10.

Emilia Bronquiae, thirteen-year-old captain of three divisions in the Imperial Aerial Forces, was neglecting her duties. She wasn't even skiving off to do something fun. She was staring blankly into a roaring hot fireplace. She hardly noticed it.

She felt the air move as Gulcasa stalked past her, fetching water from her father's pitcher, then moving back to the bed. Cloth shifted - Gulcasa kneeling, Alkimus trying to lift himself to drink.

Her father's health had been declining for years, the physician had told her. Hadn't he been irritable, absent-minded? Emilia shook her head. She'd thought he'd only been growing older.

She turned enough that she could see them out of the corner of her eye. Gulcasa still knelt, almost ceremonially, but he clasped Alkimus' hand with both of his own. The emperor spoke faintly, and Emilia strained to hear.

"...have to be careful..." Gulcasa murmured something reassuring in response. "You must...assert your right quickly...Do not wait for...the mourning period to end."

"With your blessing, Father."

"And... I must tell you, while I still have my wits." The emperor took a deep breath. "Your mother bid me tell you." Gulcasa leaned forward, and Emilia had turned completely. Alkimus' voice came fluently, as though he had practiced saying this many times. "Be wary when you enter the Obsidian Castle to claim your birthright as emperor. There are...other birthrights, and the black spire is not merely a tomb."

Gulcasa considered that a moment. "I understand, Father. Do not be afraid to leave the empire to me."

Alkimus sighed, then looked past him. "Emilia." He reached a hand toward her, and she approached, Gulcasa stepping aside so she could kneel. She swallowed, hard, trying to look as calm as the two of them. "Your burdens won't be as heavy as Gulcasa's. Help him bear them." Emilia bit her lip, then squeezed her father's hand. "Gulcasa, you must protect her. Protect each other."

Emilia kept her head bowed, hiding her face, not caring that her tiara slipped forward. She breathed shallowly - it was all she could do to breathe within the Obsidian Castle. A small crowd stood assembled in the spire's lowest chamber, the large crypt. Bronquian imperials surrounded her: some lay on ornately carved shelves, only dingy bone, their shrouds withered away. Others had been cremated, their bones interred inside glass reliquaries arranged within families. For a time, both bodies and bones had been burnt to ashes and only the skulls remained, arranged in lines, still wearing their crowns and coronets. More recently, the imperials had been given sepulchers, lying alongside each other like beds in a nursery.

Emilia studied it bleakly. She'd been here once before. The imperial consorts were burned, their bones placed in gold and silver boxes with their names inscribed on the lid. She searched, looking for her mother's... There, the silver box with a lily beneath her name. Beside it was another box of reddened gold, its lid adorned by an etched dragon.

Alkimus lay within his sepulcher, the marble lid closed; it had been carved to show pictures from her father's life: his early takeover of the Veriden Islands to the west, the first of his great duels, his marriages. The final picture showed him enthroned, two smaller figures at his feet. There was little resemblance, but she knew they were herself and Gulcasa.

Her brother finished saying the rites over the sepulcher, then stood beside her, looking distant in his black ceremonial cloak and circlet, its silver oily in the firelight. She knew that part of his mind wasn't on the funeral, was thinking about how soon he'd reenter the Obsidian Castle and take his crown.

Finally they left the spire, chaining its doors closed behind them. Emilia quietly drew in deep breaths, both relieved the funeral was over and miserable. She left the mourners as soon as she could, running to her empty rooms. When she arrived, she didn't know why she'd hurried; there was nothing here she particularly wanted. She paced, pulling her tiara free from her hair, then jerking off her dress, pacing in her shift. After a moment, she poked the hearth, though it wasn't a cool day, coaxing up a small fire. She paced further, not thinking, letting images play through her mind. Mostly she saw the crypt, the top of the sepulcher, over and over again. She knew she'd be crying later. Probably at night, when she'd have to climb into bed and be still in the darkness.

