It's been two weeks.

Two weeks have passed after the night my wound healed itself in a fraction of the time a wound should heal, two weeks since that miracle- that curse - where I rose from the empty tomb of Kazimir, heir to Eurasia.

Even then, I could feel the painless gash on my forehead as I wiped my hand over it. I could also feel the skin of my elbow split open to reveal the joint. The tender open flesh still pulsed against my fingertips.

Getting to the elevator in the darkness seeing as the guards were at the upper floor of the bunker was not easy. I couldn't ask for help since they would ask questions, but even if I did, they wouldn't hear me.

So, when I rose on the lift, I kept pressure on my wounds as they flooded my sheets quietly. Gladly, it was painless probably due to shock.

Ilyaas got me out of the elevator and into the tub of my bathroom. His face was pale as he looked at me, panicked at what he saw. I didn't know what he saw exactly but a girl who just fell into her brother's tomb probably didn't look too good.

I stopped Ly from calling Natasha, but I couldn't argue when he called Raza for cleanup.

He took the sheets away from my body and panicked as he probed me for wounds. I told him it was the head wound that bled, but when he looked, he didn't find it.

It was clean porcelain flesh.

The mark of an Onus.

I didn't know what to make of my newfound knowledge except that I was a living crime, sitting on the throne. Kaz needed to be found, or else I'd die, or worse, ruin the empire.

Ilyaas has since then avoided me, looked down when I passed, stayed quiet when I asked. He and I both knew what that meant, he and I both knew that if anyone else knew, I wouldn't have a throne, a home, or a head.

So, there I was, in the bathroom with a razor blade in one hand, and a bare white wrist open to cut. I had to see it again.

With a swift motion, I carved a small line on my wrist, precise to avoid veins as blood bloomed and blurred it.

And then the staring began. My heartbeat was faster, not because of the pain... the pain did not exist, but my heart paced rapidly, hoping against facts that maybe I was still human.

The bloodshed was slow, the redness was a dark ruby color, slowly trickling down the sink. Last time, it had been almost ten minutes until the wound stopped bleeding, and a few more for it to completely close. But last time, the cut was deeper because of the marble shard that embedded itself into my skull as I fell into the empty tomb.

Empty. I still couldn't believe it.

My watch was timing me. Five minutes to go before I either relinquish my claim to the throne or I'd need to find a bandage.

With a start, I heard my main door open with the sound of Ly's shoes pacing towards the bathroom. I immediately hid the blade on the band of my pants and hid my wrist behind my back before he opened the door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in a cold tone. He deserved it for deserting me, but I regretted it immediately.

He bit his lip. "You reached ninety-six beats per minute. They wanted to know if you slipped or something, but we didn't hear-"

"Why always you? There's four of you, isn't there?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm the only one Jazzy won't eat." He said. "And you need to add one more of us to make a pentagon, and may I remind you two more to the privy council."

"Oh." That's probably why my food was left outside, and my linens were only changed when I took Jaz for a walk in the south garden. "I'd like to be the fifth member. I can protect myself."

My wound was bleeding, three more minutes, and it was still bleeding. Maybe I was still human. "I cut myself accidentally. I'm fine."

He stepped closer opening his palm to me, beckoning. I watched myself hold out my forearm for him. Why did I even think he would take my word for it? He knew me too well. The cut was too clean.

He pulled me harshly to the sink and ran the water against the wound. I felt him stare at the back of my head, waiting for me to flinch... even I was waiting for myself to flinch.

The wound was numb, I felt the water but not the sting that was supposed to be there.

So, I flinched.

He then continued to keep the water flowing fast, gurgling through the drain.

Ilyaas opened the medicine cabinet under the counter and took out bandages. He wrapped it around the wound opting out for any cream or alcohol. For some reason he also opened the tub's water.

"Give me the blade."

There was no use in lying to him, was there?

I gave him the razor blade I took out of the shaver I requested that morning.

"I know you didn't want to be a queen, but I didn't know you'd rather die." He screamed at me as he threw it against the counter and the marble broke on impact.

"I wasn't... it's-" I felt my brows furrow. I knew he knew why I did what I did. I wasn't suicidal.

An experiment! It was an experiment.

All of a sudden, it was a purple coat in my face, and his arms wrapped around me like a vice. "Don't talk." A tone so different from his worried exterior. "Pentagon bugged your whole room, no cameras but ears..."

"But... you can't do that-"

"We follow your orders only to the extent that your orders don't harm you. Ji Su made flies and they've invaded your walls- I tried to stop her but they're skeptical of you. If you have anything to say, say it somewhere not in this house."

"Garden." The gardens were an electronic-free zone. Even the government respected that. Nothing there had data except the sprinklers and lights.

"Which direction?"

