, Your Highness," the doorman bowed) and made his way through the ostentatious palace until he arrived in the dining room.

The dining room was not too large but it was lavishly decorated. A long Garwood table stretched before an extinguished fireplace; above it hung a large oil painting of Zanen and Lady Amira together. Zanen's place was set with his meal ready at the head of the table. A footman and Emily stood to the side with their hands folded.

"I'm afraid Lady Amira shan't join Your Highness Zanen today," said the footman.

"Ah, it's alright," Zanen said and he settled before his meal. He ate in silence for a while, enjoying the taste, until he became rather lonely and desired conversation. "So the conference has already started?"

Emily piped up, "Yes, Your Highness. Her Ladyship Amira has greeted them with His and Her Majesty and Lady Charlotte. It looks that she will stay for more hours yet."

"Well, that's good Her Ladyship is involved," Zanen said, glancing at her image looming above them. "I am so frustrated I can't attend...I'm just fascinated by this discovery. I wish I could learn more about these people with this power. I haven't been able to get my hands on a report."

"It seems that delegates, representatives and diplomats from all over are here from the looks of it," Emily supplied and the footman nodded.

"Yes, from all over the world," Zanen mused. "A global scheme concerning the Wickeds...I hope it will turn out alright and they're not rushing into things."

"I wouldn't know much about it, Your Highness," Emily said modestly.

"No and that's alright, Miss Emily," Zanen smiled. The door was opened. "I'll let my curiosity kill me for a while."

"Isn't that a prospect to behold?" asked a cool voice and a blue eyed blond teenage boy, equally well dressed as Zanen, entered the room. Zanen's expression darkened to suspicion and he lowered the drink he was sipping.

"Wow, you're actually here in this part of the palace," Zanen raised his eyebrows. "Is Your Grace's presence a birthday gift?"

Demitrius approached the table and put his hand on the back of one of the chairs. "Don't flatter yourself little brother," he drawled. "It's rather dull on our end."

To Zanen's displeasure the footman held the chair while Demitrius sat down in it. "Even you weren't allowed access to the meeting? All this secrecy makes it even more interesting."

Demitrius shrugged and watched Zanen eat a few bites. "And what will you do today?" he asked with a snide tone. "Build some sort of explosive to get you into the meeting?"

"Honestly it's pretty boring now without Chauncey," Zanen replied, ignoring the tone. "I'll probably visit Julie and Andre. They're likely to look at me as though I'm a decent human being."

"If only you were," Demitrius sighed.

"Indeed," Zanen conceded lightly.

Demitrius put his elbow on the table and leaned forward despite Zanen's quick glance of warning. "You know, you may be the puny age of twelve today, but I will still be turning eighteen long before you."

"Ah, how do I live with myself?" Zanen wondered sardonically and he cut his asparagus with a little more strength than necessary.

"More like how dare you live with yourself?" Demitrius drawled and leaned back in his chair looking smug.

Zanen was unphased. He looked Demitrius directly in the eye. "I'll dare it for the next nine months," he said coolly, "and perhaps I'll build an age machine just so I can turn eighteen before you. I'd love to see the look on your seventeen year old face from its good side."

Demitrius fell to brooding and Zanen returned to his meal after glaring daggers at him. Zanen reached for the pepper mill and ground some more over his food. Demitrius blinked.

"What is wrong with you, sprinkling your own pepper?" Demitrius asked with distaste.

Zanen felt a twinge of annoyance. "I'm sitting in front of the mill," he sighed, "the server is across the room. I prefer logic to laziness..."

"Yet another reason why you're an abomination of a prince," Demitrius grunted and he looked away across the room.

"Isn't this a lovely daily dose of torture?" Zanen muttered and he set his knife and fork down irritably. "Demi, the fact that you're turning eighteen some day doesn't mean a thing...it's not going to make you rule the empire. I will inherit the throne; there is nothing either one of us can do about it."

