Chapter 3

“Zeine! Get in here, boy, stop dawdling!”

Emperor Villard’s forehead was pulsing again, Zeine noted with an anxious gulp. In the sixteen years that he’d been alive, he’d never known a happy ending when the vein in his father’s forehead was pulsing like that. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going down without a fight, especially considering the fact that his little wench was peering down at him from his father’s lap like she’d just been declared Queen of Everything. The Prince tore his eyes away from her, frowning, and looked around the throne room, as if bored. The walls shone the same way as they did from outside, with only two guards positioned at the door of the long, narrow hall, at the opposite end of which sat the Villard’s throne, made from a precious Rhinellan metal that was blue rather than gold, and swathed in silver velvet-like material.

“Yes, Sir?” The Prince asked sarcastically, folding his arms tightly, although his stomach quivered with fear at what was awaiting him. The Emperor was a powerful man, no-one could deny that, and no matter how hard Zeine tried, he wouldn’t be able to get past that until the old man died.

“How many times, Zeine? How many times do I have to warn you off these stinking servant boys?” Villard seethed. “They’re not there for your pleasure and amusement, they’re there to serve! Hence the bloody name!”

The young Prince rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. Like he hadn’t heard this before. “I’ll try harder to control myself.” He challenged, eyeing the woman sitting on his lap meaningfully.

The Emperor narrowed his eyes at his son, opening his mouth to say something undoubtedly harsh, before sitting back in his seat and sighing loudly. “One day, you are going to push me too far, boy. Even I have a limit to my patience.”

“You don’t say?” Zeine deadpanned, pursing his lips. “Can I leave?”

“I want you to apologise to Lady Evenine.” He insisted, lifting his knee slightly so the woman stood, smoothing down her dress delicately as she waited for the Prince’s apology, who snorted in disbelief.

“I see no reason to apologise; I was simply stating the truth. And don’t the Chronicles tell us not to lie to our subjects?” He pointed out innocently.

Villard leaned forward on his throne, beckoning Zeine forward with a warning finger. 

“You will respect Evenine, Zeine. She is very important to me, and therefore, this family, and as a result, you. You will treat her as such.”

The young Prince clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. “Blood is thicker than lust, father, so with all due respect I will remain loyal to my mother before accepting this… Latest addition.” He growled, stepping forward as the adrenaline burned through his veins. He was past caring about beatings, now; he would simply not accept anyone else trying to replace his mother.

“I am not asking you to abandon your mother, Zeine; I am asking you to be civil to milady.” The Emperor insisted as if speaking to a child, and Zeine let his teeth drag along his bottom lip, debating with himself.

“I will, as long as she doesn’t interfere in my business or try and mother me.” He bargained, his arms dropping to his sides. Villard looked to his mistress questioningly, and she pouted a little, folding her arms.

“I’m only trying to help.” She asserted, glancing at the Prince, who scowled.

“Well, you’re not. You were being condescending, and I don’t appreciate it. I am a Prince, and you are Mistress to the Emperor. I am your superior, and you would do well to remember it.” He sniffed, looking up expectantly at his father, knowing his argument was sound.

The older man sighed, sitting back in his throne once more. “He does have a point, Evenine, his position does command authority. Technically, you should come to me with any complaints you have of the boy’s behaviour, not confront him yourself.” Zeine’s jaw tightened at his father’s repeated use of the word ‘boy’, but said nothing as the woman nodded.

“I understand, Sir. I apologise, Prince Zeine. It will not happen again.” She relented, and the Prince nodded once, albeit a little curtly.

“Was there anything else, Father?” He asked impatiently, turning his gaze back to the Emperor. The suns were setting quickly; it was almost time to go up to the mountain.

Villard deliberated with himself for a moment, gazing steadily at his son. “I am still serious about you harassing the servants, Zeine.”

“It is not harassment! I asked Jeromie specifically if he desired me, and he said that he did. It takes two to tango.” The Prince insisted, aghast. “I would not force myself upon anyone who did not want me!”

The Emperor seemed to be satisfied with this for the moment, and Zeine was surprised by his change in mood. No doubt to Evenine’s services, he thought to himself bitterly. “Alright then, Zeine. You are excused.”

Zeine gave a brief, begrudging bow, before hurrying from the throne room before Villard changed his mind.

 

…

 

Later that day, once Zeine had returned from the mountain to watch the darkness and the suns rise, there was a quiet knock at his door, three gentle taps followed by a quiet sigh, and he knew instantly who it was, getting up to let his mother in.