"East." They were having a firework show tonight as a sign of the end of the days of grieving. There would be a lot of people there, and no one would notice two kids.

He kissed the top of my head. "Raza is in the crypts. He has news for you."

"How did he get there?"

I felt him shrug.

Then he sighed. "You're human." The sheer relief in his whisper... it almost broke my heart.

He felt proud, beaming with his happiness knowing that I was normal, that my existence was not a crime punishable by death. Even Ly, the kindest, bravest, person I knew, feared the myths.

Ilyaas kissed the top of my head again, counting to ten, remembering the comment I said about hugs not being hugs unless they lasted ten seconds. I almost felt like I was just a girl.

Through his hug I reached down to the bandaged wound of my arm and squeezed.

I still felt nothing, because it wasn't there anymore.

×+×

In between my fingers was the oil painting of Upapa as a young man; the one that used to hang from his mahogany study room.

He used to be quite handsome in his violet regalia. Dark hair, trimmed to perfection, white teeth, creamy caramel colored skin, and eyes like the purple flash of lightning. The painting was of him as a prince, just one of the three similarly made paintings of the triumvirate, as they were called.

Him, the eldest golden boy, his sister, Aridni who has since married into the English royal family, and his youngest sister, Arabella who abdicated to enter the United Nations as a genetics expert on crops. Solomon of bravery, Aridni of grace, Arabella of wit.

I heard that the moment Arabella abdicated was the only moment in history the late king ever cried. She sent flowers to the House on the day he died, and I could smell their wafting scents from the hall that opened when I pricked my finger on the gate.

She was banished the day she abdicated, and even though I personally told her that she could come back, she simply said she wanted to honor her brother's wishes even from the grave. That was my first conversation with her, and that would probably be my last.

She wished never to be associated with her family, and I fully understood why. Even as we seemed to be the model family of the continent, we were a series of quiet banishments, unhappy marriages and failed pregnancies. Parliament didn't have the power to affect us much but sometimes we had to stay silent as they made the citizens suffer for the greatest good of the greatest number of people. With our shunning of accountability came the powerlessness I so detested.

Aridni on the other hand sent me a congratulatory dress. Golden thread, deepest Tyrian purple. She wanted me to wear it when her tributes came. She whispered from across the phone "I need to apologize."

Her voice was hoarse across the comm., her shakiness showing her tears. Despite her following words, she loved her brother. "For what?"

"For not going to war to save you from him." I heard the regret in her voice.

"You didn't have to-" But someone did have to. I had the scars on my back saying so.

"You're family, Lizaveta. You were just a child." I still am.

She then promised to come over tomorrow, with her grandsons as tributes for marriage. My marriage.

The bitter taste in my mouth when she talked about it just heightened with each second, I came closer to tomorrow.

In the next week, they were going to trickle down to the capital, the local, foreign and interstellar. All here for my coronation and eventual engagement. They were probably just the charming, power-hungry types I was forced to meet during social functions. All pining to be my husband, the father of the future king or queen, wanting to bind themselves to me because I was important now... disgusting.

I was rounding the corner of the stairs, the smell of jasmines and... motor oil almost overpowering, clearing my mind of thoughts of rings and vows and men.

The darkness was thicker now since I didn't notify them to turn the lights on, but a small candle was there on the ground courtesy of the silent spider.

As I crossed the threshold and closed the door again, I wished a little to at least have a guard there. But just as always, there was none.

And there he was, Raza, standing over the open grave of my brother. It took me aback. I never saw him without the purple coat. He was in a gray V-neck and gray pants that matched his eyes, his hair buzzed.

The gaping hole was still there. I didn't remember falling in, but I remembered waking up with a marble shard stuck to my forehead, stinging very little. The tomb was empty. And I was hoping against hope that maybe my brother was still alive, and I was simply keeping his throne warm. I had no choice but to hope or die.

"Raza."

"Your imperial highness." He said without turning.

I walked over to him, tiptoeing over the small ledge to hang my grandfather's picture over his covered tomb. "How did you get here?" There was a very small chance of him actually telling me, but I tried.

"That would require a history lesson." He clipped, looking at me with eyes that shone in the dark.

Gone was the fake awe and respect he showed me in the elevator in front of his league. I've seen him work with my father, discussing assassinations without so much as a blink. I shouldn't have been surprised. "Where's the body?"

"That would require me actually knowing. Again, how did you get here?"

An answer for an answer.

"Heard of the bunkers your ancestors opened when the sirens came?" I nodded. The sirens blew over America, then England, France then New India, China... and everyone else had no warning. Nobody with a basic education didn't know the Four-Hour war, but Raza had a small sparkle in his eye, no not a sparkle, a glow. Somehow, he seemed crueler, without showing cruelty. I felt like he saw me as clear as day despite the lack of light.

