mena

He scowled. His posse of minions sidled up to him, eyeing Kai with boyish smugness. “Whatever. I want you to come to my place after school. We’re going to play some games. Have some fun.”

The fun was laden with implication. Kai knew from the way this pack picked on the girls in their class and ganged up on the boys at recess that fun would be some form of torture for him. 

“I’m not interested,” Kai responded flatly, shoving past the wall of shoulders. 

“Hey!” one of the boys yelled, grabbing his elbow. “Don’t just walk off.”

When Kai pushed ahead all the same, the boy ripped his port from his hand and flung it on the ground. A crack rippled across the screen.

Kai snatched it up. “I’m going to go tell Kang-dàren that you’re harassing students.” He did his best to keep his voice level in the way he had heard his father speak when dealing with accusatory politicians. 

“Oh yeah,” Lijun mocked, “just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you rule this place!”

Kai reached the door just before they grabbed his bag straps. He slipped inside the classroom. 

Kang-dàren glanced up. “Kai? What’s wrong?”

“Lijun again,” Kai said, holding up his portscreen as evidence.

She sighed, standing and spreading her hands on her desk. “I’ll go get him. You can leave out the back door.”

He nodded and waited until he heard her trudge to the hallway and inform the recalcitrant youths that their parents would be called again before he left for biology class.

Lijun was correct, though. Kai’s princely status did little at this school. Everyone here was elite—the children of politicians, dukes and dames, celebrities and billionaires. He was grateful for this normalisation. School was one of the only places he didn’t feel like the most famous thirteen-year-old in the world. But his lack of leverage did have its downsides. Particularly when it came to playground bullies.

After biology, Kai was walking past the front office on the way to the school canteen, his friend Yìchén by his side nattering about the latest update to Alien Invasion. Through the glass barrier, Kai saw Lijun slumped in a chair, his stern-looking father glaring down at him. He grabbed Yìchén’s arm, pulling them out of view.

“The game controls are way better now and—” Yìchén halted, glancing around in confusion.

The office door slid open. Lijun exited stiffly, his shoulder trapped under his father’s firm hand. When he saw Kai, his expression became impossibly more sour.

Kai darted his gaze to the floor, hoping to play it off as though they hadn’t noticed him.

Lijun didn’t like that. “You know, Your Highness,” he seethed. “You wouldn’t be the first royal that people got sick of. Remember what happened to Princess Selene?”

His father dragged him away, but Kai saw a quiver in his deep-set frown. The man, a cabinet member, was publicly against many of Emperor Rikan’s policies and a staunch supporter of an anti-monarchical democracy. Kai wasn’t surprised his son had followed in his footsteps.

Lijun mouthed a “Don’t push your luck” as he was led down the hallway. Kai could only look away.

Yìchén shivered, ever the coward despite his mother’s status as a military general. He was a gangly teen, about a ruler’s length taller than Kai, with his hair and eyes the same shade of brown and his cheeks covered in a smattering of pimples. His face was stuck in an interminable grimace. “He scares me.”

Kai tried to shake off the strange aura, but Lijun’s words were lodged in his mind. He worried, for the first time, that perhaps his taunts were more than childish insults. Perhaps Lijun would sooner see Kai fall into some horrible, fiery accident.

Just like Princess Selene.

———

“Everything okay, bud?” Dad asked.

Kai dropped his backpack to the floor, sliding onto the stool by the kitchen island. Dad placed a plate of red bean mooncakes in front of him. “Yeah. Just the regular school stuff.”

His father stood behind the bench, wiping his hands on his trousers. He was dressed more casually than normal: a cream t-shirt rather than his formal button-downs, suggesting he hadn’t had any meetings today. Kai liked when his dad didn’t have meetings. It usually meant that he would be less tired at the end of the day and that the two of them could do something fun together. Kai hoped his own bad mood wouldn’t spoil it.

“Is the schoolwork getting hard?” he asked, watching Kai attentively.