The blond prince leaned forward again and smirked. "Oh just you wait, Zanen," he sneered. "I'll rule the world sooner than you think."

"Well, ambitions like that will require high intelligence," Zanen snapped. "Are you sure you're up to it?"

Demitrius swiftly became angry. He extended his hand and pushed Zanen's breakfast plate straight off the table. It fell to the floor with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere and sending china into pieces.

Emily and the footman both jumped and hastened to clean up the mess. Zanen sat seething in his seat but he refused to rise or become visibly upset.

"We'll fetch Your Highness Zanen a new portion right away," Emily twitted nervously.

"Eh...fruit and toast will do," Zanen sighed.

Emily stood up with wide eyes as two extra hands arrived to clean up. "Oh no, I must insist, please..."

"It's not your place to insist anything upon me," Zanen said coldly without looking at her. "Fruit and toast please."

"Now you're getting it," Demitrius remarked.

"You," Zanen rounded on him in a flash, "get out. Go bother Edgar for a change; at least you'll be able to make him cry or something. You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? Leave right now."

"I'm not leaving until I have officially ruined your day," Demitrius said nastily and Zanen sat up straight.

"Try me," he challenged.

"Alright, you little son of a mistress...."

"Listen, Deletrius," Zanen said angrily and his hands curled into fists. "If you weren't such a jealous idiot you would know that Lady Amira is at the conference, delivering as much assistance as Her Majesty. She is not a mistress. Shut your mouth."

"Concubine, mistress; same thing really," Demitrius said in a lofty voice.

"You know, I've heard the same old insults from you twenty thousand times already," Zanen said, very restrained in manner. "Still, I loathe you."

"I detest you," Demitrius insisted.

"Ah, you know another synonym for the word hate, good job!" Zanen said in mock cheerfulness and Demitrius scowled. "If you hate me so much, go ahead and take my knife and do it. Make me dead like you've already suggested twice in this useless conversation."

"I'm not an idiot," Demitrius said and he slammed the dinner knife Zanen held onto the table and pinned the latter's hand down.

"That's right, because His Majesty made me Crown Prince for his mysterious reason," Zanen said fiercely, refusing to wince even as Demitrius twisted his wrist uncomfortably. "If you're still having tantrums, you big mature eighteen year old, take it up with His Majesty and tell him exactly what you think of me!"

Zanen pushed himself to his feet and yanked his hand out of Demitrius's grasp furiously. Demitrius stood up as well; Zanen reacted and jumped away from Demitrius's reach just in time.

"What's going on?" inquired a third voice and Zanen and Demitrius looked to the door. Another teenage boy with curly brown hair and clear blue eyes stepped into the room cautiously. "Are you two going at it again? Give it a rest for one day."

"Andrean!" Zanen said and he took a step away from Demitrius. "Good to see you this morning."

"Don't be so formal with me, seriously," Andrean grinned and he strode into the room and wrung Zanen's hand. "Happy birthday Zanen."

"Thanks Andre," Zanen laughed for the first time that day. "You came all the way here for me..."

"Oh yes, the trek up the stairs and through the corridors was an absolute epic, you should feel guilty," Andrean smiled. He half turned to the silently irate Demitrius and continued, "Looks like I've still got to slay the monster at the end. Don't be such a sleeping beauty, eh, Zanen?"

"Shut up," Zanen mumbled.

Demitrius growled at Zanen, "I'll get you later," and stormed out of the room. Zanen remained stony for a moment then recovered and spoke to Andrean. "He's the oldest yet he listens to you."

"I'm no threat to him, he's got no need to bother with me," Andrean noted pointedly. "Did he get to you? Can I do anything?"

"You wouldn't do anything to Demi if I said he pushed me off a cliff," Zanen stated.

"I'm afraid you're right," Andrean nodded and they both laughed again. Andrean went on, "But that doesn't mean I can't patch you up afterwards. Come to our wing and have tea with us. Juliana and my mother are waiting for you."

