by Caroline Wei
I crossed my arms, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackling fire and soft snoring. Then, all at once, the fire changed. The burning bramble morphed into thick brown logs, the heat intensifying, its fiery tendrils bricked in with smooth stones. I was suddenly sitting in a green armchair, a heavy book in my hands, and next to me another stack waited, full of treasure bursting to be uncovered. The paperback I was reading was filled with undulating lines of script, each line beautiful, sweet, and lilting, quick as a meteor shower—poetry. My heart swelled at the sight of them.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade...
I leaned my head back, catching sight of a window that revealed the outside hallway, where a girl was passing by. She had shoulder-length brown hair, secured with a pale blue headband, and her hands were clasped in front of her as she walked. Flanking her was a guard and a redheaded maid.
“That’s you,” I said.
“Are you about finished?” A finger pecked me in the shoulder, and I was smiling before I turned around.
“Honestly, Malaya, there’s got to be another hour before they’re done.”
She grinned at me, showing all her pearly whites. Her hair was dark brown, braided into pigtails, her skirt red as a sunset. She went on her tippy-toes.
“Please, Malchin, you spend alllll your time in here. Baba said the meeting was going to be really long anyway. Let’s go explore the palace before it's too late.”
Love for this little girl threatened to crack open my chest, and I reached for her, hoisting her up over one shoulder. Malaya giggled into my back, her long braids tickling the backs of my legs.
“Put me down, Malchin!”
“You wanted to explore, so let’s go exploring! We’ll start right here.” And I went zooming down the library aisles, and then down the next one, and then the next, and then the next. Her laughter was still ringing in my ears when I blinked and saw that the fire had returned to its original state.
Victoria was staring at me. “Um, hello?”
I closed my eyes and tried to memorize every single facet of the little girl, the poem, the glowing fire, and most of all, Alle.
Because I had just gotten a memory.
20
OLIVER
Mom met me right at the palace doors, the Caesitas guards saluting me. Her usually calm demeanor was replaced by running mascara and red eyes. She took my arm as we raced through the hallways.
“He’s not going to make it,” Mom sobbed. “Oh, Oliver, I’m so sorry.”
Bitterness gripped my heart. I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not here. Not now.
We barged into Father’s room, where a man almost unrecognizable met me. Father’s bronzed skin and broad shoulders had shrunk into a skin of skeletal cheekbones and shriveled face. His hair had considerably grayed, and doctors and nurses surrounded him somberly.
I fell to my knees next to him, grasping his frail hands. “Father.”
“My boy.” He smiled at me. “You’re back from Niveus.”
“Yes, to see you. How are you feeling?”
Father sighed, turning his head towards the ceiling. “I’ve been getting by.” He coughed violently, and Mom passed him her handkerchief. The seafoam silk was immediately stained with blood.
“Listen, Ollie,” Father said, tightening his hold on my hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to do more for you.”
I shook my head. “You are a warrior, Father. One of the best kings Caesitas has ever seen.”
“Yeah, well”—Father laughed from deep within his lungs—“Caesitas hasn’t been around very long. No, Oliver, I’m talking about the Amnesia Experiment.”
I swallowed.
“I know you loved that Niveus princess. It was obvious to your mother and I. It was so powerful, what you had with her, and yet, I just stood by when the Experiment initiated just because Niveus was a bully. I’ve often asked myself, what kind of example was I to you?” Father’s eyes cut to mine. “The answer is that I failed you.”
“You didn’t,” I said firmly.
“I was a coward.”
“No, Father, anyone in your place would have done the same thing.”
“Not you.” Father reached out to touch my face, and the hot rush of tears threatened to overtake me. I couldn’t cry in front of him. I wouldn’t. “That’s why you would make a great king. You have to promise me to do everything you’ve always wanted to do, but didn’t. Don’t let anything stop you, because you’ll regret it in ten, twenty years. I want you to win her back. I want you to win Caesitas back.”
I was the picture of strength, I was the picture of strength, strength, strength.
Mom’s face was running with tears; she was gasping into her sleeve.
“You’re not leaving,” I whispered brokenly.
“No,” Father said, smiling. “I’m not.” Then he took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes.
And just like that, he was gone.
Quick, like a snowfall.
~.~.~.~.~
Every country showed up for the funeral, excluding Niveus. I shook hands with ambassadors from Flavus, Aurantiaco, Viola, Indicum, Viridis, Thalassius, Aes, and Rubrum. The room was a sea of black with occasional splashes of country colors. Over here, a flash of yellow from Flavus. Over there, a small purple flower pinned to a lapel, for Viola. Usually, I liked it when I could meet with representatives from the other nations. It was always a fun time, with champagne glasses and booming speeches. But that was back when I was a little boy hanging on the arm of my larger-than-life father.
“How are you holding up?” asked two officials from Aes, their dark tuxedos sporting bronze badges. One was shorter than the other, but both had sun-tanned skin, like Father. They were descendants of Southwest Asian survivors of the War.