“Nah.” He lifted his bag with his foot by the strap, reaching for his port. The screen was unsalvageable and when he thumbed the power button only half of the screen woke, the other dead black.

Dad frowned. “What happened?”

“My classmates happened.”

His expression darkened. “Lijun again?”

“Yeah.”

Dad sighed. It would be an abuse of his power to march into the Principal’s office and demand that the rowdy troublemakers be suspended, even when Kai knew he wanted to. Kai knew that because he himself wanted to give them a piece of his mind, and he knew that he didn’t get that indignation from his mother.

“I didn’t yell at him, I promise,” Kai insisted.

Dad shook his head. “I know you didn’t. Did you tell your teacher?”

He nodded. 

“Good. They’ll sort it out.”

They both knew that this issue had been ongoing for months without any signs of being sorted out. But there was no point dwelling on what they could do little about.

Dad nudged the plate closer to Kai. “Come on, this will cheer you up. I’ll make us some milk tea.”

Kai smiled halfheartedly and bit into a mooncake. It was delicious and succeeded at lifting his spirits, even just a little. “What are we doing tonight?”

“We’ve got dinner with some British dignitaries. The Annesley family, I believe.”

His spirits fell again. So many for fun this evening. Kai tried to brush it off. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. So...how was your day, Dad?”

Dad brought the kettle over to the sink, filling it with water. “Oh, the usual. Boring legislative stuff.” He winked at Kai. “I’ll be happy when you’re old enough to help me out with that.”

Kai rolled his eyes. “You just want to sit around watching net-dramas all day while I run the country.”

“Yep.” Dad grinned. He switched the kettle on to boil and stole a mooncake off Kai’s plate with a wink.

He liked the idea of working with his dad. It would beat Algebra any day. Since turning thirteen, Kai had noticed a lot of his classmates becoming grumpy, moody and irritated with their parents. Perhaps Kai would have also felt that way, but since losing Mum, he knew his time with his father was precious.

It was with this thought that he voiced an idea he’d had stowed away for some time. “Dad? Can we do something this weekend? Maybe go to the snow cabin in the Changbai mountains? The one we used to go to with Mum?”

Dad smiled sadly. “I’d love to. But unfortunately I’ve got an important conference this weekend.”

Kai chided himself for getting hopeful. Dad did his best to spend time with him, but more often than not these days, the answer to his requests was no. 

“Can’t you cancel it?” Kai asked, hoping he would be proved wrong.

“I’m sorry, Hǔ zi, It’s a really important one. But I promise we can do that next weekend.” He began pouring the hot water into the cups. 

Kai deflated with the use of the nickname. Hǔ zi had been Mum’s nickname for him. She said that when he was a baby, he tried to bite her fingers, just like a tiger cub. Dad picked it up after she had died. It reminded Kai of her, softened and calmed him, and Dad tended to use it to mollify him.

It didn’t work this time.

“I’m not thirsty,” Kai announced, sliding off the chair.

Dad startled. “Kai, please understand—”

He turned and headed to the living room. “I do, Dad.”

As he stomped off, the smell of jasmine wafting up to his nose, he heard his father sigh. His heart clenched.

Kai knew he was being unreasonable. The emperor’s duty was the heaviest in the whole world, and he had billions of lives resting in his palm. He couldn’t always make concessions for his son. It was just that—Kai felt more and more was being expected of him. Their fortnightly outings had become monthly affairs, and now once in a blue moon. Dad tried his best to balance both, but more was demanding his attention lately, and the word Lunars was what circulated around the palace the most. Whispers passed from servant to maid, guard to secretary, exchanged in hallways for Kai to overhear.

Kai supposed he had inherited his father’s spitefulness, because right now, he wished Queen Levana would just keel up and die.

———

Yìchén was practically bubbling over with excitement when Kai spotted him at the school entrance on Friday. Their friend Jenny stood beside him, looking supremely bored.