Zanen's face brightened compared to the anger that had just been present. "Yes, let's go," he agreed. "Miss Emily, I'm so sorry but I won't have fruit and toast after all. I hope I'm being as inconvenient as possible."

Emily put her hand in front of her mouth and held back a giggle. "I've got everything under control Your Highness," she managed and curtsied again.

Zanen nodded to her and swept from the room with Andrean by his side. They set off down the ornate corridor together.

"You know, even I think you're incredibly nice to your servants," Andrean remarked after a moment. "I don't have a problem with it, but considering how you're held in the highest esteem here, I'm not sure if you're honorable or silly."

"I may have been born with a golden spoon in my mouth but I'd rather not be forced to choke on it," Zanen explained rather gloomily. "And what do you mean, held in highest esteem? That must explain why I haven't seen His Majesty for months."

"Right..." Andrean trailed off. It took five more minutes for them to cover the distance. They arrived in the drawing room of the southwest tower, a blue and silver themed room. It was comfortable and aesthetically pleasing and filled with sculptures, paintings and musical instruments. The footman by the door bowed as Zanen and Andrean entered.

"Hello," Zanen called.

Lady Charlotte rose from an elaborate armchair. She was a famously beautiful and elegant woman but Zanen preferred her for her kindness. She was dressed in splendid business attire.

"Zanen, good morning," she beamed and took his hands in her silk gloved ones. "I hope you are having a nice birthday."

"Demi already descended on him," Andrean put in before Zanen could answer. He caught his reflection in a mirror and smoothed out the powder blue vest and cravat beneath his gray jacket.

Lady Charlotte clicked her tongue. "He's spoiled your day already! That is unfortunate. Well, please sit down and help yourself to tea."

"Don't worry, my day is not ruined at all," Zanen said honestly. He sat down on the sofa and Andrean took a seat on the other end of it. Charlotte remained standing and turned to Zanen, holding out a sealed envelope to him. Zanen took it and looked at her curiously.

"I hope this will suffice for a birthday present, but I think you will enjoy it," Charlotte said softly. "It is the programme from today's conference."

"Is it really?" Zanen said with excitement. Charlotte nodded and Zanen tried to grin. "Wow, thank you, Your Ladyship! This just made my day."

         There was another bundle in the Lady's grasp. Zanen noticed it and blinked in surprise at what he was seeing.

"Here is part two: five hundred dollars," said Charlotte, and she handed him a stack of stiff, fresh notes held together with an elasticated decorative ribbon. Zanen was quiet as he accepted it. He knew he gained inheritance each year, and he had received many expensive gifts in his privileged childhood, but he had never been given cash money to hold. It was traditionally his caretaker's duty to hold his money. He gingerly fluttered the edges of the notes and happiness gathered within him. Money was no longer a textbook concept shown to him as numbers and figures.

         "Your Ladyship..." he stated, then looked up at her politely, "Thank you."

         "You are most welcome, Zanen," she replied and gave him a genuine smile. She moved as if to gesture him over for an embrace, but he did not pick up on it.

"Zanny!"

A ten year old girl appeared at the doorway and dashed in. She was bright eyed and beaming. Zanen stood up and smiled as she ran straight up to him. She wore a frilly white blouse and knee-length pink silk skirt.

"Happy birthday, Zanny," she sang and stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you very much, Julie," Zanen said, feeling quite elated. "Sit with us..."

Juliana placed herself between Zanen and Andrean and sat like a little lady with her ankles crossed. The youngest child of the royal family was already considered beautiful, with her demure nature, long brown hair and pretty face, and frequently received future marriage arrangements. It took Lady Charlotte and Lady Amira's combined authority to refuse some of them.

"So what is happening over there?" Zanen asked Charlotte. "You are back already?"

