In Huck's Hands

Chapter 15: More of The Same...

Chapter 15: More of The Same...

A sharp rapping convulsed me rudely from feverish slumber. With an inaudible groan, I rubbed the haze from my red tired eyes as Aiko's clipped tones pierced through the secure bed-chamber door.

"Twenty minutes to summit departure meeting...Up! NOW!"

I scowled promptly, lingering exhaustion warred with simmering annoyance— was there no dignity afforded even behind closed bunker doors?! Why must I never complete a full night's rest... Twilight grasp had been nothing more but bouts of madness and terror.

Gliding from worn silken sheets, I briefly considered leaving her locked outside before a second round of door assault had me snarling curses. "By Doutros, have you no notion of tolerance, woman! I don't recall promoting you to regal valet..." The barred door muffled my other growled threats.

I crossed the frigid metal floor and slapped the confusing entry finger scanner with ire. The loud metal barrier slid open to reveal Aiko's athletic body filling the bunker doorway, firm physique sheathed in a sleek crimson leather livery. One sleek brow arched in a cold appraisal of my messy condition.

Her gaze crossed my face but her brown eyes gave no sentiments...Brief flashes of her complexion bathed in moonlight tormented me before her voice fetched me back. "Apologies." she bit out, eyes glacial pools of fig pudding. "I stood led to believe Vascan kings were timely creatures...or are you just Huck?"

I crossed my arms annoyingly, refusing to be baited--My shoulder forced me to grimace as my tone matched my attitude. "Obviously no one informed you royalty requires additional delicate handling, even if I am still 'just Huck'." I gifted her a vulpine smile wrapped in sarcastic sadism.

"I guess you've spent far too much time on combat outings these past months?" For an instant, amber fire blazed across her striking brown features. Then full lips curved in a surprisingly dangerous white smile. "My misstep, King Huckleberry Vasca." Her stare raked me slowly once more. "I'll leave His Highness to 'delicately' prepare HIMSELF for our journey... wouldn't want to repeat the sins of the past."

With a mocking bow, she whirled sharply down the glistening but sterile hall, proactive strides clacking from her military-grade boots. I slammed the door, pulse already Racing as I anticipated lengthy days confined at close quarters with that infernal hellcat...and the gaggle of others now accompanying me every hour.

It took me some time of beautiful silence before I stared at the three representations of my rule laid before me, knowing my choice would speak volumes. My father chose to wear the same filthy attire my grandfather most likely sired him in.

My fingers traced the rugged pelt of the hyena hood, feeling the weight of generations who had worn this mantle before me, yet chose to treat the natives as merely creatures of the dunes. If I wore this I ran the risk of upsetting Aygu and his supporters...They surely do not respect me enough to wear the war chief's crown instead of my own.

Next, I appraised the decadent crimson robe lined in exotic skins, a testament to the Vascan spoils of power and conquest. It embodied everything expected of Vasco-Buriti nobility, yet resounding in my very skeleton I knew opulence was the root of even this summit.

They would expect the mighty kind to drip with with riches while the people starve...The more I contemplated my choices before me the more I realized the true nature of these events...clout and power plays.

Finally, my eyes settled on the sleek functionality of the black military garment. Unadorned, solemn, emanating quiet confidence and capability. Its disciplined energy aligned with the focused leadership I hoped to embody.