Chapter 4

Imelie Capier was bored. She’d been dragged along with her parents to the bloody Palace again; didn’t they know she had better things to do than sit around on cold stone floors while they wasted their time with some minor burn on the cook’s hand? She had places to be, people to see, and none of them were in this over-sized morgue.

She sighed dramatically, fiddling with her flame red hair between her finger-tips as her parents did their business with the kitchen staff, back against the marble wall with her knees drawn up to her chest. Imelie didn’t like to be bored; she liked to be doing something, anything as long as it wasn’t sitting still.

“Mum, I’m bored, can’t I just go home?” The teenager grumbled, eyes liliac with irritation. Her friends from their street were exploring the mountain, today; they were going to watch the suns set from the top, and she was missing it.

“Why don’t you go and have a look around the gardens, Imelie?” Mrs Capier answered as she watched her husband heal one of the busboys, who’d broken a couple of fingers while putting dishes in the sink. An idiot, Imelie deemed him, and got up with a grumble.

“Fine,” she huffed, “but if I get arrested, you’ve only yourselves to blame.” They were under strict instructions not to wander, and besides, Imelie was pretty sure they were heading to the Prince’s chambers next, and there was no way that the young healer was going to be allowed in there. In all the times she’d ever been to the Palace, she’d only met his mother, Queen Lavinie, and that was only for two minutes; she’d had to wait outside while her parents tended to the Prince.

No-one had ever seen the Prince, no-one even knew his name, except the people who lived and worked in the castle. It was a thing, apparently, that no-one saw him until he was ‘of age’. It made him sound like some dusty artefact, to Imelie, and she thought that he must live a very sad life, locked up in this miserable place. She thought she would die without her friends; without anyone to talk to. The first time she’d come to the Palace with her parents she’d been eight, and everyone had given her a strange look when she asked if she could meet the Prince, who was, strangely, a similar age to her. It wasn’t allowed, they’d told her, he wasn’t to meet anyone who didn’t work in the Palace until he was 21. Too risky, they’d said.

Imelie remembered being quite offended by that; after all, she wasn’t exactly going to kill the bloody Prince, was she? She was only eight, what damage could she possibly do? Nevertheless, now she’d grown older, she figured that the Prince was just as dull as his father; although she wouldn’t dare say that out loud. The Emperor gave her the creeps… Something about him was off, even thought she’d never met him, she’d seen him enough on posters and on the communicators to know that… Well, she didn’t really know what, but she didn’t like him. And the Prince was probably the same, she told herself. Too powerful for his own good, most likely.

She’d wandered out to the garden by now, and was preoccupied by a small bird flitting past when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Writing it off as another animal enjoying the warmth of the spring, she carried on walking; hands buried deep in her pockets until she got to a particularly inviting-looking tree, and sat down underneath it, whistling to herself as she ripped a leaf into bits.

 

…

 

Zeine couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a stranger in the garden. As soon as he saw her, he’d climbed out of his bedroom window, excited at the prospect of talking to someone from outside the Palace, and jumped into the tree that allowed him to escape every night, hurriedly climbing down. He’d opened his mouth to call to her, but found himself not knowing what to say; what did you say to make friends? He didn’t have the slightest clue. He wanted her to be his friend, he needed company around here; he was bored stiff hanging around all the time.

In the end, he decided on clearing his throat loudly, and her head shot up instantly, hiding the leaf she’d been tearing up behind her back as if she’d just damaged royal property; which, he supposed, she sort of had. Her eyes bugged out of her head when she spotted him, however, and she looked away, red hair falling in front of her face. Zeine tilted his head to the side curiously, and frowned.

“Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.” He murmured, stepping closer to her. Imelie started, cheeks burning at being caught.

“I’m not scared!” She snapped, still averting her eyes. “Are you the Prince?”

Zeine was confused. Why wouldn’t she look at him? “Yes… Why are you looking at the wall like that?”

“I’m just not supposed to have seen you! You’re supposed to be in the Palace! I’m going to get in trouble, now! Your father could have me killed!” The teenage girl finally looked at him, glaring, and the young Prince held up his hands.

“Alright, I’m sorry! I didn’t know, did I? I just thought… I’ve never seen anyone my own age before.” He couldn’t help the amazement in his voice, she was so… Young. It was weird; he’d only ever seen adults.

“Well, whose fault is that? Not mine! You’d better not tell anyone I saw you, otherwise I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Zeine laughed, a little delighted at the fact she wasn’t calling him ‘Your Majesty’ or begging him for forgiveness. “What’s your name?”

“I’m not telling you, you’ll have me executed!” She asserted, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m going to go before someone finds us talking; we’ll both be in trouble if we are.”

The young Prince ran so he blocked her way back to the kitchen. “I promise I’ll make sure they don’t arrest you… Why would they arrest you for talking to me? I talked to you first, anyway. Come on, what’s your name? I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

Imelie considered it. “Will you tell me your name, first?” She asked curiously. Wait until her friends heard about this…

“You don’t know my name? How can you not know my name? I’m the bloody Prince!” Zeine asked, aghast.

“No-one knows your name, only the people who work here. It’s this big, crazy secret.” Imelie shrugged, warming to him a little. He seemed harmless enough… A little clueless, if anything.

“Really? Well that’s… Ridiculous. My name’s Zeine. Zeine Jordansen at your service.” He smiled, holding out his hand to her like he’d seen his father do to countless visitors over the years. Imelie just looked at his hand, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t act very much like a Prince.” She commented. “And you don’t seem very bright, either.”

Zeine raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, I think you’re rude.” He sniffed, offended, and to his surprise, Imelie laughed.

