Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #19 October 2015 | Page 9

It would be dawn soon. Emperor Alliot would want him to dress in his finery and make Sharla do the same. He would want them to sit down to breakfast as if everything was perfect. Mikkel drew his arm from under his wife’s head. He pulled on his velvet trousers and silk shirt, tying the laces with sharp movements, then belting on the bejeweled scabbard the emperor had gifted him. Sharla’s hair lay in a glinting waterfall across her pillow, and her bare breasts lifted and fell with the steady peace earned through a lifetime of goodness. He would not wake her. he intended. He strode to the centre of the room and took the boy in a tight embrace. For a brief second, the emperor went stiff. Then he reached up and pushed Mikkel’s chest hard enough to fling him away. Mikkel stumbled against the bier, causing it to rock. The empress’s limp hand fell away from her chest to dangle over the floor. “Are you mad?” Alliot demanded, voice full of fury. “How dare you touch us?” He would go to the emperor. He would say… well. He would figure it out when he got there. He saddled his old mare and goaded her into an unaccustomed gallop. By the time he arrived at the palace the horse was wild-eyed and lathered. He stroked the poor beast and left her in the courtyard, reins trailing. The guards at the door saluted him and did not question his intent in the palace so early in the morning. For a moment, he could not answer. He swallowed and reached down for the empress’s hand. Mikkel steepled her fingers back together and folded them across her breast. Poor child, Mikkel thought. You would have made a beautiful mother. While Emperor Alliot stared at him with lips parted in offended amazement, Mikkel sat down in the chair beside the empress. He remembered the first day he set eyes on her. She wore a red gown and her cheeks blushed scarlet as the fabric of her bodice. The day of her wedding, she tripped over her long train and Mikkel reached out to steady her. The empress, young and high-spirited, squeezed his fingers as if they were the greatest of friends. She had reminded him of his daughter then. At her funeral, she had been too like his daughter for comfort. The wizard Harriman stood outside the crypt, drawing patterns on the floor with coloured sand. Candles flickered around the edges of his design. The wizard chanted in the language of magic. He did not stop to talk, but raised one eyebrow instead. Mikkel nodded. Harriman smiled, but he did not stop chanting. The captain made his way around the place of ritual and let himself into the crypt without knocking. The smell of rotting meat and flowers hit him in a hot wave. Alliot stood. His eyes were red from wakefulness and his beard was unkempt. “You dare,” Alliot grated, “You dare touch my empress?” “Oh, stop blustering,” Mikkel said. His voice sounded weary and sad. “Have you never heard that Lord Death loves us all the same? We die today, we two. She died last week. We are all equal now, emperors and empress and soldiers and peasants.” “Captain,” Emperor Alliot said. “You should not be here. Go home.” Mikkel opened his mouth, and for a moment no sound came out. He swallowed. “No. I will not.” Alliot fell silent. In the quiet, the wizard could be heard chanting on the other side of the door. Alliot blinked. It was the first emotion Mikkel had seen from his sovereign in nearly a week. “You defy us? Today of all days?” “I wish we had always been equals,” Mikkel sighed. “If we had, I would have told you I loved you. I have not only protected you all these years because it was my duty. I have protected you because you were “I defy you.” Mikkel’s voice was louder than 9