The Crown Prophecy

by M. D. Laird

  “Yes, thank you,” she said. “I’ve spent the day in Lycea with my mother. She took me shopping, and we had lunch—with my guard of course—well, they didn’t have lunch, I’m not sure my mother would cope with that.”

  He smiled as her eyes lit as she spoke of her day. His men saw more of her than he did, they would have seen her carefree and laughing with her mother—being human again for a day.

  Why do I care?

  “I’ve got you a present,” he said, removing a carefully wrapped parcel from under his seat. The girl opened the gift to find the 1927 reprint of A Diary of Thomas de Quincey containing copies of his handwritten entries and letters. “I found it on the internet. It’s number two hundred and seven of the fifteen hundred that were printed.”

  “Thank you,” she said, beaming. “I love it. I hope it wasn’t expensive. How did you get it so quickly?”

  “It wasn’t. I bought it some time ago, I knew it was your birthday,” he said, feeling his cheeks burn. He wished he had not said that. No one in Arkazatinia celebrated birthdays except the hominem with their short, mortal lives, but it occurred to him that she would still wish to celebrate hers and had taken the trouble to find the date. He had then invited her to dine with him the day before presuming she would have other plans for her birthday—he would not tell her that.

  “Thank you.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.

  He stiffened as her lips brushed his skin, as he smelt her. Smelt her hair, the scent still lingering after she had moved away stirring his senses, stirring his memories. He pulled himself back into the moment. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “So, demons shop online?” She smirked.

  “It is one of the greatest inventions of the modern age.” She giggled—it was girlish, charming and utterly adorable. He caught his breath.

  I shouldn’t have invited her here, I should make an excuse and ask her to leave.

  He could not bring himself to ask her. He had avoided speaking to her for months, and that did nothing to help him control his thoughts. Now she was here, in front of him laughing and smiling in that way that made him falter just as he had wanted her to be. Except he did not want her here. He did not want her making him uncomfortable, making his pulse race and his breathing rapid.

  A welcome relief came when Charon announced supper. He invited the girl to sit at the library table where the alliance had met on the girl’s first meeting with them. As it was not an official engagement, he took his seat at the end of the table and the queen was placed to his left. Charon poured their wine and then left him alone with her once more.

  “My supper with Lord Tharazan,” she said as she began to cut through her scallops, “it was an official engagement. He has been helping me with the Crown admin since my ascension.”

  Calab felt relieved though he did not know why or why she felt the need to tell him that. It is not as if he was jealous of Tharazan. Why would he be? He pictured Tharazan: like him, he had a strong, athletic physique and curly black hair, but where Tharazan had his thorian good looks and his dazzling smile, Calab was shrouded with his beastly demonic features. He had been a demon for thousands of years, why did this bother him now? “Tharazan is a strong member of the alliance,” he said diplomatically, “he has a sound mind.”

  “Yes,” she said, “if there were any sense in this world he would be the Crown and not me. He is also the only one who likes me, besides Thalia and Orrla.”

  Her words stabbed at him. We're not friends, he heard himself say those months ago in the fae realm and again on her return to his guild. On the day of her ascension, she had asked him if he hated her and he had not answered. He recalled a conversation with Thalia: the queen thinks you don’t like her; she thinks you tolerate her because you have to. He winced at the memories. Why did they bother him? “I like you,” he said quietly and immediately regretted it when she gave him that smile again where she looked at him through her lashes. He looked away from her and gulped at his wine.

  “I read one of the books you gave me, the art of something,” she said when he had stared quietly at his plate for a few moments trying to compose his thoughts.

  Good, books, I can talk about books.

  “Baltasar Gracián,” he said. “What did you think?”

  “I actually loved it for its wit and cynicism. I’m not sure whether it is a code to live by, though—it's conflicting. Some parts made me understand what you said about remaining detached and using yourself as a tool to get people to do what you want, but it reads like a psychopath’s handbook if I’m honest. Other parts contradict what you said; he said you should have friends and earn their affections.”

  “To have people in your favour, to depend on you. Not for pleasure.”

  “Perhaps, it is the same thing, is it not?”

  “If you think so then you may have learnt something after all.”

  “Why?” she asked. “You think I should have friends to use them?”

  “Not exactly. You shouldn’t be friends with the rulers in the same way that you would have friends in Lycea to share secrets and buy shoes or whatever it is girls do. Rather you should have cautious relationships—instrumental friendships if you will—where you earn the esteem of those under you. Gracián also said that you should understand those around you, learn their weaknesses and what drives them so you can influence them. But, you should keep your composure, don’t share anything that isn’t necessary and don’t expose your own weaknesses.”

  “You don’t follow this code.”

  “No, you’re right,” he said.

  I used to be able to.

