As soon as I took a sip, I realized it was poison...

R I K T A E L U R E O

As soon as I took a sip, I realized it was poison. But it wasn't really a shock. Of course the "treaty" was a trick. The banished Royals and the prevailing Rebels would never get along. Besides, it was her duty. I was a pawn in her way so she had to eliminate me. I didn't even feel all that betrayed. In a game of grat I was a simply a green prince staining her all blue deck, an inconvenience. And, as with a game of grat, I knew her next step would be to risk it all, to take the next card on the deck and hope her decision was worth it. But of course it was. My death would be only a small loss in her mind, my memory nothing more than the key to a box of recollection, a box full of mistakes, a box full of green cards.

I stumble into the chair next to a potted plant that's dying. I know calling for assistance will not lead to a result in my favor, only a huge commotion and the pain of a cure that I know, with my five minutes or so left, will not stop the acid from plowing through the lining of my stomach and eating away at my organs. I recall years ago how my mother lead me into to the forest near our house in Hawen, telling me to sit down when I got tired and handing me a flask of what I assumed was water. It was, but she had tainted it with only a drop, and that was enough. As I screamed and writhed in the dirt, she watched with narrowed eyes. "This is Uerayqual, otherwise known as the Cureless Poison. It has almost no flavor but is distinguishable by its scent, which is slightly like wine but with a honey-ish whiff. You need to be able to identify your poisons if you're ever going to make it in this world." I remember the shock setting in, how I stared at her, the fear in my eyes overpowering the look of betrayal, how she waved her hand dismissively and continued, "This amount will not kill you, only cause pain. You need to know what the world is like if you plan to fix this government one day." When she finally decided that I had endured enough and gave me the antidote, it was as painful if not worse, but made my body stop violently convulsing.

Now a sear of pain that rips through all the nerves in my body interrupts the stream of memories, my suffering brain bringing forth other memories as it struggles to send and receive continuous messages. The poison has not reached it yet, but when it does I will finally die. Either that or my heart, whichever one it reaches first. I continue shaking, the memories flooding in now, blurring my vision, but then again I can't be sure that my eyes are even open. So this is what it feels like to die. Or maybe not, it could just be the Uerayqual. I should have smelled it. I shouldn't have been preoccupied. I should have smelled it.

Suddenly, visions of her fill my mind, like my brain is trying to match the rest of my body's suffering. Her powerful stride as she walked into the Treaty meeting; her messy brown hair bouncing with her long strides; her determined look; her eyes. Her eyes that were the only thing that could be as beautiful as the purple streaked northern lights they mirrored in appearance. How she looked at me when we ran into each other in the break corridors outside the meeting chamber, a twinkle in her eyes. How she explained later how she only wanted the best for Risen Lands I would someday command. How she wanted everyone to be free and happy. How she wanted us all to become a whole, from the previously Royal lands of the Old Reign-including here, Avriel-to the used-to-be Rebel lands in the South-like my shabbier-than-modest hometown of Hawen. How she came from Royal lineage but could not be more different from her ancestors who used to live in the Royal Palace of Kraite. How on the third day she came to my guest chamber with a deck of grat cards, the blue ones worn from use, the green cards crisp and shiny. That night she told me stories of her past and played the eurodite as I fell asleep; caressing my hand with surprisingly soft fingertips connected to calloused palms as she did so. I don't know why I allowed her to. It just seemed right, like ink bleeding into a page, like watercolor mixing. I remember how she kissed my sleeping figure the next morning. How her mean-eyed lieutenant squinted at me with malice that day in the meeting chamber-his hand poised over his glass of water-but all I could see was her.