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I winced when Cordell plopped to the carpet, unconscious. The princess eyed us with suspicion. It was obvious that she still didn’t trust that her brother was insane. I eyed Zamire, whose nervous gaze was trained on the Janton prisoner. Before he teleported away, he was about to tell me something. I eyed Princess Shala, who still remained in the room. Damn, what would be a good reason to pull him aside? I racked my brain, but couldn’t conceive of a way to speak alone.
“Zamire, you—”
“It’s Prince Zamire,” he snapped in my direction, and pain sliced my chest. Though Princess Shala looked satisfied, Tia seemed downright joyful at the public slight.
Angelo walked over to me, kindness in his eyes. “Royals are very prickly about their titles, even if you’re friends with them,” he told me.
“Don’t take any advice from paint boy,” Tia warned.
“Did I personally do something to you?” Angelo asked.
“Yes. You were born,” Tia hissed. Now that was enough. I couldn’t stand bullies and wouldn’t allow someone so nice to be disrespected.
“You’re one to talk. The reason why we’re in this mess is because of you. Instead of teleporting to your village to see if I was lying, you threw a hissy fit. Then, when you saw that I was right, you drew attention to us and tried to attack the emperor. If it wasn’t for me and my quick thinking, you would have been parts in a lab,” I reprimanded.
Angelo frowned. “Parts in a lab?” the soldier slowly asked, his eyes going wide.
“Yes. That’s exactly what Emperor Tulda said,” I replied, sweat coating my neck.
“What color were Emperor Tulda’s eyes?” Angelo confidently inquired.
“What does the color of my brother’s eyes have anything to do with this conversation?” Princess Shala demanded.
“Milky white,” I rasped out.
“Mental clones,” Angelo breathed out.
“No way, those abominations were eradicated by the military might of five planets centuries ago,” Tia protested.
“For someone that thought that I was inept, you sure drew the wrong conclusion,” Angelo quipped.
Zamire nodded. “I suspected something along those lines. But I need to talk to my father. He’ll know for sure.”
Unfortunately for us, a weary Emperor Tulda strolled into the room, wearing aviators. Princess Shala eyed him with a thoughtful expression.
“Tully, why are you still wearing that contraption on your face?” she demanded. The possible clone ignored his sister and walked over to Tia. He held his big palm out.
“You have something that belongs to me, Najorian,” he said.
“Tulda, where is your wife?” Shala demanded.
“I don’t have a wife,” Emperor Tulda replied.
“This can’t be,” the princess whispered.
“Go on, Najorian, hand me the vial,” the emperor ordered.
The princess whistled, and a long sword appeared in her hand. The emperor didn’t even glance at his sister. His hungry eyes were all for Tia.
“Give it back. You stole a prototype,” he shouted.
“Prototype,” we all shouted in unison.
“It was purple,” Tia said. “I took the right one.”
Angelo groaned. “He tricked you. There’s clearly no prototype.”
I was going to let out a denial until the emperor dove for Tia at such a speed that none of us could do a thing. He grabbed Tia’s cloak and yanked, part of it escaping in his hand. Then he tossed a knife right at her chest. I let out a scream. Angelo teleported away so fast that my eyes didn’t register that he was suddenly on top of Tia, the knife floating an inch from his arm.
The emperor did one of those dreaded slow claps. “A Najorian with telekinesis ended up on my planet. How was I so lucky?” he wondered.
“You ordered my imprisonment, sir,” Angelo said, his tone hard.
“What for?” the emperor inquired.
“For blowing up the Kigor Port,” Angelo replied. The crazed emperor laughed and did the annoying slow-clapping thing.
“Tulda, you were truly a madman. Eleron was right to select you. Oh, Najorian specimen, you’ve gotten it all wrong. Chaos blew up the Kigor Port to upset the greedy Nerethian lords. Your charges won’t stick for long.”
Tears streamed down Princess Shala’s face, her sword arm shaking. “No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” the emperor said, mocking his sister. “Thank you so much for keeping all of my specimens safe, dear sister. I’m afraid you are no longer useful to chaos. Your obsession with vanity won’t suit my cause.” I needed to think quickly. If Emperor Tulda killed Shala now, then the Janton government would be toppled. That meant vulnerable innocent lives would be ripe for the picking. I stepped in front of Shala, my heart nearly cracking from fear.
“No, you don’t want to kill her, Prince Eleron. You want her for your army. She’s a great warrior,” I lied. Princess Shala let out a curse, but I ignored her.
“Her mind is strong. Chaos has been drugging the water supply for years. The serum is only the last step. It will wear off too quickly on her.”
“You can create another serum with her help,” I offered.
Prince Eleron shook his head. “I already have a group of Janton in mind for that. Chaos has voted, and she must die,” the clone shouted. Moments later, black-clad Janton soldiers charged us. Oh, crap.
I eyed Princess Shala, who eyed the ten vacant-eyed opponents with fear. I couldn’t blame her. Most of the guards were middle-aged housewives clutching red rods, while the other three were teenage boys. He pulled a black box from his pocket and fiddled with it.
“Kill everyone accept for that Najorian boy and the human girl,” he ordered. It was apparent that Angelo and I could sit this fight out, if we were dishonorable enough. I almost wanted to back out and run in the other direction. But then my heart reminded me that I could never leave Zamire to fight these people alone. To no one’s surprise, Tia and Luke teleported from the room, obviously not down to face battle with us. I eyed Angelo, wondering if he would do the same. But he teleported beside one of the women and snatched the rod straight out of her hand and shot a beam of light at Emperor Tulda. His skin sizzled for a moment, but then he burst out laughing.
“I’m immune to those rods, foolish Najorian,” he taunted. One woman backflipped over me in an effort to get to the princess. I faced Shala and shot a ball of light at the woman’s back, her body crumbling to dust. Guilt pounded into me at the sight of her remains, knowing that I just executed an innocent victim. But I had one objective: I needed to get the princess out of here.
I eyed Zamire, who commandeered his own rod. He looked so pissed off at me that I swore his look could slice me in half. Seriously, it wasn’t like I conjured up a mental clone that had a mentally controlled army. I ignored him and eyed the eight brain washed fighters with confusion, since they weren’t making a move. But then I realized that I was in the way of getting to Shala, and Angelo was hanging onto Zamire. From what it looked like, Zamire was struggling to get away. That was odd. Angelo’s tactic was working.
The bones on the floor scraped the bottoms of my bare feet on my way to the princess. I held onto her arm, and Emperor Tulda sighed and took off his shades. His milky white gaze glanced in my direction, then he snapped his fingers.
“You’re right, Prince Eleron, fight to injure, not kill,” Emperor Tulda said.
“Jade,” Zamire shouted. His desperate cry made my gaze land on him, and then he vanished, Angelo going with him. Now it was down to the princess, me, eight guards, and a crazy clone. What could go wrong?
