Ageless

Chapter 8

We stepped through the gate into the outskirts of the capital. It was packed with people mulling through streets that started wide near the gate but thinned into alleys the closer you moved into the center, each street lined by square, flat buildings the color of sandstone. While it was afternoon and the sun was high in the sky, it was partially blocked above us by the massive spire of the Royal Palace, ever present, casting a giant, thin shadow across the slums of the city.

Dalton craned his neck to look over the sea of heads. "We should probably make our way around the perimeter if we want to get a decent spot to watch the ceremony. Avoid the worst of it."

Ko'sa looked up at him. "We? Aren't you on duty?"

He shrugged. "You saw the state of it back there; my checkpoint is already a disaster. I'm gonna get chewed out anyway I see it, so might as well enjoy the day. And I think you two owe me a lunch as well, now I think of it. Act of goodwill and all that."

Ko'sa pretended to act exasperated, but I got the feeling that she had calculated these costs into our price of entry. "Come on then," she said. "Need to stop at Hanger's Square first to sell a few goods. All our gold was robbed on the road."

We began to weave through the crowd, Dalton acting as a human bulldozer, plowing through people without any regard for human life. "City Guard!" he shouted before sending scores of people reeling in different directions with the twin pair of battering rams that doubled as a set of shoulders. "Coming through! You have been warned!"

Dalton led us to a parting in buildings that opened into a large cobble-stoned square. There were market stalls dotting the perimeter of the clearing, buzzing with traders and travelers. The buildings lining the square were taller and fancier, the front of each one draped with a large, painted banners the size of a billboard.

I took a step forward into the square and froze. Dalton and Ko'sa kept walking, unaware that I had stopped moving.

Looking back at me was the largest picture of my husband that I had ever seen.

It was a black and white painting, but unmistakably him. Thin, detailed brushstrokes portrayed him as proud and tall, looking out towards the sky. His expression was stern, unsmiling, making him look out of place and almost unfamiliar. There was a thin ringlet resting on top of his head, a complicated wreath of twisting metal snakes interlacing with one another, which seemed to add about a foot to his height alone. His right arm was extended towards heaven and ended in a fist, a clear gesture of power. His left arm was wrapped around a woman staring vacantly out into the square, who could only be his queen.

She was smaller than me, and the features of her face were beyond perfect, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. The skin was smooth as a white pebble, as though the contrast of a photograph had been turned all the way up, her nose straight as an arrow, her lips too full, her hair as fair as silk, her eyes glassy and empty. There was a fake, unnatural look to her, as if her entire face had been constructed by a plastic surgeon's idea of beauty. To me, she looked half human, and half doll. This woman was hardly someone I would describe as Malcolm's type, yet there she was, holding on to him.

Until this point, I had been in denial that Malcolm could really be the ruler of this Kingdom, but there he was. It was real. It was all real.

As I studied the picture- my heart still in my throat- I recalled the day that Malcolm and I committed to each other. Like many life partnerships, that bond was forged long before we exchanged vows on an altar, before he asked me a symbolic question and presented a ring while a hidden camera man snapped pictures of us.

***

It was Friday, 4:55pm, and I was finishing up at the office. My phone was balanced precariously between my shoulder and left ear, and my fingers flew so fast over the keyboard that one might worry that sparks would begin to fly and the keys would start to smolder. The earliest I had gotten out of work all week was seven o'clock, but I had come in early today, and was one email away from becoming home free. I was focused on my mission, even with my best friend Emily unloading her life story of the week into the one ear pressed up against my Iphone.