cinder || dnf

chapter twelve

Prince George watched through the glass as a med-droid inserted an IV into his father's arm. Only five days had passed since the emperor had shown the first signs of the blue fever, but it felt like a lifetime. Years' worth of worry and anguish rolled into so few hours.

Dr. Za had once told him of an old suspicion that bad things always came in threes.

First, his android Luca had broken before he could communicate his findings.

And now his father was sick, with no hope for survival.

What would happen next? What could be worse than this?

Perhaps the Lunars would declare war.

He cringed, wanting to take back the thought the second he had it.

Darryl Halo, more commonly known as 'Bad' for being the frequent bearer of bad news is the palace, his father's adviser and the only other human allowed to see the emperor in such a state, clapped a hand on George's shoulder. "It will be all right," he said, without emotion, in that peculiar way he had of reading another person's thoughts.

George's father moaned and opened swollen eyes. The room was quarantined on the seventh floor of the palace's research wing, but the emperor had been made as comfortable as possible. Numerous screens lined the walls so he might enjoy music and entertainment, so he might be read to. His favorite flowers had been brought in droves from the gardens- lilies and chrysanthemums filling the otherwise sterile room. The bed was dressed in the finest silks the Commonwealth had to offer.

But none of it made much of a difference. It was still a room made to keep the living separate from the dying.

A clear window separated George from his father. He was squinting up at George now, but his eyes were empty as glass.

"Your Majesty," said Bad. "How are you feeling?"

The emperor's eyes crinkled at their corners. He was not an old man, but the illness had aged him quickly. His complexion was yellow and pallid, black and red splotches stippled his neck.

His fingers lifted from the blankets, the closest thing he could manage to a wave.

"Is there anything you need?" Bad asked. "A glass of water? Food?"

"An Escort5.3?" George suggested.

Bad cast the prince a disapproving glare, but the emperor wheezed a small chuckle.

George felt his eyes misting and had to look away, down at fingertips pressed into the windowsill.

"How much longer?" he said, quiet so his father wouldn't hear.

Bad shook his head. "Days, if that."

George could feel Bad's gaze on him, understanding but also harsh.

"You should be grateful for the time you have with him. Most people don't get to see their loved ones when they're taken away."

"And who wants to see their loved ones like this?" George looked up. His father was struggling to stay awake, his eyelids twitching. "Med, bring him water."

The android rolled to the emperor's side and lifted his backrest, guiding a glass of water to his lips and wiping away the dribble with a white cloth. He did not drink much but seemed refreshed when he had sunk again into the pillows.

"George..."

"I'm here," George said, his breath fogging the glass.

"Be strong. Trust..." His words broke into a cough. The med-droid held a towel to his mouth, and George caught a glimpse of blood against the cotton. He shut his eyes, measuring his breath.