The Fractured Prism (The Prism Files Book 1)

by Brendan Noble

  When the lunch break came, I filled in for those who were eating or on other high priority tasks. It wasn’t like I had a lunch to eat anyway. I had been told the royals would be providing food for me, but they didn’t tell me how that would work yet.

  One of the crewmen threw a piece of half eaten bread at my feet and laughed. “Don’t starve, Red. We need you to do our jobs.” Hunger was no stranger to me, so I wasn’t desperate enough to fall for the joke. I rubbed my heel into the bread, which received some sarcastic oohs from some other crew members. Assholes.

  Later, I was leaning over the railing in the catwalks above the theater, analyzing Archibald’s designs before, suddenly, I felt a force from behind throw me forward. Gripping the bar, I kicked out behind me, groaning a bit with the pain in my side. My foot made solid contact on something… well, someone. I spun swiftly, trying to make sense of the situation. One of the Green crewmen had been messing around, and I had hit him pretty solidly in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and causing quite a lot of noise as he fell against the railing on the other side of the narrow catwalk. He weakly coughed, “Screw you, Red,” and tried to stand back up.

  Enraged, I grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet and face to face with me. “Do you want to die? Because I’m pretty sure that’s how you die up here,” I growled.

  He pushed me off him. “A Red Tag with no sense of humor. Great.”

  Archibald had heard the commotion and was on the balcony outside the light booth. “Knock it off up there! Ivan, I swear, if you’re causing trouble already I will not hesitate to throw you out of here and back to the dump you came from.”

  I glared at Rick, the crewman, before calling back to Archibald, “There’s no problem.”

  Archibald flicked the rogue hairs from in front of his eye and crossed his arms, skeptical. “Fine. Last set of lights before we get out of here for the night.”

  Chapter 12

  Following work, I took a detour on my way back from the theater, doing a quick tour of the massive gardens that spanned the distance between the Royal Household itself and Cedar Lake. It was a maze. Rumor had it that the Queen maintained the gardens herself (alongside her army of gardeners).

  A sea of aromas filled the air from all types of flowers I had never seen before. Servants and minor royals were scattered throughout the gardens - working, gossiping, and scheming - different people in very different roles, but they all gave me the same disapproving look. Everyone’s got that in common at least. For many of the royals, I was probably one of the few Red Tags they’d ever seen. They considered themselves above the slavery of the Reds, so we never served them. I was an outlier. Whites hate outliers.

  As I approached the palace, a middle-aged Blue butler approached me in an extremely formal fashion. How do they have that good of posture? His voice was as pompous as his looks, overemphasizing each and every vowel. “Your presence is requested in the small parlor immediately.”

  “Oh, ok. I could change into some more appropriate clothes first, if that’s okay, sir.”

  The butler made an uncomfortable face and awkwardly replied, “If you have an attire that would be appropriate, then yes, you may.”

  “Well, uh, no I don’t really, but I have slightly better than this.” I gestured at myself in a sweeping motion.

  He scrunched his nose. “Of course. Though…” He sighed. “Never mind. You may change into your more appropriate attire and then I shall escort you.”

  We walked towards the servants’ wing. He deliberately stayed a step or two ahead of me at all times. Curious, I asked, “Who requested the audience, sir?”

  He opened the door to my room and gestured for me to enter, his narrow eyes judging me. “The Queen and Princess Alexandria.”

  The Queen and her second oldest daughter. What could they want? I rummaged through my bag, grabbing the one button up shirt and pair of slacks that I owned. Both were worn out and quite obviously not tailored, but I figured it was better than my raggedy jeans and T-shirt from work. I met the butler in the hallway. “Ta-da.”

  He did not look amused and sighed. “Well, it is a marginal improvement. Follow me and please do not talk to anyone. There are important dignitaries around and I do not want you embarrassing the royal family.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He guided me on a similar path to the one we had taken to the throne room and then went farther, into the north-wing of the palace. We approached a door on the right and he gestured for me to wait as he entered. He emerged moments later and rocked his head to the side, silently telling me to follow. As I entered behind him into the cozy parlor, he spoke, “May I introduce Queen Vera Hughes and Princess Alexandria Hughes.”

  I bowed. “Your highnesses.”

  The Queen and Princess Alexandria looked like an odd pair: the mother in a formal white dress and her daughter in a blue T-shirt and sweatpants. I didn’t know royals knew how to be casual. The Queen spoke first, her eyes narrowly observing me. “Please, sit.” She made a sweeping motion with an open hand to the chair next to me.

  I slowly sat across from their red velvet couch and analyzed the room. To their right was a fireplace, warming the small stone room and making it feel homier than the rest of the palace that I had seen. The Queen looked towards the butler. “Michael, please wait for Ivan in the hall.”

  The butler bowed. “Yes, your highness.”

  I squirmed a bit. While the chair was comfortable, I felt out of place and was outnumbered by royalty, which was intimidating. My fight or flight instincts were mass producing escape plans in my mind. She isn’t going to kill you, idiot. They have people to do that for them.

