Just watching this made me grind my teeth but I was relegated to the shadows a few feet to Isla’s left. I stood there watching, trying to keep one eye on the crowd and one eye on her.
“Perfect!” I heard Doodle crooning as he stepped away. “What a lovely picture of the Royal Family!”
The crowd below, however, didn’t seem to appreciate the “lovely picture.” They were shouting and throwing things—rotten fruits and rocks, I thought—though none of them could throw high enough to reach the balcony.
“My people,” Prince Le’rank began, raising his hands, which glittered with precious jewels. “We have called you here today to make a most auspicious announcement!”
“Does it have anything to do with food? We’re fucking starving!” I heard someone below with an unusually strong voice shout.
The Prince ignored the voice and went on.
“As you know, for some time We have been concerned with continuing Our Royal Dynasty. Though both of Our sons are married, neither has produced a son and heir who can continue to lead you through the coming years. But now, We are pleased to announce that Our daughter-in-law, Duchess Prunella Le’rank, is pregnant again and this time it appears she is carrying a son!”
He paused, as though for applause, but there were only boos from below. I saw Baslik Le’rank start and then glare across at his twin brother and the brother’s pregnant wife. Clearly this was news to him, too. I wondered if it would make him decide to leave Isla alone. If he had lost the race for the throne, maybe he wouldn’t be so concerned with getting an heir.
“Of course,” the Prince continued. “That is not to say that this child will rule after Us. If Our other son, Duke Baslik, produces a male heir in the immediate future, We shall judge both children equally to see which has most inherited Our distinctive and handsome visage.”
He turned his face from side to side, as though to show off his profile—which made him look like an aging cantha-rat. Not that I was paying much attention to His Majesty—I was still trying to keep an eye on both Isla and the crowd, which was getting more and more agitated.
Suddenly, I heard a voice booming up from below. It was the same voice I’d heard earlier, saying the people were starving, but now it seemed like the speaker had somehow gotten his hands on a magna-voice device which made him as loud and as audible as the Prince himself.
“Why should we care if you carry on your line, Le’rank!” the speaker shouted, his voice booming through the courtyard and bouncing off the stone walls of the palace. “What have you done for us but increase our taxes so you could live in the lap of luxury while we little people starve?”
There were murmurs and cheers from the crowd below and the Prince got very red in the face.
“Guards!” he cried, glaring out over the balcony. “Seize whoever is saying this—he shall be tried for treason!”
“Is it treason to speak the truth, then?” the same voice shouted.
I couldn’t tell where it was coming from and neither, apparently, could the guards. I saw them threading their way through the angry crowd, but they weren’t making much progress in finding the perpetrator.
“You and your family live in opulent splendor—you have a whole fleet of space yachts, diamond chandeliers hang from your ceilings, you drink imported wines that cost more by the glass than most of us make in a year!” the voice continued. “Yet you do nothing to earn your keep! Your luxury is paid for with our sweat! Our bellies ache with hunger as you dig into another helping of rare velusian tenderloin!”
“Shut him up, I say!” the Prince shouted, so angry that he had forgotten to use the Royal “We.” “This is sedition—this is treasonous talk!” he nearly howled.
“No, I speak only the truth!” the voice from the hidden speaker responded. I was beginning to think he wasn’t in the courtyard at all—he might have moved and was now broadcasting this from a distant location. “But if you want sedition, I’ll be happy to serve you some!” he continued. “Down with the Monarchy! Kill the Prince and his fatuous family—let us govern ourselves! It’s time these fat cats got what was coming to them!”
The mob roared and surged forward. Some were standing on each other’s shoulders, clawing at the stone walls of the palace. If the balcony hadn’t been so far up, I was certain they would have reached it and snatched the Prince from his golden nest to tear him to bloody pieces below.
And then I saw it—a bright red spot right in the middle of Isla’s white dress.
For one horrible moment, I thought it was blood—that she’d already been shot. But then I realized what it was—a sniper’s laser was targeting her.