It all happened faster than a blink.

Amid a deafening roar, Zinget was launched back by a hot, invisible wave; she bled and writhed, trying to shake her off.

Bridget crashed into a rock. The air escaped from her lungs, and she felt the pain in her chest spread to her throat like molten lava. Her mind fell into a black void, where sound was dull, and there was no place for agony. Then her heart stopped.

***

Standing next to the last tree, Terry froze, deaf, except for the shrill ringing that pierced his brain. He had climbed the headland near the bend in the road to see the Royal Entourage when it rode by. To justify his curiosity to see Bridget, he had told himself it was the only way to catch her behaving according to the manual of spoiled, darling socialités, which he would throw in her face when he saw her. He never imagined that in an instant her world would collapse. An explosion!

He couldn't look away from the crater. Not even a memory remained of the front guards; where before there were arms and legs, now remained masses of skin, bone and black puddles. As he moved his eyes away from the center of the explosion, the mutilated corpses became more recognizable; the King and Queen could be identified by the scraps of clothing and the hair poking out under the amorphous remains of the unicorns, some feathers, mud and blood. The ones in the outer circle, including Bridget's, lay battered, unmoving... dead?

Terry fell to his knees, as if his strength had suddenly abandoned him, shocked and terrified, about to hyperventilate.

Goddess, I didn't mean it, I swear. I never wanted her to die.

The ringing in his ears was decreasing, and gradually he caught the sound of loud emergency alarms, voices barking orders, footsteps approaching, the flapping of wings, confused screams in the distance.

Dozens of guards arrived at the scene. While some secured the perimeter, others searched for survivors, and yet others fanned out on earth and sky, perhaps looking for signs of whoever was responsible for the tragedy.

Terry's stomach couldn't hold his breakfast any longer; the carnage of Eloahns in front of him was the most horrifying thing he had ever seen. When the heaving stopped, his arms and legs were shaking. He looked back and saw a rescuer practicing resuscitation techniques on the Princess; he was compressing her chest several times, and pumping oxygen into her mouth using an osmotic respirator.

A large hand grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

"Who are you, boy? What are you doing here?"

Confused and still trembling, Terry looked at him without answering. His pupils were dilated and his face sweaty.

Although it was clear that the young man had no connection to the attack, the guard patted him down, and verified there were no objects around him -like a weapon, a transmitter or a trigger- that could involve him in the assassination. He found fresh footprints belonging to a unicorn that had possibly fled, scared off by the blast.

"Was anyone else with you?" he asked, though the whip in the boy's hand was indication that the animal had escaped without a rider.

"No," he muttered, and spat trying to get rid of the bitter taste.

Noticing that the site of the explosion was visible from there, the guard realized the frightened boy was an eyewitness to the events; that was why he was so shaken. "Did you see what happened?"

Terry nodded, then shook his head wildly. He wiped his face with his sleeve, and noticed his shirt was stained with mud and blood that wasn't his. He almost threw up again.

"The Princess lives!" they heard a cry.

Terry turned to the voice. It was the rescuer who was compressing Bridget's chest, while he drew the attention of the doctors who had just descended from a roofless levitating slider.

While Terry watched the rescue with morbid fascination, the soldier asked his superiors for instructions through a tiny transmitter he was wearing in his ear.

"I have orders to take you in for questioning, boy."

The guard led him through the forest, around the site of the attack, and then they took off, flying at a moderate altitude, towards the security tower. His weapon, held by both hands, pointed at the floor ready for use at the slightest sign of attack. He wasn't there just to protect the witness, or to stop him from escaping. The King and Queen had been killed by one or more attackers, and until they discovered their identities or motives, his orders were being prepared for everything -from a struggle between factions to get to the throne, to a foreign assault meant to destroy what remained of the government. Although the latter was highly unlikely, unless the attackers could somehow circumvent the castle's defensive shield, a class ten, able to withstand even a nuclear blast.

***

The security tower housed the High Court, a high security prison, and barracks for the guards assigned to the palace; it was the castle's neuralgic, operational, and communications center, as well as the energy source for the entire complex. Terry had never set foot in its bare gray corridors. After passing several access control modules, the guard led him down a wide corridor whose walls had signs and warnings instead of tapestries, paintings or decorations; he showed him to an interrogation room, and assumed the position of a custodian. The door was still open when he heard the approach of footsteps and a confused clamor.

"I lost her pulse again, Nance," a voice cursed.

Are they talking about Bridget? The hallway was also the access to the medical wing, as one of the signs he had seen along the way had informed him. Perhaps the group was moving to the emergency room.

"I think it was the energy, partner. Only you know where to pinch without getting struck by it," he heard another say.

"I have the special filter that we can attach to the scanner, intubate her," replied the first.

Terry shuddered when he pictured the scene; he barely noticed the words that seemed out of context. The noise stopped suddenly, increasing his anxiety.

"His name is Terriuce Blasterier," said someone at the door, and the guard let in a high ranking military officer.

Terry didn't bother asking how he had learned his name, he might have given it to them and forgotten about it; he was almost in shock. Then he saw the ProCom in the officer's hand. The virtual screen displayed his personal information and three squares: the first had his face, and the other two his fingerprint and his DNA code.

Probably from the access controls.

