"It's an old cliché," Lunnas said dramatically, "Publicity stunt performed by celebrity draws attention of adoring fans!" He set his glass down and the crimson ran down the inside. He looked at the mirror and fiddled with his golden hair methodically.
"Master Lunnas, if I may, I think the plan is rather foolproof. All those 'adoring fans' will weed out the ones who couldn't care about the crown. Easy pickings for you and your mother." The thin, reedy voice of his head servant, Aluia, rose from the corner. She stood, arms crossed, behind him so he could see her in the mirror.
"Oh, don't play, Aluia, you know I don't share my mothers... affliction. I have no issue with weeding out those who infect our proud nation, but I at least want her to know I'm not like her. The taste of blood is repulsive to me." He put his crown on and adjusted it, then moved his hand to dip his fingers in the glass. He drew his hand back to his face and dabbed the blood on his cheek, blending it out so that his pale face was given some color.
"Let's go, they need you downstairs." She responded, checking her watch. He rises, his curls falling around his face and his white silk shawl draping on his shoulders. He follows Aluia into the elevator and presses the first floor button. They begin the descent.
Soon, the elevator doors open. People rush to it to retrieve their prince, but in the crowd, Lunnas and Aluia slipped out and into the open space. The float sat in the center of the garage. It was covered in gold foil and shimmering cellophane, and at the top was a single throne.
"Mother won't be joining me?" He didn't look at Aluia, but she answered anyway.
"No, Lunnas, she left for Quaritia this morning. She said she told you," she looked at him with a questioning look on her face. He shook his head in response, "No, she didn't tell me."
"Well, I'm sorry. But we have a parade to run, so hop onto the throne. Your subjects await, my liege," she bows dramatically and pops back up.
"Aluia, please promise me you'll never do that again." He stared blankly at the float.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I knew it was... yeah."
"But, you're right. The subjects await," he muttered as he began to hoist himself up the float.
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Ver Las Lanchas Como Mariposas
Science FictionA long, long time from now, in a city that reaches the stars, there lives a criminal. Hasia does what he can to survive. A celebration shows him that survival is not always for the fittest-and love is never for the prepared.
