Chapter 9

There were very few places that Prince Jun liked to haunt. If he wasn't working at the palace or surveying construction in Meheret, then he had disappeared off the face of the Earth. No one knew where else he would be. In truth, there was one other place he visited with devout regularity. It was just a run-down restaurant hidden on a crowded street, but against the chaotic maze of poverty and tragedy that was Meheret, it was an oasis.

The family who owned and operated the cafe were as much of his blood as were his father and brothers. The old couple who owned the cafe were Chinese immigrants and were the only grandparents he had ever known. Their children worked in the kitchen and were his aunts and uncles. They were the first generation to be born on Arab soil just like his mother had been. He himself grew-up playing together and running side-by-side with their children; they were the second generation to be born in this country, but the first to be of mixed race.

They were adults themselves now and although they had the same beginning, their lives had reached very different endings. While his adopted siblings waited tables, he was waited on hand and foot as a prince. They had to endure backbreaking labor just to survive while he never had to work again. Jun sat in the backroom of the restaurant and breathed deeply from a hookah as he tried to cloud out these thoughts.

"Your coffee, your highness."

A young woman bowed to him and placed a small cup of steaming hot coffee on the low table in front of him. Her name was Mei, and of the group of kids he had grown up with, she was his longest and closest friend. He cut his eyes at her as he looked her up and down. He let a lazy cloud of white smoke as he talked.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

She raised her head and returned his look of displeasure.

"A cheongsam. You know that."

He did know that, of course. He also knew the difference between a proper traditional cheongsam and the more popular modern one that stood as little more than an exotic sex symbol. The one she wore before his eyes looked like the latter. It was short, tight, and had a needlessly high slit from her thigh to her waist.

"It looks like a cheap costume," he scoffed. "Does grandfather know you walked out the house like that?"

"Of course he does," she snapped back. "It helps us get customers. Not many tourists come here so we have to attract business somehow!"

She crossed her arms over her chest and began to heatedly argue her point before he could retort with a snide comment.

"They see me dressed like this and gladly order just one cheap drink and a bite to eat. Then I keep them distracted by flirting with them and talking them into ordering more, you know, keep their plate and drink full so when they finally leave, they end up paying for three or four meals instead."

He inhaled again as he listened to her story and nearly choked when he began laughing in the middle of it.

"Distract them, you say? What exactly are you selling, coffee or something else?" He turned to her and spoke in a rage without raising his voice. "Idiot, you'll give people the wrong impression!"

With a quickness, she kneeled by his side and had his cheek pinched between her fingers.

"Who's the idiot," she yelled.

"You are, idiot," he yelled back with tears in his eyes. "This is a cafe, not a brothel! Let me go already! If you leave a bruise, I'll have you thrown in the dungeons!"

She let go and he immediately rubbed his sore cheek.

"I may be an idiot but you're still a crybaby," she said triumphantly.

"Shut up," he snapped back. "That's not something to brag about! And where's my food?! Maybe it's not the neighborhood to blame for slow business but the fact that you're a horrible waitress!"

She stuck her tongue out at him and left him alone to sulk while she fetched his food. She returned with downcast eyes. Her boldness from just moment ago had disappeared, tipping him off to something amiss.

"Pardon my intrusion, your royal highness. Your guests have arrived."

A group of men followed her into the room and Jun sat silent and alert to their every move. It was Balam and a few other ministers from the palace. They seemed to be just as on edge but for an entirely different reason. Their expensive dress, arrogant attitudes, and entitled air made it obvious they weren't at home in such modest surroundings.

Jun smiled and motioned for them to sit down on the floor cushions spread around him. He then snapped his fingers, a rehearsed show of his power, and Mei crouched obediently by his side in anticipation of his orders. They exchanged words in their native language to further add to the mysterious atmosphere.

"Bring more tobacco and mouth tips," he said nodding to the hookah in front of him. "As well as enough food to go around. Serve them whatever you feel like. I suggest anything that's about to expire. Oh, and make sure to keep their glasses full."

Mei nodded and repressed even the slightest hint of a smile. She then excused herself from the room, shutting the door behind her. Balam watched her leave and only opened his mouth after she was gone.

"Your highness," he bowed his head with a smile. "May I ask why it is that you have called us all here?"

Jun smiled back with gleaming eyes.

"Think of it as a celebration," he answered. "A toast to our new partnership, gentlemen."

"You mean the redevelopment project," said another minister.

"Well yes," Jun said as he pointed the hose in his direction and nodded. "That too. But I also mean our grander enterprise... the bracelet. The crown. The kingdom."

"Of course we support your bid for the succession," said Balam, "but the girl with the bracelet is a problem."

"We've heard she's close with Prince Nagit," said another.

"No doubt the work of his mother's meddling," sneered yet another.

There was a round of agreement and Jun closed his eyes with a smile carved deep into his face as he swallowed his anger. He chuckled and held up his hand to call for silence.

"I've heard the same. But it's nothing to worry about. Nagit won't make a move for the throne. And the bracelet bearer is just an ignorant pawn. She is exactly what we need. Dealing with her will be no problem."

"But it's been impossible for any of us to get close to her with that butler guarding her," came an objection. "He refuses to even grant us an audience!"

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't act rashly," Jun responded with a sudden dire weight to his words. "Doing such things like attacking her horse and hiring thugs will only arouse suspicion. Even if she never catches on, he surely will."

"But your highness, was it not your idea to poison her food in the first place?"

"And Lambert took the blame," Jun smiled. "It worked as far as it needed to in driving a wedge between them. She won't give him a second thought when it comes to the succession. I was even able to play that fight in the alley to my benefit. But to continue such direct attacks will only bring the guards sniffing at our doors. I think we can all agree that we don't want that."

"Then what do you suggest we do, your highness," asked Balam.

There was a knock on the door as it opened. Mei entered with a train of women. They all carried trays of food and pitchers of alcohol. As the women handed out plates and served the ministers, she set down a new hookah and handed the hose to Jun with a wink. Plastic mouth pieces were passed around, one for each of the ministers. After the women left, Jun inhaled, removed his own mouthpiece and then passed the hose to the next person.

"Leave it all to me," he said calmly. "For now, let's enjoy."

Most of the ministers happily partook of the feast in front of them with their full confidence in the prince. All except Minister Balam. His confidence was only in himself but he smiled along with the rest. As Jun tricked them into eating, drinking, and smoking to loosen their tongues, he had no way of knowing that he too was being tricked.