A big thanks to annbe11 for some more help with this story. Given that airborne cavalry has become a thing in this AU, I was trying to decide on a flying beast for the Helio Imperium which wasn't a griffon, and she kindly and wisely suggested a sphinx. I'd also like to thank XxHikenNoHitaloxX for some more excellent insight and ideas which will be of great use later on.


Chapter Twelve

The Bloody Dance

Rasolir, six years ago...

Mirana opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. She knew what day this was, the day she would be expected to dance with a bunch of noblemen she would have no interest in, if only because they were men.

And especially because they were not Marci.

Mirana sighed, left her bed and dressed. She should have asked Marci to help her with this, but she saw no point in waking Marci for something she could do herself. Unlike every other handmaiden she had been assigned before, she woke Marci instead of Marci waking her.

Mirana took some comfort in knowing that no matter how this day ended, Marci would still be there for her. As Empress, she would still have a handmaiden, and they could not even hope to drag Marci away. She wouldn't allow it, nor would Marci.

Marci tried to adhere to advice her mother had given her: always try to find a positive. Mirana tried to do the same too, there was wisdom in the idea.

Mirana opened the curtains. At least the weather was pleasant today, that was a good start. Perhaps she and Marci could head down to the markets together. Mirana was seen as the most outgoing of the royal family, and the people admired her for it. It had also become common knowledge that Marci had once been a slum-dweller. People thought highly of Mirana simply for accepting Marci as her handmaiden. The fact that she treated her as an equal only bolstered the popularity.

Mirana quietly opened the door between her chamber and Marci's and peeked inside. As expected, Marci was still asleep. Mirana smiled knowingly, shut the door and set off for the kitchens. If the shadow of the dance had not been hanging over her, this would have been just like any other day for her.

'Princess,' Marci's mother curtsied as Mirana entered the kitchens. This was where Marci's family worked. It was a busy place, the staff keeping up with the demands of the people who called the palace home. They were going to be working even harder today. 'I have prepared some breakfast for you and Marci.'

'Thank you.' Mirana accepted the tray she handed over. The scent of food cooking made her stomach rumble. Marci couldn't pass the kitchens without poking her head around the door.

'I take it that Marci is still asleep, your grace? I keep telling her that she should be awake before you are.'

'It's no trouble.' Mirana assured her. 'I can't expect Marci to do everything for me, and she does a lot for me. Letting her rest a little longer is a small trade.'

Would her future husband allow this behaviour to continue? Technically, Mirana would be the one in charge. She was the one with royal blood, after all.

Mirana returned to her room with the tray and gently knocked on Marci's door. Peering through the gap, she saw Marci turn over and face the wall, still sleeping.

Mirana chuckled and stepped inside. She had one thing certain to wake Marci in her hands: food.

Marci was partially curled up, her hair unbound with strands fluttering around her mouth. Mirana set the tray down on her bedside table, opened the curtains a little to allow a bit of light in, then quietly pulled up a chair and sat at Marci's side.

Marci didn't keep much. As a former slum-dweller, she was still in the habit of keeping only necessities. But she did value gifts provided by loved ones. Still keen to improve her literacy, books were one item she appreciated. A journal rested inside a drawer she had forgotten to close, something she used in an attempt to neaten her handwriting.

Mirana simply sat and gazed at her handmaiden, wondering why it had taken her so long to really acknowledge how she felt about her, and wondering why fate had to be so cruel. If she had not been royalty, she would have been free to listen to her heart.

She imagined life with a stranger of a man as her husband, knowing that the one she truly loved was there, but forever out of reach, and felt a burning lump start to form in her throat. She forced herself to stop thinking about it. Marci was perceptive, and she did not want to worry her. She was going to have much to do today, mostly helping Mirana to prepare for the evening.

Mirana leaned towards Marci's ear and whispered, 'Good morning, Marci. I've brought you breakfast.'

Marci turned onto her back and opened her eyes, blinking them clear. She had such lovely eyes, Mirana thought once again, big and expressive, soft and full of feeling. Her auburn hair stuck out in random places, oddly artful. When Marci smiled at her by way of greeting, Mirana's heart leapt. That smile…

Despite what Kashurra had told her, she had sometimes dreamed about what kind of life they would have if they could be together. She would have loved to wake up to this sight every day, maybe waking Marci with a kiss instead of just food. Marci may not have been seen as a traditional beauty by most, but to Mirana she was divine. Beauty was a subjective quality.

Marci sat up, her nightdress rumpled, and prepared to kick back the covers, but Mirana stopped her and placed the tray across her legs. It was another morning routine she so enjoyed, often sharing breakfast here with Marci. They would sit here and talk about what they might do that day, with Mirana taking her time and Marci devouring her food rapidly as usual.

On the way up, Mirana had moved a couple of her own portions onto Marci's plate. She wasn't particularly hungry today, and Marci was always peckish. She guessed that it had something to do with her unusual strength, a subject of intense debate and guesswork amongst the Sun Guard Marci had trained with in unarmed combat.

Marci noticed that she had more food than Mirana and raised her eyebrows, a little uncertain. She always did this, despite it being another daily habit of Mirana's to give her a little extra food. She always tried to put Mirana's needs ahead of her own.

Mirana smiled and inclined her head. Marci smiled in return and set about her breakfast. She always finished first, and would wait patiently for Mirana in turn.

This time, Marci quickly noticed that Mirana was preoccupied and oddly listless. Mirana felt Marci's small, warm hand with its lightly calloused fingertips settle on her arm. Marci was gazing up at her, her big eyes full of concern. Though Marci still used the hand-signs and whistles they had developed, they had reached the point at which Mirana could accurately understand Marci just by reading her expression. Marci could likewise easily pick up on Mirana's moods with a mere glance at her face.