“I heard you got called to the throne room again today.” She scolded softly, one hand on her hip. Zeine felt guiltier from that than he would have from his father shouting abuse at him and having him beaten black and blue, and he ducked his head. “At least he didn’t have you beaten.” Lavinie told herself.

“I was just as surprised as you.” The Prince shrugged, walking back into the room and taking a seat on the sofa. “There’s tea in the pot.” He nodded towards the table next to the window. Once they’d settled down, each with a steaming cup, Zeine spoke again. “How was your trip to the orphanage?”

“They’re overwhelmed with children, I’m afraid.” She shook her head slightly, a deep frown making the tiny lines around her eyes a little deeper. “People seem to keep abandoning their offspring, it’s a real problem. They just aren’t being as responsible as they used to be… Finding their Soulmates too young.” The Queen tutted.

Zeine thought about that for a second. “Is that why you and Father are so worried about me kissing people?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

The Emperor and his Queen had good reason to be worried about the Prince finding his Soulmate too young; if he did, the results could be dangerous. Soulmates, to a Guardian, is not a piece of spiritual ideology but biological fact. The two souls of the individuals become joined, balancing out each individual’s happiness and personality.  Every individual on Rhinella has a Soulmate somewhere in the Universe, and in rare instances it has been known for people to have two, but the Soulmate bond is perhaps not as happily-ever-after as it sounds.

Once a Guardian has kissed their Soulmate, the bond is sealed, and they become completely dependent on the presence of the other individual’s pheromones to survive. Soulmates need not necessarily have a romantic relationship; friendship will suffice to keep the Bond safe, but the longer the Guardian goes without contact from their Soulmate, the weaker they become until eventually, they die. Members of the Royal Family try to avoid finding their Soulmate, if possible, as it leaves them with a distinct weakness and disadvantage; made all the worse if the Soulmate is found young.

“One of the reasons.” Lavinie admitted, “But to be honest with you, Zeine, I’m just worried about someone using you for your position. You may not be Emperor, but you’re still powerful, and some people could try and take advantage of that. The lover of a member of the Royal Family has a lot of perks, as you discovered today.” She pointed out, blowing gently on her tea.

“Mother, I’m not sleeping with anyone. I don’t want to end up like the creepy, potion-guzzling old coot up in that throne room.” Zeine insisted, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and distaste. “I intend to stay pure until I fall in love.” He sniffed superiorly. Kissing was one thing, but sex was quite another, and Zeine was not willing to share that with anyone, at least not yet.

The Queen smiled fondly at her son, poking his leg gently with the toe of her shoe. 

“You are a sweet boy, I don’t want to see that spoiled, that’s all. As for the ‘creepy, potion-guzzling old coot’,” she laughed, “I expect he’s trying in his own strange way to look out for you too, Zeine.”

“Not likely.” He snorted. “You should have seen him making eyes at that…”

“Zeine, be a gentleman.” She warned him, quirking an eyebrow. “You know you must treat people with respect.” The last thing Lavinie wanted was for her darling son to end up bitter and clinging to every lover he could get a hold of. She knew she needed to teach him to see people as more than sex objects before he even started to see them as sex objects; no doubt that sort of thing was in his blood, and she’d be damned if she didn’t try and break the vicious circle.

“Yes, Mother. I apologise.” Zeine sighed. “But she did offend me; Jeromie and I were having a perfectly innocent encounter…”

“I’m sure she was just trying to be helpful. I doubt she wants you to get beaten or told off, Little Prince.” The Queen pointed out, setting her empty cup on the table behind her. “My maidservant told me she was a new one, so she most likely isn’t used to the way things work around here. Try and show a little compassion.”

“She was trying to mother me.” He grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the green liquid in his own cup. It was no secret that Prince Zeine loved his mother; he’d always favoured her over his father, sticking with her loyally whenever the powerful couple had a fight.

Lavinie sighed in exasperation, getting up to sit next to her son. “I am not the only woman in the Universe, Zeine, and certainly not the only one who your father loves. You need to accept that.”

“But you’re the best woman in the Universe, and he needs to accept that.” The Prince insisted, pursing his lips a little. “I don’t like that he takes you for granted, you’re supposed to be his true love.”

“Has anyone actually explained to you what True Love actually is yet, Zeine?” Lavinie asked, her eyebrow arched as he shook his head. “It’s not like having a Soulmate, it’s… Less permanent than that.”

Zeine wrinkled his nose as he looked away, feeling foolish. “Well, true love is supposed to be true. Which, you’d think, would mean that it lasts?” He insisted indignantly.

