Pillows propped Judgment up in bed. His chest rose under the silk covers as he sucked in a snore. Erador pulled the door, leaving it open a crack. Good days were like today when his father was coherent, willing to eat, and he didn’t spit blood.

  Sighing, Erador dropped onto the marble bench next to a pillar. Pia wiped the fabric of the throne. Scuffing sounds filled the throne room.

  Wrappers crinkled as Yuni dug through the bucket of candy. She lounged in a gaudy purple armchair that occupied the corner behind the throne. It matched the clips in her braided hair, her vertical striped stockings, and bracelets. She had ruined that color. When he saw it, it reminded him of her disgusting face.

  She opened a candy and tossed the wrapper onto the pile by her feet.

  “What’s with you and that color? You eat purple candy, paint your nails purple. Even your eyes,” Erador gestured at them, “are purple.”

  Yuni rolled the candy to her cheek. “I could say the same for you and black.”

  Erador looked at his clothing that was black as his hair. “You intentionally have everything that color. You even picked a purple chair.”

  “Is that all you can worry about when your father is dying?”

  Erador slammed his foot down and shot up. “How’s purple sound for a new skin color?”

  Yuni’s lips tightened. “Not unless I turn you black first. I’m sure your shadow will like that. Won’t you, Shade?”

  Shade zoomed in circles on the floor and waved his hands. Erador shut down the shadow’s fears like slamming a door in his face. He wasn’t going to allow a drop of fear to change his image of her.

  Yuni smiled and popped another candy in her mouth. “Pia, my nails need another coat,” she said, wiggling her fingers.

  The caretaker set aside the rag and rushed to Yuni. She grabbed a bottle of purple nail polish from the end table. It was lighter purple compared to the deep violet she had on the day before. Erador wanted to hit himself for remembering that worthless detail. Yuni spread her fingers on the towel across her knees.

  “What are you doing?” Erador said.

  “Enjoying myself.” Yuni removed her glasses. “Is something wrong with that? Oh wait... you don’t know how to.”

  Erador stepped toward her. “My father isn’t paying you to make yourself pretty.” He snatched the bottle from Pia and shooed her away. “Where’s the spell?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Really? Looks to me like you’re wasting time,” he said, tilting the bottle.

  Yuni ripped it from him. “This is not why I haven’t gotten it.”

  “Then give me a good reason.”

  “I can’t ask for it yet or she’ll never give it to me.” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m coaxing her.”

  “And when will this be done?”

  Yuni tugged up her skirt. Her stockings held with garter clips ended mid-thigh, giving a peek at her ivory skin.

  “Trying to coax me too?” he said.

  She shot him a glare. “If that gives you a rise, this should get you going.” Yuni jammed the bottle between her legs and unscrewed the cap. With a swift motion, she brushed the tip across her nail. “Would you like me to paint yours before we have sex? I have your favorite,” she said, nodding at her nail polish collection on the end table.

  He picked up the black one, dramatically smacking his chest. “I was scared you didn’t have it. Wouldn’t want to ruin my ensemble with another color.”

  Yuni rolled her eyes and painted another nail. “I’ll have the spell by next week.”

  “I’ll buy it when I see it,” Erador said.

  “Why did you ask if you think I won’t get it?”

  “Because I’ll tell my father you’re a liar.”

  Yuni flicked her gaze up to him. “You won’t.”

  He set her polish next to the wine glass with smeared red coating on the sides. The color was true to wine but he couldn’t ignore the thicker texture. It made his stomach queasy when he imagined Yuni was drinking some strange concoction likely loaded with sugar.

  “You keep thinking that,” he said.

  Erador took his place back on the bench and let his head drop between his knees. He could only hope she was a liar because he had no proof. The knot in his stomach tightened at that idea and at his confidence that spilled over the rim a little each day. He wasn’t sure they had time to figure out who Yuni was.

  He rubbed his heavy eyes as a large shadow crept over him. It was Erador’s signal to leave, but he could hardly lift his head to see the Paradin on the next shift. Eonidas smiled with bright teeth, but comfort Erador received from his presence shattered each time he was reminded of the truth.