  “But,” he continued, “I have the advantage of being an intimidating demon who has run a guild for thousands of years. People will listen to me, and they know that I will take steps to make sure of it if they don’t. You are a human, and without meaning any offence, you are a novelty and no one really cares what you have to say. As much as you are the queen if you start becoming a problem, they will end you—just like the Imperator. You need to use anything at your disposal to get them to respect you. You are not without advantages, the fact that they have low expectations is itself an advantage, and it would not take a great act to impress them. You should not do that by being friends with them. Being friends with everyone will make you seem weak as a ruler.”

  “Why invite me tonight then?” she asked.

  Because I’m an idiot and a hypocrite and I can’t control myself.

  He was saved from answering by Charon entering the library to clear the plates and bring the main course.

  “Surely,” she continued once Charon left the room, “if I have friends I will have allies, and they may listen to what I say and be less likely to ‘end me’ as you say.”

  “On one hand yes,” he replied, “but you then have the issue that you are also more likely to be controlled by them. There is more of the alliance than there are of you and they respect each other more than they do you. They have a history that you just don’t share.”

  “What should I do then?”

  “You need to be cautious at all times,” he said. “Always choose your words carefully, and as Gracián says, ‘act as though always on view’. And have a good manner, this ‘they’ll get over it’ attitude will not help. A good manner will help convey unwanted news better.”

  She looked thoughtful and stared at her plate for a few moments; then asked, “Why help me, Calab? What is in it for you?”

  He was silent for a few moments before he murmured, “I don’t know. I just feel…compelled to help you.” He hadn’t wanted to answer the question, he hadn’t wanted her to know what he was thinking, and he wanted it less when she gave him another heart-stopping smile. He wished she would not do that.

  Calab made it through the evening with several more glasses of wine that he would usually take at supper. The queen had been thrilled that they had chocolate cake—hers had a single candle, and she blew it out after making a wi
sh. He walked her to her vector at the end of the evening.

  “I have had a wonderful evening, Calab, thank you,” she said. “And thank you for the present.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, willing her to get into the vector and leave quickly.

  She started to move towards him to kiss his cheek, but his displeasure must have been written on his face as she stopped herself and simply smiled at him, stepped into the vector and was soon speeding off towards the Guild of Impærielas with her guard following her. Calab breathed a sigh of relief and vowed never to invite her for supper again.

  December arrived and Eve was slowly approaching her first Christmas in Arkazatinia. The thought saddened her more than she thought it would, but she ignored it and continued with the Crown business during the CRM.

  After concluding the matters of public spending, Avalon reported some of the scouts who had been watching the Guild of Elion and the Elion ruler, had seen the lord and a few members of the Elion making a trip north over the Laurasian border. They had spent a few nights there before returning and had appeared to do nothing suspicious.

  “What is north?” asked Eve, eying the map on the wall of the court.

  “Baltica,” answered Tharazan. “It used to be the witch lands before the uprising. The witches were exiled to Gondwana—the area to the east of Eurasia—after they were defeated. The north is barren nowadays, and hardly anything grows there. It is freezing all year round and in constant darkness during the winter months. No orders live there now, and it is home only to a variety of beasts which you will surely be unfamiliar with—there are several texts if you are interested in learning more.”

  “What reason could the Elion have for going there?”

  “I can think of none, Your Majesty,” said Tharazan. “It is not the place for a holiday. Their Trip Advisor rating is atrocious, they have no broadband and the weather is terrible.” Eve grinned, and he continued. “It concerns me when potential enemies behave bizarrely, we should keep a closer eye on them.”

  Eve nodded. “I apologise that this is repetition for everyone else, but why were the witches exiled to the east?”

  “It was because it is on the borders of Eurasia. At that time, Gondwana was occupied by the Guilds of Berith and Uriel who remained there until they relocated to Laurasia, and it was thought that the Crown Alliance could keep a better eye on the witches. Their old lands were north of Laurasia, and after the uprising, the Elion were not allied with the Crown. They had devoted their efforts to occupying areas surrounding Eurasia which was why they were at war with Calahad to secure Laurentia and have a strong position to move on the Crown. It was thought that having an enemy north of our enemy was dangerous and monitoring of them was impractical. It was long before telecommunications, and none of the alliance were located in Laurasia. The Guilds of Berith and Uriel relocated after the Elion allied with the Crown so each area would have an equal representation of the Crown Alliance. As there were not many witches left after the uprising, they were moved to a more observable location. The routine monitoring of witches tailed off a long time ago, and we have maintained an uneasy peace with them.”

  “Thank you, Lord Tharazan,” said Eve. “Can we arrange for them to be watched more closely? The witches too, just in case.” It was agreed a scout team of angels and demons would be dispatched to investigate Baltica, and they would have more eyes on the Elion and a closer watch on the witches.

  At Eve’s request, Thalia remained behind after the meeting.

  “Are you well, Your Majesty?” Thalia asked.

  “I am, thank you,” said Eve. “I was wondering if I could use your library, I would like to look through some history texts and become more familiar with the geography of Arkazatinia. The only book I have read so far has been the guardian guidebook which doesn’t even mention Gondwana and Baltica.”