'I'm just nervous about tonight.' That was partially true. Mirana always tried to be truthful with Marci. Marci confided in Mirana, and Mirana tried to reciprocate her trust whenever possible.

Right now, Mirana was wondering if she had missed an opportunity. Yes, she had been told to keep the true extent of her feelings for Marci secret, but this was so painful!

How would it have sounded? "Good morning, Marci. By the way, I love you." No, that wasn't right.

"Good morning, Marci. I love you." No, Marci could easily have misconstrued that. Mirana had told her something like this a few times before, and back then she had meant it as a best friend or even a sister, and Marci had accepted it as such, beaming beautifully in response.

Mirana almost sighed, but restrained herself. What could she have said? "Good morning, Marci. Here's breakfast. By the way, I'm in love with you."

But the reality would be more like: "Good morning, Marci. Here's breakfast. By the way, I'm completely in love with you. But we could never have a future together because I have to marry some nobleman and continue the royal line, and my parents would probably send you away if they ever found out how I felt about you."

Marci whistled and tapped Mirana's arm, concerned again. Mirana realised that she had been staring blankly at Marci, not realising that Marci was trying to ask her something. 'I'm sorry. I'm… I'm just scared. I'm still not much good at dancing.'

Marci's expression softened and she signed at her. We could practice.

Ever since helping Mirana during that lesson a few weeks ago, Marci had discovered an appreciation for dancing. She was very good at it too. And though it made Mirana a little uncomfortable at times, she actually liked to dance with Marci. She enjoyed the feel of her hand in hers, holding her close, losing track of the time as they moved together.

'That sounds like a good idea, Marci.' Mirana agreed. 'We'll do that. I'm going to need all the help you can give me.'


Barrus was waiting for them when they emerged, dressed, hair sorted out, and both a little nervous about the evening. Marci was nervous for Mirana more than she was for herself. She was confident that Mirana would choose her fiancé carefully, and she would do her best to keep them both happy when they married. That, and Mirana would never allow her to be sent away.

Still, she was also nervous. Since Mirana's request to allow her to attend the dance had been accepted, there was a slight chance that somebody might ask her to dance. There was a very slim chance that she might end up with a potential husband too, assuming that somebody besides Mirana did not find her muteness disturbing.

Barrus stood at attention, his gold-hued armour gleaming under his crimson tabard, which bore the golden sun of the Imperium. He was taller than Mirana, and muscular. Both were qualities which Marci in particular seemed to admire in a man. 'Princess,' Barrus bowed as far as his armour would allow. 'Marci.'

Marci smiled wistfully at him, looking hopeful. Barrus did not appear to notice.

Poor Marci. He may not have completely overlooked her, but like so many men he was put off by her inability to speak. He'd also been one of the five Sun Guard Marci had taken down as part of Hyses' final proving. He was actually a little wary of her, knowing that she could easily best him thanks to her skill and her mysterious strength.

Marci would have liked to have courted him. There were no rules stating that a royal handmaiden, even a former slum-dweller like Marci, could not marry a member of the Sun Guard. Mirana could too, since most of the Sun Guard were from noble families, though she doubted that they would be allowed to court her tonight.

'Good morning, Barrus.' Mirana was always courteous with him and his compatriots. She was even polite towards Callardis, Shabarra's personal guard—an intimidatingly cold man who went everywhere with a mean-looking double-headed axe.

She was not fond of the man, though. Like his master, Callardis disliked Marci. They still saw her as an up-jumped slum-rat and a simpleton. He was a recent addition to the Sun Guard, having served in the Legions, working his way up to the rank of Centurion before being offered a place with the Sun Guard—an unusual occurrence, as Sun Guard recruits were usually chosen prior to adulthood, but it was not unheard of. As a result, he had never seen Marci train, and disbelieved talk of her capabilities, even when Hyses spoke of her so highly.

But it was only a few amongst the Sun Guard who did talk about Marci's skill in unarmed combat. Kashurra had suggested keeping the fact relatively quiet. Any who wished to harm Mirana would expect her to have a bodyguard like Barrus, but would not be prepared to fight Marci, who did not appear intimidating in the slightest. She was, as he had put it with a small chuckle, Mirana's secret weapon.

Barrus followed them to the solar on the west terrace Briseen had used to teach Mirana. It was still open and spacious, good enough for them to practice.

Mirana came to a halt as they rounded the corner, surprised to see Shabarra and Callardis, both of them talking to a small knot of Sun Guard in quiet, urgent tones.

Marci frowned. None of the Sun Guard, apart from Callardis, were men she had seen much of. They were new recruits. What business did Shabarra have with them?

Callardis spotted them and turned smartly to face them. 'Hail, Princess.' He bowed, then nodded to Barrus. The hint of a scowl appeared on his face when he spotted Marci. 'Handmaiden.' The title came out low and clipped, reluctantly spoken. He knew that Mirana would become annoyed if he was rude to Marci.

Shabarra mustered an oily grin as he bowed to Mirana. 'Princess Mirana! How pleasant to see you once again.' He jerked his head down in the very briefest of nods when he noticed Marci. That was about as polite as he would be in her presence.

'Likewise, Uncle.' Mirana lied. She and Shabarra had never been truly friendly since she had rebuked him for upsetting Marci all those years ago. 'Was your trip a success?'

'It was, Princess.' As far as Mirana and her family knew, he had been negotiating business deals with foreign powers on behalf of the Emperor.

It would only be later that she would realise what he had actually been doing: he had been contacting mercenaries and sell-swords of ill-repute, hiring killers and assassins. He had also been subtly working to disguise some of his slaver allies as little-known noblemen from outlying settlements, inviting them to the dance.