  Eonidas’s muscles were less defined and his golden-colored shirt not as tight. It was a little less muscle, Eon said. I've lost some before. But Erador couldn't remember when Eon hadn’t lifted. During Lucrethia's hardest moments he did it more, lifting and throwing large rocks or logs to battle the pain. Now, they didn't have enough food to sustain his lifestyle.

  The people he cared for were changing and not by their will. It carved a hole deep into Erador’s heart, as if he had lost a part of each of them.

  “You’re early.” His voice sounded cheerier in his head.

  “You’re complaining?” Eonidas said.

  “I still owe you for last time.”

  “This one’s on me.” Eonidas sat beside Erador and touched his shoulder. “You look exhausted. Do you need to be carried to bed?”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I think I look pathetic enough.”

  Eonidas’s throaty laughter echoed through the room.

  Yuni stretched her fingers on the arm rest. Pia sat on a stool and painted her nails. The shredded Raven banner hung above; a constant reminder that Yuni could’ve freed him.

  “Has Yuni done anything different?” Erador said, lowering his voice.

  “She sits in that chair, drinks wine, paints her nails, eats her candy,” Eonidas said, gesturing toward the bucket she had stolen from the festival. “Surprised she doesn’t have holes in her yellow teeth, yah.”

  Erador glanced in Yuni’s direction and was met with Pia’s large, captivating eyes. She jammed the cap into the bottle, causing it to tip and spill polish across the floor. Yuni fussed over the mess as Pia rushed to get a rag.

  “I don’t trust her. Can you keep an eye on her?”

  Eonidas scratched his neck. “I… don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Erador sat up. “She could be here to kill my father, and with the Raven free… how can you not be cautious?”

  “I’m giving her a chance,” Eonidas said. “What if she really is here to help?”

  Heat rose to Erador’s face. “When my father is dead, it’ll be too late. So you can just say goodbye to his rebirth.”

  Erador didn’t know how anyone could have blind faith in Yuni. It's not like they haven't already been doing that. When Yuni left, Erador walked toward the archway behind the throne. He stopped by her table and looked over the nail polish bottles and candy wrappers to the wine bottle. He picked it up and sniffed, wrinkling his noise at the metallic smell with a sweet undertone that was nothing like wine.

  Muffled chants sounded outside the front doors. Erador set the bottle down and glanced at Eonidas who returned a baffled look.

  The noise drew Erador outside the front doors. Over two dozen people marched around the courtyard fountain, raising torches and signs. The person on a crate in the middle set a fire in his chest. Miraline shouted and lifted her sign.

  The sound of metal rattling echoed off the pillars. Breck lifted the coin from the step and sat back on the bench, seemingly unaware of the noise.

  “Why are you standing here, Breck?” Erador gritted his teeth. “They’re being disruptive.”

  Breck shrugged. “They aren’t breaking anything, are they?”

  With the release of a violent breath, Erador charged down the steps and shoved through the protesters. He ignored their demands for an apology, making a beeline for Miraline.

  “It’s the middle of the night,” he said. “You’re breaking curfew laws.”

  Miraline raised her chin. “Maybe we don’t want that anymore.”

  Erador read the signs he couldn't see from atop the steps. Painted on them were demands for food and for Judgment to step down. “There won’t be a new ruler.” Erador ripped a sign from a protester. A red “X” was painted over a poorly illustrated bird. “My father has his place.”

  “His place?” Miraline crossed her arms and looked him over. “More like your place.”

  Erador’s face burned. She was level with Erador. That box she stood on gave her authority and confidence she lacked. He craved to kick it out from under her, and see her fall into the fountain and drown, if she didn’t bust her head on the way down.

  Miraline leaned toward him. “What are you going to do, Erador? The crops and livestock are dead.” She turned her head. “And Emera went missing after she told you about it.”

  Erador kept his face straight, not giving into the brutal images of Emera's body that plagued him. “Has anyone bothered to plant new crops?”

  The protesters whispered, but no one spoke up.

  “As I thought.” Erador stepped on the fountain’s edge and threw down the sign. “You’re looking for an easy way out. Let’s say we hand Judgment over, get a few sacks of food, and then what? Will our problems be solved?”

  “It’s at least something until we figure it out,” Miraline said. “We can’t do that when we’re dead.”

  “What has Lucrethia done every time we fell hard? We helped ourselves. We never relied on anyone. Why now?”