  “It is not the most informative of texts,” she said. “It gives a rough overview. Why don’t you accompany me to the Guild of Procnatus now? You may use the library and take supper with Mikæl and me.”

  “I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble,” said Eve.

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Soon Eve was aboard Thalia’s vector as it made its way to the Guild of Procnatus with her guards following behind in her vector.

  “Lord Thalia,” Eve said, “that guardian guidebook describes demons as cold, callous and remorseless—is that true? I don’t really see Calab in that way.”

  “They certainly can be cold, callous and remorseless, Calab included, but, like any person, there is more to their character. I have a more intimate acquaintance with Calab than any other demon and as much as I find him impulsive, narcissistic, histrionic and ill-tempered; he can also be kind, gentle and generous.”

  Eve felt a pang of jealousy when Thalia described Calab as her ‘intimate acquaintance’. “Yet, they’re incapable of love or empathy?”

  “They cannot feel the love most people feel,” said Thalia. ”The longing one feels when they are away from their partner, the delight one feels when they share their lives with another, the grief of their passing, the jealousy of the threat of a rival mate. Of all the pain and delight of love, they feel nothing. However, things are never so straightforward, and despite this, they still manage to show some compassion and concern for others although admittedly it is subtle, a learned rather than a natural gesture one might say.”

  Eve frowned at the description. “I think Calab can feel those things,” she said, recalling his reaction to her supper with Lord Tharazan.

  “It can be difficult to grasp, but he is not capable of the emotions that you feel.”

  Eve remained unconvinced, but let it go. “I think I would view not being able to love as a blessing. I would prefer to have my life dictated by a logical and rational mind than by an illogical and irrational heart.”

  “Such cynicism from one so young,” exclaimed Thalia. “You should not let the actions of one man taint your view of love. When it is true, it gives great rewards. Surely one who is so fond of literature should have a more romantic heart.”

  “Perhaps that’s why I am so unromantic, or at least, I’d like to be. The real thing has been quite disappointing.”

  “Perhaps you have yet to find the real thing.”

  “How can demons be compassionate if they are unable to feel emotions?”

  “They aren’t incapable of all emotion. They are very capable of anger for example. However, their emotional range is very basic, almost primal except they’re incapable of even simple love. This affects their ability to empathise with others which in turn allows them to be good at their work. When they get to know someone, someone who they like, then they are warmer, almost caring. Calab was quite affected when he witnessed the assault on you—he was visibly distressed. I believe he is fond of you.”

  Eve felt her cheeks burn. “He is?”

  Thalia laughed. “I think he is more than a little fascinated with you. He’s never known a human well before.” Eve smiled to herself. “If I am not too bold I’d say that you are rather fond of him too.”

  Eve felt her cheeks flush red and her breathing quicken. “Why do you say that?”

  “Your countenance betrays you when you speak of him or hear his name, you blush and smile to yourself. When his name is mentioned it commands your attention and you often bring up the topic of demons—perhaps on the chance that Calab is mentioned?”

  Eve blushed furiously. “It‘s probably not allowed anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m human and he’s a demon, aren’t there rules?”

  “You’re not a human anymore—you’re an Impærielas queen.”

  “So he wouldn’t be subject to a ‘severe penalty’?”

  “I don’t think so. Demons have relationships with thorian.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I guess it’s our inability to procreate that make us low-risk options.
” Thalia laughed.

  “What is the attraction for the thorian?”

  “I suppose it’s the simplicity. A relationship with a demon lacks the emotional baggage that comes with a relationship with someone who has full access to their feelings. They tend to be quite impulsive and reckless which for a time makes them fun to be with. They also— How can I put this without seeming crude? They make…enjoyable companions.”

  “They’re good in bed?” offered Eve.

  Thalia blushed. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but yes. It is rather like Odysseus binding himself to his ship’s mast to hear the sirens sing, he can enjoy the pleasure without the accompanying destruction of life.”

  “And you say I’m cynical!”

  “Of course, there comes a time when that is not enough, and one needs the emotional depth to be fulfilled.” Eve wanted to ask Thalia if she had ever been involved with a demon, specifically Calab, but thought she would be prying too much. “It was a very long time ago,” said Thalia, appearing to read her thoughts. “We are simply friends now.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask,” said Eve, wishing her cheeks would stop flushing red.

  Thalia grinned. “I know.”

  The vector arrived at the Guild of Procnatus and Eve soon found herself in the library.

  “I’m never any less stunned when I enter your library,” she said. “It is breathtaking every time.”

  On her first visit to the guild, Eve had assumed that Thalia’s office was the library; however, that was merely her personal collection and the guild library was of staggering proportions. It extended the full height of the guild and even had spiral staircases to reach higher levels.

  Thalia laughed and showed her to the Arkazatine history texts. She helped her to pick out some books and allowed her to borrow a few Lycean volumes for pleasure including a beautiful first edition of her favourite book The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.