"Well, I am not that involved in heavily political matters," Charlotte sighed. "I may deal with social issues but this theme is not the place for me. Lady Amira, however, is not merely serving as translator today. She seems quite active in the settlements."

"Really, she didn't say anything to me," Zanen said, hiding his surprise. "So there will be settlements? That doesn't sound like something His Majesty would do."

"Euh, you and talking about business," Andrean groaned and he slouched over the arm of the sofa. Juliana linked her arm around Zanen's elbow and put her head on his shoulder.

"The settlements are for international governments, not for the Wickeds," Charlotte informed Zanen who raised his eyebrows. "General William Bruce was there and I have a feeling they are trying to persuade Lady Amira out of retirement."

Zanen sat forward and gazed at his father's second wife intently. "They want to put my mother back on the front lines?" he asked with concern. Even Andrean looked over with interest.

"It seems to be the case," Charlotte sighed patiently. "It is to be expected, Zanen, she is a legendary commander."

"But who is there to conquer?" Zanen wondered in a state of mild surprise. "Lady Amira said she's done with the whole business of war. She no longer believes in subjugating people."

"Indeed, it would go against her current character and political stance," Charlotte nodded. "It all depends on what His Majesty says and if she remembers how brilliant she is. Do not hold it against her, child, you beat out Demitrius for the throne thanks to her legacy."

"Yes, I know," Zanen sighed restlessly. "I'll just talk to Her Ladyship when I see her at lunch. And erm, I suppose seeing His Majesty would be out of the question today?"

"Oh, I believe you should make an effort later this evening," Charlotte said after a moment of hesitation. She tilted her head and watched him become absorbed in stirring sugar into his tea with a coolly stoic expression on his face. "Zanen, it is high time you called him father at least in my presence."

"I don't know, I don't see the point in calling him that if I still have to request an audience via three butlers passing the message along," Zanen said in a muted voice. He drank a mouthful of tea.

"I say you knock right on his door tonight and see what happens when Jania finds you standing there," Andrean suggested with a note of sarcastic amusement. Zanen refrained from rolling his eyes. Charlotte looked disapproving of such a comment but did not reprimand her son.

"You are still experiencing the consequences for that mischief with Chauncey over Hanukkah," Charlotte said to Zanen as gently as she could. "You should not have done such a deceitful and dangerous thing."

"Well it was done three months ago and there's nothing I can do about it now," Zanen said shortly. "I've heard from Chauncey and he is so much happier being out of here that I have no apology. I don't even understand why His Majesty cares...."

"I'll go with you, Zanen," Juliana piped up. "We'll knock on his door together. It won't be so scary if we both do it."

"Andre was joking, Julie," Zanen told her and she looked put out as she released his arm. She became even more disappointed when he set the tea aside and got to his feet. "Well, thank you...I'll see you all later. I think I'll go to the library and...study something."

"You know, Zanen," Charlotte said with a small smile, "social graces are something we all must study as well. You especially will have to tolerate the most tedious people in the future, and you can't just walk away from them."

"I don't think you're tedious," Zanen declared, highly abashed. "Please, I feel really unsettled today, that's all; and a tedious book will make everything better. We'll all have lunch together, I promise."



--

--Afternoon--

--



Sunlight fell in through the high window and threw the black and white marble table into a bright glare. The enormous, lavishly decorated room was silent but for the ticking clock. Yet four children occupied the room. Two boys sat across from each other, a magnificent Xiangqui board between them. Another boy and a girl relaxed on the sofa, watching the match.

"Zanen," began the girl. She had a plain face that was rescued by make-up and framed by waves of blonde hair. She had a terrible whining note to her voice. "It's your birthday and all you can think of doing is playing Chinese chess. Artem is going to beat you anyway."

"You've got twenty seconds," announced the boy named Artem. He was also blond with clear eyes and a visage that came with a constant smirk. He was fifteen.

