The Inferiors (Prologue Teaser)

Prologue

Raval Tazrin raced through the halls of the royal palace. His black combat boots thudded against the shimmering jade floor as his heart drummed out a similar rhythm in his chest. Raval had always been a fit man, but there weren't many occasions now in which he, one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, had to run.

Yet this was no ordinary occasion.

And he had very little time.

He knocked on the large, silvery doors decorated with jewels and the royal crest. No answer came, so he pounded harder. Sweat drenched his body, and a few curls of his dark brown hair clung to his forehead. Although he hated to admit it, he was afraid.

So horribly afraid.

He didn't dare to think what would become of her if he were too late.

"Your Highness!" Tazrin cried, pounding on the door, gasping for air.

The large doors finally opened, and a guard with green-blue eyes peered through the crack. There seemed to be only darkness behind the man.

"General." The guard bowed his head slightly. "How may I be of service?"

"I demand an audience with the Emperor," Tazrin shot back.

"My Lord has asked not to be disturbed."

"I have urgent news for him. Open the damn doors before I demote you."

Fear crept into the guard's eyes. He hesitated a moment then nodded. "Y-yes, sir. Of course, General." The guard stepped back into the darkness behind him, opening the door for Raval.

The palace guards never put up much resistance. They knew not to question his orders.

Tazrin rushed into the crystal emerald room. He had only been to the Emperor's private chambers twice, and both occasions were before High Prince Savran was coronated. When the old Emperor still held power, weapons from all over the Alliance neatly lined the spacious walls; ancient spears and swords, gold-tipped executioners axes, and helmets of renowned warriors throughout history.

Almost everything had changed now. Some of the old weapons remained, like the gold-tipped axes, but the walls were cluttered, with several expensive landscape paintings and looked overdone. Even the little cracks in the emerald walls had been filled with gold. A portrait of Emperor Savran's mother, who had been killed seventeen years ago was the largest painting of all. Next to her portrait was an empty space, as if another picture used to hang there but had been torn down. A capped, white stone urn rested on a pedestal beneath the empty space.

The Emperor stood alone in the light of the large window overlooking the Crystal City at the back of the room. Tazrin knelt before him. The Emperor of the Imperial Alliance was twenty-six, a little over half Tazrin's age, merely a child. The slender boy ran his fingers through his shiny black hair then turned to face his guest. Although he was a bit shorter than Tazrin, the coldness in his gray blue eyes demanded respect. His silver and red silk robes fell heavily around him, dragging on the floor.

A few guards stood at attention in the shadows of the room, their eyes resting on the floor. Out of fear or admiration, Tazrin couldn't know.

"My Lord," Tazrin muttered, more out of habit than respect. It had been almost ten years since Tazrin, the appointed regent, turned over the throne to the new Emperor, but he still felt the young man was unfit to rule. Emperor Savran hadn't been in his right mind since his mother was assassinated in a bombing aboard a star cruiser.

The Emperor lifted his gaze to the guard who had let Tazrin in, and made a simple two finger gesture toward the door. The seven royal guards stationed around the room moved along the walls and silently filed out of the room, closing the large door softly behind them.