Breaker of Chains - Chapter Twelve

For Tenyo's LMS contest. Enjoy and whatnot. Word Count: 2,689, approx.

Chapter Twelve

Arjana stepped into the infirmary and paused. The braziers were burning brightly, smoke billowing into the air in thick, cloying ribbons. The windows were shuttered tightly, letting very little breeze into the room. It cast the infirmary into a play of shadow and light. He glanced about and frowned when he found no body to be there but his unconscious bodyguard. Kaisar lay on one of the beds, chest bare, with a blanket pulled up over his stomach. It hid the wound Arjana knew was there. He could see the stain on the crisp, white blanket from where he stood.

At least they'd removed his blood-soaked clothes.

He sighed and crossed to the bed, glancing about again to be absolutely sure no else was there. Exhaling, he knelt beside the bed and lightly touched Kaisar's uncovered arm. Kaisar's skin was damp, but frigid. Fever and chills, Arjana thought, withdrawing his hand. He was tempted to check the wound, but that might not be a good idea. 

The door opened and someone stepped into the room. They stopped short when they saw him kneeling beside Kaisar's infirmary bed. "Y-your Highness?"

Arjana glanced towards the intruder, tensed for a confrontation. He relaxed when he saw that it was just the head healer. "Hassun," he said, rising to his feet. "I thought you were someone else."

Hassun smiled and joined him beside the infirmary bed. "He's stable for the moment," the head healer muttered, peering down at the man laying in bed. "But he won't wake up. I think I told you that." Hassun glanced up at him, smile dying. Arjana offered him the tiniest of smiles back. "It seems he's sleeping. Whatever magic that's bound to the poison, it's keeping him alive."

"I sense a 'but' coming." He frowned at the healer, looking between him and the man he loved. "Please tell me it's good news."

The healer shook his head. "Sorry, my prince. It's bad news; we don't know how long the magic will keep him that way."

He sighed and resisted the urge to swear. "Thank you, Hassun," he muttered, leaning down to trace a thumb over Kaisar's cheek. If the healer had anything to say about his actions, he didn't voice it. Arjana was grateful for that. Several days had passed since Kaisar had collapsed, and he'd been very busy. His mother had retired to the royal chambers; he'd been to visit and found her sitting beside his father's bed. She hadn't been crying, but that hardly surprised him. Neither one of them had truly loved the old man. Beyond that, he'd been dealing with prisoners and fickle nobility. Arjana sighed and headed for the door. "I think I'm going to retire to my rooms. It's late."

"Goodnight, your highness," Hassun called after him. He held up a hand without looking back at the bald healer, reaching for the door handle with the other. "Arjana?" He turned back, fixing the man with a frown. Hassun didn't use his name, especially not in a place where anyone could just walk by and overhear them. "Be careful, please."

Arjana just nodded and opened the door, stepping out into the hall. Once the door was closed behind him, he was safe to assume everyone was against him. He closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back against the door. Trying to change the perceptions of an entire empire was a huge burden to bear. It was going to be a struggle, and he wasn't sure he could do it. Not with Kaisar. It always came back to that; he needed his lover to help with their huge agenda. Saving entire generations could wait. He needed Kaisar back first.

He barely even heard Rindal step out of a door opposite him. "Something I should know about, Sire?"

Arjana's eyes flew open and he dropped his head down to meet the guard's dangerously curious gaze. "What?"

"Is there something you need to tell me, your highness?" Rindal repeated with growing irritation. He took a step forward, then another and another. "You have been secretive and evasive. You refuse to talk to me about your plans for the day, forcing me to track you down. I had to ask one of you house servants if they'd seen you this morning." The irritation turned to anger, and Arjana would've backed away if he thought he had the room. As it was, there was a door to his back and an angry palace guard boxing him in. "You led me on a merry chase today, my prince." Rindal's gaze narrowed. "What if you had been attacked and I wasn't there?"

"Rindal--"

"No." The word was said sternly, lowly. It sent Arjana's teeth on edge, and he was suddenly under the impression that he was in immediate danger. "No excuses, Arjana." He pointed a finger at Arjana's face, nearly touching his nose. "You're going to tell me exactly what you've been doing lately, running all over the palace and ditching your guards."