In this darkness, he seemed to belong.

I noticed it then, the infinity running through the tunnels. There was no end here, and yet in the end, I'd be here.

Raza seemed to notice my floating thoughts and spoke. "Heard of the tunnels they used to navigate and get supplies from across the continent?"

I nodded again. They stayed here for about three generations, until Solomon, the first, led them to the surface again, to defend his inherited land from the Antarcticans, the Africans, and the Onus and to finally crown himself the first king.

Raza pointed to the beginning of the tunnels where the oldest of skeletons were. "This one connects Beijing" He made a downward sweep with his hand, tracing across the floor and on to the other end. "To Kabul, Tashkent and New Delhi. I have some ancient machinery here-"

"A bike."

He smirked. "A few of those. About two in this section..."

His steps seemed sure, like he'd been there before, like the blackness of it all was a welcome friend. I felt the chill up my spine, but was it him I was afraid of? Was it the catacombs and rotting bodies of kings? Was it the dark? I didn't know.

All I knew was that I didn't want to die again. Raza continued his speech. "Anyway, it's the one all of our ancestors rose from to get to Almaty- the only place that didn't have a nuke land on it."

I turned to see the staircase that led to the crypts, wondering how many thousands of pairs of feet rose through them to see the old world, their new world. Overwhelming... how every person above ground descended from the feet that ascended right there. But I was still antsy. I wanted to leave, but he had yet to reveal anything of importance.

He continued, cutting off my thoughts again. "The crypts were open to everyone back then until your grandfather, I believe, sealed it from the three ends before dying. Now only you people can get in." Raza smirked. "And me."

How much of my blood had he gotten from the elevator, exactly?

His face was annoying. If not for his penchant for getting unobtainable information, I would have shot him to the moon. Raza seemed like a nice guy back then, but his layers seemed to peel one by one, and I didn't like what I was seeing.

"So, what did you want to tell me? Is the parliament plotting against me?" It wouldn't have been a surprise. They seemed welcoming enough, but they were politicians; criminals in suits.

He shook his head. "They're wary, but they're optimistic. They want you to marry that prince from New India. Looked into him, you're not his type... or any woman for that matter even with the models. I think he liked me though." I didn't want to know how he knew that. "They still want a regency, though and... They have certain bank accounts which are Islander, but what do you expect?"

"How about the Antarctican first son?" I heard he was a pilot too. Maybe that was something we could talk about, bond over.

"He's not your type."

I raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?"

He shrugged. "He doesn't look like Malak, but he's trying to."

"I-"

"Before you defend yourself against the fact of you having feelings for him, I'm sure there's a reason you've never even dated. He's the only boy around you, your imperial highness."

I never dated because I knew who I would prefer wouldn't matter anyway. "Then what? Why did we have to get down here? Why all the theatrical presence in the no-go zone?"

"First, because it's the only place with no ears where you didn't have to leave the house. Second, because I always travel by these tunnels and I live here now. I always wanted to see what was down here. And lastly... because you didn't kill the Ravens."

"What do you mean?" I tried to hide the sinking feeling I felt in my heart. Then who did I kill? I thought that was it. What if I killed the wrong people?

"The blasts leveled seven main houses and three weapon depots. You did order the killing of three thousand Ravens. You killed some there, I'm sure, but I've been detecting some similar radio signals somewhere closer..."

I understood. "You're saying they're here." I felt crushed by the tons of concrete above me. A retaliation was inevitable. My people were in danger. I made a mistake.

"What I'm saying is that I have information from my team saying someone will attack China soon. Most probably in the agricultural regions in the south. Those were the only two words I intercepted from the frequency they usually use: Chinese, fields. We lost it almost as fast as we got it. We have to verify still... we don't know who we intercepted." He bit his cheek.

The Ravens were good enough to frustrate the great Raza?

I felt myself nod, moving the chess pieces of my troops over to the Chinese region in my head. They held almost fifty percent of the grain produce of the east. If the Ravens tried anything there, like setting fire to the stocks, or killing the farmers or researchers, the east's backbone would bend backwards.

"How did they get that far, Raza? I thought the last of them were chased to the border...killed." They've been gone for years, reduced to fairy tales.

"You either need to have a talk with the Islanders or these people never left, your imperial majesty. "

"You worked for Upapa for long enough, how would I know that you're not trying to sabotage me?" It was a good question, but it was something he would lie his way out of. The wave of skepticism was enough to overpower anyone around Raza.

"I was... and still am loyal to your father, and the crown. Even if he's dead, he has not ceased to be the first person to value me."

My father. "Then you know what Upapa did to him." I said through gritted teeth. My eyes wandered to the painting of the dark haired, lavender-eyed painting of the man I called my Abbu, wondering if I would ever see him again in another life. It would be a privilege to do so.