  The Queen sat back and continued. Her voice had a touch of a Russian accent, likely smoothed over with time and practice. “I am sure you are wondering why you are here.” I nodded. “While my husband had the opportunity to thank you for saving my daughter, I have not. You cannot grasp how grateful I am for what you did, risking your life for hers.” I nodded again. She smiled and laughed a little. “You are allowed to speak, even if you are a Red Tag. As far as I’m concerned, we owe you a massive debt.”

  I shook my head. “I am incredibly honored to be here, your highness. You owe me nothing.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You were almost killed protecting my daughter during one of her silly trips into the city unguarded, which is exactly why I brought you here.” She looked at Alexandria to her left. “My daughters are all I treasure in the world, and while my middle two daughters, Alexandria and Julia, are less willing to accept protection, it is becoming all the more apparent that it is needed.” Alexandria responded with a disapproving look, her eyes ice cold like Julia’s. “My husband does not trust you yet, but I believe Julia does. I believe you can help me keep my daughters safe, especially her.” Does she want to make me a guard?

  Confused, I shook my head. “The King expressly forbade me from seeing Julia, I mean Princess Julia.”

  Alexandria gave a bit of a rebellious snort, laughing to herself. Her mother shot her a look before returning her attention to me. She thought for a second. “I am aware of his decision. It is why she, and he, are not here right now, but I believe that we can help each other. I realize that I just said we owe you and am now making a request, but I hope you see that we can make things better for you if you help me… help us.”

  I considered responding but simply nodded slowly instead. Where is she going with this?

  Alexandria spoke for the first time, her voice deeper than Julia’s and her tone much more casual and less refined. “A few little things can go a long way in this family. Now, I need help, and my dad will appreciate it as well…” She looked nervously to her mother, spinning her own platinum and ice-blue ring around her finger as she thought. “I have a, uh, friend who has gotten himself into some trouble.”

  I cocked my head to the side, curious. “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of trouble?”

  “That isn’t your business.�
� She scolded. The comment was out of line and I received the same glare from both mother and daughter. In that moment, I realized that Alexandria looked like a younger version of the Queen. They had nearly the same heart-shaped face and the family’s bleach-blonde hair. The only difference was that Alexandria had her father’s eyes.

  Alexandria remained firm, but her casual tone returned. “His connections to me could cause a bit of a fiasco for our family if he isn’t released before the papers catch wind of it. I would… appreciate… if you could deliver this letter to the police station where they are holding him with as much discretion as possible.” It sounded physically painful for her to say that. “I would send a courier, but that would draw too much attention. A Red walking into a police station would not. He was arrested a few hours ago, and we need to get him out by morning. Can you help?”

  “A piece of paper, huh. That’s all it takes to get one of you out of jail?”

  Alexandria scowled, and she pursed her thin lips, just like her sister. “Ack. Are you going to do it or not?”

  The Queen put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Shh Alex.”

  I thought for a second. “Fine, I’ll do it, m’lady.” If I want to get any important intel, I need to get closer to the family. “A Red Tag walked into a police station. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

  Alexandria ignored that last part and held out the letter, making me stand up to get it. “You’re looking for Officer McBart. Just go in, give her the letter, and get out. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t draw attention to yourself, and don’t say anything about us. Think you can do that, Red?”

  She was almost daring me to do it. While Alexandria looked a lot like her sister, her mannerisms were much sharper and less diplomatic. “I will do my best m’lady.”

  She nodded, then looked at her mother, who finished. “Thank you, Ivan.”

  I grabbed the door handle and began to turn it before Alexandria stopped me. “And Ivan.” I turned to look back at her. “Don’t open the letter. I’ll know if you do.” I looked down, nodded, and headed into the hall.

  Quickly returning to my room, I changed into a more casual outfit, fitting the average Red Tag: a black T-shirt, ragged jeans, and my jacket, then grabbed my messenger bag, threw in the letter and my radio, and went on my way.

  Chapter 13

  It was getting dark. It wasn’t past curfew yet, but I would have to hurry if I didn’t want to be caught out too late. Unlike in St. Paul, the police closely monitored the Calhoun Isles. Luckily, though, the police station was only a mile from the Royal Household. I received some curious looks from the guards at the palace gate, but they let me pass along with a cold glare.

  A sprinkle began as I left the palace grounds and the wonderful smell of rain on the pavement filled the air. I held out my hand to feel it, cool against my skin. A rainy night made me feel at home. While people were scattering inside, I ruled the night. With the dark, the rain, and my hood, it was the only time that people couldn’t immediately tell I was a Red, and I treasured that.

  When I reached the station, I was greeted by a chubbier Yellow Tag officer sitting behind the front desk, a donut in one hand. Classic. He gave me a look up and down quickly, drawing the obvious conclusion before returning his attention to his donut. “If you have a complaint against your owner or manager, you can fill out this form, but it won’t do anything.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m here to see Officer McBart.”

  He sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked back at me. “Why?”

  I didn’t respond and glared intently.

  He mumbled something under his breath before picking up the phone. “Yeah, McBart, this is Oliver. Some Red kid is up here asking for you. You want me to send him away? No? Oh. Okay then.” He hung up, shook his head, and pointed lazily to his left. “Her desk is that way. Don’t cause any problems. I have enough reports to do already.”