Arjana pressed his lips together, watching the glaring guard opposite him. Rindal snorted and abruptly grabbed him, jerking him roughly away from the door. He kept his mouth firmly shut, refusing to let Rindal get under his skin. It seemed his behaviour had set off alarms bells in Rindal's mind. He would not give in to the guard's demands.

"Walk," Rindal grunted, shoving Arjana ahead of him. 

The guard marched him all the way back to his rooms, and even opened the door for him. Any servants they passed ducked their heads and began whispering before he was even out of earshot. They respected him well enough, but that wouldn't stop them from gossiping. He'd allowed it so far, but now he was wondering if he'd let it go on for too long. Rindal still wanted to know about his activities lately. Arjana would have to tell him. Eventually. He wouldn't just give it up right from the start. 

"Get inside." 

Arjana paused in the doorway, glancing back at the guard. Or maybe he would... "You want to know what I've been doing lately?" he asked, hands braced on either side of the door. The guard's hand was still firm on his shoulder. He could see the way Rindal was looking at him, suspicion and curiousity warring for dominance. "You really want to know?" 

Rindal scowled at him. "Of course I want to know," he snarled, giving Arjana a shove; it pushed him through the door and into the room. Rindal followed him in and pulled the door shut with a loud thud. "So you're going to tell me." 

He stumbled but righted himself quickly, turning to face the guard. "I've been doing the usual tasks," Arjana said, gaze narrowed. He rubbed his arm where Rindal had gripped him so hard. "You want to know why....it's because what's done in my father’s name is disgusting." He glanced about and quickly took a seat in a nearby chair, stretching out with a little puff of air. His relaxed state was a complete farce, but Rindal didn't need to know that. Behind his mask, he was ridiculously tense. "The slavery? Despicable. The genocide? Absolute madness. My father is a depraved old man with sick tendencies. I'm surprised none of you object to them loudly." He fixed Rindal with a knowing look, watching the man's face carefully. He could see understanding dawning in them. "Then again, with the punishments he dishes out for not agreeing with him... I don't think I'd object in anything other than whispers behind closed doors."

Rindal's stance stiffened, and his expression was suddenly shuttered. "I have no objections," the man hissed, avoiding his eyes. He watched the man closely, wary of the reaction. Rindal's next words confirmed his suspicions. "The Emperor's will is absolute."

Arjana snorted at the statement. It wasn't Rindal's true opinion; it was a phrase all guards were taught from their first day in training. His mind provided him with the full paragraph; Don't argue with the Emperor, don't question him, don't even look at him wrong, and especially don't object to an order. The Emperor's will is absolute. It was something he remembered vividly from his training with the guard while he was still a child.

"That's not what you truly think and we both know it." He drew the assassin's dagger from the sheath on his hip and peered at the blade closely, watching the multi-coloured shine roll across the blade. Then he looked up over it at Rindal. "So why don't you tell me what you're really thinking."

The guard's lips were pressed into a thin line and there was a twitch above on eye. Arjana watched the twitch closely, then dropped his gaze to the man's hands. Rindal was gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Well, that was interesting. Perhaps Rindal wasn't as cruel as he appeared to be? Arjana sighed and straightened up, fixing Rindal with an intense look.

"We're safe here, Rindal," he said, sheathing the blade. He rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head. "What we say in my rooms, stays in my rooms. No one would dare repeat what I've been talking to you about."

Rindal cleared his throat but still refused to look at him. "This notion is ridiculous," he snapped before turning on his heel, yanking open the door and storming out.

Arjana watched the door swinging for a long moment before he got up and closed it with a sigh. At least he knew that Rindal's opinions lay more towards his, and that wasn't on his father's side. It was good news, to a degree. He just had to hope Rindal would come back to him and ask if he could help. That could take days, though. He turned and headed for the bedroom, shucking his jacket on the way and throwing it over one of the chair in the room.

If he could turn Rindal, he'd have a majority of the guards on his side. Rindal was a hard man to convince, but Arjana had a feeling that the man had a mountain of guilt eating away at him. He rubbed a hand over his face, opening the door to his bedroom. If only Kaisar would wake up.

He's just stepped through the door when something slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. The bedroom door slammed just and plunged him into darkness. He hadn't even realised the candles weren't lit in the bedroom until the door was shut, blocking out the light from the lamps burning brightly in the other room. Arjana froze up, suddenly adrift. He'd never liked being without light, and it seemed his attacker knew that.

