I need my golden crown of sorrow

My bloody sword to swing

My empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology

-- Florence + the Machine, King

Chaos reigned through the palace. No one was sure what had actually happened and a hundred different rumours flew around. All that was certain was that Prince Imrahil had been found apparently dead, and he woke up while the doctor was examining him.

"I don't understand it," the doctor said repeatedly while the entire family crowded around a very irritated Imrahil. "He was dead! I know a dead man when I see one!"

News of his death had already been sent hastily to the empress. Now another messenger was dispatched with the news that they'd made a mistake. The messenger arrived just as the empress's carriage was leaving the Silver Palace in a hurry. At first none of her guards believed the second message, and there was a confused moment while everyone talked at once and no one heard anything anyone else said.

Back in Yaruael Palace everyone finally calmed down enough to listen to Imrahil's explanation.

"I had a headache last night," he said, "so I took a tablet for it. I was half-asleep so I must have taken too many."

"You--" Mihasrin stopped himself and took a deep breath. "Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

Imrahil couldn't help thinking of Death. "I know now. I'll never do it again."

"This makes no sense," the doctor continued to insist. "I checked his pulse and found nothing, I listened to his breathing and found nothing! He wasn't sedated, he was dead!"

Hartanna frowned at him. "Do you think someone can die and come back to life?"

"Of course not!"

"Then obviously you were mistaken."

Gilreon was the only person who didn't accept Imrahil's explanation. He continued to watch Imrahil at every chance he got, and now there was something new in his eyes that had never been there before. Fear.

It came as a surprise to Imrahil when he realised his half-brother was actually afraid of him. Then he found he enjoyed it. Now he could make Gilreon leave him alone simply by staring him in the eye and smiling. He'd never thought there was anything particularly frightening about his smile, but it made Gilreon shudder and turn away.

He finally confronted Imrahil about it several days after the supposed tablet mishap. He cornered him in the bathroom when Imrahil was brushing his hair, and stood in front of the door so he would have trouble reaching the handle if he tried to leave.

"What did you do?"

Imrahil looked at Gilreon and smiled. He made a point of making his smile as wide as possible. Gilreon flinched but didn't back down. Damn it. Apparently he was getting over his fear. Imrahil immediately began considering how to bring it back.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," he said in his sweetest, fakest voice. He put down the hairbrush so he wouldn't be tempted to throw it at his half-brother. "What do you think I've done?"

Gilreon glared at him. "You did something weird and I want to know what it is. Did you try to kill yourself?"

He had no way of knowing how close he'd come to the truth, but his words brought back the memory of Death and her throne room. She had said something before sending Imrahil back -- something he didn't understand and didn't want to think too much about. "You're going to give me so much extra work after this." Being reminded of it immediately sent him into a terrible mood. Imrahil only barely stopped himself lashing out.

He smiled again. This time it was practically a snarl. "Is that what you think? That I'm suicidal? That would be an easy way to get rid of me, wouldn't it? Tell Mother what you think and she'd have me sent to some hospital for my own safety. You'd never have to think about me again."

Once again Gilreon glared at him. "I don't want to get rid of you! I want to know what's wrong with you! If there's some way I can help--"

Help? Him? Imrahil almost laughed. Gilreon had always hated him, always been suspicious of him, even back when there was no reason to be. Now he claimed he wanted to help? No. He could lie as much as he wanted but Imrahil could see through him. Poor, poor Gilreon. His father was dead and his parents' marriage was of dubious legitimacy. He was next door to a bastard. And then there was Imrahil. Unquestionably legitimate, the undisputed heir, and as far as older relatives knew he was almost perfect. No wonder Gilreon hated him. No wonder he had spent Imrahil's entire childhood and adolescence waiting for him to make a mistake and fall from grace. No, it was impossible that Gilreon wanted to help.

Quietly and slowly he said, "I don't need help. There is nothing wrong with me. I made a stupid mistake and it will never happen again. Do you understand?"

Gilreon actually recoiled. He stared at Imrahil in horror. "Your eyes..."

Imrahil looked at the mirror. He was just in time to see something -- a shadow, or a colour that had never been there before -- leave his eyes before he could get a good look at it. He blinked. Strange. That had never happened before.

Gilreon continued to stare at him as if he'd seen a ghost. He turned abruptly and stormed out of the bathroom. Imrahil watched him go then studied his reflection again. Whatever had happened to his eyes didn't happen again.

He picked up the hairbrush again and resumed brushing his hair. He brushed it more fiercely than usual, darkly imagining ways to make Gilreon leave him alone once and for all. When he was finished he looked at the strands of hair caught in the brush. There were far more of them than usual. Imrahil was mildly surprised to realise he had brushed his hair so roughly that he'd torn out some of it. Even he should have felt some pain when that happened. But he felt nothing at all.

From then on Imrahil watched Gilreon as intently as Gilreon had watched him. He especially watched his interactions with Hartanna and Mihasrin, just in case he decided to say something that would raise questions about Imrahil. His parents didn't notice anything odd about him suddenly following Gilreon around when they had never been close before. But then his parents had never been good at noticing anything about Imrahil.

"It's good you're becoming better friends," Hartanna told them one day.

Imrahil smiled innocently. Gilreon made an attempt at something that could barely be called a smile.

As weeks passed and this continued Gilreon became more and more nervous. The more nervous he became, the more suspicious Imrahil became. It was obvious to him that Gilreon must be planning something that he didn't want Imrahil to find out about.