"All I need are five," whispered Zanen whose dark features were thrown into sharp contrast by all the fair-haired children around him. He reached out a long fingered hand and moved his horse. He now addressed the girl. "What else should we do, Ana? Throw a party?"

Anastasia rolled her gray eyes to the heavens. "Of course."

Zanen's expression of seriousness softened slightly. "You can feel free to throw a party, but don't make me the excuse. I'm only twelve after all. Check mate," he added.

Artem blinked at the chessboard coldly. Had he moved his general right into check?

The youngest boy at eleven years old, who had been watching with utter boredom, now sat up straight. "Zanen just beat Artem?" Edgar said brightly. He pushed his dusty hair out of his hazel eyes with interest. Artem tossed a spare piece at his face to shut him up. Edgar flinched and covered his cheek. Zanen and Anastasia looked at each other, the former blushing indignantly, but they did not do anything otherwise.

"In front of everyone this time," Zanen stated to Artem with chilling calmness. He intended to prod Artem's overly sensitive, competitive spot.

Artem scowled. "I went easy on you for a birthday present," he snarled.

"You're really on a roll, Zanen," Anastasia went on. "You beat me three out of three times last week and even beat Demi within ten minutes."

"I still have the bruise from that sore loser," Zanen smiled slightly. "I finally figured out your strategy, brother. I can't believe I didn't see it before."

"I said it was for your birthday," said Artem through gritted teeth. "Just take it and leave it." Zanen was tempted to laugh in his face.

"Anyway," Anastasia piped up and averted a row, "I propose we head on into town. What do you say?"

"You can't go without security, where's the fun in that?" Zanen asked.

"Oh, you're pathetic," Anastasia snapped. "Just because a single thing takes away a little bit of fun one shouldn't give up on a fun situation entirely, Zanen."

"Right...." Zanen got to his feet and the other three followed suit. "I'll walk with you to the front and think of something else to do."

At that moment the heavy wooden door opened. A butler in a black suit entered the room and cleared his throat. "Lady Amira requests His Highness Zanen to join her in the garden."

"Okay--" Zanen began.

"Oh, Scott, just the person I needed," said Anastasia from behind a compact mirror. She pursed her lips then looked up. "Artem, Edgar and I want to go into town. Make the arrangements."

"Forgive me, Your Highness Anastasia." Scott the butler bowed his head. "As there is a major political meeting taking place, security is scarce. I am afraid you cannot go out today."

Anastasia closed the compact with a loud snap. She glared at Scott the butler. "I gave you an order to make the arrangements, Scott, do as I say."

The butler bowed his head again. "Your Highness, I am afraid..."

A woman's voice rang out in the hallway outside the den room. "Scott, please make arrangements for my children and myself to leave in half an hour."

"Your Majesty!" Scott gasped. He opened the door and a lady with curled short blond hair and an exquisite cream and gold business suit entered the room. "Your Majesty left the meeting and wishes to depart?"

"Don't question me, Scott," Empress Jania sniffed. "Artem, Edgar, Anastasia; please join Demitrius and me in the entrance."

"Yes," the three fair-haired children sighed. Everyone left the room. Empress Jania did not by glance or gesture acknowledge Zanen's existence.

Typical, Zanen thought darkly as he followed Edgar. The others took a right down the next hallway while Zanen headed to the left. The palace was one constructed from old money during old times and therefore still had original gold embossed wood carving, Persian rugs and iron wrought window panes. Zanen stared at his feet as he walked, his mind on the chess match. He knew he had won fair and square, that Artem had genuinely fallen for his trap.

His feet carried him down a sweeping staircase and a marble floored entrance way. The grandeur of the place made him feel sick.

Zanen exited the door without looking back. He was still lost in thought, oblivious to the lovely southern weather, replaying his opponent's moves over and over. He doubted Artem would fall for the trap again but he thought he had another idea for next time based on the probability that...

