Mareena clutched her newborn niece as she skimmed down the hallway, her dress billowing out behind her. She wanted to run. She desperately wanted to run. But she couldn’t with so many around her. It would draw too much attention, and for her, attention was a death sentence.
Palace guards and various officials scrambled down the hallway to get to the queen. Mareena glanced back at the queen’s bedroom, where she had been moments before. In the chaos, she had slipped into the room, stolen the newborn princess, for whom nobody had spared any attention, and silently snuck out. She overheard echoing voices in the hallway, a conversation between the king and whatever unlucky advisor happened to be in his general vicinity.
“This situation is awfully inconvenient,” the king stated. “The queen has died. If I cannot remarry, this means I will only have two heirs.”
“It’s an old tradition, My King,” one of the advisors explained. “Not taking another wife is a gesture of respect to the queen’s family of origin.”
“You’re suggesting I should put my entire dynasty at risk just to honor her?”
“You have two children, the prince and newly born princess. I hardly think you should worry,” the advisor responded. “Queen Ionda served her purpose.”
“That’s . . .” The king exhaled. “I apologize. I should contain my anger.”
Mareena squeezed the baby tightly as a single tear spilled down her cheek. Ionda hadn’t just been the queen. She was Mareena’s twin sister, and even though their relationship hadn’t been the best, she couldn’t believe Ionda was gone. She was all alone now.
Of course, nobody else would mourn. Emotion was nonexistent in the kingdom of Ashlon. Eradicating emotion was the objective of everyone around her.
Mareena could clearly recall the day it started—the day that had sparked the fire still ravaging the kingdom. Eight years ago, commoners stumbled upon enchanted stones near the outskirts of the kingdom. They quickly discovered that when worn around the neck, these stones siphoned away emotions, leaving you with no pain, no hurt, and no disappointment. Even now, everyone clamored to get the stones so they could escape the irrational tide of their own feelings. People now considered it quite embarrassing, even improper and barbaric, to let one’s feelings influence rational thought and judgment.
It drove Mareena absolutely crazy.
As she turned into a deserted hallway, she paused, catching her breath. As she stopped walking, tears flowed down her cheeks again, like a dam breaking. The weight of her sister’s death crushed her as she crumpled to her knees, still clutching the child.
Mareena forced herself to breathe as she gradually climbed off the floor and headed to her room—the only safe place in the palace. Luckily, nobody had witnessed her emotional outburst. She wore a sapphire necklace that should have nullified sadness. Any passersby could have easily observed her tearful breakdown as seen proof that she was a Malopath, a secret she planned to take to her grave.
As she fled to her room, she carefully tilted her face away from any passersby and prayed they wouldn’t spot the streaking tears. After what felt like a few eternities, she arrived at a polished wooden door and rushed into the room. As she shut the door, silence blanketed her. Mareena let out a sigh of relief before sitting on the floor with the young princess still nestled in her arms. The midwives had hastily thrown a blanket on her but had done nothing else to comfort the child, a testimony to the emotionless disregard the kingdom had for their children, even royal ones. The rabbit fur blanket felt fuzzy and soft as Mareena swept her fingers over the fabric.
She could have comfortably drifted into her thoughts if the infant princess hadn’t started crying. It wasn’t very loud, but the sound still jarred her. It pierced her thoughts like a sword and derailed her concentration. Mareena desired peace and calm, but that vanished with an upset baby.
An idea struck her. Her niece was crying, experiencing the primal feelings that come with life. Crying meant sadness, right? Mareena reached for the beautiful sapphire necklace around her neck. These magical stones worked on everyone, even newborns. Each stone removed a different type of emotion. Sapphires removed sadness and could stop the baby from crying. It wouldn’t do any harm, she reasoned.
Her fingers brushed against the cold sapphires as she lifted the necklace over her head and touched it to the child’s skin.
The princess continued to cry.
With rising frustration, Mareena repositioned the necklace so all four sapphires touched the child, but she observed no change. Then a shock of realization swept through Mareena, making her freeze. She was painfully aware of the sound of her own heart, beating like the flap of a thousand birds as her mind grasped the implications of her new discovery. Every instinct screamed at her to run away, to wipe away what she had witnessed, but she couldn’t. The necklace slipped from her fingers and fell softly onto the carpet, having shattered her universe.
A sudden knock at the door made her gasp and almost drop the princess. She bolted upright, breathing heavily, and wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her dress. As the door clicked open, she prayed that her puffy, red eyes wouldn’t give away her secret.
Her brother-in-law, the king, stood rigidly in the hallway. Mareena’s gaze fell on the necklace he wore: a ruby, a sapphire, and an amber stone to nullify of the emotions anger, sadness, and love. She felt glad, at least, that the necklace now included an anger stone, which he hadn’t been wearing while speaking to the advisor.
The king clasped his hands behind his back and observed her formally. “Hello, Mareena.” His voice was neutral and toneless.
“Hello, Your Majesty,” she replied, imitating the formality.
“You have the princess with you. I was surprised when I saw you leave. Did you think it was appropriate to take her?”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I saw that the midwives were done with her, and since her crying was disruptive, I thought it best to remove her. You can introduce her to the court now, if you wish to do so.”
“No, I see now that your action was logical,” he answered. “I assume you will continue to wear sapphires this evening, due to the abruptness of the queen’s death?”
She tried to make her response sound dismissive. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. Even without the stones, I have no sadness to speak of. Her death means nothing to me.”
He nodded his head. “Good. Then you will supervise the princess for now. I have things to attend to.”
The king’s order startled her. Me? The unimportant lady with no real experience with children? You must be crazy. I only took her because she was cold and alone. I thought I would only have her a few minutes.
Wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible, Mareena spoke again. “Is there anything else, Your Majesty?”
“Yes, indeed. This doesn’t follow protocol, but I would like for you to test the princess for Malopathy.”
Mareena nodded, carefully selecting her words. “I have already completed that task for you. Nothing remotely suggests that possibility.”
“That is fortunate. It would be inconvenient to execute one of my heirs since I will only ever have two.” He paused. “I must go. You have your instructions.”
Mareena nodded again, wincing at the lack of sympathy in his voice. The door finally closed, freeing her from the building tension. The princess was silent now. She was asleep, peaceful. Mareena smiled at her and sat on the floor again.
She couldn’t help but feel both terrified and elated for the child, who apparently was a Malopath like her. Mareena had no clue what caused people with her gift—or maybe it was a curse—to have emotions that refused to be silenced by the stones. Being a Malopath was a crime punishable by immediate public execution, even if one happened to be a member of the royal family.
Her mind flashed back to the day when she recognized her Malopathy. It occurred eight years ago when the stones sapped away everyone’s emotions while hers stubbornly remained. Even then, she realized the task she had to undertake: to suppress all emotion, to pretend to fit in, and to remain in the shadows.
The princess, however, was just a baby. She knew nothing about politics, social norms, or Malopathic people. If Mareena raised her without telling her of her true nature, she might as well sentence the baby to death. She already felt linked to the princess. They were both the same, an impossibility that everyone wanted to eradicate. She felt obligated to protect the child from her own nature.
I can teach you, little one. I will keep you safe. For as long as I live, I promise that no harm will come to you. I’ll teach you how to conceal your emotions, to pretend that the stones work no differently on you.
And most of all, I’ll show you how to blend into the background and stay away from attention.
Trust me. Being a Malopath is a dangerous game to play.