“I’m holding up fine,” I said, lying blatantly. My whole body felt hollow.
“The king of Aes sends his condolences,” one informed me.
“Thank you.”
“We’re hoping to negotiate new policies on those troublesome tariffs once you’re coronated,” the other said.
My smile froze in place. “That will be an issue for the future, my lord.”
“No, of course. Just wanted to bring it to your attention right now.”
“I’m so sorry, gentlemen, I’m going to have to steal Prince Oliver away from you,” came a motherly voice from behind me.
I turned to embrace Queen Meiyu of Rubrum, who had always been a close friend of Mom’s. Rubrum was one of the only countries where the actual royal family showed up in person.
Behind Meiyu was her husband, King Ichiro, and their daughter, Malaya. They were all dressed in varying shades of crimson.
“I have something for you,” Meiyu said conspiratorially and pulled out a tin box of cookies. “I always feel better when I have something to eat.”
Ichiro and Malaya inclined their heads toward me, but their eyes looked drained. I could understand. Their son and brother was also taken from them, after all.
“How are things in East Asian waters?” I asked.
“Better than things are in the Arabian Sea,” Meiyu told me, gesturing towards the departing Aes officials. “They’ve got another civil war on their hands.”
I had heard about this. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault!” Meiyu shook her head and cupped my face with her hands. “Poor boy.”
Malaya bowed to me, her red kimono bending with her. “Prince Oliver, we heard you were in Niveus recently.”
I nodded. Ma
laya had been a girl full of such spark before her older brother got dragged into this mess. I remembered that she had a great taste for fashion and had even started her own clothing line that was very popular in every country before everything fell apart for her.
“Do you have any...ah...news?”
I knew what she meant. “Carlen still has not returned. Things are the same as always, but different, at the same time. The princess’s absence makes an almost tangible difference.”
Malaya nodded, disappointed. Meiyu looked at me sympathetically.
“We’re all rooting for you,” she said before she walked away, her husband and daughter following. Her meaning was multi-faceted. My strong views against the Amnesia Experiment were anything but private.
The moment they left, I was grabbed by officials from both Thalassius and Viola, dressed in aquamarine and dark purple, respectively.
“Your Highness, we’re so excited to start doing business with you,” Thalassius Man said, his mustache twitching.
“What an honor,” added Viola Lady, her hair stiff as a tree.
As I tried to gently pry them from my arms, I caught sight of a girl with crimson hair and a pressed white uniform. Her hair was braided with decorative snowflakes, and she stood with her hands clasped in front of her.
“Yale!” I said, and when she smiled I gladly took the excuse to leave. “What are you doing here?”
“Adella Hernandez thought it would create a bad public image if no one from Niveus came to your father’s funeral,” Yale explained. Her mahogany eyebrows drew downwards. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“It’s not your fault.” A wave of emptiness crashed into my chest at the thought of the ginormous shoes I would have to fill. “Hey, come on. I want to show you something.”
Yale looked around, but all the other diplomats were occupied. Then she tentatively took my outstretched hand, and we dashed from the room.
She covered her mouth with her hand as we flew down the hallways, but a little laughter still came bursting out. She was like Alle, but so different. Like the soft winter to a blazing summer, both equal but completely contrasted.
I passed Father’s old quarters but didn’t falter. Around the corner there was a windowsill, simple in its existence. It was just wood and glass, providing a way to see outside to the world, which at the moment was darkened with a gray, rainy sky. A chess piece stood on the windowsill, solid gold—a queen. I grasped the figure and tugged upwards.
Below us, there was a soft, grating sound, and Yale gasped as the floor collapsed into a spiraling staircase.
“I thought only Niveus had this kind of technology,” she whispered, not at all in a patronizing way. Her tone was awed.
I grinned. “Caesitas has some tricks up her sleeve. Come on.”
We hurried down the staircase, Yale clutching her skirts, and came to one of my favorite rooms in the whole palace.
In front of us were four pedestals, each with a crown inside, encased in bulletproof glass.
“These are probably the most valuable things we have,” I said. “The heirlooms of the royal family. This one here”—I paused in front of Mom’s—“is the queen’s crown.”
Yale inhaled softly as she took it in. It was delicate, like Mom, all filigree and crystal and lapis lazuli. Transparent alexandrite and turquoise were set into the center, the jewels intertwining with each other into a pale blue rose petal.
“These crowns are used at coronations, or it can be worn everyday,” I explained. “Mom doesn’t always wear this one though. She often says it’s too beautiful to use.” I shook my head. “But I think that’s a load of manure. Beautiful things aren’t meant to be locked away.”
Yale touched the glass respectfully. “It would look wonderful on your mother, Ollie.”
Alle used to call me that, too. It sounded different in Yale’s mouth.
“This one”—I moved on to Father’s—“is the king’s.” He hadn’t been buried in the heavy gold thing today, but in life, he had worn his more than Mom. It was as big as his personality, thick and majestic, with only a simple blue stone for its center.
