The lights were blinding, making my head throb. Some would say that flickering bulbs were ominous, but I would have preferred that to this constant, blinding aura that I just couldn't escape. Problems with neon lights meant that no one was there to repair them. And that meant the authorities weren't keeping an eye on your every move wherever you went–yes, even in the bathroom.
When I was a child, I hadn't yet understood what it meant: I had never felt self-conscious of someone knowing when I did something stupid; which, today, meant anything that made you stand out. Childhood had been easier. Then again, life was easier when you were a kid, no matter what world you lived in.
I stifled a yawn and kept staring right ahead, walking at the perfect pace. My shoulders were thrown back, with just the right amount of feigned arrogance to blend in. The rhythmic thuds of boots thudding on the linoleum floor were the only sounds that broke the deafening silence.
Something was tickling my nose. I felt my hand twitch, craving to scratch the itch, but I forced it to stay still.
Thud, thud, went the sounds of our footsteps. I couldn't even discern the difference between theirs and mine. For a fleeting second, I wished I could start running. I wanted to feel my legs stretch beneath me–strong and powerful thanks to the intensive training I'd gone through. I craved to hear my feet hit the ground, to know where the group ended and I started. The anonymity and conformity were killing me.
We reached the end of the hallway and waited there, making no noise whatsoever. It could've been hours or seconds, and then the door swung open to let us out.
The sun's warm glow hit my skin and I tilted my face toward it, taking in the golden rays. Then we were marching again, straight forward for a minute then, after a quick pause, a sharp left turn. I was shorter than most of the others, making it impossible to see anything but the back of Echo's neck. I'd been staring at it for the years. There was still that brownish mole that I couldn't help but look at, right under his right ear.
Finally, we stopped walking and fanned out, creating a semi-circle around the outer perimeter of the event.
I was finally free to gaze at the stupefying beautiful sight: the old ruins of the amphitheater were covered in garlands of fairy lights and white flowers, strings of gold seemed to sow the sky together, glittering in the bright afternoon sun. Yellow petals covered every inch of the ground. It was breathtaking–and obviously extremely expensive.
The amphitheater's stone benches had been converted into what looked like comfortable light-colored seats. I wondered what it would feel to sit there to watch the ceremony, instead of guarding the perimeter, straight and still, like the marble statues that stood around the sloping tiers of benches.
No one was present yet, and they wouldn't be for another few hours. But this was a special occasion. The last royal wedding had been years ago. I hadn't even been born for the previous one.
I let my thoughts wander while keeping an attentive eye on my surroundings. The placement of the sun in the bright blue sky changed almost imperceptibly so that I'd barely noticed it slowly falling to the horizon like a giant balloon losing its helium. I imagined it crashing into the forest in front of me, turning our world into an inferno. The flames would be so beautiful, licking the stone lines of the amphitheater, leaving nothing behind of the extravagant decorations.
Just yesterday, I'd seen a young girl so skinny she'd probably never eaten enough to satisfy her hunger in her entire life, and here the one percent threw millions into flowers and gold platters full of exotic fruits.
The guests started filing in after that, wearing gowns of colorful silk, creative accessories, and tailored suits.
I saw a woman with purple hair on top of which sat the strangest hat I had ever seen: golden twigs intricately weaving together to create a nest. A fake blue jay stood standing guard over diamond-coated eggs. I couldn't help but stare at it while the woman found a seat in the bottom row of seats.
I was still watching her with curiosity, wondering what made someone think wearing such a bizarre headdress was a good idea, when a man sat down next to her. His outfit was even more unbelievable: gold paint covered his entire body, nothing but a loincloth hiding his privates. I rolled my eyes
Looking away, I realized that most attendees had dressed up extravagantly, making the event look more like a circus than a wedding. A couple walked past me to find their seats, loudly commentating the decor and outfits.
"I just cannot believe that Marissa Mari wore that pink cape, I did tell her pink was not this season," she whispered not so quietly.
Her partner chuckled then furrowed his brow. "Did you see Almon's toga? How did he guess the theme?"
When the last guest had sat down, soft music drifted through the amphitheater. The murmur of conversation was silenced and everyone turned towards the top of the stone steps. Anticipation grew, the attendees fidgeting excitedly in their cushioned seats.