  “Because we’re tired of serving you and getting nothing for it. We can barely get by with scavenging and hunting. All we have left is sunflower seeds and those will be gone too.” Miraline narrowed her eyes. “At least handing over the old man will get us something.”

  The protesters agreed with silent nods.

  “What Lucrethians are you?” Erador scanned them with disgust. “My father has fought for every one of you. He never gave up on anyone. If you’re not willing to work together to save what is left, then why are you here?”

  “What about Retribution?” Miraline crossed her arms. “I bet your father killed him.”

  The night Taurin tortured Gillian, he was dragged through the manor gates and into the Judgment Hall. No one was allowed to enter. He was never seen again that night. Nor was his body. His statues and pictures were taken down or covered. His entire existence was erased.

  “There’s no proof my father hurt him.”

  “Where is he then?” Miraline said. “He was unworthy, wasn't he? Thrown into the pit without us knowing.”

  The protesters whispered, sparking new rumors he wanted to shut down before they spread. His father didn’t need that over his head, nor did the Paradins. These people were easy to persuade; it’s why they fell for Judgment’s methods to begin with.

  “Did it occur to you that he was banished?” Erador said. “Did you think maybe he’s better off than we are?”

  Miraline raised her sign and shouted to bring destruction to Judgment above the whispers that had shifted to Erador’s side. They wanted a better future. A future they could only hope for. Miraline’s freckled cheeks reddened the more she shouted, but no one cared. Destroying Judgment couldn’t save Lucrethia.

  Erador grabbed her sign and ripped down. She caught herself before she fell off the crate.

  “You get rid of a weak, dying man for what? Your satisfaction?” He leaned closer to her, spitting words like sparks of fire. “Your revenge?”

  “I’m trying to wake people up, so they realize that Paradise isn’t coming. This religion can’t save them.” Miraline’s shoulders curled in like the edges of paper that shriveled inward from being burned. “We’re suffering.”

  “You’re doing a great job.” Erador tossed the sign down and slowly clapped. “Give her a round of applause.”

  “At least I’m trying. The sunflower seeds are barley keeping us alive. Maybe that’s what Judgment wants. He wants to get back at us for what happened to him. It’s why they killed all the livestock and plants.” Miraline looked at the followers. “We can’t let him win.”

  “That wasn’t our doing,” Erador said.

  “Then who did it?”

  “Someone who wants Lucrethia dead.” Erador looked around. “If any of you don’t like my father as Judgment, then leave. Nothing is holding you here. Not even a mark.”

  The protesters looked at one another and dispersed.

  “Where are you going?” Miraline said as she tugged on their arms but they pushed her away. “No one will accept you. You’re Lucrethians! Retribution will return to save us!”

  The protesters ignored her. The firelight dissipated, leaving them in the glow of the moons.

  Miraline nudged her sign with her boot. She looked pathetic. He hated the pity rising in his stomach.

  “Look, Miraline,” he cleared his throat, allowing a small amount of sympathy to slip in. “I understand you’re hurt...”

  “Me?” she pressed her fingers to her chest. “It’s not about me, Erador.” She swung her arm toward the town. “It’s about them and how Judgment has helped no one in the last twenty years. We’ve done everything to sustain ourselves... to feed you, and when we can’t help ourselves anymore, you turn your back on us.”

  “The Paradins can only do so much. That’s what the rest of Lucrethia is for. We’re a communal... society.” Partly, he wanted to add, but he didn't want to give Miraline any reason to tear apart his statement. “Shedding blood for food isn’t the answer.”

  “Blood will be shed.” Miraline stepped back on the crate and clenched her teeth. “You’ll pay.”

  Erador protested his thoughts to jab his fingers into her feral eyes and destroy them forever. Her threatening tone left him helpless and wanting to peel away from his skin. She would stop at nothing to get her way, no matter how much he humiliated her, and tore people away from her side. He pressed his foot against the crate, staring her down. Knocking her off wouldn’t change her; her skull cracking on the stone would only make her a martyr. His desire for her destruction was lost when Eonidas called him in a panic from atop the stairs. Erador didn’t need to be told a second time when hysterical cries escaped the open doors.

  upload schedule will be changing to three times a week (M, W, F) starting November 3rd.

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