Chapter 4: Flaw

“Victory to the Southern Kingdom,” I chant along with the rest of the king’s audience as my knee rests on the marble floor.

It's patterned by small chestnut and green tiles, making the room and its inhabitants seem larger than they actually are. The audience hall is wide, ivory columns spaced perfectly away from their counterparts circling up to the king’s throne. The freshly polished bronze inlaid upon the back post illuminates the olive green of the throne’s velvet cushion. The rinceau patterns along the chair’s arms and feet depict the leaves of osmanthus, the national flower, curving and stemming from its confining roots. The hall ceiling’s lowness must be meant to signify the inferiority of those who often gather underneath it; the ceiling is flat, lacking the domed-shaped esteem the other halls are believed to convey. The stairs leading up to the cathedra are curved, chiseled in a perfect arc as opposed to the blocky, imperfect, common way of normal stairs.

The floor's cold, maybe I should’ve worn proper jeans instead of these ripped-up garments I call pants. A rip at the knee and another at my ankle; not the result of a close-cut battle, for those who are wondering. It’s a fashion statement, saying I choose to be flawed in a country full of people striving for a perfection they’ll never achieve. Not even the king, as he sits his pompous ass on that throne, pretending that he achieved his position by any other merits than his birth. Does he even think with that Mental enhancement of his? This marble is freezing despite the semi-sweltering temperatures of the South because he can’t be bothered to have installation in a part of his palace where he doesn’t frequent. Like the floor.

I feel a vein popping in my forehead and my eye catches Boss’. Noticing my irritation, she leans to his ear, whispers something unintelligible, and straightens back up. Whatever she said must’ve been good, because the king gets on with his business.

“Little star,” he coos the nickname I hate. I am not a child.

“I hear you slew some Northerners on my behalf. Congratulations are in order.” He smirks.

Cut the crap, old man. You don’t give a damn about me, you think me and Boss are going to forge your path to emperor by eradicating the Northuns. But no matter, I keep up the charade because the rewards I reap are more than worth it.

“You needn’t thank me, Your Majesty. It’s always a pleasure to serve your will.” I say through gritted teeth.

Calm yourself, this is all for the sake of Topaz. Sweet gems for sweet enhancements. 

Topaz is the core of all enhancements; the gem is embedded in the body to change the cellular structure of the limb it inhabits and then it adapts the rest of the body’s cells to best suit its infiltration. 

Something about the constant reminder of a rock in my chest keeping me alive puts a damper on my mood. 

Honestly, it’s more like a virus than a technological mutation. But I can’t complain, the more I have, the stronger I’ll become. 

History lessons tell us that the humans of the past found the gems while on their quest for eternal life. Like all the other previous attempts, this try failed miserably, Topaz only extended our life expectancy by a decade or two. 

Most people can only have one type of enhancement because every gem is different. Having two opposing forces trying to conquer the body’s cells is a one-way ticket to Topaz-Blight (TB). Incurable, TB forces the body to succumb to the gems with no regard for the host. It’s almost poetic, to be made a prisoner of the same body that’s supposed to offer one autonomy. Common signs and symptoms include scaly flesh, kidney stones, and muscle stiffness. 

The worshippers believe it is punishment for those who were too greedy and not grateful for the minuscule power the Topaz offers. Makes sense, seeing as those who contract the affliction have a life expectancy of one to two years after diagnosis. Not that I’ll ever have to worry about this; I’m a blasphemous creature, remember? My very existence defies the will of the glorious Topaz. 

Yes, the gem in my chest is necessary for my life functions, but the little extra I get from that old man I can use for whatever suits my fancy. Hands of steel? Done. Legs like a track star? Had them since I was old enough to crawl. Boss helps in that department too, I guess. I got all the enhancements I could think of early on in life, so at this point, being a test dummy for Mommy dearest may actually bear some unexpected fruit while I’m coming up with new ideas.

Phoenix pecks at me from his place at my side; he does not like the birdcage I put him in. I think he gets motion sickness from being moved by anything other than his wings for extended periods of time. It’s cute. I’d be upset at Boss for sticking a gem in him and linking him to me if he didn’t like it. His right golden eye sees better than any bird in the South. Forget prey, Phoenix could spot an odd blade of grass from the clouds. He’s the perfect companion and I don’t have to worry about him stabbing me in the back because we’re linked. To have such unwavering loyalty to me because of some rocks, I’m almost touched. Well, that and I give him treats.

