The Remains of the Future

Part XI: More Arguing

It is pitch black, the sky is cloudy, the air cool. I get into position on my knees, and pause, head bent in concentration. I am glad Aytet cannot see me, on my knees, eyes red, the crescent moons in my palms.

"Young and forever–" Aytet mutters.

"I know, I know. Young and forever bold... um, oh, and that is what you are, and your head shall fall of its own accord with these foolish acts. You must cease searching for an unnecessary war. It will cost us more than you could ever know." I hiss the words, my face aflame.

I know people who killed. Gorian, the guards I had befriended, my father, but there was always a good reason, some greater evil they were preventing. There was no point in killing that girl. She died because she was good; she wanted to love, to make friends. Just like me when I met Bill, I would have played for him, if I was even mediocre with an instrument.

"My queen," Aytet says, the sand crunching as he presumably kneels. He takes my face. I have no idea how he finds it. His hand is cool against my hot skin.

I remember the shifting of his eyes from black to monochrome.

His voice conveys concern and none of the anger it had previously displayed. "I agree, most wholeheartedly with you; it was a foolish fancy, and I am always at the disposal of your goodwill. To take my mind from combat and its base arts, to rest in peace, I will accompany you when you visit your sisters, for my heart is full of love for the flower maidens."

His hand leaves.

"You are kind and noble sir." The words are not mine, but my tone is. Breathy and high, like I am about to cry. I puke up the script. I have eaten too many words too fast. "I would bring you with me, but follow me a day after I depart so that the king will not know your whereabouts. But I must warn you, um, wait, what was the line again? No. Don't tell me. Oh, right. Do not touch their wings, for they are sensitive, containing their magic.

"And do not, no matter how they plead, take any with you from the valley, for with their removal comes the people's outrage. They are protective, as you well know, over their messengers to the gods. I must have your solemn oath before I permit you to break bread with me under the maiden's cherry trees."

"I swear," Aytet, Therti, says.

"I will take your hand if you ever betray me. The one that shows your affection now."

He takes my head in both his hands and kisses my forehead. I think about the wholly black eyes again and realize, with a bolt of shame, that he can see in the dark.

"I am the queen, and you the grand general," I murmur, my cheeks somehow getting hotter. Aytet releases my face. "Never forget that."

The play goes on, and Therti ends up killing the flower people. Then, our nation wants war because Therti pinned it on Memna, the country he was antagonizing. Therti prepares his army, and I, having seen my lover break his vow and turn against me, now, in despair, decide what to do with myself.

I call him to a pillared balcony (I conjure the image of it in my head) and say: "The lovely girls that interceded for this realm are turning to dust and bones now as we speak. What have you to say for yourself?" I am on my feet, pacing as the script directs. I touch the place where my necklace should be, pretending to yank it from my collarbone and stomp on the jewels. "And your hand shall be taken, just as I promised. Your darkness has descended upon you."

I wave around, finding Aytet's hand with my left and making a chopping motion with my right. The hand spasms almost imperceptibly as if Aytet can already feel the pain that will ensue.

"I do not repent." Aytet has indignation in his voice. "And with my left hand shall come about your ruin and that of our countries' enemies."

"Then I shall take your life." I am supposed to sound affected, which is good. If my character was nonchalant, I could never have acted this out.

"Then my ghost shall haunt you for all eternity," Aytet flars.

"That's not part of your lines," I remind him.

"Isn't it?" he asks, all innocence.

"I thought you didn't care if I took your life," I let go of his hand, wiping my hand on my tunic, although that just makes my hands dirtier. "I mean, I'm not going to take it, but if I did, I would be saving you from humanity, correct?"

"You are right," he says, taking a breath and standing. "But my ghost might be bored. And if you don't intend on killing me, why didn't you say, 'Then I shall take my life so that you may not sully it.'"

I open and close my mouth. Why did I? 'Then I shall take your life' just came in the moment. I stand as well, then pull him down with me. "Then I shall take my life so that you may not sully it," I utter. " If I do not kill you, I will be forever shamed, having not avenged my sisters. But I cannot. Not after our years of sticking together and our shared memories."

I do not want to even enact killing myself, so I improvise. "And yet, my hand grows unsteady. I cannot aim the blade."

"Allow me," says Aytet. This is also not part of the script. He takes my hand, the one with the pretend knife, and pushes it toward my chest, no hesitation.

The shifting of his boots as Aytet rises.

The clouds covering the moon finally depart, and I can see Aytet once more. I am now looking at him through a pool. He is a reflection, body morphing with the water. A tear shoots down my eye, and then more, and I can see him clearer.

"I won't," I get up. "I won't do any of this. I will not kill you, and I definitely will not harm myself."

I turn to leave.

"Then our play will be voted down. If we don't perform well, every one of our necks will meet an axe," Aytet says. His face is as red as mine; he is not crying, but his lip is bleeding. From biting it?

He waits as the information sinks in. "Wait, what?"

"Thoron left out a good bit of information, didn't he? He probably didn't want to scare you. But you will have to choose. And before you say anything, not choosing is a choice."

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, recross my arms, and make up my mind. I despise Aytet, but I would despise myself more if I killed him. I would be undone, unmade; I would become the villains I abhor. Like Aytet. So, the latter scenario is what will happen.

"You could have told me," Aytet says. "And I would have left you. I can't believe I took you in the first place. It is not something I would normally do. And, out of all the idiotic things, why–"

"You wouldn't do such a thing for your friend?" I walk over to the fence and bend against it. Several of the beams rise above my head. "Give up everything to save them?"

"I don't have friends," he joins me beside the prison barrier at a safe distance. I scoot further away. "So, no."

"None?"

"No."

"Is life worth living?"

"What do you mean?"

"It must be miserable," I see something flash in his eyes by the light of the moon, but it is gone before I can decipher it. "I have heard from educated thinkers that given all the wonderful things in life, if isolated, no one would still choose life. Seclusion is not in our natures. What about the Peptorous? According to Merysen, you chose their side. Are they not your friends? Or are you their lord, like I supposed?" I remember how he talked about them: poisonous breath and sharp teeth.

"I have myself," his words are low, almost inaudible. "And that is enough."

"I pity you," I say, then return to my hay.