Pandora's Box

Chapter 2: Part I

The palace grounds bustled with more than their usual fervor. Endless streams of workers: carpenters, artisans, and masons, crisscrossed the well-manicured stone paths at a blistering pace. Some carried heavy loads of tools. Others pushed wheelbarrows full to the brim with sacks of grain or flour. Under the morning sun, all bore the mark of excitement upon their faces.

A thin trickle of blood traced down a small boy's face from a gash above an eyebrow. The tanner's son, stood frozen in place, arms flat by his sides, lips quivering. The Citadel's newest junior officer, Malachai of house Killian, let his tall shadow fall over the child's frightened form. The afternoon sun glinted on the medals pinned to his chest.

"Go on then," Malachai cheered. "Give him another. A small crowd of the laborers' children formed in a shadowy corner of a courtyard, encircling the brutish display. 

Princess Pandora gave Malachai a snide, but hesitant look. The stone in her hand suddenly weighed more than the palace's portcullis. She hadn't meant to strike the tanner's boy, only scare him a little. 

For laughs. For fun... 

And it hadn't been at first. But Malachai had been right. Eventually watching the boy freeze when she ordered him to, and knowing she controlled his very existence with a whim, stone or no stone provided a certain pleasure. The same whispering voice that unleashed the Blight onto the men threatening her father had returned. It had promised her that she was within her right to play Malachai's game. 

But in the deeper part of her heart, Pandora knew she shouldn't have.

"Come on, Pandora. Do it!" Malachai shouted. A malevolent sneer, ages older than should be comfortable on a boy of fifteen, curled the edges of his lips.

"I don't know... look at him. Maybe we should leave him be?" Pandora replied, dropping the stone.

Malachai's face flushed crimson. He snatched up the stone, seized Pandora's petite hand and pushed the rock back into her palm. 

"Do it."

The storm of violence and anger in Malachai's fiery eyes bored into Pandora's own. Still, Pandora resisted. 

"I can't," she said.

When Malachai's hand squeezed tighter, Pandora flinched but could not pull free. Malachai's vice-like grip was as unrelenting as his penetrating glare. "What are you afraid of, princess? The boy's life is meaningless, forfeit if you merely wish it." Malachai let his gaze fall over the flock of shocked onlookers. 

"You heard me right. You are meant only to serve."

Malachai pointed at the receding crowd. "You see that? That is power, Pandora. Fear is power. And it could all be yours." He released her hand, letting his fingers brush hers. "You know what you must do."