With Kashurra busy dealing with the Emperor's declining health, it had been easier than expected. Even Garrisan was too busy playing bodyguard to notice anything. The pampered Princess and her useless, weak parents would die tonight.

Shabarra idly wondered as Mirana spoke of the coming dance whether he would be lucky enough to kill her himself. He would be glad to kill her slum-rat pet—an amusing term, since Mirana was terrified of rats. He wondered who he would kill first. Mirana or her dim-witted goldfish? Either would be devastated to see the other die before their eyes.

'If you'll excuse me, Princess,' Shabarra inclined his head, hiding a mocking grin. 'I must prepare for this evening. Come, Callardis, we must be off.'

Callardis nodded to the group of new Sun Guard, and they dispersed. Though Mirana remained nervous about the dance, Marci felt uneasy about this unexpected meeting.

Mirana opened the doors to the solar, distracting Marci. Barrus stood outside as she and Mirana cleared some space. There was a bird singing somewhere nearby, and Marci mimicked it out of habit. Mirana laughed softly, the corners of her mouth rising as she savoured the sound.

Marci examined the space they had made, nodded, and then waved Mirana over. Mirana took her hand, placing her other hand on Marci's back. She allowed Marci to lead, trying not to become lost in her pretty eyes.

She wondered what might happen when she married. Would Marci find somebody who appreciated her as she did? Somebody who loved the same habits and quirks she did? Somebody who could understand Marci as she did?

Her eyes drifted to Marci's neck for a heartbeat, catching the edge of a scar. It still unnerved her to think that she had come so close to losing Marci, even before they had met.

What would have been different? Well, she would have continued to act like a spoilt, pampered brat. She might have turned out like Shabarra, believing that rulership was all about doing whatever she pleased rather than being responsible for a nation and its people.

Others before herself. That was the creed Marci lived by, a similar rule Kashurra had tried to impress upon Mirana, something Mirana had only started to adhere to after befriending Marci. It was not the easiest rule to live by. Sometimes it was the hardest, but as the future Empress, it was one she would have to abide by.

At least Marci would still be at her side, and she would have Kashurra and other advisors to ask for wisdom. She would cope. She had to.

Mirana continued to let Marci lead in the dance, savouring what might be the beginning of the end of a carefree life.


They had been out in the gardens when Jastin found them. He was the youngest of Marci's brothers, a year older than Marci herself. It was another one of those things Mirana would only realise later, but none of Marci's brothers, nor her parents, had much, if any, resemblance to Marci. None of them had eyes like hers, having mostly grey or blue eyes, or even hair like hers, or anything really. Even their skin was a shade darker than Marci's.

Yet she had never questioned this, nor did Marci. She was aware of the odd sense of distance they exuded around Marci, even though they plainly cared about her, but she assumed, as did Marci, that it was simply because of Marci's inexplicable strength.

'Princess?' Jastin bowed as Mirana turned to face him. Marci waved at him in greeting. 'Your father wishes to see you.'

Odd that he would have sent Jastin. Kashurra had probably done that. These days, Kashurra was relaying most of the Emperor's wishes. Mirana's mother had all but withdrawn from daily life, sitting by her husband's bedside most of the day.

Mirana's face fell. She loved her father dearly, and seeing him gradually waste away was horrible. He had been a strong, vital man when she had been a child. Though he had never been in battle, he'd had a soldier's bearing. Apparently, Garrisan had trained him to wield a sword personally.

Her mother, though not afflicted by the same illness, also seemed to be fading. It was sorrow which was overcoming her. She had barely spoken to Mirana for weeks now. If it had not been for Marci and Kashurra, Mirana would have been lost to that same despair. Granted, some of Kashurra's advice was a tad grim, but Marci could always lift her spirits.

Mirana felt Marci squeeze her hand, silently assuring her of support. They set off together, Marci sneezing as they passed a small cluster of jadeblooms. Many dignitaries and nobles had already arrived, some of the would-be-suitors ogling Mirana when they thought she wouldn't notice.

The twenty-year old Princess was spoken of as a great beauty, and she had gone from simply being heir to the Solar Throne to being the most desired unmarried woman in the Imperium. Even though it was hours until the dance, when the offers of courtship would be official, men had been approaching Mirana and trying to offer gifts or just trying to talk to her, or, worse, reciting bad poetry. It had taken more restraint than she had thought she possessed to resist asking Marci to punch them, or punch them herself.

Did they actually see her as a person? Or was she just a quick, convenient way to a position of considerable power? Someone who could further a noble family's line as well as the royal dynasty?

Mirana just wanted to be left in peace whilst she could savour it. Marci was the only company she wanted right now, if only because she knew when Mirana needed space.

Once again, they happened across Shabarra speaking with people neither Mirana nor Marci recognised. These men appeared to be visitors, probably from some of the border cities or military outposts. A couple were dressed in military regalia, minus the armour they would have worn if on duty.

Marci noticed that all of them were muscled, either broadly or in a lean, wiry manner. The settlements on the borders were more prone to attacks, so she supposed it made sense.

Even so, their presence once again conjured a sense of unease and she found herself eyeing them carefully, searching for weapons. Though it was sensible and in keeping with her unofficial role as one of Mirana's bodyguards, she also thought it a foolish idea. Garrisan and the rest of his Sun Guard would never let visitors into the palace with weapons.

'Well met again, Princess.' Shabarra was a little too happy for Marci's liking. It usually meant that he was up to something. Life in the palace had exposed her to politics. She did not dislike all politicians, Mirana had met some decent ones with Marci in tow, Senators like Gavenus—a well-read man who was keen to help the poor in particular.

But Shabarra was a schemer with ambitions. He'd kept quiet about Mirana being named heir, but some still whispered that he harboured resentment towards the Princess.