The Queen sighed, pursing her lips as she thought about how she could word it for her teenage son. “It’s not… True love is just the name it’s given, Zeine. It is special, and it is a bond to be treasured, but it’s not a connection of the souls; it’s a connection of the mind, if nothing else. True love is there for the Royal Heir only, no-one else can experience that kind of connection, and it comes with the person who’ll teach you something about yourself that’ll lead you on your path to becoming Emperor. If you let them in, pay attention to them and what they need in return from you… You’ll be a great leader.” She smiled, threading her fingers through his darkening hair, pushing it from his face.

“Is that why the current Emperor is such a douchebag? Because he didn’t listen to what you were trying to tell him?” It was a fair question, of course, but Lavinie couldn’t help but laugh as the young Prince stubbornly messed his hair back up, shaking it into his eyes. ‘It makes me look mysterious’, Zeine would tell anyone who would listen.

“Perhaps. I don’t know, perhaps neither of us paid enough attention. It was never my ambition to become Queen, as you know.”

“You wanted to be a sorceress.” Zeine nodded, having heard this story numerous times over the years. “To help people with misfortune.” He hesitated for a moment, biting his lip. “I want to marry someone who doesn’t want to be Queen or King, too. Then I’ll know they love me. For me.”

“And that’s very wise.” Lavinie agreed, “in most circumstances, anyway. But perhaps your true love isn’t always the best way to go, because once he or she’s taught the lesson they were supposed to…” She shrugged, a sad smile on her face. “They become obsolete.”

“You’re not obsolete to me, Mama.” The young Prince insisted, frowning distinctly. He cherished his mother, everyone knew that; he would never let any harm come to her if he had anything to do with it.

She kissed his forehead gently, getting up from the sofa. “It’s getting late, Zeine. You should rest before the darkness. I’m having the Capiers coming in tomorrow, to look at that shoulder injury.”

Zeine shifted his shoulder a little sub-consciously once she drew attention back to it, wincing at the twinge that went through it as he rolled it. The Capiers were the best healing family on Rhinella, and by now, were very well acquainted with Queen Lavinie and her son. “Thanks. Will they heal the bruises as well?” He asked hopefully. He had a massive one on his shoulder blade from the beating he’d gotten two days ago, and it wasn’t helping. He’d twisted his shoulder jumping up onto the wall to get out of the Palace; he was getting too gangly to stick the landing on the narrow wall now, his long arms and legs not really responding to him.

“Probably, you know how they hate to leave their patients with even the tiniest scratch.” The Queen assured him, walking towards the door, her heart aching a little for the days where he asked her to kiss him goodnight. He didn’t need that anymore, he was growing fast. Sometimes, she thought as he busied himself with washing his face, he looked like her father, a spitting image, really. She prayed to Gods that Zeine would turn out like him in personality too, rather than his own negligent father.

Zeine was deep in thought, too, a particular question weighing heavily on his mind, but he was more than a little afraid of the answer… Either one wouldn’t make him feel good, that was for sure. Curiosity got the better of him, however, and he turned around to face her, water dripping from his nose while he reached for a towel.

“Do you regret having me, Mama?” He asked, feeling a little vulnerable for asking, hating himself for feeling so timid.

Lavinie was taken aback by the question, eyes wide. “Of course not, Zeine, don’t be ridiculous!” She insisted, wanting to hold him, but she knew how much he hated it when she cuddled him now. He was too old for cuddles. “You are literally the only reason I’m still here, little Prince. If you weren’t…”

“You could’ve left the old fool a long time ago and found someone who would appreciate you.” He finished the sentence for her, looking at his feet.

“Please, please don’t think of it like that, Zeine. Not ever.” She stepped towards him, smoothing out his hair again, making him sigh. “I’d be stuck here, anyway, you know it. No-one divorces the Emperor, not ever. You make this bearable. The… Pomp and the pretences are worth it when I come home to hear you talk about how you rescued a busboy from getting beaten by the housekeeper and giving him an extra loaf of bread to take home to his family.” She was quick to drop a kiss to his forehead, not caring for the moment about his age. “I just hope that your father’s influence doesn’t spoil you… You have such a good heart, my Prince.” Lavinie smiled, patting his cheek gently. “Now, go to sleep.”

Zeine lay awake for hours once he returned from the mountain, thinking about countless ‘what if’s and making himself feel continually worse about his own existence, until, six hours later, he was just about ready to pitch himself off the highest tower in the Palace.

And then breakfast came, and he mostly forgot about it.