Chapter 18: Chapter 18: The King

Chleo was cold.  Her shoulders ached.  She wasn’t conscious… or maybe she was.  Was someone talking?  A sharp slap startled her awake.  Her cheek stung with phantom pain until she realized the slap had hit someone else.  

The person whimpered behind her.  She tried to raise her head, but a sharp pain sliced through her temple.  It beat in time with her heart, other aches and bruises making themselves known as she became more aware.  Her arms were tied behind her back, the cold floor digging into her side.  She couldn’t feel her hands. 

Chleo suppressed an annoyed groan.  This week sucked.

“When I say I need to talk to someone,” an angry voice spoke behind her.  Someone grunted as the sound of boot meeting flesh filled the room. “I expect them conscious.”

He sounded mad.  She hoped he didn’t mean her.

“See,” a voice wheezed from the ground, “she’s awake.”

She bit her lip.  Why did she always have to think out loud at the most inconvenient time possible?  Her eyes cracked open.  Light bled in, making them water.  She was starting to rethink her life decisions when two purple boots tapped into view.

Chleo’s breath caught in her throat. Purple.  A royal.  She forced herself to roll face down, an instinct borne from years of conditioning. A commoner never looked higher than a royal’s boot.  Her ribs screamed in protest.

A booming laugh, erupted above her.  

“Do you see that, Agent?  Even beaten, she follows basic courtesies.” Another boot landed against flesh.  The agent yelped in pain.  “Perhaps, next time you will follow her example.  When I demand something, I expect it completed by my design, not yours.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he answered.  

Your Majesty, Chleo couldn’t believe it.  She was in the same room as the king.  She tried to take a page from Will’s book and swallow her fear… it wasn’t working.  The visiting Terran Queen she could handle.  Even, her Terran son, she could stomach.  Luna’s king terrified her.

He was vicious.  The commoners he ordered to the palace never returned.  Rumor was, he released them on royal grounds and hunted them for sport.  Others were convinced he handed them over to the Guilds for experiments.  Chleo always wondered, why not both?

“The Society delivered her, and for that, you will be rewarded,” the king said, “Perhaps, next time you will know better than to allow emotions to override sensibilities.”

The man was hoisted up at the dismissal and dragged from the room.  Chleo glimpsed cabbage ears and oversized eyes from the corner of her eye before he disappeared from the throne room.  She’d probably never see Agent Miles again.  The thought wasn’t nearly as comforting as it should have been. The doors echoed shut.

She shivered.  Her next move.  She needed to figure out her next move. Then she could plan another.  

The king stood above her.  She felt his eyes on the back of her head, her forehead pressed into the marble floor.  He was the King of Luna, her next move was to pander and hope he let her live.

“Your mother took something from my family,” he said, fury resting just below the surface. “We would like it back.”

Without the command to speak, she stayed silent.  He hummed in approval.  Was he trying to trick her into speaking out of turn?

“You truly are a model subject.  I suspect it was gleaned from a life on Luna.” Flattery?  She bit her lip to ensure her thoughts wouldn’t escape. If he was trying to throw her off-kilter, it was working. “It certainly wasn’t learned from your parents.”

Her back stiffened as he showed his hand.  For the leader of Luna, he lacked subtlety.  If he wanted to turn her against her parents, he needed to do better than complement her ability to grovel.

“Your father refused to tell me where it was.  As you can see, he is regretting his decision.” The king nudged her with his cane.  She felt like a opossum a child poked with a stick.

But it wasn’t the time to play dead.  She needed information.  She needed a plan. She chanced a glance well away from the king.  Chleo gasped.

Dad. She squeezed her lips over the word, refusing to speak out of turn.  Everything the king did was measured.  He wanted her to see.  He wanted her to slip.  She lowered her forehead back to the floor trying not to react more than she already had.

Her father was strapped to a chair, a contraption pressed to his head, valves and tubes sprouting from it leading to a motor behind.  Even in her short glance his body had spasmed twice.  He was pale, blood leaking from his mouth, his eyes swollen.

Luna was the worst.

~*~*~*~

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Will led the group along the palace wall to the outskirts of town.  The houses grew sporadic and the crowds thinned until fields stretched into the distance.  The sun poked its head around the stone as they abandoned the palace’s shade.

Wrapping around the western edge, etchings began to appear on the wall.  The landscape bled from the base of the structure into nothing, a stark contrast to the detailed carvings of wars and celebrations of plunder and plenty.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?”  Merk asked.  Will stopped in front of a peculiar scene, depicting new figures previously absent from earlier carvings.  

“Of course,” Will said as he knocked dirt and sand from the small statues.  The new figures stood in a sea of kneeling subjects, only one other on his feet, the seven point star of the royal family hanging proudly from his neck.  “I used to live here.”

Will scraped his finger along the king’s outreached arm, sand and grime coming loose.  In the center, connecting the king to the strangers was a book.  Will brushed it off running a reverent thumb over the etching.  He pushed.

There was a click and the sound of turning gears.  A small platform popped out.  Will raised his sleeve to reveal his wristlet.  William Baker sat scrolled inside a seven point star painted commoner blue.

“Please, still work,” he mumbled under his breath and pressed his ID badge onto the platform.  A small opening was created as it latched onto the badge.  Small ticks and clicks sounded as mechanisms filled the spaces between the cogs.  The platform spun the badge once, released him, and snapped shut.

Will held his breath.  The stone groaned.  A crack opened to their right revealing a small door.  He let it out.

Smirking at Merk, he pulled the door open, dirt and sand shifting beneath it.

“Who’s first?”

~*~*~*~

“Where is the book?” the king asked Chleo.  It was a direct question.  Protocol demanded she answer.  Her head pounded as she wracked her brain.  What book?  Her mom had too many to count.  She didn’t need to steal one from the royals.

“I don’t-“ she stopped herself.  Her next move… the king had just given her an opportunity. She needed an answer that would distract him long enough for her to release her dad and escape.  Half of a plan was better than no plan.

“Mom, keeps all of her books in her workshop at Timekeepers, Your Majesty.” Her voice shook.

“Hm,” he hummed above her.  She listened to his steps click in her father’s direction.  He paused. Silence echoed.

“I have your daughter,” he stated as if discussing the weather. “She clearly knows nothing about the book.” Well, that was rude… She didn’t, but he could have at least checked the workshop.  The king’s cane tapped the ground, the only sign of his frustration. “I wonder if that works in your favor.  She can’t give away its location, but now,” he mused, “she’s expendable.  I suppose it depends on your priorities.”

Expendable… it wasn’t something one wanted to hear about themself from the King of Luna.  Chleo was frozen.  Whatever was coming wouldn’t be fun.

“I think I’ll have her join you,” the king’s voice snaked into focus.  For the first time, her dad’s voice filled the room.

Thick from a swollen tongue and muddled on the edge of sleep, his muttered ramblings started low gaining volume.

“It’s not real.  It’s not real.  It’s not real.” Over and over, he repeated it until he was shouting.  

The calm clicks from the king’s boots returned to Chleo’s side.  “Such a shame,” he said nudging her cheek with his boot, “when the follies of man reach youth.”

She thought she heard him sigh between her father’s mad shouts. “Hook her up with the other and resume questioning.  Report any changes.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Hands grasped her sore arms as clicks from the king’s boots echoed out of the room. 

The pain made her eyes water as they dragged her to the chair next to her dad.  It was annoying and useless.  More than that, it messed with her vision when she very much wanted to see.  They strapped her down and forced the machine on her head, flipping the switch before she could utter a word.

The motor jerked to life behind her.  It was the last sound she heard before fading into the familiar feeling of a free fall.

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