He was jerked out of his thoughts by pain as he walked straight into a bush. Zanen took a step back and glared at the green sculpture of an angel. As if this place is anywhere near heaven, he thought bitterly. He shook his head and looked around. He made his way towards the sprawling garden.

He finally arrived at the center of the engineered garden. A woman sat at one of the little white iron tables near a bed of hydrangeas. Her skin was olive; her thick, long hair as black as his. The dark blue dress she wore fluttered to the ground and an indigo shawl was draped around her straight shoulders. She smiled widely as he approached.

"Happy birthday again, Zanen." She spoke in Arabic with as soft of a voice as the guttural language could permit.

"Hello Your Ladyship," Zanen replied also in Arabic. He bowed before he pulled up a chair and sat down. "Thank you again."

"You have been working on a puzzle or problem," Lady Amira stated, taking in her son's aloof expression. "What is on your mind?"

"I beat Artem at Xiangqui," Zanen informed her. He looked up into her elegant face and felt something warm rise in his chest at the pride he saw in her eyes, the eyes he had inherited. Impressing Lady Amira was no mere feat. "This time Edgar and Ana witnessed it."

Amira continued to smile. "Aha, I see. If you do not win three consecutive times, the first two are omitted and you must begin again and relearn. Is he still a difficult opponent?"

"I think he will be," Zanen said slowly. "I found a loophole today and I think I know how to go so he falls for something similar." He squinted at a patch of grass and sighed after a minute. "Jania took the four of them out again."

Amira's smile faded. "Even when there's the conference on the Wickeds being held right now?" Zanen nodded and her frown became more pronounced. "That would explain why even my Robert retreated."

"Your guard left?" Zanen said angrily.

"In any case it is foolish for her to go into public at a time like this," Amira said seriously. "There is so much unrest...the people do not know what to make of this whole situation."

"What does Your Ladyship think?" Zanen watched her gaze across the garden. Another breeze came, causing Amira's hair to flutter gracefully. Thirsting for answers, Zanen continued, "Please don't leave me in the dark anymore. Who are they planning to conquer? I know you told me you won't be leading any battles, but I am still dying to know...."

Amira looked squarely into Zanen's bright young face. Her eyes now appeared clouded. She reached her hand out across the table and Zanen took it. "Zanen," she said softly, "always remember this: lording over the weak or helpless is wrong, but making people stronger than yourself go into a position of disgrace is just as bad. Humankind has a tendency to oppress and use each other. Justice and equality are important to strive for. You must remember this."

Zanen's lightning mind processed these words. He knew too well how it felt to be put down and humiliated by his siblings. Demitrius had skillful tendency to use Artem, Anastasia and Edgar to make himself more powerful than Zanen. Zanen never complained to his parents and dealt with the confrontations on his own -Andrean was a neutral pacifist. He would never wish oppression on other people.

"Power is destructive, my son," Amira cut into his musing. "Only those prepared and willing to lose power deserve to hold it."

Zanen was thinking through this and how emotional Amira was acting when there was a sudden noise in a nearby bush.

"My Lady!" cried a voice.

Zanen and his mother looked over sharply at a figure in a guardsmen uniform sprinting towards them. Before they could call out to Robert the guard, there were two consecutive loud bangs quite close behind them. The noise rattled Zanen's hypersensitive ears. They both watched as Robert keeled forward and fell facedown on the grass.

"Your Ladyship!" Zanen cried. They both stood and backed away from the table.

More shots rang out. Zanen seemed to turn as though in slow motion. The air left his lungs as before his eyes Amira staggered backwards. She tried to grab at the table for support but missed, and stumbled to the ground in a kneeling position.

"Mother!" Zanen gasped, unable to comprehend an image of the woman without her pride and steely, invincible presence. He threw his chair aside but the next moment he felt something collide with the back of his head. He fell sideways into a haze of pain. Stars blurred his vision but he heard his mother...

"Zanen--!"

"A-Amira!"

