Chapter 8 #2
Soon. Soon, Suyai and I will talk in private again. When I’m not using all my strength to stay conscious, and she’s done imagining every worst-case scenario, we’ll figure out what it means to be part of the princess’s guard. She’ll help me understand what it means to be a hero.
And when this is all over, when I’m finally enough, we’ll be able to live in our own world free of the expectations I can’t yet shake.
I go inside my room. Someone knocks, and I take in the waifish girl after opening the door.
Behind her are two more guards, not a single exposed weapon between them.
I look one of them in the eyes. She’s bigger than average but with the same olive skin as me, and she holds herself with the confidence of someone blessed with pure physical strength.
Her woven red textile tunic doesn’t have more than standard Guard embroidery, but the bold color denotes a high enough rank to not stand out inside the Inka’s Quarters.
Her partner dons the same attire, though the few gender signifiers in the woman’s uniform are absent on theirs, making their uniform even less embroidered. They have sharp, high cheekbones that shine bright in the sunlight, reflecting beautiful gold dust across their black skin.
They both dip their heads at me in acknowledgment.
Fine. I dip my head in a show of reciprocal respect, but feel like a worm in the casual soldier’s tunic I found in my room.
The Inka needs them to be here. I had tunnel vision, blinded by my new title, but now I get it. Because as much as I’m fated to save the empire, I’m a living symbol of the weakness of her reign.
At least the princess being the Guardians’ Hero would have softened the blow of the calamity.
Suyai’s words enter my mind. The wrath of the Inka.
I can’t say for sure that I’m hated by those I’m meant to save, but I can only deny the bad feeling rattling my bones for so long. Hopefully, it’ll be long enough for me to show the Inka that she’s wrong to be worried.
“Oh, you’re already dressed,” the servant girl who knocked whispers. She avoids my eyes and keeps her head down. I’m surprised she looked up long enough to see my clothes.
“Yes. I guessed I would be summoned today.”
She whispers yet again, and this time I only catch the last few words.
“… early then. I’ll take you to the court to wait.”
She doesn’t wait for me to move before heading out. I rush after her, not understanding the hurry when she admitted we were early in the first place.
It’s not my place to judge a servant’s anxiety, though.
Everyone who works at the castle feels it.
Some just hide it better than others. Some swallow it like the strongest chicha corn beer, letting it drown any sorrows that follow.
I know where I fall. I’m intimately familiar with the burn of fear when I swallow it whole.
The current Inka and her Yana bloodline have been on unsteady ground since Inka Yanaru overthrew the False King, but her power has only been more and more legitimized every year I’ve been alive.
The year that she ended sacrifices, people lived in fear of retribution from the Guardians.
Then Inka Yanaru’s words were proven true.
Her pure divinity as the true ruler won the protection of the Guardians.
No sacrifices or mimicry needed to protect and bless the empire.
But everything’s changed now.
The Sun Staff begs to be found. A danger that can lead to war is threatening us, the sacred empire.
The servant weaves between the many separate rooms that make up the outdoor areas of the Inka’s quarters, her right hand picking at her left fingers.
What would happen to her if people turned against Inka Yanaru?
Belief in the divine right to rule could only hold back people’s doubts for so long.
The Guardians choosing a hero outside of the Panaka for the first time in recorded history could be the spark that sets people alight.
I map out our route in my head to ground me.
From the little I learned through emergency procedures as a soldier, I know this is where the Panaka’s personal staff, the majority of the Kama, and specific diviners live.
Despite not passing through any communal areas I know exist, I still see the occasional child run along our same path, looking determined and confident in where they go.
I wonder if I’ll ever achieve that level of comfort here. I’m determined to stay long enough to belong.
We end up at the entrance of where the Inka herself stays. It looks monumental from the outside, filled with rooms I’m not ranked high enough to know about.
The servant nods at the two guards at the entrance. The two guards behind us are dismissed. I don’t know if I’m imagining it or if they really do glare as I step in. I’m still wearing the uniform of a common soldier, of course. I am bringing in textiles not worthy of entering this sacred space.
That’s the Inka’s fault for not providing me with proper clothing. It was probably deliberate. I laugh at my own theory, and the servant shoots me an alarmed look. I try to calm her with a small smile, but all she does is frown.
I try to memorize the indoor maze we go through, but the number of doors, offering sites, and disorienting candles makes it impossible. In the end, the servant motions to a locked golden door.
She doesn’t explain before leaving.