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I stare at the intricately carved doors to the throne room. Carvings of winged beings that sit within tree tops dropping the fruit of life down to the humans below. I stare at the feathered wings of the angels. The way it’s delicate feet point forward and it’s fragile body arches down to extend a round fruit to a hopeful person. In between the choir of angels is an unknown Emperor who distributes the fruit to Kings and Queens of the empire.

It is an image that makes me occasionally uncomfortable as it depicts an Emperor as almost otherworldly. If this is how the people saw him I could never fulfill the expectations.

I close my eyes as the scent of dried roses fill the castle’s air, sweet as it mixes with the soothing hint of mint. I open my eyes exhaling as I can hear the sound of the Councilors and Generals arguing past the heavy doors. It didn’t matter how many times I spoke to them. My nerves still went on edge everytime I did. It is the same feeling I felt as a child that spoke to crowds during festivals.

I fold my hands together and bow my head as the nervous swarm of butterflies in the pit of my stomach flutter. 

“Calm,” I mumble to myself. “Xlkn” I whispered in the language of the Mountains.

I instantly drop my hands by my side and lift my head. The guards who stand as still as statues take the sudden change in my demeanor as confirmation that I am now ready to enter the room. 

With one strong heave they are both able to push the doors open with a loud creak that sends the room into silence. 

“Crown Prince Veran Grey Herition of the Seven Realms.” One of the guards boom. 

I take careful steps into the bright throne room, surprised to see the sole surviving assassin is kneeling on the pristine white floor, three arrows are erected from his back as blood pools at his knees.

He glares at me but doesn't try to move. He glances up to the guards high on the dark balconies of the throne room. They are tense, one even inching his hand to ready an arrow.

This was the end for him. No escape from his doom.

I turn my eyes back to my father who silently sits on his large throne, his clouded eyes are full of anger that only I can see. His hazel gaze does not meet my eyes until the guards close the doors behind me, the sound echoing off the ancient marble walls.

“Son.” His anger is quickly replaced with soft sympathy that can not be faked.

The Generals and Councilors sitting upon two long pedestals of their own, quickly stand up and bow low in respect.

An action that is demanded not chosen. I remind myself.

I make my way across the room to my father. “Good morning, Emperor.” I say in a fast and graceful bow.

 I look to my father’s right where six old men are standing against their white stone chairs. “Councilors,” I say, returning a small nod that signals them to sit. 

I turn to the opposite side of the room where five strong, middle aged men and one young woman in shining blue armor stand confidently. “Generals,” I nod.

 “So good to see you all. Thank you for meeting my father and I so early in the morning and excuse my tardiness.”  I sigh knowing none of them wanted to be here. 

That is the one thing I am thankfully great at. I can read a room like an open book, every person’s expression open to me but the apprehension of still not knowing how they felt occasionally ate at me. 

I walk to my throne that is at the bottom of the dais my father sits upon. The chair is bordered in gold and made of a pure white marble unlike my father's deep crimson throne rimmed in silver. 

I slowly settle myself into the chair’s soft cushioned seat then place my hands upon the cold arm rest. My father’s eyes watch me closely, almost asking if I am okay. 

I give him a small nod. “Please continue, father.”

He sighs, placing a stressed hand that protrudes three veins onto his wrinkled forehead and turns his attention back to the assassins showing a face of composure. “This is the second time in one month.” He shot up fast as lighting, surprising everyone as he kept calm giving the impression that he is unpredictable. “Explain why you wished to kill the Prince.” He says his eyes narrow sharply. 

A chill is sent throughout the room. 

“He won’t talk, Your Majesty.” Sighs a General who has dark hair and beady robin blue eyes. “Just like the others.” He mumbles more to himself.

 My father grumbles sitting back down. “What do you propose we do then?” He says in a voice that does not match his tired demeanor.

Father was always a bit harder to read than others because his expressions typically never matched his demeanor. He wasn’t always this way. After mother died he somehow mixed up the appropriate expressions to use when speaking. Although no one seemed to notice except for me.

The only woman in the room sits straight up her metallic blue tunic shifting to fit her perfectly. She is the first woman general of any Realm, General Lida of the Islands Realm.

She tosses her long red braid behind her back before speaking in her strong yet composed voice. “First and foremost I would like to have permission to send this man to the dungeons where we will interrogate him further.” 

My father waves his hand. “Permission granted.”

She clicks her tongue and two soldiers from her Realm emerge from behind a pillar. Her own personal guards, I assume as they walk in perfect unison. Their blue squared helmets shine at the exact same moment making me feel almost intimidated as they resemble golems more than people.

The Island warriors blue hand’s quickly grab hold of the assassins’ biceps, jerking him up to his limp feet. Without an ounce of mercy they effortlessly drag him toward a golden door that is in the far right corner of the room.

He screams out in agony as his flesh torn by the arrows and the harsh pull. His voice melts from screams of pain to a cackling delirious laughter that sends a cold sweat down my neck. This isn’t a normal reaction.

The man tosses his head over his shoulder, smiling even wider as our eyes meet. His eyes immediately don’t feel right. They are empty, soulless like a corpse that isn’t supposed to still be alive. 

 “Prince Veran,” he says in a tone that is smooth but venomous. “This will be your last warning that you should not ignore,” he flinches and his smile fades. “You will die, make no mistake about that.” He says the statement like a fact sending the room into an unbearable silence. “You’ll die!” He screams as he leaves a ruby trail of blood upon the pristine floor and through the golden door.

The door slams shut, yet his harsh voice and cruel words echo in my head, or maybe he is still screaming down the halls, all the way to the dungeons. 

I take a shallow breath as I remember the way he said ‘This will be your last warning.’ 

I force myself not to shake or grip my hands in an effort to soothe myself. Yes, this is fear. I am afraid even if I don't want to admit it but I can't show it. I can't let this be amo for when the Generals or Councilors disapprove of my future decisions. I need to hold my breath for even a sigh can show my fear.

They're all watching me waiting for any muscle in my face to move. I keep my expression neutral and my eyes on the golden door the assassin had just gone through.

“Next issue.” My father sighs.

I turn my head toward him in a smooth motion and notice the corner of his mouth turned down while his eyebrows furrow slightly. He is trying his best to remain calm after hearing the death threats that were made to his child. 

He gestures a hand to me as he speaks. “We have to protect my son, the Crown Prince.”

It takes only a second before the Councilors look to one another and start to discuss what to do with the matter at hand while the Generals began to hypothesize just who could be behind all the assassination attempts. The brainstorming is such a wide range of ideas that it becomes hard to distinguish who is who within the flurry of voices. I try my very best to listen closely to both discussions keeping an open mind to the variety of ideas but to be honest some ideas are quite ludacris.

 “Perhaps we can fake the Prince’s death.” An old Councilor with cloudy eyes says, shaking a small finger. 

A young General straight across from him hears then shakes his head as he speaks. “It’ll be far too much work, not to mention it gives the perfect chance of rebellion by any subject that disagrees with the Emperor.”

“And what of the castle staff?” The General of the Coastal Realm says to the General of the Plains Realms.

The General shakes his head. “We simply cannot dismiss them all.”

A Councilor taps a colored quill against a small notebook that he pulled from his sleeves. “What if we send the Prince into hiding.”

Another wearing green shook his head. “Too risky if our enemies find out.”

They continue to talk to one another but their discussions take a predictable turn and became arguing. Their voices rise louder and louder over one another until it is just a flurry of arguing that I can barely comprehend. My father notices just as fast as me. He opens his mouth and inhales, preparing to silence them until I sensed her. I lift my hand and he closes his mouth waiting for the reason I had stopped him, then she enters.