If he tried anything, Marci would not hesitate to defend Mirana. Though Shabarra was taller than her, he was not a fighter. He had not been trained as she had. Mirana had stood up to him on her behalf, she would do the same for her in return.

'I don't believe you have met Larisden, my cousin,' Shabarra ushered a man forwards. He was maybe ten years older than Mirana. He had a slight resemblance to Shabarra. He was lean and wiry, clean shaven and dark of hair. His bearing suggested some form of military training. 'He is fresh from service as a Tribune in the Twenty-Ninth Legion.' Shabarra announced, confirming the guess.

Larisden bowed, lifted Mirana's hand and kissed it lightly. 'A pleasure, Princess Mirana. The tales of your beauty were not exaggerated.'

Mirana had to work hard not to roll her eyes. She had heard about a dozen similar compliments in recent days. 'Thank you. How fares the Twenty-Ninth Legion?'

'Well enough. I'm glad they could spare me for such a momentous occasion. I hope to see you again at the dance tonight.'

Marci, sensing Mirana's subtle discomfort, whistled softly and signed at her. The Emperor was still waiting for them.

'Oh, yes! Thank you, Marci.' Mirana agreed, grateful for the excuse to get away from Shabarra and his cousin. 'You'll have to excuse us. My father needs to speak to me.'


Shabarra, Larisden and the small knot of "noblemen" watched the Princess walk away, her handmaiden and her Sun Guard following behind.

The apparent noblemen were assassins Shabarra had hired, experts in infiltration and deception. In some cases, they had even quietly done away with real nobles and disguised themselves as those dead men. They had time before the corpses were found, assuming they ever were. They were all imitating men Mirana did not know personally, and with the Emperor practically bedridden and Kashurra stuck dealing with it, they were unlikely to be discovered.

'So that's the Princess of the Sun.' One of the fake noblemen leered after the Princess as she turned the corner. 'All beauty and no brains, I suppose.'

'Essentially.' Shabarra concurred.

'Nice arse.' another man muttered.

'The Sun Guard might be trouble.' Larisden mused. 'He looks pretty strong.'

'Strength won't save him from a dagger in the neck.'

'And the whistling servant?' A mercenary dressed up as a military officer inquired.

'Even dimmer.' Shabarra assured them. 'Too simple to even talk. They say that she was stabbed in the throat, but I doubt that she could survive a strong breeze, let alone a knife. There's some rumour going around that she has combat training, but I wouldn't take that seriously.'

'It's almost a shame.' Larisden chuckled. 'Imagine if Mirana did court me. I could be Emperor.'

'You'd have to put up with her and her pet slum-rat. I've seen the way she stares at the dimwit. She'll want to sleep with her instead of you.'

'Ah, I'd only need her to squeeze out a son or two.' Larisden remarked. 'Worry not. I'd much rather avoid all the hassle. We're better off without her. You'll make a much better Emperor.'

'Yes.' Shabarra grinned at the thought of taking the Solar Throne, his by right. 'I know I will.'


'I really hope that he wasn't suggesting that his cousin court me.' Mirana muttered. 'He's a blood relative!'

Marci grimaced in response.

'I know. Ugh! It would only be worse if I married Shabarra.'

Marci literally shuddered at the thought and pulled a face.

Mirana chuckled. 'Don't worry! I'd sooner stab myself.'

Marci did not smile. Her expression remained grim, and Mirana realised that she had said the wrong thing. Marci took that sort of phrase a little too seriously.

'It's all right. I wouldn't really.' Mirana assured her handmaiden. 'I'd ask you to punch him instead.'

That made her smile, and Mirana's heart leapt once again. Marci, still grinning, indicated that she would be happy to obey that command. As kind as she was, and though she did not like to hold grudges, she had never really forgiven Shabarra. His attitude did not help.

Garrisan was standing outside the doors of her father's chambers when Mirana arrived. How long he had been there, she could not tell. As usual, his back was straight, as if made of unyielding steel, and one hand rested on the pommel of his sword. He had been a Sun Guard for over forty years now, his place as Commander well earned.

'Your father is waiting for you inside.' Garrisan said, his expression softening. 'Barrus, you are to wait outside.'

'What about Marci?' Mirana asked, expecting that she too would have to wait.

'The Emperor wishes to speak with her too.'

That was unexpected. Mirana's father had occasionally spoken to Marci, usually just an exchange of courtesies or the odd pleasantry. Her mother wanted as little to do with Marci as possible, though she had accepted her presence.

Mirana knocked on the door. She heard Kashurra call her in. It was no surprise to find him inside. As of late, he had only really left the Emperor's side to sleep. As Viceroy, he was essential in the day-to-day business of the Imperium.

Held in place and distracted by the Emperor's illness, he had not been paying as much attention to Shabarra as he should have. Had fortune been kinder, he might have been able to stop the plot. But now it was far too late.

He knew the man was up to something. He knew it would happen very soon. He also knew that he could do nothing about it now.

But that did not mean that he could not take precautions. He had already taken one by showing Marci a secret way out of the palace via a tunnel in the library.

Mirana walked through the solar and into the bedchamber, Marci trailing her. The curtains were partially drawn, cutting off part of the spectacular view usually visible from the window. Muted light came from a lamp screened by thick glass.

The Empress sat next to the bed, distant and withdrawn. She was barely aware of her daughter entering the room. Standing close to the window was Kashurra, grave and attentive.

Lying on the bed was the Emperor, Mirana's father. Once imposing and regal, he had been reduced to this: a frail man who could no longer leave his bed without help. His cheeks were hollow, and his arms thin. His skin was now pale and clammy. Although there was still a spark of life in his blue eyes, it was growing dimmer with every hour.

Mirana's throat burned and she could not stop the tears. Behind her, also distressed by the sight, Marci curtsied to the Emperor and Empress.