I sneak him some crackers I nabbed from the maids earlier on my way to the throne room. Sneak, is an exaggeration; Phoenix is in no way quiet when he munches on the saltines. I just hope I don’t get an earful from Boss later.

“-in attendance. You may take your leave. I will have your rewards sent to your mother,” the king waves me out of his sight.

I wasn’t listening to one damn word he said before that but I’ll just ask the knights or Boss to brief me later. I heard the word ‘rewards’ though; that’s enough for me. I loop my fingers around the ring of Phoenix’s cage, he pecks at that too. I can already tell we’re gonna be the best of pals, you damned bird.

I slip my way through the corridors of the palace, careful to avoid the other nobles who want to poke and prod at me. I stop in my tracks at the herd of the knights looking for someone. 

Don’t let it be me. 

They saunter past me. 

Nice. 

I make a beeline to my quarters in the east wing of the castle. I had made a plea to the king to have it far removed from Boss’ sight when I was younger. Now, if she wanted to see me, she would have to go out of her way and wade through castle staff to experiment on me. 

I reach for my doorknob when the sound of shuffling behind the door makes me pause. Someone’s snooping in my room. I glare at the knight dozing off in the chair beside my door and kick her in the shin. Hard.

“M-m’lady, forgive me! Is something amiss?” She flusters, going from a folded-arms fetal position to a deep bow before me.

I roll my eyes.

“If you’re gonna slack off on guarding my stuff, at least pretend like you’re hardworking. Hold my bird,” I thrust Phoenix’s now unlocked cage into her arms.

I might need him later.

I go on the defensive as I enter the room; my blade hasn’t even been cleaned from this morning’s mission but it’ll work for what I need it for. The creaking of the door hinges, the cool breeze from my window, and shoes placed neatly on the edge of my carpet don’t suit the aura that radiates off the prince sitting comfortably on my linen sheets.

“Your highness,” I quickly holster my weapon and begin to bow.

“Stop, please, I’ll throw up, J,” he interrupts and grabs the back of my arm, pulling me up.

I take note of the tightness of his grip. He’s familiar.

Prince Akechi Regis, first of his name, (thirteenth?) prince of this kingdom, son of the fourth royal concubine, and the current bane of my existence. His ebony hair falls perfectly over his clear-skinned face. His dark eyes stare into me like they can pierce into my very soul. Even sitting down, one can tell he’s tall by the way his legs dangle far over the side of the bed. His polyester top is tight-fitting, the way I like to see men dressed. The v-line dips just low enough between his breasts to entice me. His hands are bony as if to illuminate how each of his veins traces the back of his fingers. I force myself to look away before my gaze falls somewhere else inappropriate. It almost pisses me off how attractive he is. He looks like that and he’s a prince? Some people really do have it easy.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my prince?”

Despite his temptations, I haven’t forgotten my etiquette. To speak informally to royalty would mean one doesn’t value her tongue. I subtly sweep a stray sock underneath the skirt of my bed as I approach him.

“Leave us,” he orders my guard away, but I manage to grab Phoenix right before she scuttles off somewhere.

I was leaning down to check on him when he soars out of the cage and flocks to Akechi’s side, perching on his shoulder, and leaving a trail of feathers in his wake. Traitor. You don’t even know that damned prince.

“A beauty, what’s his name?” Akechi caresses my bird as he stands.

How did you even know he was male? Their newfound amiability irks me.

“Why are you here?” I ask, ignoring his pathetic attempt at small talk.

There’s no point in keeping up the ruse of the faithful subject and commandeering master now that the knight’s gone. This man wouldn’t be here unless he wanted something from me, like father, like son, I suppose.

“Is that any way to talk to your prince?”

He waltzes over to my door and locks it. Even his gait reveals his prestigious ambiance. I raise an eyebrow at him. He grins, revealing his flawlessly aligned teeth. Phoenix, as if he knows he wants no part in the upcoming conversation, uses this opportunity to flee out the window before I close it. When I turn away from the pane as I lock it, Akechi emerges from my bathroom, leaving the water running.

“Now, I believe, we may speak in confidence,” he gestures to my bed as he returns to his seated position.

I don’t let my guard down. If one of the princes of this country needs to talk with me about something away from prying ears, it can’t be good.