First came the groomsmen, all wearing identical navy and gold suits. They were all tall, muscular, and extremely good looking. A product of perfect genes and probably a bit of help from their favorite plastic surgeon. They stopped at the right of the altar, flashing smiles at the crowd and photographers.
The bridesmaids followed, in elegant, flowing dresses that matched the groomsmen's suits. The five women were so stunning it was hard to decide which one was more beautiful. Could it be the tall green-eyed nymph with flaming red hair, the shorter blonde whose face could launch a war, or the dangerously attractive brunette whose darker skin shone like a precious stone? They were spectacular.
I'd once heard that brides tended to choose a wedding party whose looks couldn't compare to their own, but I found it hard to believe that anyone could be more beautiful than these bridesmaids.
The music swelled in volume and intensity, transforming ingeniously into the royal hymn. The guests stood as one, turning to stare at the aisle.
Then the prince was there. He stopped in front of the steps leading down to the aisle and stood there, letting everyone take in his appearance. His suit was bright gold, with rubies and sapphires glinting in the light of the setting sun. The colors were that of the Lethian kingdom and no one had ever worn them better.
His face, as magnificent as it was, somehow seemed hard and inflexible. I knew he had been to war, and his expression mirrored some of the faces I'd seen of men who had seen too many battles, too many deaths.
He was quicker than the other to descend the steps all the way down to the altar, where he crossed his arms and, still stoic, waited for his bride. The cameras were now clicking furiously, hoping to catch the prince under every possible angle.
My back was starting to ache after hours of staying straight and unmoving. The firearm at my side wasn't helping since it was heavy enough to pull me slightly to the right. I stretched my cramping muscles as discretely as I could, hoping it would do the trick until the end of the ceremony and my subsequent release. At least the sun wasn't as brutal as it had been all afternoon. It was setting now, tinting the sky with vibrant tints of orange.
But even the heavens could never be as beautiful as the bride when she finally appeared.
The guests had all turned to watch her and they weren't disappointed. I had been wrong earlier when I had expected that no one could surpass the bridesmaids' beauty. Surely, it was impossible to be this exquisite. My eyes prickled because I was refusing to close them, even for an instant, afraid that she would disappear.
She glided more than she walked, her train flowing behind her like an angel's wings. Her gown was pure, blinding gold, and the bodice was covered in the same glittering jewels that the prince wore. Atop silky locks of mahogany hair was a gold circlet that held an astonishingly long veil in place.
She was in front of the altar way too quickly. I couldn't see her very well from where I was standing guard. The prince, however, had gone from stony-faced to an expression of pure adoration. He suddenly looked like he'd never been at war, like he'd never known hardship, like he was staring straight into heaven.
In the corner of my eye, I thought I noticed some movement. I turned my head slightly, peering out at a clump of bushes near the city's outer wall. The leaves were swaying lazily in the evening breeze but there seemed to be no threat, but my overactive imagination. Nevertheless, the back of my next seemed to tingle, as if my instincts were expecting something to happen.
"Truth, strength, unity." The officiant's booming voice rang out, echoing in the silent amphitheater. "These are the words we live by, the maxim of this great kingdom.
"We are here today to celebrate one truth: that there is no one with whom these two people before me would rather share their lives. Together they are strong, together they are one; together they will build the future of our nation."
He paused, surveying the crowd as if to gauge their reaction to his words. Next to him, the bride tensed almost indiscernibly and I found myself mirroring her stance.
The officiant's brow furrowed at the same moment that I felt my reflexes jolt me forward. A man, dressed in black from head to toe, had risen from one of the rows of seats and threw himself toward the altar.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion: the man drew a knife from between the panes of cloth of his outfit.
The prince knocked the bride to the ground, his jaw clenched.
Guests were starting to shriek and the quickest of the lot made a run for it.
I saw Oscar and November in the corner of my eye, hoping to stop the inevitable from happening. My stomach clenched as I watched them in horror: even they knew that we were too far to help, too slow to stop the man.