“I’m Imelie Capier. My parents are supposed to be healing you.” She explained, digging her hands into her pockets, and Zeine let his hand drop. “I meant it in a good way, Prince Zeine. I thought you’d be horrible, to be honest.” The redhead shrugged. Beating around the bush was never her style. “Don’t you ever get bored here?”

“Of course, I hate this place.” The Prince shrugged. “I sneak out every night just to keep myself sane.”

“Really? Where do you go?” Imelie asked, quite obviously impressed. Zeine puffed up a little with pride.

“Up the mountain. I climb over the wall and watch the suns set and rise.” He shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

Imelie pursed her lips, considering him. “That’s against the law, you know. You’re not supposed to be outside until you’re twenty-one. I’m not even supposed to know what you look like, let alone your name. You’re supposed to grow up with ‘privacy’.”

“I don’t care, what are they going to do, put me in prison?!” Zeine snorted sarcastically, “I’m the Prince, and I can do what I like. And that includes talking to you, if I want to.”

“Well, aren’t you the little badass?” Imelie giggled without thinking. It was easy to forget he could have her head chopped off, really.

“Are all people our age as mean as you are?” The Prince huffed, folding his arms tightly. “Just because I’m stuck here doesn’t mean I don’t know when someone’s making fun of me.”

The female sighed long-sufferingly, and sat down underneath the tree again. “I’m told I’m a b***h quite a lot, to be honest. I have a lot of enemies.” She shrugged. “It’s in my nature, I suppose.”

“Maybe if you were nicer to people, you wouldn’t get called a b***h.” Zeine pointed out, “but I don’t mind very much; any company is good company when you’re me. I want us to be friends, Imelie. I hate being by myself.” He admitted.

“How can we possibly be friends, you aren’t even supposed to know I exist.” She snorted in response, and he sat down next to her. “When my parents find out about this, I’m probably not going to be allowed to come back, anyway.”

“But I’m the Prince, if I ask them to bring you personally, they can’t say no.” He shot back. “I like talking to you, you’re interesting, and you don’t refer to me as ‘Your Majesty’ all the time. It gets under my skin, seriously. No matter how many times I tell the servants ‘it’s just Zeine’, they always end up calling me Your Majesty again the next day. Or even worse, ‘my Lord’. I hate that.” He shuddered. “It makes me sound like my father.”

Imelie frowned a little at the mention of the Emperor. “But I thought that you’re supposed to be basically a younger version of your father? Y’know, it’s your divine purpose or some bullshit like that.”

Zeine laughed secretly, both at the curse word and the notion. “No… Don’t tell anyone, but I hate my father. He’s horrible to my mother and I.”

“Wow… Zeine, I don’t think you should have told me that… You could… You could get in massive trouble for that.” She whispered, eyes wide as she looked at him.

“But it’s true!” He hissed, looking around them. “He’s awful; he hates the both of us. Sometimes I wish he’d just… Just drop dead!”

Imelie shook her head, covering her ears. “That’s… I should go… That’s… That’s…” For once in her life, the teenager was speechless, and she stood up.

“No! No! I’m sorry, I take it back, please don’t go.” Zeine begged, grabbing her arm. “Imelie, please, don’t go. At least not until you promise to come back…”

“You’re the bloody Prince, Zeine! This could never, ever work!” She insisted, trying to pull her arm from his grip. “You’re not supposed to have friends!”

“Why not?! Everyone always says we’re supposed to be on the same level as everyone else, so why not?” He asked, ranting a little bit. “It drives me mad, staying here by myself! Please, Imelie, please!”

She was torn. He obviously needed her help, the desperation in his eyes made that much obvious, and wasn’t the whole point of the Guardian race to help people who needed it? But she could get in tremendous trouble for this; for talking to the unannounced Prince without permission. She could be killed, but somehow she doubted Zeine… Prince Zeine… Would let that happen. She hesitated. “Alright.” Imelie finally relented, “alright, but you have to tell your mother or something, because if they find out, I’m as good as dead!”

“I will, I will, I’ll get their permission, I’ll get you access to the Palace, and… I don’t know. Hey, I know! We can meet up when I sneak out! They let me sneak out, now, they gave up on trying to stop me ages ago! Just meet me outside the Palace wall, and we can watch the suns. It’ll be great!” He grinned, standing up too to dust himself off. “I always end up talking to myself up there, now I’ll actually have someone to talk back.”

Imelie sighed, unable to stop herself from feeling sorry for him. He seemed so childish for his age, so naïve. It was painfully obvious that he didn’t know a thing about the world. She was determined to help him see the world as it really was, however, and nodded. “I’ll meet you later tonight. But right now, you need to get back up to your chambers… My parents are supposed to be healing you… But you don’t seem very injured to me.” The teenager narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“I twisted my shoulder the other night when I jumped over the wall.” He admitted, rubbing it thoughtfully. “Are you the eldest, Imelie? Of your family?”

“Yes…” She nodded, pursing her lips. “I’ll be shipped off to some other planet soon enough… Although to be honest, I’m quite looking forward to leaving this place.”

Zeine quirked an eyebrow at his new friend, “why? Do you have a hard time at home?” He asked, because the Capiers seemed charming enough, but… He of all people knew that outward charm didn’t mean a thing.

“No, I just… I feel like I’m being controlled a lot, here. There won’t be anyone to tell me what to do when I leave to go to my planet. I can do whatever I want, between healings, of course.” Imelie shrugged, picking up another leaf and tearing at it, not wanting to meet the Prince’s eyes too much. They were the most intense pair she’d ever seen, and it was easy to become overwhelmed if you looked at them for too long. “I don’t like to be told what to do.”

“What a coincidence…” Zeine smirked, folding his arms loosely, “me neither.”