“Hi Jenny,” Kai greeted as he reached them. “Are you feeling better?”

Jenny was as put together as usual with the exception of a reddish glow to her nose. She was dressed in the standard girl’s uniform, and though they followed a strict policy on jewellery and makeup, she rebelled with gothic touches where allowed. Her black hair was tied into pigtails with little skull barrettes. Her lip balm was purple rather than the more common pink and Kai knew her beautiful topaz ring had the hidden internal engraving, Live to die.

“Mostly. Nanay told me if I have the energy to sneak out last night to Myla’s place then I have the energy to come to school.” She gave a side glare at Yìchén. “Though I think I have another headache coming on.”

“Kai!” Yìchén gasped, bouncing on his toes. “You’ve got to hear about the forum I was reading through last night!”

Kai cast Jenny a sympathetic look. It was too early in the morning for one of Yìchén’s seminars. While Jenny was sick for the past week, Kai had been subject to a number of them.

The bell rang for class. 

“Uh, why don’t you tell us about it in study hall?” Kai suggested.

Oh boy, did he. After their separate first classes, the three met up in their usual spot in the library between the netscreens and the bean bag lounge. Kai and Jenny tried in vain to practise their second-era history flashcards as Yìchén regaled them with his findings.

“So I was thinking about what Lijun said yesterday—you know, about Princess Selene? And I got curious cause I don’t know much about her other than the fact she died in a fire, obviously,” he rambled, taking no breaks between words. “But then I found something super interesting. It’s this secret that Queen Levana is hiding, you’ll never guess—”

“That the fire wasn’t an accident? And that Levana killed her?” Jenny guessed in a monotone, resting her chin on her palm and staring at the digital bookshelves.

Yìchén’s mouth hung open. “You’ve heard the rumours too?”

“Oh come on, everyone knows that Levana killed her. That’s as good as fact.”

This caught Kai’s attention. “I didn’t know that. Is there evidence that she killed Selene?”

Jenny scoffed. “Evidence is relative. Think of the situation: you’re an evil princess who happens to become queen regent when your sister dies. All that’s standing in the way of you and the throne is a dumb little three-year-old. Wouldn’t you want to dispose of her while she’s young and helpless?”

“No,” Kai protested, very unfond of being compared to the Lunar royals a second time. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t because you’re a softy,” she corrected. “We’re talking about a crazy evil lady here. Of course she killed Selene.”

Kai wilted into his seat. Jenny, ever the nihilist, likely made these conclusions long ago. Maybe his father had sheltered him because Kai had honestly never considered it before. Could an aunt really kill her own niece? And a toddler at that?

“Anyway, that’s not the secret I was talking about, though I definitely believe that’s true,” Yìchén interjected. He lowered his voice, glancing around conspiratorially. “As I was researching the princess, I found this forum that goes beyond the murder. They have very strong reason to believe that Princess Selene is—”

“Students.” They all jumped at the scratchy voice. The head librarian stood by the table, glowering down at them. “This is your study period. I would hope that you three would be diligently studying. You can discuss your flights of fancy at recess.”

“Yes, Imai-dàren, sorry,” Kai said respectfully, bowing his head. The others exchanged quick sorrys along with him. Imai-dàren was one other the sterner librarians, cranky and so ancient that even Kai’s dad remembered being scolded by her when he attended the academy.

Yìchén waited until she’d gone to lurk elsewhere then fixed his eyes resolutely on Kai’s. “They think Princess Selene is alive.”

Jenny barked out a laugh. Kai slapped a hand over her mouth, smothering her giggles as Imai-dàren sent a searing glare their way. 

“Jen, you’re going to get us a detention,” he hissed, but she all the same continued chortling, the sound only just muffled by his hand. It was probably against the code of conduct for one student to manhandle another so flippantly, but Kai knew Jenny wouldn’t have an issue with it. The pair of them had been in the same class every year since kindergarten. Her mother was a renowned Filipina soprano, a favourite of the Imperial family, so the two had always grown up in the same circles.