Something rushed past him, air whooshing past his face. He flinched, backing up swiftly and no longer frozen to the stop. There was another whoosh of air, and something drew a fine line of searing heat across his cheekbone. Arjana hissed, grabbed blindly. His hand made contact with something solid--an arm, perhaps--and he ground his teeth together against the pain in his cheek. The wound burned and not in the good way. 

A moment later, there was a foot suddenly behind his ankle, making him stumble again. His attacker was trying to trip him up. He struggled with the person's arm, hissing when a hand closed around his wrist and twisted his arm away. Arjana wasn't sure what happened next, but was suddenly on his knees, bent over a chaise lounge with his arm twisted round behind his back.

"Stay down," hissed a masculine voice. The accent was heavy and thick, the tone smug. Arjana didn't like it. "It suits you."

Arjana panted, trying to catch his breath. A single lamp suddenly lit up the room, but he could see nothing but shadows playing over the nearest wall. "What do you want?" he got out between sharp inhales. Pain lanced through his shoulder and elbow, the rest of his arm numb from the elbow down. "Whatever they're paying you, I can pay more."

The man holding him down snorted. "I highly doubt that, little prince." Amusement coloured the assassin's voice, and Arjana groaned as he pressed down on his shoulder, bending it at an almost unnatural angle. "The payment isn't what I like best." The assassin leaned down and Arjana felt the man's scratchy beard against his neck. "There is more to treasure than silver and gold or precious jewels, Highness."

"What do you want?" he repeated, voice tight. He had an idea of what the man wanted, and he wasn't sure he liked it. The assassin's tone implied his ass or his head. Arjana didn't want the man touching either. He watched the shadows on the wall carefully. His attacker was a big man, but he couldn't make out much else. "And please don't say it's my ass."

An amused snort was his answer. "It's not," the assassin grunted, and suddenly there was a blade at his neck. He could almost feel the cool metal resting against his collarbone. The dagger wasn't touching him yet--probably because the blade was soaked in poison. And that was likely why his cheek was burning. "I'm not here to bed you; I'm here to kill you."

Arjana tensed, eyes darting towards the dagger. The hand wrapped around it was as large as the man appeared to be, and dark-skinned. There was a tattoo curling over the back on it, a strange mix of black and red. It wasn't familiar. "That's a lovely thought," Arjana muttered, eyes still on the hand that held the hilt. "Why? Who's paying you?"

The assassin clucked his tongue at him. "Now, now," he said, adjusting his grip on the dagger's handle. "That would ruin all the fun, won't it?"

Arjana huffed, rolling his eyes. "At least tell me why."

"Because you're ruining his plans."

Well, that was just brilliant. He closed his eyes, expecting the dagger's blade to press against his neck, expecting it to slice through his throat and let his blood pour out onto the chaise lounge. It didn't come. There was a grunt and the hold on his wrist loosened, then a gurgle. Something hot and wet splashed across his back and the side of his face, making him flinch. The assassin was shoved to one side and fell to the floor with a loud thump, freeing him.

Arjana scrambled out of the way, turning to see what had happened to his attacker. There was a gaping wound across the big man's throat and the front of his shirt was soaked in blood. He stared at the man for a long moment before turning to look for his rescuer. No one stood behind where the assassin had been.

The rest of the candles and lamps abruptly burst in life, flooding the room with warmth and flickering light. Arjana started, glanced about the room. The window beside his bed was wide open, the curtain billowing in the breeze. "Hello?" he called shakily, fearing another attack. "Is anyone there?"

It was when he eyes passed over the window again that he spotted it; a masked figure crouched on the sill, a bloodied sword clutched in one hand. As he watched, the figure sheathed the blade and inclined their head. Arjana stared at them, confused.

"Who sent you?" he demanded, scrambling to his feet. The figure tensed, and Arjana ceased moving so fast. When they didn't answer, Arjana grew frustrated and repeated the sentence, with emphasis. "Who sent you?"

"The Empress wishes you well, highness," the figure said, voice pitched in such a way that he found hard to pin a gender or age on. It was light, serene voice and completely at odds with this person's appearance. "Try not to get killed while Kaisar is away."

With that, the figure disappeared out the window and was gone. Arjana spent a long time staring at the window before he opened the bedroom door and yelled for the guards. Rindal, surprisingly, was rather prompt in his response.