Young Writers Society

For Tenyo's LMS contest. Enjoy. 

Word Count; 1,030, approx.

Chapter Eight 

Arjana paced briskly before the window of his bedroom, glaring at the polished stone floor, the lavish bed, the elegant curtains, anything but what he should be glaring at--and it was the one thing he couldn't glare at, really. That damned Cherani assassin. Kaisar had told him the body would be there and when he'd taken the guards to check, there had, indeed, been a body. That had been over a week ago. And now he was without his lover and bodyguard. It was quite a....complicated situation.

And a dangerous one; he was now a target. He had no shield to hide behind, no snarling dog. Why hadn't the healer noticed the poison before it was too late? But he knew. He knew why they hadn't. Magic was almost undetectable, especially the kind the blade had been enchanted with. Arjana glanced towards that dagger now, sitting on the windowsill with sunlight glinting off its blade. It looked so innocuous sitting there, like it could hardly hurt a fly, but he knew it was dangerous. Kaisar had brought it to him, and he'd told him to never touch the blade. Arjana had known it wasn't his lover's--the design was not the same.

He groaned, dragging a hand over his head and then dug his fingers into his hair. Arjana dragged his gaze off of it. Frustration coursed through him, and he tugged at his hair again. This was his fault; he'd asked Kaisar to go check on the Emperor. Why hadn't he waited? Why hadn't he sent someone else? And then there was the choice he'd been given. Arjana ground his teeth together. Damn that healer to Medurka and back! What was he supposed to do? How, even? His father or Kaisar? How, in the name of all the old gods, was he supposed to choose? It was ridiculous and impossible! But then....

No, he couldn't. Arjana tugged on his hair again, scowling. There was a decision to make, and he wasn't sure if he could make it. His other hand went to the front of his jacket. He still wore the finery he'd dressed in that morning. Arjana tugged at it, feeling the fabric tighten around his throat. Obviously, that was all in his head and he was in no real danger of choking, but still. He had to pick one of them.

Definitely a difficult decision. Saving Kaisar would mean betraying his father--at least, it would in the eyes of the court--and saving the Emperor would mean condemning entire generations to slavery. Arjana couldn't do the latter. He'd promised his mother that he'd stop it. Gods, he'd promised Kaisar that they'd stop it. How was he going to honour that promise if his beloved was laying in an infirmary bed, dying of poison?

Arjana swung back round the pace the other direction, gaze unfocused and attention drifting blindly. He could accidentally let the healers tend to Kaisar, and conveniently forget that his Father was laying on his death bed. He heaved a sigh and turned to pace back towards the bed, a scowl darkening his features. That wouldn't work; he would be seen as a traitor to the crown. He'd lose his chance to take over the Empire, to change it. Arjana couldn't deal with this decision, not right now--but there was something else he could do.

He smiled and went to get the guard. Rindal listened to his orders patiently, nodding his head. Once the man was gone, Arjana retreated to the window. Perhaps there was something he could do? Some fine line he could walk? Arjana sighed, leaned into the window frame and watched the clouds for a moment. He would need to be careful. Without Kaisar by his side, things were going to be twice as dangerous.

Arjana rested his hand on the windowsill, frowning down at the dagger. He couldn't do this, couldn't change an entire Empire's perceptions on one subject. It would takes years, decades even. No, he couldn’t do it. Not on his own, at least. He sighed and closed his eyes, thinking of what Kaisar had said to him right before he'd collapsed. Kaisar had never mentioned a sister before. Was she dead? Alive? Enslaved? Arjana simply didn't know. He would have to enquire about the sister later. Probably best to ask Rindal, he thought, his frown deepening. He would know.

A knock on the door had him straightening up, eyes flying open. "Come in."

Rindal opened the door, saw him and smiled. "I have assembled the prisoners in the throne room, as requested," he said, inclining his head. Arjana didn't like the man, not really, but at least he got things done. He certainly wasn't Kaisar. His lover had a certain twist to his stance, a dangerous edge to him that the nobility were afraid of. It kept them at bay. Arjana feared what they would do now that Kaisar was not beside him. No doubt he would be inundated with requests for many things, and they would most likely try to put forward their sons and daughters, their siblings, their nieces and nephews for consideration. As consorts. He really didn't want that. Rindal frowned, but he didn't comment on Arjana's distraction. He just finished what he'd come back to say; "The nobles have been confined to their quarters for now, so you are free to interrogate them at your leisure."

"Thank you," Arjana muttered, glancing towards the window again. He snatched up the dagger and paused to look up at the sky, his mood darkening. A cloud passed over the sun, blocking it from view and a shadow fell over the gardens. He turned away from the sight, pushing off the windowsill. Arjana secreted away the dagger and approached the guard, gesturing for Rindal to proceed him. "Lead the way."

He still had to choose; save the man he loved or condemn entire generations to slavery. It was a tough decision to make, but it would not be his alone. He would need help. It was just a matter of who he could--or should--ask. And it was not going to be…easy.