He nodded, his lip pursed, and his jaw clenched. Raza probably had to watch my father die without doing anything.

"Do you know what happened to my brother?"

He shook his head. "But obviously, he isn't there." Raza pointed to the rest of the tunnel.

Find him. "Find out."

×+×

Was it wrong to hope?

Maybe out there my brother was still alive, and still ready for this crown. He'd always been the quieter one, the one who sew history with fiction to get me at least a little interested in schoolwork. He stood up straighter, he knew how to give orders, he was kind, and unassuming yet powerful when he needed to be. Maybe he still was.

"Jazzy, what do you think?" I shouted from my closet doorway, showing her the bun I hid under a tight head scarf that started falling away.

She trotted over and blinked theatrically.

"What, my eyes? Well... I don't have contacts. They're expired. Am not risking it!" They weren't expired but no one would notice my eyes in the dim fairy lights and fire pits of the East Garden, and apart from that, it was inconvenient.

The tiger had the audacity to roll her eyes at me.

Earlier today, I scouted the three entrances and exits to my quarters: the main elevator, the guards' elevator, and the housekeeping stairwell that connected to my wall, hidden seamlessly against the pale white paint- the one I would be using.

Right on time, there was a knock on my door.

"Come in, Marjorie!" I squealed. She had the clothes.

And in came a petite girl with kind eyes. Earlier today, I asked for a maid to do my shopping. I needed to buy the outfit I would have to wear tonight. The press had already taken into account all of my former clothes and they probably were on the lookout for me, knowing my track record of being seen outside the House unofficially.

They sent me a low-ranking maid, apologizing and explaining that the rest were busy doing the more important task of preparing for the multitude of guests to arrive tomorrow and in the next week.

Sure, that was a wrinkle, since I needed an authorized maid's handprint to open the stairwell, but I pushed through anyway.

First, I got her to reposition the pictures on my gallery wall. She had to lug around five of them around before I was satisfied the glass had enough handprints to suffice. She really was a novice since she didn't wipe them away. Then I got her to buy me the clothes, making sure that they were of brands and makes I haven't been seen in. I gave her two hours.

"Would you like it in red, your imperial highness?"

She was new. She honestly thought I liked red. "Sure, Marjorie. Just be back soon." At least I would be wearing the celebratory uniform of the east garden.

And here she was.

I transferred her prints with some graphite and latex on to a silicone glove while she was away, and I was already wearing it. I also promoted her to have access to my room with a small quip in a call I sent to the mayor domo.

She curtseyed at the doorway with three different bags. "Your imperial highness, would you like me to lay them on the bed for you?"

Why was she being nice, when I planned to knock her out? I would have really preferred the higher-ups who turned their noses up against me when I was a child.

"Um... yeah sure." I mumbled as I rechecked the glove.

"But there's a tiger on it." She said matter-of-factly. How cute. She was trying not to be scared.

I shrugged. "She won't bite. She's trying to be vegan."

Jazzy snarled at me, got off my bed and went to the bathroom. She was a good girl, following my rules for the moment. I noted to set her out to hunt the following day.

Marjorie laid out a red hoodie, flexible leggings, and performance sneakers that were a bit too loud for my liking, but maybe that was the point... I didn't want to dress like me. "Would that be all, your imperial highness?"

"Well..." This was the point where I was supposed to punch her face, but she was too nice.

She just stared at me with patience.

I sighed.

"Well, Marjorie, I believe I need a purple version of every article of clothing in my closet. I have one-hundred tops, the same number of bottoms, I think fifty dresses, fifty coats, thirty gowns and about three hundred pairs of shoes so... I would like for you to have an inventory of them all and for you to stay in my closet until it's time for you to go off duty, that's... eleven o'clock, I presume?" Her eyes widened, but she took out the tablet all maids had from the front pocket of her apron. "And... stay in the closet. It's the only place the tiger doesn't go in, and I was joking about the vegan thing."

Her feet couldn't have been any faster as she ran into my closet and locked the door.

"Jazzy, don't eat her!" I yelled from the side of my bed.

My hair was adamant about not fitting into a wig cap today, so I had to settle for a scrunchie, leaving the uncooperative scarf behind. I looked myself over on the mirror, judging how I looked, wondering if it hid me well. I then added a dark red lip to distract from my eyes, a roll of coins in my shoe to change my gait, and a fake ID in case someone asked.

Flexible flat boots, leggings, a bulletproof vest under white shirt under a red hoodie. I looked pretty average. My watch said 7:28, thirty-two minutes until I had to meet Ly in the Garden.

I practically bounded to the wall, excited to finally leave without a cavalry guarding me. Marjorie's prints worked and the door popped out and aside silently, leading to a staircase and leading to the night.