Az #2
“Do you remember how she would attach little charms or bells on the chains sometimes?” he asks, his features soft, almost as if he is on the verge of an actual laugh.
“She told me once she wore the bells as a warning – so that I could hear her coming to put me in my place and that I’d better watch out. ”
“That sounds like her,” I say, a little stunned that he is willingly talking about my mother with me.
One corner of his mouth lifts. “Whenever I hear the tinkle of bells, I think she may be just around the corner, waiting to clip me around the horns for my own stupidity.”
In awe, I glance to one of my father’s maleservants who is standing to his side, silently questioning the male about this rare show of vulnerability from the king. He simply gives me a short shake of his head.
“I am glad you inherited her horns,” my father says, taking a sip of his wine. “I wish all three of you had inherited more of her, if truth be told.”
I open my mouth to say something – anything. I don’t even know what those words were going to be – and I’ll never know, because the king simply says, “Come, Az. I wish to talk to you in private for a time.”
And with that, the palace staff whisks away both of our untouched meals, and our chairs are already being pulled out for us.
A quick glance at Lois shows her animatedly talking to Glex – who actually seems to be listening intently.
She is doing well, then, and does not need my help.
It seems I have no excuse but to follow my father’s departure from the room.
* * *
I’m led to a part of the palace I’ve never seen before. The scale is much less grand, the furnishings are sagging a little, and the items displayed don’t appear to be aesthetically curated in any way.
It takes me far too long to realize that I’ve followed my father into his own personal chambers.
He sits in one high-backed, overstuffed armchair in front of a roaring fireplace, gesturing to a mirroring chair for me to take.
I nod my head, but take the opportunity to walk around the room, absorbing all the paintings, holographic portraits, and artifacts my father chooses to display here – the one place where he can just be ‘Zeelix’, and not ‘King Zeelix’. I do not think I have ever met the former.
There are bottles of bright red sand and shells of turquoise blue – items from his home principality, the Great Sands. Holographic images of his siblings playfighting. Some broken bits of crockery – their jagged edges apparently holding enough memories for my father to display them on a shelf.
“I keep her here, right by my chair,” he interrupts my inspection, holding up a small, silver frame.
I step closer, my eyes squinting in the dim. Staring back at me with a faint smile is a painted portrait of my mother, wearing her bells and a knowing look. Stroking a gentle finger down the static image, I look up to ask, “No holo portrait?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head and taking the small painting back. “There is one of her in the Hall of Brides beside the Palace Temple, but no. It-…” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “It is too much for in here. I fear I might start hearing those bells tinkling if I did.”
We are both quiet for a moment, and I decide to take the seat I’d been offered.
“I still have her Permission, but-”
Instantly, I stand up again. “Yeah, no. I do not want to hear any of that.”
“Sit down, Az,” he chuckles, apparently completely unaware of how close I’d be to yaking up my guts if he starts talking about using my mother’s Permission.
“I’m trying to tell you I don’t use it.” Oh, thank The Four.
“And even if I did, it wouldn’t be for that,” he continues.
“It would just be to sit with her. To talk to her… to apologize to her.”
I sit back down.
My father has never talked like this before.
“Are you dying or something?” I say, joking. For as long as I’ve known this male, he’s never acted even minutely like this in my presence.
Instead of laughing, my father looks at me and offers a weak smile. “It won’t be soon. The physicians say I have about four or five seasons left in me.”
My mind goes as blank as a sunless sky.
I do not know what to say to that.
Instead of a great wave of pure sadness that you might expect about hearing of a parent nearing death, I am instead hit by a wall of confusion. Confusion because there is vindication mixed with the sadness, sprinkled with relief, and then wrapped in a blanket of numbness.
On top of all of that, I feel shame because perhaps I should be feeling nothing but sadness.
But the truth is, I do not know the vulnerable male in front of me. I have never met him before in my life. All I know is the king who killed my mother.
“That is…” I do not know how to end that sentence.
My father scoffs. “It is alright if you are not upset by this news, son.”
I tense my jaw.
“After all. If that is indeed the case, I only have myself to blame.”
I shake my head as if his words do not make any sense, when the fact of the matter is, they do – just not falling from his mouth. “I…”
Deciding I need time to let this news sink in, my eyes try to distract my mind by bouncing around the walls again.
I could ask why he has that broken pottery.
I could ask who some of the older people are in his framed images.
I could ask what it was like to grow up in the Great Sands Principality. Instead, my mouth asks, “Why only her?”
My father inclines his head, inviting me to elaborate.
“In here,” I say, gesturing to the cozy room – his very own sanctuary. “You have a painted portrait of my mother, but you had many breeding contracts; there’s not even a whisper of any of those other brides in here. Just her.”
He looks at me with an expression that says the answer is blindingly obvious.
“Don’t-” I start, getting up from the seat again.
“Don’t say it’s because you loved her, because if that were true, you wouldn’t have gone on to have the-Goddesses-know how many more contracts with other brides.
You would have stopped. You would have stayed with her so that the madness wouldn’t have taken hold. ”
My father swallows and straightens in his seat, brushing his hands down his front like he wants to brush off my accusations. “I had only sired princes in two principalities by that time, Az. You know any king needs a majority to be seen as strong.”
“And five princesses.”
“You also know they don’t count.”
“They should. A female could rule a principality just as well, if not better than most of your princes combined.”
“I agree.”
“And what’s more-” my mind, my mouth, and any movement come to a complete halt at that. “What?”