  I huffed as he grabbed his donut. Looks like it. I shuffled around, looking for a McBart name plate on a desk. The place was pretty empty besides a few officers on the night shift, so I figured finding McBart wouldn’t be too hard. My assumption was wrong, though, and I walked around the station for a few minutes without any luck. Finally, as I approached the back of the office, a woman called from across the section of the station, “Hey, Red, over here.”

  The smell of old coffee smacked me in the face as I approached her desk. A short, skinny Green woman sat at the desk. The look on her face told me she was more of a force than she initially appeared. “What do you want? I’m not exactly happy to be on night duty here, and I don’t have time for your problems, so this better be good.”

  Without speaking, I reached into my bag and tossed the letter onto the desk with a flick of my wrist.

  As it slid across her desk, she snatched it skeptically with a glare and examined the seal. She looked up at me skeptically and then back at the letter. Her voice became hushed. “They’re sending Reds as couriers now, huh.” She quickly skimmed the contents of the letter, looking up at me occasionally. “You can tell our mutual acquaintance that he will be released immediately, and the charges will be dropped. Anything else you have for me?”

  “That’s it. Thank you, officer.” That was easy.

  She nodded. “Watch yourself with that family, kid. They have a million secrets, and they’ll do anything to protect them.”

  I hesitated, nodded, and left the station, doing a mini-salute to Oliver at the front desk on the way out and receiving another head shake in response.

  On my way back, I sent a report to Delaware over my radio. She needed to know how things were evolving, and I wasn’t sure how often I would get to check in.

  When I returned to the palace, Michael was standing like a statue outside my room. “Did all go well?”

  I smiled. “The cat is in the bag.”

  His brow furrowed. “What?”

  “The turtle is in its shell.”

  He scoffed. “Excuse me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “The sword is in its sheathe.”

  “So it is done.”

  “Yes.”

  He glared. “You could have just said that.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”

  He sighed. “You’ve forgotten the basics already. You will not last long here, Ivan.” But I’ll have fun messing with you while I am.

  I snapped my fingers. “Darn. And just when I thought we were becoming friends.” My stomach grumbled. “So, what’s a Red got to do to get some food around here.”

  “You may fix yourself a plate in the servants’ kitchen down the hall on any day during most hours of the day. Now, I must relay this information to the Queen. Goodbye, Ivan.”

  I nodded. “Michael.”

  It took some wandering, but eventually I found the kitchen, and if this was for servants, I couldn’t imagine what the kitchen for the royals looked like. Various types of cooked meats were lined up alongside fruits, vegetables, and starches, some of which I had never seen in person before. The aroma was wonderful and overwhelming at the same time.

  My gaping awe must have been obvious, as one of the Green cooks came over and waved a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Red, Earth to Red.”

  I shook myself out of the daze. “Sorry. I, uh… I’ve just never seen this much food before.”

  He stood proudly. “Made fresh every day. The royal family wants to make sure we are well taken care of, and we,” he gestured to a few other servants in the kitchen, “make sure the food is prepared and, if I say so myself, of the highest possible quality.”

  “Wow. Uh, thanks.” I reached out my hand. “Ivan.”

  His eyes narrowed, ignoring my offer of a handshake. “Arthur, and don’t thank me. This isn’t supposed to be for the likes of you. Grab what you need and get out of here, Red.” He pushed his way past me and over to the Blues and Greens at a nearby table.

  I sighed as he walked away and dropped my arm. Why would he be any
different than the others? I piled my plate probably a little too high with food. Technically, I was still a slave, but I was determined to eat like a king while I was there. I looked over at the other servants, who were attempting to ignore my presence, and shuffled back towards my room to eat. One little event has changed so much, but some things never change.

  Sitting there, I felt lonely. My closest friends were miles away, struggling in the Enclave while I was eating in the palace. I was determined to make my time there worth it, though. Delivering that letter I hoped would bring me one step closer to the King and the important information that surrounded him.

  Chapter 14

  As the days went by in preparation for The Cherry Orchard, I grew more accustomed to the theater, the palace, and their inhabitants, even if they were not becoming more accustomed to me. Everywhere I went, eyes were averted, people whispered, and the occasional White spat at me. It had become almost a game to me, though, and I strengthened my resolve to show that they weren’t getting to me. That face held on the outside, but it was wearing me down inside. Even if you’ve taken verbal abuse your whole life, an increased volume of blows will bend you; the key for me was not to break. I clenched my teeth and created a mental list of who had messed with me. They could spit at Ivan, but Coyote would bite back when the time was right.

  Within the previous week I had also been given one more task by the Queen. It was rather simple but important: report on interactions and conversations of Duke Richard Bilgram, the head of one of the most powerful royal families, second only to the Hughes family, at the opening night party for The Cherry Orchard. Queen Vera had suspicions that the Duke was working with certain minor royal families to create a coalition to take the throne for himself, either by force or via the electors whenever King Timothy died. She wanted me to find out which families those were, so that the correct pressure could be applied to break that coalition.