Chapter 9

Old Wounds

While buttoning up his new white shadow leopard vest, Zefran observed his new place inside the castle. Unlike his old room which had only been a single room down in the bowels of the main keep; his new room was the penthouse of the Jungle Tower. The green hues peeking through the stained glass windows bathed the main room in a nauseating color.

Apparently Kurt agreed with Zefran’s sentiment because he had to steady himself against the wall before entering the room. “By all the Gods, that color is disorienting. The distortions it causes in your vision is crazy.”

“I expect that’s the reason no one was residing in the penthouse before me,” Zefran remarked before slowly walking over and out of the room with Kurt, “I believe the previous occupant was a hobbyist in vision and perception altering objects.” Zefran patted the shadow leopard vest and donned a white military style tailcoat.

“A message from your father,” Kurt said as he regained his constitution.

“Most likely,” Zefran nodded, “He wants me to alter myself to fit with his perception of me.”

Kurt shot him a quizzical look. “No, a message from your father,” he corrected, producing a sealed note.

“Oh sorry,” Zefran snatched the note up and broke the seal. Inside was his fathers neat and curt handwriting:

Zefran,

Come to the throne at your earliest convenience. If inconvenient come all the same.

Your Father,

Emperor Magnus III.

P.S. Leave that boy in the barracks where he belongs.

“What’s it say?” Kurt asked.

Zefran crumpled the note in his fist, “Nothing good. Stay here. I'll handle this encounter on my own.” He began down the hallway then turned to face Kurt again, “and no following me cloaked, I’ll know.”

After descending the lift that was at the heart of every tower that encircled the main keep of the palace. He briskly walked toward the large main double doors. Framed by gold the massive doors held six onyx squares that were nearly as tall as a man.

A single guard from a perch high above the doors yelled down to him, “Who approaches the Black Gate?”

“Prince Zefran of House Einheart here to see my lord father, Emperor Magnus Einheart third of his name.” Zefran stated as loud and formally as he could muster.

The guard saluted from the battlement and the doors creeped open via an auditable mechanism. If this was any other visit he would have come in one of the lesser gates, but his father had stated “the throne”. That meant this was to be an official meeting, one where he was to be seen and heard by not only his family but his father’s attendants and some of the noble aristocracy.

After the thick gilded doors lumbered open, six palace guards outfitted in their golden breastplates and helmets escorted him toward the interior. He was bombarded on all sides by the procession of decadent art works and captured sculptures from around the conquered lands of the empire. His ancestor’s and his father’s trophies from campaigns new and old. Just before the long walk was over a solitary sculpture off to the side caught the Prince’s attention. Kayla?

He told the guards to halt as he approached the sculpture. A frown and sad eyes crossed his face as he studied the figures' features. He noted the subtle way the marble flowed to give the sibilance of real skin. Then he noticed it, the small imperfections in the skin that could only be one thing. She’s a living statue.

One of his father’s mages must have cast it during the sacking of her city and had turned her body to stone. While her mind and soul had long passed, her body still remained preserved in flawless stone. An ageless trophy.

He heard the loud clicking of heels on polished stone as his sister came up behind him. She joined him in studying the sculpture.

“Ah yes, the Princess of Mists. Father had it moved here nearly a year after her death,” She said.

“Why?” Zefran seethed. His rage brewing just under the surface of the mask of civility.

“It was a great victory. If the battle-lust hadn’t taken you, you might have joined us in the celebration that she commemorates.” his sister said, but before he could get a word in edgewise she had already turned to leave. Her blue robes swayed as she sauntered toward the throne room.

His blood boiled. How dare they. How dare they! She was beautiful and strong, a leader of her people and now she adorns the hallways like a piece of finery.

Just as Serena was about to go through the door to the throne room he shouted after her, “She doesn’t deserve this!”

His sister turned and scowled back at him, “She was our enemy Zefran, or have you forgotten how she betrayed you. If you don’t like it, then take it up with father. Doubtless, he put it there to remind you of what happens when you cross him.” Then she disappeared not even the click of her heels marked her presence as she left.

A few moments of rage filled him, staring at the empty spot where his vile sister cooled his temper somewhat. More, it was the quiet breathing of the stone figure behind him that calmed the storm. He looked at her, and her dead stone eyes stared back at him. You’re really gone then. I hope you are happy now wherever you are. As I will never be.