“You’ll have to wear it for your coronation, won’t you?” Yale asked.
The thought stabbed me. “Yes.”
“And this one?” Yale walked over to the crown meant for the prince—for me. It was silver, with sparkling black designs and a diamond at each tip, blue as the ocean.
“It's mine,” I replied, and watched as she walked over to the last crown.
It sat on its velvet pillow, more garland than crown. Silver metal wove into itself, forming a wreath of dark teal flowers, each petal made of crystal, shining in the light.
“What are these?” Yale breathed.
“They’re hibiscus flowers, native to Oceania,” I replied. The citizens of Caesitas were descended from people of old Australia, New Zealand, and Oceania, survivors of World War III. I wondered what living on real land would have been like, when you didn’t have to work to cultivate hibiscus flowers. Rather, you could have just happened upon them, like you would happen upon a river you hadn’t yet explored, or a vast forest you didn’t even know had existed.
And then I thought about what it would have been like to watch it all get decimated before your eyes by mushroom clouds and nuclear missiles, whistling through the air like a last breath, and I was suddenly glad I didn’t know.
“Who’s the crown for?” Yale asked.
“The princess. Daughter of the king and queen or by marriage to the prince.” How often had I dreamed about that flower garland sitting on Alle’s head? With Yale standing in front of the pedestal, her hand flat to the glass, that vision faded to be replaced by a regal lady with fire for hair, hibiscus crowning her forehead.
Guilt immediately washed over me. What kind of a person was I? Over here, wasting time, while I could be devising ways to rescue Alle from the unrightful place she was in. No one could replace her.
“They’re going to be wondering where I am,” I said hastily, putting a hand to the small of Yale’s back. “We best be going—”
Yale gave a gasp of pain, and I turned.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No, no, you’re fine,” she said, her smile watery. “Nothing’s out of place. You’re right. We should be heading back.”
“No, what’s wrong?” I asked, searching her eyes, which were currently trained on the floor.
“I told you, it’s nothing.” She had one hand over her shoulder, resting gently on her back, wincing.
“You’re making it too obvious, Yale. Sit down.”
“What? No, I—”
“Sit.”
She sat, flinching as she did so. Her dress was buttoned from the back, but I could see a small red line crossing into the upper regions of her right shoulder. I got right to work and undid the first three buttons.
Ugly wounds marred Yale’s upper back, making X’s and whorls and spirals, her skin tattered. Some of the marks were very old and presented themselves like trophy scars, while others were fresh. Much of her skin was bandaged, and the white of the fabric was slightly pink.
“Who whipped you?” I asked, furious. "Was this because of the control room?"
“That’s none of your concern, Your Highness,” Yale said coldly.
“It is my concern. You’re Alle’s friend. I need to make sure you’re okay.”
Yale’s eyes tightened and a shutter fell over her face. “That’s right. I’m Alle’s friend. Alle, Alle, Alle, because she’s all you’ve ever cared about!” She stood up, rebuttoning the dress. “I thought maybe you could care for me just as Yale, as a person, but I’ll always be an extension of someone else to you, won’t I?”
I was speechless as she stormed back up the staircase, yanking out a touch screen as she went.
“My lady Adella? I’m ready to depart,” was all I heard before she disappeared altogether.
I gave a long sigh and slumped against the wall, hands on my knees. The
princess’ tiara, sparkling like a sea turtle’s shell, winked at me from its place in the spotlight.
21
ALLE
Eighty tons of boulders sat in my ears, rolling around until they were making meat patties out of my brain. I woke up to the smell of something burning, my head throbbing.
“What is that?” I mumbled.
“Breakfast,” Clarice replied, sitting next to me with a handful of charred-looking leaves.
I blanched.
“Hey, it’s nourishment, isn’t it? So, I was thinking, how long do you think this Trial is going to last? Because I think we’re pretty good at surviving and have already proved it to them.” Clarice popped a black stem into her mouth.
“I have no idea,” I groaned. “I wish this whole thing was over with.”
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Alle.”
It was Galen and Adisa, both with deep bags under their eyes. “There’s no water.”
“Eat snow,” Clarice said cheerily.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not going to help anyone. Your body could expend too much energy to try to melt the snow, which will actually cause you to lose more water. Take someone’s hat and fill it with snow instead, and melt it over the fire. Keep doing it until there’s enough for everyone.”
Galen looked wearily at Adisa. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Victoria is gone.”
Just hearing her name set off three thousand wildfires in my stomach, traveling up my spine and through my legs, shooting hellfire sparks through my lips. “Good. I hope she starves to death.”
Even Clarice looked a little taken aback. “Al—”
“Do you know what that woman did?”
Adisa’s forehead furrowed. “Alle, she’s a human being, and she could be dying out there. We should try to find her.”
But I couldn’t see Victoria as another human being. She was just a monster with impossibly white skin, her blue eyes turned red, an evil person who wouldn’t mind killing a bunch of people for whatever demented reason.