A silver knife flashed in the orange sunset, then, a heartbeat later, the hilt buried itself in the prince's chest. He looked down, barely surprised. He had known it was coming but in his effort to save his beloved, he had lost whatever precious time he had to defend himself.
Chaos ensued. Screaming guests pushed each other, and me, as they tried to climb up the stairs to safety.
The bride jumped to her feet surprisingly quickly for someone wearing such an outrageous outfit. Before November, who was the fastest of us all, could reach them, she had slit the attacker's throat in one swift motion. He fell, the ghost of a victorious smile on his blood-red lips.
She barely glanced at her victim, her arms stretching out to cradle the prince against her as his knees buckled. She dropped to the ground with him, heaps of dress flowing like waves around her. Her hands moved nimbly over her fiancé's chest and neck as if looking for something, for some sign that he wasn't dead.
"Miss," called Oscar just as I reached the altar. He was now standing a foot away from her while November was bending over the assassin's corpse. "Miss, please step away from His Royal Highness," he said, commanding tone covering the attendees' frightful cries. The wedding was quickly becoming a stampede even though some of my teammates were trying to supervise the evacuation: they were failing miserably.
She didn't seem to hear him so he repeated himself until her eyes met his.
"He's gone," she declared in a strangely calm voice.
"The medic..." He turned to stare at the man trying to force a path through the chaotic crowd of guests. "The medic is almost here. Let him take over."
She nodded and extricated herself out from underneath her fiancé's weight, holding his head delicately so it wouldn't hit the ground as she did so. She peered out at the havoc raging all around her, her gaze blank. Her golden dress was stained red, her perfectly manicured nails bloodied but her hands weren't shaking. In fact, they were utterly still –she was in shock, I thought.
"Here," I said quietly, shrugging off my jacket and placing it delicately on her shoulders. The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon and the breeze was getting chillier by the minute.
"Thank you," she said stiffly, mechanically.
"Can I escort you back inside?" I asked, trying not to seem too pushy. The threat seemed to have been eliminated but staying in the open like this felt like an unnecessary risk.
Before she could answer, November's harsh voice resounded in the now almost empty amphitheater. "Sierra, arrest her."
I looked up at him with confusion. He was standing over the assassin's body, a note in his hand. It was strange –I hadn't seen a handwritten note in what was probably years. Everything was sent digitally now, as paper was too expensive nowadays.
"This is a letter signed by Miss Akmine stating that she would pay this man," he gestured toward the dead body at his feet, "ten million e-units if he killed Prince Raphael."
I looked at the bride, covered in gore, and staring at the letter. Her eyes conveyed nothing: not shock, not fear nor anger for having been found out. She was as still as ever.
I moved toward her, careful after having seen her kill the assassin without a moment's notice. It was as if she hadn't realized that I was moving in on her until my hands were gripping her wrists, the metallic shine of the handcuffs catching her attention.
"It wasn't me," she said sharply, pulling her arms out of my grasp. I heard Oscar and November pulling out their guns and I guessed that their barrels were now pointed at the bride's head. For the second time, I tried to force the handcuffs around her wrists but she shook me off. "It wasn't me, I swear," she repeated.
"Until we figure everything out, I'm going to take you into custody," I explained. "If you are indeed cleared, you will of course be released."
Her shoulders drooped imperceptibly as she gave up. Then, before I could even try to clasp the handcuffs around her delicate wrists, she pulled a thin blade from the heavy folds of her dress. She was so fast that I didn't even have time to move away before the knife was pressed against my carotid, cold and deadly.
"I'm not going to hurt anyone as long as you don't move an inch," she warned my team, pulling me slowly backward.
I couldn't see a way out of this situation that ended well for me. It seemed that Oscar had come to the same conclusion: he pointed the gun at my chest, unblinkingly.
"Even if she absorbs most of the bullets' power, we'll keep on firing until you're hit too."
"So much loyalty," she exclaimed ironically.
"Our duty is to the kingdom-"
He was interrupted by a sudden flash of blinding light and the earsplitting roar of an explosion. I was projected to the ground. My head hit the stone with such force that I blacked out. It was like a screen turning off in the middle of a movie: the world went dark, the sound suddenly stopped reaching my ears and it was over.
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