'Mirana,' her father's voice, once clear, was now weak and quiet. 'Please, come closer.'

Mirana approached his side, knelt and held his hand. She could feel his sweat against her skin. Whatever he had, it was not contagious. It defied all attempts at healing. Even with magic, there were some things which could not be changed. Just as no spell had been able to mend Marci's ruined vocal cords, no incantation had been enough to stop the Emperor from succumbing to his affliction.

'I was hoping we would have more time, Mirana. They have done their best, but my physicians believe that the end will come soon.'

Mirana sniffled and wiped her eyes futilely. Even though she had not been bidden to approach, Marci softly padded over and laid a hand on Mirana's shoulder.

'We have some time yet, my dear daughter. I will be able to see you dance tonight. That is something I would never wish to miss.'

Mirana smiled sadly. 'You might if you knew how I struggled.'

'Briseen seems to believe you are capable.'

'Marci was a great help.'

'So I've heard,' the Emperor remarked. Mirana's mother briefly glanced at Marci a little disapprovingly. Unseen by them, Kashurra allowed a tiny, knowing smile to curl his lips. 'I need you to listen to me, Mirana.' He held her hand a little tighter, still possessed of some strength. 'I know how difficult this must be for you, having to choose a potential husband as death hovers over me. But you must be strong.

You are the Princess of the Sun. One day, you will be Empress. You will be responsible for the Imperium. It will be your duty to protect and guide the people of our nation. I have faith in you, my daughter,' he slowly indicated Marci, 'and you will not be alone. Keep your friends close, and invest your trust wisely.'

Mirana swallowed, feeling the tears slide down her face. 'I will try to live by your example, Father.'

'That makes me proud, my daughter,' he reached over with his other hand and clasped her hand with both of his. 'But your rule will be your own, Mirana. I foresee that you will be a better ruler than me. You will be loved and admired, I know it.' He released her hands. 'I am ever so proud of you, beloved daughter. And now you must prepare for this evening. And worry not,' he smiled broadly at her, and for a moment he appeared to her as he had before falling ill. 'I nearly broke your mother's foot when I first danced with her.'

Mirana stood and smoothed her dress, managing a smile. 'I'll keep that in mind, Father.'

As Mirana turned to leave, Marci made to follow her. But to her surprise, the Emperor held up a hand. 'A moment, please, Marci. I need to speak to you too. Alone.'

Marci looked to Mirana, who nodded. This was odd, but it had to be important.

Mirana withdrew from her parents' chambers, leaving Marci with her father, mother and Kashurra.

Marci curtsied again, unsure of what else to do. Without Mirana, she would be difficult to understand. Kashurra had a limited knowledge of her signs and whistles, and could read her to a degree, but Mirana understood her best.

'Come closer, Marci.'

Marci did as she was told, slowly kneeling next to the Emperor's bed. He regarded her for a few moments, silent. Marci probably should have looked away, yet she did not. Mirana had never asked that of her.

'I remember when we first met.' His words surprised her. They were far from what she had expected, though she had not been sure what to expect in the first place. 'You were little more than skin and bone, scared and hurt. I sympathised with your plight, just as Mirana did. You changed her, Marci, you changed her for the better. You did what I could not. You were what I could not be, what even I could not give her.'

Marci considered his words, then lifted her hands, mimed Mirana's tiara, then twirled one finger in a circular movement.

'She says that Mirana helped her too.' Kashurra explained.

'You have been a good and loyal friend to my daughter, far more than I ever expected. Though she knew privilege before she met you, it was only when you entered her life that she knew happiness. I am not surprised that she tries to treat you as an equal. You have even gone beyond your duty by offering to protect her. I admire that.' He paused, watching her face carefully. 'I must ask something of you, Marci: will you continue to protect Mirana?'

Marci nodded.

'Would you give your life for her if you had to?'

Again, Marci nodded without hesitation.

'Then this is what I ask of you: protect my daughter as well as you can. But most of all, be there when she needs you most. Be a friend to her, even if all others forsake her. Can you do that for me?'

Marci nodded once again.

'Thank you, Marci.' The Emperor nodded. 'Go on now. Mirana will be waiting for you, and she's going to need your help.'

Marci stood, curtsied once again, and left the room. Kashurra moved over and caught her at the door. 'It'll be all right, Little Sunbeam,' he whispered. 'Chin up. Mirana needs you to be strong.'

Marci nodded and indicated that she would try. Kashurra watched her leave, knowing that no matter what happened, he could count on her.

The Emperor glanced at Kashurra, standing by the window once again. 'You were right about her, Viceroy. There is no one more loyal to my daughter than her.'

'You can rest assured that no matter what happens, Marci will never forsake Mirana.' Kashurra told him. 'She will always be loyal to Mirana, even beyond death itself.'

Mirana did wait for Marci, holding back her tears. She kept her head down, hiding her sorrow as well as she could. As Princess, she could not show her vulnerability. As Empress, displays of weakness could be fatal. If a jealous neighbour like Stonehall caught wind of it, they would wonder if they could take advantage.

With the Emperor ill, Stonehall had already marshalled its forces. The only thing holding them back was the knowledge that the armies of the Imperium were still strong, and that Mirana would sit upon the Solar Throne when her father passed—maybe even before.

She was her father's daughter, and he had kept the peace.

Only Marci knew how distraught Mirana was. Her presence at the Princess' side kept her strong, and Mirana only allowed the tears to flow when they were back in her chamber. Marci held Mirana as she wept, patient and supportive as always.

Mirana had no idea how she would have survived without Marci.

Mirana did not want to move away from Marci, even though her tears had stopped falling. But though she was royalty, there some were things she could never control. Time was one of them.

Reluctantly, Mirana parted from Marci. 'Thank you, Marci. I really don't know what I'd do without you.'