A little voice at the back of his mind tried to warn him that he was behaving irrationally, that he had no proof and no reason to believe Gilreon was plotting against him, and if he continued acting like this he would at best make a fool of himself and at worst permanently destroy the image he'd worked so hard to create for himself. But he didn't listen. It was as if someone was constantly whispering in his ear, convincing him that Gilreon was a threat and he needed to defend himself.

All his life Imrahil had felt a strange... not exactly hunger or thirst, but something that was both of them at once when he saw an immortal's blood. He had always ignored it before. No matter what else he was, he was not a vampire and he wasn't going to become one. But at some point after meeting Death he realised he was hungry all the time. His mouth was constantly dry. It didn't matter how much he drank; he could never make the thirst go away.

The empress's birthday was the only time the entire royal family gathered in the Silver Palace. It was also the only time it was absolutely guaranteed that everyone would be on their best behaviour. No one wanted to offend the woman who could have them stripped of everything they owned and banished for the rest of their life.

Imrahil's behaviour lately had been even more erratic and disturbing than usual. But surely not even he would cause a scene in the Silver Palace.

Gilreon tried to comfort himself with that thought. Then he remembered the downright mad look he'd seen in Imrahil's eyes from time to time.

"I don't think Imrahil should come to the party," Gilreon said. He knew it wouldn't do any good, but he had to try.

His mother stared at him incredulously. "Why in the world would you say that?"

"I think the excitement might be too much for him after--" He broke off, unsure of how to refer to the incident. He hadn't considered it might have been attempted suicide until Imrahil himself brought that up, but now that the idea had been put in his head he found it hard to get out.

As he'd expected it didn't do any good.

"Don't be foolish," Hartanna said. "He's been perfectly fine ever since."

Gilreon left the sitting room and almost walked into Imrahil. One look at his face was confirmation he'd heard everything. Imrahil stared at him without any expression at all. It was even more disturbing than his smiles. Then he turned and stalked away.

On the day of the empress's birthday Imrahil woke feeling even hungrier than usual. His teeth felt unusually sharp and as if they didn't fit properly in his mouth. That combined with his normal suspicions of Gilreon, now exacerbated by Gilreon's comments last week, ensured he was in a terrible mood by the time the family were ready to leave.

Imrahil's youngest siblings, Arafaren and Abihira, were left behind in the care of their nursemaids. Everyone else went in two different carriages. In the first one were Hartanna, Mihasrin, and their younger children. In the second were Gilreon, Imrahil, and those of their siblings who were considered old enough to travel without adult supervision.

The disaster would probably not have happened if it wasn't for an accident during breakfast. The butler dropped a glass and cut his finger when he picked up the pieces. Imrahil was in such a state already that this was just the equivalent of throwing oil on a fire. He restrained himself then. But shortly after, when he got into the carriage and found himself sitting opposite Gilreon, his restraint was strained almost to breaking point. The voice that had convinced him Gilreon was a threat now tried to convince him to eliminate the threat.

It was a short drive from Yaruael Palace to the Silver Palace. It felt like a hundred years to Imrahil. During the journey he stared at Gilreon's throat and imagined ripping it open.

When they finally arrived at the palace there was the usual delay as relatives in their carriages tried to get in first. Then there was another delay at the main door as an aunt had got her dress stuck in her carriage door. At last the carriage pulled up at the grand staircase and they were ready to get out.

Gilreon leaned forward to unlock the carriage door. That brought his face -- and throat -- closer to Imrahil's teeth.

Something in Imrahil snapped.

He lunged for Gilreon's throat. Because of the angle of the attack he wasn't able to get a hold on the front of his throat, but he ripped open the side of his neck. Blood filled his mouth. It finally, finally began to appease his constant hunger. But it wasn't enough.

For a second his siblings sat frozen. Not even Gilreon reacted. Then the shock wore off and all hell broke loose. Gilreon grabbed a fistful of Imrahil's hair and yanked his head back. Their younger siblings screamed bloody murder. A footman ran over and pulled the door open.

"What's all this?" he demanded. Then he saw the blood around Imrahil's mouth and his eyes widened.

He opened his mouth to call for help. Imrahil was faster. He hadn't even realised he could move that fast. His teeth sank into the footman's neck.

Hartanna and Mihasrin had gotten into the palace before their older children. While waiting for the second carriage to arrive they went into the hall to talk to various relatives who were standing around in groups.

Someone screamed in the courtyard. It sounded like an adolescent screaming, so no one paid much attention. Probably it was just a victim of an ill-timed prank. And in the unlikely event something was truly wrong, there were guards in the courtyard to deal with it.

Then more people screamed. This time they sounded like adults. All the gossiping abruptly stopped. Everyone moved to the door or windows to see what was happening.

Hartanna went out to the top of the steps. She was just in time to meet Líusal and Talaris, her oldest daughters, who ran up the steps as if a ghost was after them. Líusal threw her arms around Hartanna and burst into tears. Talaris tried to say something but couldn't speak clearly. She could only point down at the carriage.

Even from this distance Hartana could see a red pool at the other side of the carriage, just visible between its wheels. A motionless shape lay in the pool. Her first thought was that there'd been an accident. Then someone walked round the carriage. They stopped and looked directly up at her. Her blood ran cold.

It was Imrahil. Blood stained his face and the front of his coat. And most of it was around his mouth.