Isao lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Flashes of the wedding ceremony slipped through his mind, mixing with memories of the dinner afterward and his father's concerned frown at random parts of the night. He felt like a stranger looking in on his life, so distanced was he from the events that had just occurred.

For a moment, he wished he was a stranger staring in at his caged life.

The path had been set already. Life-altering decisions had been made without any regard for his feelings.

A recollection of Ren's gentle, soulful expression slipped in and out of his mind's eye at random intervals. It offered him a constant reminder of what he had married, and how little he knew the bride.

Yet, would he have ever known real love, given the chance?

He wished he could let go of his desire to control his own life, but he just couldn't.

Would he ever really come to know Ren? Would they be able to carve out some semblance of a happy life together? She was so quiet. So calm. And she looked so miserably out of place here.

Isao tried to imagine living his entire life with a melancholy wife, but he couldn't.

His thoughts continued to spiral deeper and deeper as he considered the heavy weight of the legacy that his father had thrust on him.

All his future days stretched out before him in defined lines. Ruler. Emperor. Servant of the greater good.

The traitorous thoughts slipped away as soon as he allowed it in.

To question his life and the responsibilities in it would bring about answers neither he nor anyone else was ready to face. His father would never forgive him for even questioning his place.

Saemon would never forgive him for wanting something else.

Isao flipped onto his side with a heavy sigh, seeking some place comfortable in the silk sheets and downy pillows. But his whole body felt restless and fitful, as if infused with too much energy to ever settle down again.

He flopped onto his stomach and stretched across the bed, burying his face in the pillows. Then he rolled onto his side, and finally onto his back again.

Perhaps he could hide from it all now. Just burrow deeper into this pillow and continue to sink. Down, down, down.

The creak of his bedroom door opening drew Isao from his thoughts. He leaped into a crouch on the mattress.

General Khalem and two guards slipped into the room. Deep lines furrowed Khalem’s broad brow. He moved with a swift, jerky gait as he strode into the room, heading for the bed.

"Isao," he said, "we must leave. Now."

"What's wrong?"

"The palace isn't safe."

"But – "

"There's no time to explain. I'll tell you along the way. This is your father's explicit command. Get dressed."

Khalem yanked Isao's shirt off the back of a nearby chair and tossed it to him.

"Khalem, please – "

"Not now! We must go. Immediately. "

"I cannot just leave. Surely it's more dangerous out there than here in the safety of my bedroom in the palace."

"You must trust me."

"Of course I trust you, Khalem, but I won't just leave. I am a man now. I deserve respect, and the full truth. My father cannot protect me from knowledge of his ideas and thoughts for the rest of my life."

Isao stood next to the bed and folded his arms across his bare chest.

Taking a stance – however small – against his father infused him with a new feeling of control and strength.

Khalem's nostrils flared. "I've already explained that we're wasting time. Every single second we spend here is another we could have used to move you to safety. I've sworn to your father, and on my life, that I would keep you alive, Isao. "

Isao frowned. "I see your agitation is real, my friend. But I will not proceed against an unknown enemy. What wisdom is there in that?"

The two guards at the door glanced into the hall, then back to their general. Khalem grabbed Isao's shoes and thrust them at him.

"Fine," he growled. "You dress. I'll talk."

Reluctantly, Isao agreed, lowering to the side of the bed while he pulled on the shirt. He grabbed up a shoe just as Khalem opened his mouth to explain.

A low shriek came from outside the doors. Both guards grabbed their swords, extracting them from their sheaths, and crouched, ready to attack any intruders. Khalem grabbed Isao by the shoulder and shoved him toward the other side of the room .

The clang of two swords meeting rang through the hallway, and ended with an agonizing, muffled note.

Isao's breath caught. Someone had just died.

The two guards slipped behind a smokescreen on one side of the door while Khalem pushed Isao behind the sprawling wardrobe that held all Isao's ceremonial garments.

"Khalem – "

He silenced Isao with a sharp jerk of his head.

