The Queens of the Night
The five celestial poets began their recitation of the epic with the intake of a breath. They would not breathe until the story had come to an end, surviving only on that one breath they had taken. But before they could tell the world of the New Age of light, the golden king mounted on a white hare bringing enlightenment and freedom. Before any of that could happen a knife cut their throats in a successful attempt to silence them. And so they would remain for the rest of the New Age. Only it wouldn’t be an age of light but of darkness and pain and power. Just like the blood of the poets now pooled on the white marble floor, coloring the tiles red, the hunger of the killer would color the rivers red.
Chapter One:
The "Queens of the Night" were once again in full bloom. They were special in Carmin’s kingdom, as they represented the royal house with their colors. Red for blood, that is shed in battle. Gold for bounty that the hunters and farmers gather to feed the people. And black for death, which is inevitable even to the richest of men.
They were special for another reason. That being the nightly visitor that secretly and quietly came to his chambers every month that the flowers bloomed.
Today was again that day and he was waiting expectantly, with his elbows braced on edge of the balcony and his head resting on his shivering hands.
It was the chilly nighttime and he had again forgotten to order for a warm robe. Well, maybe he hoped that this visitor would keep him warm once she arrived.
He heard a rustle beneath the trees and knew that she was. He threw down the rope that he kept hidden next to the pot plants, he never really cared for. Except for the Queens of the night of course.
She pulled on the rope, through the leaves that spread like an ocean, a hindrance to his sight.
As he helped to pull her up he noticed that her weight was much more than it had been a month ago. He chastised himself for thinking this way.
It shouldn’t matter if she is thin as a rat or fat as a lazy bear. "I love her regardless", he thought while closing his eyes as the rope was demanding all his strength.
When he opened he was shocked to see his brother sitting on the edge of the balcony with his feet dangling dangerously. But what was even more dangerous was the sharp edged smile that was covering half his face.
“Expecting someone?”, he asked in mock innocence. All Carmin could do was stare at him in quiet fury.
Instead of waiting for his answer his brother said in worry:”I saw a Danarsi girl standing beneath your balcony. She was rustling the branches of the trees and attempting to throw rocks at your balcony. Of course I saw to it that she got punished adequately.”
This made the blood rush away from his face. Danarsis were the official slave nation that his father had taken under his control decades ago.
Allying with them or even worse, having any sort of friendly relation with them meant that one would be lowered to one of their ranks.
His brother knew this. Carmin knew exactly what he was planning. There was not a day in the week, where he granted himself some rest.
No. Every week he thought of different ways to humiliate him and present to the public an inadequate prince.
Why he did that, Carmin did not know. The crown was practically his already. Being the favorite of the nation and of their parents. Although the second party would never openly admit so.
Carmin suspected that something was not quite right with his brother. Like that his smiles never reached his eyes and his worry for their mother’s health was always faked.
Carmin saw this but the others didn’t. To them he was always the charming, talented and cunning older brother.
The crown was his by birth but he had manifested it so by his talents. Even now Carmin could not do much as he announced the execution date of the girl he had just caught. It was tomorrow.
How could he compete with him? This creature that seemed to have alternate plans for every scenario.
But was that the height of his love? A difficulty arose and he ran away like a coward, hiding behind his mother’s skirts?
No. He could not do that. Not when he had nothing to lose. The crown was his brother’s anyway. He had to at least defend the only thing that belonged to him
As if sensing the thoughts in his head, his brother’s smile widened, if that was even physically possible. And as his white teeth contrasted against his dark skin which was barely visible in the pitch black night. And so his smile remained against the nothingness of the darkness.