Marci smiled reassuringly and signed at her. You'd be fine. Have faith in yourself. You taught me to be strong. You're strong too.

Mirana wiped her eyes. 'I don't know about that, Marci. I think it's the other way round. When Kashurra told me about you, I just wanted to renew your confidence. You were always the strong one. And you're a better person than I am.' Mirana struggled with her emotions, all too aware of how close Marci was, grappling with concealing the truth and revealing it. 'Listen, Marci, I… if I… when I become Empress, you don't have to remain my handmaiden. If you ever wanted to… leave my service or try something else...'

Marci shook her head and held up her hand to stop Mirana. She reached out, held Mirana's hands and sat her down on the bed, then tipped her head forwards and rested her forehead against Mirana's. I'm here for you. I always will be.

Mirana sighed softly, and failed to keep more tears at bay. 'Marci...' Marci's devotion to her was almost heartbreaking at times, and it made it so much harder for her to hide the truth. 'I'm… you have no idea how glad I am. No matter what happens, I'll be happy just to know that you'll be at my side.'

And her restraint slipped at last.

'I love you.'

Though Marci's smile was just as enchanting as always, Mirana knew that she had misunderstood. Sure enough, Marci's response was to say that she loved her too. But Mirana knew that she meant it as a friend, maybe a sister.

It was still heart-warming to know though. Given the circumstances, perhaps it was for the best that Marci did not understand the true depths of Mirana's love for her. But she would always be there for her, and maybe that was all Mirana needed to face her future.


Mirana looked down at her dress. Marci had picked it out for her, to bring out the colour of her eyes. Marci had outdone herself, preparing Mirana for the dance. She had combed out her long hair, helped her to select jewellery, just been there to listen and reassure her.

Now Mirana switched roles with her handmaiden once again. She did nothing with Marci's hair. She liked the way she pulled it back into that short, messy, tufty tail. As promised, she had prepared the old red dress just for Marci. Marci would not mind it being a hand-me-down. If anything, she was touched by Mirana's efforts to have it adjusted just for her.

Mirana had sized it for her and added simple sleeves of matching material to hide the faint scars on Marci's arms. To hide the scars on her neck, Mirana had bought her a velvet choker set with a ruby, a surprise gift.

Marci was stunned by Mirana's generosity. Mirana had offered her gifts before, but nothing as expensive as this—if only because Marci was practical. And Mirana was trying to improve her chances of being courted. She was still trying to improve Marci's life, and she did not need to.

Mirana stood and admired her when she was ready, her breath catching in her throat. 'Oh my… Marci, you look wonderful.'

Marci smiled uncertainly.

'It's true.' Mirana assured her. 'If I could, I would ask you to dance with me tonight.'

Marci considered, then signed at her. What she said made Mirana's newly reinforced resolve weaken once again. Why don't you? I like dancing with you. And you are the Princess. Why not?

'You know how it would look, Marci.'

I'm your friend. That's all it needs to be. Nobody will mind.

'Well, maybe I will then.' Mirana allowed. 'You're good at avoiding my clumsy feet. I'd like to have at least one faultless dance tonight.'

Marci smiled. At least there will be plenty of food.

'Yes,' Mirana chuckled. 'Be sure to help yourself, Marci. You deserve it.'

Marci grinned in response.


Beneath the Throne Room was the Grand Hall, a vast space which ran almost the length of the palace, and was almost as wide. There were rooms behind the walls, kitchens, pantries, storerooms, all meant to supply this chamber for the grand occasions in which it was used.

The smooth marble floor was dominated by the sunburst of the Helio Imperium. About the wide floor were galleries slightly elevated above, set with tables for dining. At the head of the chamber were ornate chairs for the Emperor and Empress, higher up and able to see all of the hall.

Mirana's anxiety grew with every step, swelling in her chest and quickening her every breath. Marci reached over and held her hand, and she calmed a little.

'Marci?'

They both stopped, surprised to run into a tall, wiry man with dark hair and keen grey eyes. He had a few scars on his arms, and he was missing the index finger on his left hand—the result of an accident when he had been working down at the docks before Marci had become Mirana's handmaiden. He also walked with a limp, thanks to another accident.

This was Marci's father, a man who had worked tirelessly to keep his family clothed and fed before being elevated to work in the palace. He still worked hard, a habit he had never been able to shake. 'I barely recognised you, Marci,' he bowed to Mirana. 'Princess.' He smiled at her. 'I'm afraid I have to ask, but what have you done to my daughter? I never thought I'd see her in a dress.'

Out of all of Marci's family members, he was the most confident around Mirana. Marci's friendship with her seemed to extend to him, and Mirana did like him. He got along very well with Marci. There was still that hint of distance, but it was less apparent.

'I thought it might be a nice reward for all of her hard work helping me these last few weeks.' Mirana said. 'And I think it would be a shame if nobody else got to see her dance. Marci's the best dancer in the Imperium, as well as the best martial artist.'

'I'll have to watch when I can.' He grinned at Marci and held out his arms. Marci beamed and embraced him. 'You make me proud, Marci. There'll be roast chicken, but be careful not to make a mess of that dress.'

Marci huffed with mirth as she parted from her father. He limped off towards the kitchens, waving at his daughter as he went.

Marci was still smiling as they waited outside the Great Hall. Barrus was stood at attention, waiting for them to be called in. Mirana was the Princess of the Sun, obviously she had to make an entrance.

Marci did her best to keep Mirana calm as they waited. Eventually, Garrisan stepped out and nodded to Barrus. They both opened the heavy doors and marched in, Mirana and Marci trailing behind them.