There were footsteps, a terrible gurgling noise, a thud, and then silence. Zanen hastily got to his knees, blinking through his dizziness. All he could make out before him was bright red and green. The red was overtaking the green of the grass, staining it deep purple.

He scrambled backward, his heart thumping wildly. He flung his arms over his head and cowered, not entirely sure from what; perhaps from the fear itself. Now the ability to speak was wiped from him...he seemed unable to breathe....

A rush of desperation seized him. "Robert!" he screamed, and his voice cracked. "Robert, help, come help Lady Amira. ROBERT!" He squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering on the spot. A pressure seemed to constrict his chest and he couldn't breathe. "Mother...."

You must check that she is okay, a little voice said in his mind. He lifted his head and crawled over to her. She was lying flat down.

"Mother," Zanen sniffed. He lifted her shoulder as hard as he could. His heart dropped out of his chest as he saw the great gash that went clean through her neck. He let the body go and fell back in horror. He looked around, fear obscuring all sense of thought. "Emily... Father!" he bellowed.

He shakily got up to his feet. He couldn't leave her there...He looked down at her and the pool of blood had grown alarmingly. He let out a wail, turned, and ran.

He ran as fast as he could. He tripped into a little hole and felt a sharp pain in his ankle, but he kept running. He had always lived with a grim understanding that someone would be murdered in this generation, it was inevitable, but Lady Amira of all royals.... He was hyperventilating, he couldn't breathe...the adorned and adored Lady Amira couldn't be.... Was this a bizarre coup? What had just happened?

Prince Zanen ran and ran, across the grounds of the palace and towards the governing buildings. He flew towards the Imperial Hall where the meeting was still in session. A dozen guards stood at the door.

"Your Highness!" they called as he dashed up the white marble steps.

Zanen threw himself into the bright red door with full force. "Your Majesty!" He bellowed. He began pounding his fist on the door as he slid down it, his body aching. "Father- Your Majesty - it's me, it's Zanen!" Pairs of hands pulled him away.

"NO!" Zanen screeched, beside himself. "Mother is dead, Your Majesty, Lady Amira is dead!"

"What did Your Highness say?" said a guard sharply.          

"His hands have got blood on them!" said another guard in alarm.

Without a second's warning the door burst open and caught Zanen full on. He went reeling backward and stumbled down a few of the stone steps.

"What is this nonsense, Zanen you fool?" said a dangerous voice.

Zanen found his footing and lifted his head, shivering. "Father..." He looked up at the tall man with a hard face and trimmed graying yellow beard. His eyes of ice seemed to deaden Zanen further. His blood red robe swished as he took a strong step forward. Zanen covered his abdomen, which was winded and obstructing his breath.

"His Highness Zanen claims that Her Ladyship Amira is dead, Your Majesty," reported the guard in undertone.

Zanen held back a whimper and pushed himself to stand straight. His heart was being cut out of high chest, he was sure of it...

"What can I do about that, then?" said Ivar angrily. "What a weak fool you are, Zanen."

Tears burned in Zanen's eyes as the words came down on him. "B-but it's true...Mother was m-murdered!" He stifled the first sob and covered his face.

"I had high hopes for you, Zanen," Ivar growled, "but now I can see you will not be fit to rule Americus. I should have known you got your mother's weak heart."

Zanen kept his head bowed. A red haze came into his vision. His blood was pounding in his ears and he trembled with fury... He jumped to his feet, despair and anger propelling him. "You don't even care?" he shouted in disbelief. "About her - or about me? Y-Your Majesty is nothing without her! You - you - devil!"

"Take him away," Ivar said harshly. "How dare you interrupt this meeting with such boorish behavior? Hold your tongue before I consider your words treason. Get out of my sight."

Two of the guards steered Zanen backwards. He stared at his father, the Emperor, horrified.

"Your - you - but why?" he spluttered.

"Be gone."

.



































                             

13