Emilia stopped her pacing abruptly, then crossed to her back room, which served as both a closet and storage room. She twisted around the various trunks, coming to a familiar one at the back. It opened easily, and she only had to rummage for a moment before she grasped something soft and furry.

She pulled Bunny free by his left leg, then turned him upright. His fur was flecked with dust, the rip of his right eye as sad as ever.

She returned to her main room, pacing, the plush bear held to her chest.

"Princess Emilia."

Emilia looked up from the request she was drafting for newer equipment for her riders, seeing one of the castle guards in her doorway. "What?" She swallowed. Her voice was still rough from crying last night. Valena had told her that she had every right to mourn, but even today, the day after the funeral, she wanted to be too busy to think about her father.

The guard bowed jerkily. "Forgive me for disturbing you, but His Highness wishes to see you."

"Hmph. Now that he's almost emperor, he doesn't want to come see me himself?" But no, she decided as she rose, he probably had a good reason for summoning her. She strode out the door, the guard following after her. She turned. "I know the way by myself."

The guard, fumbling with something in his pocket, moistened his lips. "Er-"

Then he shoved a rag to her face, the two halves of her brain were pried apart, and she was out.

Emilia groaned, throat raw, nose running. Her cheek lay against silk. Trying to open her eyes sent a dozen pain points shooting through her forehead. After a moment, she tried again, the world too bright and fuzzy at first.

Why do I feel like I've been put through a clothes wringer...?

Realization swept through her, she bolted upright, and that was enough to make her black out a second time.

The headache was just as bad when she awoke next, but this time, she remembered immediately. Moving as little as possible, she opened her eyes and surveyed her condition.

She lay on a comfortable, though unfamiliar, bed in a small round room - so she was high in a tower. There was a kerosene lantern turned low on a small table by her bed; the other sources of light were a row of slit windows around the crown of the room. There was a carpet across the stone floor, a small dresser, and a chair with a threadbare cushion. The door was wooden and reinforced by iron bands.

I'm in one of the tower storerooms. And I guess whoever put me here wants me to be comfortable.

She closed her eyes, hoping that would help her ignore the pain pulsing in her forehead. The guard said Brother wanted me to come... It was a set-up. Unless Gulcasa has some plan for me up here, but he thinks I wouldn't go along with it at first, so he has to kidnap me...? No, okay, there's some coup and I've been nabbed.

I can not lie in bed with a headache while there's a coup going on.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself into a sitting position - then slumped against the bed's headboard, waiting for the room to stop rocking back and forth. While she had her eyes closed, the heels of both hands pressed against her forehead, she heard the door grind open.

The same guard stepped in, carrying a tray. He saw she was awake, grimaced, then set the tray down and leapt back through the door, slamming it shut.

Emilia was in no mood to check out the tray. She leaned the back of her head against the cool wall and tried to think. She could probably reach one of the windows with a bit of maneuvering, but they were far too thin for her to crawl through. Maybe she could widen one somehow...? She heard a rumbling. Was it the door? No. Was it just in her head? It was slowly growing louder.

Again the door opened. Emilia tried to think of something scathing to say, but surprise made her bite her tongue.

"How are you feeling?" Langford asked kindly, shutting the door, picking up the tray and walking to her bedside. "I imagine you have a punishing headache. Chloroform's not pleasant." He set the tray down. Boysenberry pancakes.

"What-" Her words slurred, so she started again. "What's going on? Are we under attack?"

"Yes." Langford folded his hands and sat in the chair. "It seemed best to move you to safety. There was no time to answer questions."

Emilia finally realized the rumble she'd been hearing was people moving, shouts. "Is there...there's a battle? I - I need to help. Get me something for my head."

Langford didn't obey. Slowly, through the headache, Emilia registered that this was odd. Ignoring the pain as well as she could, she turned to face him, unblinking. "What's going on?"

"I already told you-"

"Who's attacking?"

"Please, my princess, rest yourself-"

"Who is attacking?"

Langford smiled sadly. "Your brother."