There was the sound of footsteps approaching the doorway, then a pause. A light snick preceded the door opening. The long shadows of two men filled the room, backlit from torches in the hallway. They advanced into the room in two steps, revealing the glint of light armor over their shoulders. The armor rippled down their chests, protecting their hearts in long lines of bronze.

Both men gripped long swords in their hands. Their heads twisted from side to side, searching the shadows. Isao stared at the rumpled bed where he'd been laying not two minutes before and gulped.

Khalem had not exaggerated.

Khalem slid silently in front of Isao, pulled a dagger from a hidden sheath in his arm, and tossed it. It hurtled across the room, striking the bronze-clad soldier on the right in the back of the neck. He let out a cry. His arm shot up to grip the knife, but the damage had been done. Blood spurted out of his neck as soon as he pulled the knife free.

The second intruder swung around with a cry, facing the wardrobe. Khalem slid back, hiding both he and Isao in the deepest shadow.

A moment later, a second scream followed.

Khalem rushed into the room with a battle cry as his two guards did the same.

Isao stepped out from behind the wardrobe to find both enemies now on the ground in a pool of blood. The two guards had thrown their daggers, striking the second invader in the eye and the neck.

Khalem plunged his sword into the chest of the first body. The man died with a gasp and a gurgle. The second man was completely motionless on the floor.

"Nari," Khalem murmured, gesturing to the armor. "Saemon was right. We have been betrayed." He straightened, looking to Isao. "Your life was clearly one they meant to take. Do you trust me yet?"

The blood drained from Isao's face, leaving him feeling weak and breathless.

"My father," Isao whispered. "He won't be safe either."

"I am here to protect you," Khalem said. "Your father will take care of himself. Grab your jiang."

Isao nodded, refusing to give any power to the thought that his father might already be dead. He strode to the table next to his bed, pulled open a drawer, and removed a short steel dagger inlaid with etched gold and gems. His jiang. It felt heavy in his palm, and it gave Isao a reassuring reminder of his strength.

He had some way of fighting now, and fight he would.

Khalem, his two guards, and Isao slipped into the hallway.

The sounds of battle now rang through the air and all over the palace.

Men screaming. Blades clashing. The distant thud of things falling and mirrors shattering.

With a flick of his wrist, Khalem motioned for Isao to follow him.

"Go," he whispered to the guards, nodding the opposite way. "Your skill is needed elsewhere."

The guards departed with brief nods, disappearing to the other end of the hall. Khalem motioned to the nearby corridor with a finger.

"Come."

They drifted through corridor after corridor along the edge of the palace. The greatest ruckus seemed to come from the central portion of the palace, and Khalem took care to avoid any hallway that led directly there. Frequently they ducked into empty rooms to avoid discovery by running groups of Nari soldiers.

As Isao fled, his throat tightened in fear for his father’s life.

Would Saemon make it? If not, the world would then fall to his shoulders. And he wasn’t ready.

His thoughts slid to Ren.

Did she have something to do with this? Her eyes – they had seemed so innocent. It didn’t seem possible that she would betray him. Or would she? Sometimes those who seemed most innocent were the least trustworthy.

Khalem led them to a back stairway. Chilly air rushed over Isao, bringing goose bumps to his skin, as they descended down to the kitchens.

With a grunt, Khalem held Isao back with one hand. His gaze first swept through the room. Finding it empty, Khalem moved them farther inside.

Knives had been taking from their wooden docks, no doubt by servants hoping to protect themselves while fleeing the uprising. The chaos found in the rest of the palace hadn't reached here yet; everything lay in orderly stacks and cupboards.

"Here," Khalem whispered, motioning to a far wall. "By the pantry."

A thin wooden door lay near a brace of onions hanging from their hairy roots. It was tucked into a corner, and nearly invisible to the eye.

Isao couldn't imagine where it led, but he pushed through and in anyway.

Giving the room one last glance, Khalem studied the empty kitchen to make certain no one followed them, then quietly pulled the door closed behind them.