Mirana tried to ignore all the men staring at her avidly. She wasn't shy about her beauty, she just did not want the attention. Maybe Marci had done too good a job of preparing her for this evening. Then again, she was the Princess, the most desirable potential bride in the entire Imperium. A man who managed to court her would become Emperor, and his family line would become part of one of the greatest lineages in the world. Eternal glory beckoned.

Love was somewhat irrelevant at this point. Perhaps that would come later, but Mirana had her doubts.

She was also wondering if Marci should have entered separately. All eyes were on her, none on Marci. But if she had entered first, people would have thought Mirana more beautiful when she followed. If she had arrived after, nobody would have noticed anyway. Poor Marci. It wasn't as if she was unattractive, men just tended to see Mirana as more attractive. Being the Princess seemed to make her even more appealing.

Mirana curtsied in sight of her potential suitors, feeling almost as if she was a prize mare or sphinx being auctioned to breed superior stock. She felt sick.

Mirana glanced at Marci, who smiled at her, and she felt more confident. This would have been impossible without Marci. She would have run down to the barracks, found a sphinx and flown off to live as a celibate hermit.

She tried to be positive. Maybe this wouldn't turn out to be as terrible as she thought. She was just scared. Perhaps she would meet somebody nice, somebody who did care for her. Either way, Marci would be there for her. Maybe Marci would find somebody too.

The Emperor would have stood to start the dance, but he could not without help. Kashurra instead nodded to the musicians, who started to play a smooth, quiet tune to start with.

If only to keep Mirana from being swamped, there were other eligible women here—mostly extended royal family like Larisden.

It did not take long for the first would-be-suitor to approach and offer his hand.


'And she's standing on his toes again.' Larisden observed, taking another sip of wine.

'Not too much, cousin.' Shabarra warned. 'I need you sober.'

'I know. I can hold my liquor.' Larisden winced. 'Ouch! That had to hurt.'

'Maybe she's trying to put them off so she can avoid getting married.'

'Does she really want her handmaiden?' Larisden scoffed. 'Look at her!'

Marci was hovering on the sidelines as most of the guests danced. As much as they disliked her, they had to admit that Mirana had done a decent job of preparing her. Occasionally, a man would wander up to her and introduce himself. She would smile and hold up a piece of parchment. On one side, it was an introduction: "My name is Marci. I'm the Princess' handmaiden." On the other side, it read: "Would you like to dance with me?".

She rarely got to ask the second question. They would quickly figure out that she was somehow incapable of speaking, and that would be that. They would make some polite excuse and find somebody else to dance with, somebody who still had functioning vocal cords.

Shabarra glanced around, seemingly casually, noticing the fake noblemen and attendants taking up positions. Kashurra was heading back to his chamber to sort out stuff which might actually be important.

Shabarra was hoping to make Kashurra see things his way when he took the Solar Throne. The man was incredibly useful, and was an outstanding Viceroy. He was also sensible and pragmatic, there was every chance.

Mirana had just finished another clumsy dance with another idiot nobleman, possibly leaving him with a few broken toes. He limped off, and Shabarra nudged Larisden.

There was a massive benefit to winning Callardis over, and having him talk some of the newer members of the Sun Guard into joining their little plot to strengthen the Imperium and install a proper Emperor: they had been able to smuggle weapons in under the very nose of Commander Garrisan himself.

Larisden had a stiletto hidden under his doublet. He would start the "festivities" by sticking it into Mirana's heart. As much as Shabarra wanted to kill her himself, he had decided to do away with her as quickly as possible.

Larisden marched over to the highly desirable Princess Mirana and offered her his hand. She was reluctant, and that was understandable. He was a relative, after all, and such things were frowned upon in the Imperium. But Larisden was royalty, and all he had to do was get her into range of his blade.


Mirana did not notice his approach. Her gaze had landed upon Marci, who was a little downcast.

Mirana sighed. How could they ignore her? How could they turn her aside just because she could not speak? If they never gave her a chance, they would never know her as she did. She was sweet, caring, devoted. And Mirana had hoped that she would get at least one dance, even if it was just because she was a good dancer.

Somebody ought to dance with her. And Mirana's resolve crumbled away once again.

Mirana ignored a freshly arrived wave of noblemen and walked straight up to Marci. Her handmaiden looked up, surprised, as Mirana extended her hand and smiled at her.

Marci assumed she was just asking to make her feel better, and she saw no harm in accepting. Besides, she was Mirana's handmaiden. It was her duty to serve.

Marci took her hand and Mirana led her onto the floor. There was no accidental foot-stomping this time, Marci was far too dextrous for that.

Marci's eyes were full of gratitude, and she smiled sweetly at Mirana as they danced. Despite their being dozens of people present in the Great Hall, Mirana felt almost as if they were alone together, just the two of them, the noise around them muted and the guests irrelevant and vague.

Mirana realised that none of these fine noblemen could ever compare to her slum-born handmaiden. None of them would ever be as loyal, kind or understanding as Marci was. If only she was not the Princess. If only the next potential heir was not selfish and power-hungry. If only Marci felt as she did.


They were waiting.

In the eaves, mercenaries and assassins were in position, ready to draw their weapons and kill whoever was unlucky enough to not be in league with Shabarra.

Shabarra himself had taken up position close to the Emperor. When Larisden drew his blade, Garrisan would rush to defend Mirana and Shabarra would strike next. Garrisan would be met by Callardis, who would overpower him.

Nothing could go wrong.

Shabarra subtly reached into his robes, grasping the hilt of his dagger.


The Emperor watched as his daughter danced with her handmaiden, wondering.

At first, he had assumed that she was dancing with her simply out of sympathy. He could understand that. The poor girl had been neglected by every man who had neared her. She had been hopeful each time somebody had approached her, and disappointed when they had turned away.

