The Prince’s trusted guard was walking through the Imperial Palace. He had been stationed to patrol this day and heard from word of mouth about the invitation from Ažerlü-šanad, and then about the broken bowl.
It was a shame neither he nor any of those of higher command were in charge of guarding U’il-šanad’s personal areas, because from what he had heard from his various sources of information around the Palaces, it had been chaotic.
Sudden running steps made him turn around, hand on hilt of a dagger. Seeing the guard run toward him, he hurriedly approached him instead.
“What’s wrong? Has something happened to His Highness?”
“I can’t stand it anymore!”
The trusted guard paused. “What?”
“His Highness has been ignoring me since we returned! I had to station someone else to relay messages to him, because it’s as if I’m nothing, much like the rain is to Denaštür, and fires are to Nükiž!”
The trusted guard looked him a once over, scanning for anything unusual in his attire. “I can’t leave my post.”
“I’ll take over!”
“And I can’t leave it to you.”
“Please! The other guards are already beginning to ignore me, too.”
The trusted guard considered doing the same.
But in the end, he turned around to continue in silent acknowledgement of the request.
The other guard followed him gratefully until they reached a guard stationed farther down the hallway.
“Did something happen to the young Blood Prince?”
“He’s in a mood.”
“A mood?”
“Yes.”
The other guard shifted his weight and leaned a little closer to the trusted guard. “You have it hard.”
The trusted guard motioned to the runaway with his chin. “Tell him that.”
“I will.”
“Your Royal Highness.”
U’il-šanad lifted his gaze to see a boy open the door for the guard. He smiled.
“Please, don’t cause trouble for me,” the guard said as he had stepped inside. He paused the next moment as the door was shut behind him by a guard outside. He took a long look at the red robes. If he remembered correctly, the maid had not prepared red for the Prince to wear that morning. “What are we celebrating?”
“My elder brother’s generosity,” the Prince replied, amused.
“Not your first punishment of a servant?”
U’il-šanad lifted his sleeve as he laughed. The guard stepped closer, patiently waiting for the Prince to stop.
“You should have already received word of it. It was nothing major, but she requested the punishment, so I gave her what she asked for. I want you to make the rumours make the punishment sound worse than it was.”
“Worse than an hour of cleaning of the storage?”
“Oh, was it in the storage? I could never have anticipated that. I told them to make it the quarters of the servants.”
The guard shook his head, before motioning slightly toward paper on the table. U’il-šanad nodded.
Brush in hand, the guard wrote with some of the most awful handwriting U’il-šanad had seen in his life: Did you ask the physician to see her?
The Prince, nodded.
What was the result?
The Prince nodded again.
Do you think it was the eldest?
The Prince shook his head before he took the brush.
Hard to say. But I think the target wasn’t me, but Çuiren. Someone is targeting the eldest through her this time, I believe.
“You mean…”
“Your Royal Highness, the slave you asked for has come to see you.”
The guard gave the Prince, now smiling as if he held many secrets that amused him, a glance, then hid the sheet with their silent communication on himself. He moved to a respectful distance, while one of the maids helped U’il-šanad on his feet so he could sit down more elevated. A fur he had worn over his shoulder slid down onto the floor and a maid hurried to pick it up as she was cleaning away the many artful drawings the Prince had done while waiting.
The red beads of his earrings tinkled while the gold of his jewellery clinked at his movements. The gold of his crown and on his red outer robe caught some light shining into his chambers, casting reflections on the wall and up the ceiling.
The trusted guard watched as the air of the Prince changed from his more playful demeanour to someone of more royal bearing, his eyes losing any of the amused curve, and the slight smile he almost always wore on his lips disappeared without a trace.
Many things within the Palace of Peace and Hope were neither peaceful nor causing one to have hope, yet U’il-šanad could handle most things as is if he lived a life without worries. Even the maid who has been by his side since the day he entered the Palace trembled slightly as the Prince showed his seldom seen serious side, which reminded them so very much of the Emperor, despite how different he looked from his father on the throne.
Seeing the fright he gave the maid, U’il-šanad smiled reassuringly before he motioned for her to stand to the side.
“You may let her in now,” His Royal Highness said softly.
The guard nodded. “Let her in,” he repeated.
Çuiren heard the voice before she saw the guard. This guard was the one she was used to seeing around the Prince, not the one who the guard who had brought her there had said was nothing but a droplet in the vast sea, as the Prince was in a strangely offended yet good mood.
The next moment her heart, that had been beating fast in worry, seemed to nearly stop.
Even though he didn’t look at her, but rather had his eyes half-closed, Çuiren could almost feel a piercing gaze coming from him. As if he could see right through her, even without looking. The Prince seemed like a deity where he sat at the other end of the room, and for the first time, she truly understood why they called those neither men nor women ‘divine’.
What’s more, wearing that red robe, with the sun reflected in the gold, with lips painted red and the soft red at the tails of his eyes, His Royal Highness was the very image of Nükiž, the deity of the sun, who knew all that happened in this world and who not even secrets buried in the deepest corners within one’s heart could remain hidden to, as if shining light on even the darkest of shadows.
She nearly turned around to see that she still remained in the Palace or if she had somehow entered a place of worship, with a statue of Nükiž.
Or if she perhaps had been summoned by Nükiž for some higher purpose in life.
Yet she heard the door close behind her, the guard stood to the side, and there were servants looking down, waiting to do whatever the Prince asked; this was clearly the outer chamber of the Prince’s chambers.
She was frozen in place awhile. His Royal Highness, the youngest Blood Prince, the divine U’il-šanad, lifted his gaze and looked straight at her, his eyes neither cold nor warm.
“You stand so far away.”
The guard repeated the words the Prince said, his voice too soft for her to hear over the thumping in her ears.
When she didn’t move, the Prince moved, and it looked like he might stand up.
She hurriedly approached him, then curtsied. “Your Royal Highness asked for Çuiren,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. She reminded herself that this divine was a human, just like her, not the incarnation of Nükiž.
Or at least she didn’t think U’il-šanad was the incarnation of Nükiž.