The military man that walked in was tall and burly, had a square, angular face, fine lips, and gray hair cut short. Four stripes embroidered on his neck decorated his uniform; half a dozen medals decorated his cloak.

"Blasterier, yes?"

"Yes."

"I am General Orlando Seres. I will be asking you some questions."

Terry nodded.

"Let's start simple. What were you doing in the forest?"

"Eh? My father, he... he told me to stay out of trouble, to remain in the gardens or the forest. It's what I've done since I got here."

"Why precisely that spot in the forest?"

"Because I'd be able to see... the Queen... when she rode by," he lied.

"How did you know she would?"

"I was in the stables when they mounted their steeds. I saw them take the path with the statues."

"Did you see anyone else in the forest? Anyone who seemed out of place, someone who, like you, wanted to see the Queen or the Princess?"

"No, the forest was as quiet as always, until the entourage passed by."

"Tell me what you saw. What were the royal guard and their Majesties doing? Tell me everything, I want to know every detail."

"Mmm... they were being quite noisy, the unicorn's hooves crunched on the dry branches, the King was talking, but I couldn't make out the words. A guard broke formation and flew ahead..."

"Son." Sefen Gacks walked in so fast, that the custodian lifted his weapon.

"Go away, leave me alone, father," he snapped.

The General gestured at the custodian to stand down, and then addressed the newcomer.

"Your son is unharmed, Duke, but quite shaken; he witnessed a terrible scene, and miraculously escaped with his life. Step outside, please."

"He is being guarded by armed men. You don't think my son is a suspect, do you, General?"

"Of course not, but he is the only live witness. If he had been a few steps closer, he would have been hit by the expansive wave. Their Majesties do not... did not... usually take strolls in the forest, it was decided at the last minute. It is possible that the attempt targeted only the girl, who rides there often. Go to the Great Hall for the official announcement, and do not be surprised if you are questioned as well. We are conducting inquiries all over the palace." General Seres showed him the door. "Ah, and I beg you, do not mention what I just told you."

The General waited until the witness' father had left.

"How many guards did you see, Blasterier?"

Terry looked at the General, doing his best to remember.

"How many?" repeated the man, impatient.

"Ten, I think there were ten. Two were way ahead, their heads were shaved..."

The General watched him, impassive, and then frowned. Fifty feet away from the site, the crime scene investigators had found the remains of two officers with shaved heads. Their thumbs had been mutilated, and their faces destroyed by the explosion. They also found a detonator and a weapon, which marked them as the perpetrators of the assassination.

"Can you describe them?" he asked, hopeful.

According to preliminary reports, they had been careful not to be recorded by any security camera; the CSIs had recovered their remains, and sent them to be analysed, confident that the experts would identify them, but had gotten a nasty surprise when they opened the sealed bags in which they had been transported. Their bodies had suffered an irreversible metamorphosis due to a persistent cellular degeneration that could only be explained if, prior to the mass murder-suicide, they had ingested Graznijh or a similar chemical. By the time the General had arrived in the amphitheater, they looked like giant slugs, and there was not a single unchanged cell in their bodies to compare their DNA to.

"I don't remember."

"Do your best, Blasterier."

"I saw them for a second, honest."

The General punched the desk in frustration.

"Two officers making their rounds, that is all you saw."

"Well I... I told you, I was watching the... the Queen."

Something in the boy's attitude told him he was not being completely honest.

"What was her Majesty wearing?" he asked, suspicious.

"Eh?"

"What color were the Queen's clothes?"

Terry stared back, confused.

"Mmm... white..."

"What was the Princess wearing?"

"Blue, with a cloak and a beret," he replied right away.

"That explains everything. Another one of those cases," muttered the General, standing up. That settled it. He wasn't the first teenager too embarrassed to admit he had a crush on a girl. If anyone knew of unconfessed love, it was him, who had dreamed of the Queen since the days when he served as head of her personal security, over twenty beltas ago.

"It's not what you're think..."

"Of course it's not," he commented sarcastically, and then added bitterly, "Do not lie to me again, Blasterier."

"I'm sorry." Terry let his arms hang, frustrated because the General would have a mistaken impression of him, although it would do him no good to explain that he had been spying on the meddling girl looking for revenge, lest the General thought killing her was a part of his plan. The terrible scene came back to mind, and he shuddered. "The... Princess... she'll make it, right?"

The General sighed and turned towards the small window in the room, afraid his face might betray his feelings. He wished, from the deepest part of his soul, that he had asked him the same question, but about the Queen. She'll make it, right? He would have given up his life to prevent it. He would waste no time or personnel getting to the bottom of the horror that had been committed against her. He would avenge her.

"We don't know if she will pull through, she is fighting."

Life was ironic, he thought. Now, when he had finally reached the top of his career, and was in a position, of not just of seeing the Queen but also of talking to her -even if it was work related-, she had been murdered in the most despicable way.

Ironic, for had she not died that morning, General Tad Abender, Secretary of Security, would not have stepped down, clearing the way for him to occupy the position he had coveted for so long.

More than ironic, he told himself, chuckling bitterly while he watched the vehicles fly over the palace grounds through the window, and the vibration of air in the distance that confirmed the shield would not let an insect through alive. It was of little use if the killers were inside, a useless waste of resources.

"If you remember anything, I beg you to come forward with it."