He'd seen no harm in Mirana indulging her friend with a dance. Yet as they continued to dance, longer than was really necessary and longer than Mirana had spent with any of the men, he began to notice little signs—signs that it was something more than sympathy.

Though his body was failing, his eyes remained as sharp as ever.

He saw the way his daughter gazed at Marci. It was a look of longing. She had stepped in a little closer to her handmaiden, a significant moment in such a dance in the Imperium. He knew, he had done the same with his wife when they had been courting.

How could he not have foreseen this? Mirana had spent almost all of her time in Marci's company ever since the girl had become Mirana's handmaiden. She was there for Mirana when nobody else was.

And his daughter, Princess of the Helio Imperium, heir to the Solar Throne, had fallen in love with her.

'Look at them!' His wife had noticed it too. 'We have to stop this! Have Garrisan interrupt them, tell him to escort the girl from the palace and send her away.'

Yes, that was the sensible thing to do. They had a dynasty to protect.

But Mirana was his daughter, and he loved her dearly. Sending Marci away would be the worst thing he could do to her.

'No.' He shook his head. 'It would break Mirana's heart.'

'But she has to marry—'

'I know. And she will. She knows what her duty is, and what she must do. Kashurra taught her well.' The Emperor sighed. 'If only it could be different. She will realise. But for now, let them dance. Let them enjoy this while they can. Let her love be true, if only for a moment.'


Mirana began to lose herself in those beautiful, perfect eyes again. She could not help herself. And that smile…

She could not resist now, even here with all of these people, her parents, watching them.

She wanted to kiss her. What better way to make her feelings known? What better way to show Marci how she truly felt?

Mirana started to close her eyes. She let her lips part and inched her face just a little closer to Marci's.

Marci stopped. Even as her eyelids descended, Mirana saw Marci's beautiful, pale brown eyes widen with shock. Had Mirana scared her?

Mirana was unprepared for Marci to pull her aside forcefully, her eyes narrowing and her face contorting. There was a blur of movement and all became a confused swirl of colour as Marci spun Mirana behind her, lashing out with her free hand.

Larisden fell back, cursing, as his stiletto flew from his grasp.

For a moment, Mirana could not comprehend what had just happened. There was a blade on the floor. Larisden, Shabarra's cousin, was standing a few feet away, fuming and snarling, two fingers dislocated. Marci was standing in front of her, fists raised and her feet apart, her pretty face drawn with concentration and anger.

Garrisan saw and hurried down the steps, reaching for his sword. Before he could reach them, Callardis leapt forwards, swinging his axe. Garrisan jumped back, but Callardis gave him no time to draw his weapon and continued to swing his labrys.

There was a scream from one of the galleries and men pounced from the shadows. They were dressed as noblemen or servants, but they all bore weapons. Those weapons descended upon the unarmed guests and real servants. Blood sprayed, bones snapped, lives ended.

Mirana screamed as she saw a man with two wide scars running down his face swing a bladed flail at Barrus.

Barrus had barely drawn his sword when the head of the flail struck him in the face. He had not thought to wear his helm, and his face imploded, blood exploding in all directions. He toppled and landed in a bleeding heap, dead before he hit the floor.

Larisden dived for his weapon. Marci kept Mirana behind her, inching towards the doors.

Garrisan had drawn his sword, but Callardis was forcing him back with his larger weapon. It was no mundane weapon either. The axe blades were glowing with intense heat, hot enough to melt steel. It had to be a recent enchantment.

Garrisan's sword was magical too, and able to resist the blows of Callardis' axe. But would his armour be enough?

Mirana screamed again as a man seized her mother's hair as she tried to stand, yanked her head back and drew a knife across her throat. She tried to push past Marci, even though it was already too late, but Marci held her back. The Emperor was shouting at her, his voice lost in the chaos of the ensuing massacre, but she could read his lips.

'Save Mirana! Save my daughter! RUN!'

Shabarra stepped in front of him, gloating, a gleeful grin spreading across his pointed face as he drew a dagger. Garrisan turned to see it, and Callardis swept the axe low, sending him sprawling. The Commander's sword spun across the floor.

Marci started forwards, but she was too late and too far away.

'The Emperor is dead,' Shabarra sneered. He thrust the dagger straight into his brother's heart and felt warm blood gush over his hands, spattering onto the floor. He heard Mirana wail and scream, and his grin expanded. She would be joining him soon enough. He leaned in close and hissed: 'Long live the Emperor.'

Before he twisted the dagger, his victim managed to utter his last words, blood trickling from his mouth, his final order read by Marci from across the room.

'Marci… run.'

Larisden advanced again.

Marci seized Mirana's arm and pulled her towards the doors. They were held shut, barred from the other side.

Marci turned in time to see Larisden running at her. She caught his arm, diverting the stiletto away, and twisted, sending him sprawling. Without sparing him another thought, she lashed out at the door, driving her foot into it.

For a moment, she thought she saw little golden lights flicker in her eyes.

The wooden plank on the other side split and the doors crashed open. Marci had no time to think about it, she had to save Mirana. She had to.

She took Mirana's hand and ran.

Shabarra gestured at Larisden to intercept them, knowing that they would never escape. His assassins and corrupt members of the Sun Guard were guarding every exit.

He laughed as he tore the circlet from his brother's head, his bloody hand clutching the gold and rubies tightly. He held it aloft as men and women screamed and died below. 'Long live the true Prince of the Sun! Long live the God Emperor!'

Shabarra's mercenaries stabbed, slashed, crushed and tore their way through the guests and servants. Blood flowed across the marble floor, running in rivers of crimson across the sunburst in the middle of the Great Hall.

The Bloody Dance would soon be over, as would be the lives Mirana and Marci had once enjoyed.


Owing to my word limits for chapters, this will now be a two-part flashback. More on the way.