Also, there was that two-week stint last year when they’d dated. Well, if hanging out in the library once before school and meeting up twice on the weekend for ice creams can be considered dating. It had fizzled out before it had even begun to produce a flame. Despite the awkward months that followed, they had managed to salvage their friendship. Now a year later, the short spell had made them even more comfortable with each other.

Plus, he’d gotten his first kiss out of it, and he really wasn’t complaining about that. After all, even stupid Lijun hadn’t had his first kiss yet.

Jenny peeled his hand away. “Okay Yìchén, those games have finally rotted your brain.”

“It’s true!” he protested, splaying his hands before them desperately. “Look: there have been reports that the doctor that treated Princess Selene was executed not long after the fire. Why would she be killed unless she was hiding the fact that the princess is alive!”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, and how did we get this information? Luna is totally shut up. We can’t communicate with people up there.”

Yìchén gestured to Kai. “Kai’s dad does.”

She turned to him. “Has Levana been feeding your dad conspiracy theories regarding her dead niece?”

Kai scratched the back of his neck. “...No? I don’t really know what they talk about.”

Jenny cocked her head at Yìchén.

He bit his lip, twiddling his fingers on top of his portscreen. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh! Because there are Lunars who escaped and came here to Earth! They brought the information!”

This time, Kai guffawed. “There are no Lunars on Earth!”

“Exactly,” affirmed Jenny.

Yìchén hung his head, resting it on his elbows. “Fine. I guess you guys don’t get it. You just think it’s just one of my stupid ideas,” he muttered.

Kai reached across the table and patted his arm. “Hey, it’s not stupid. It would make a cool story. We just don’t think it’s all that…plausible.”

Jenny snorted. Kai kicked her foot under the table.

Disheartened nonetheless, Yìchén switched on his port with a blank expression. “We should be studying anyway.”

They worked dutifully for the rest of the period. But as Jenny quizzed Kai on second-era European wars, he stumbled over a few answers. His thoughts were distant. What did Dad say to Levana in those meetings? He knew Luna hated Earth, but why did Dad suddenly seem so stressed about it? Was something coming?

Jenny tutted as she marked down a 16/20 on Kai’s report. “You’ve been slacking.”

Kai tried to shake the premonitions away. “It’s because you haven’t been here this week to supervise me. Okay: who wrote The Communist Manifesto?”

———

Kai still hadn’t talked to Dad since their tiff. It was mostly circumstantial—that same night they had dinner with those dignitaries which ruled out the possibility of a conversation. Then the next day Kai went over to Won-shik’s house—well, mansion—to play video games. His mum had roped him into staying for dinner and as much as Kai enjoyed the immaculately-crafted dishes from the palace chefs, it was nice to have a normal homemade meal every once in a while.

He came home that night to a brand new portscreen lying on his bed, the lockscreen already set to a backdrop from one of his favourite net-dramas. Dad knew he loved it.

Now it was Saturday and Kai’s guilt was eating him up.

He knew the conference started after lunch so Dad would still be in his office preparing his notes. At 10:34, Kai switched on the kettle and began assembling a tray of tea and pineapple buns that Won-shik’s mum insisted he take home. He had never paid much attention to how Dad made his tea so he had to do a netsearch on his new port. While flicking through different recipes, a comm from Jenny popped up as a banner on his screen.

Jenny: heres a new conspiracy theory for yìchén

The link opened to an article declaring that Escort droids are aliens sent from Planet x7-12 in the Corneia galaxy to transform humans into mermaids through micro-radiation.

Kai left the message as Seen. Yìchén may be a little eccentric, definitely skittish, but he was still their friend. Kai didn’t like making fun of him. Jenny seemed to enjoy tearing apart anything that didn’t conform to her own misanthropy. Kai wondered—if he started to do something a little radical, would she be sending off jeering comments about him to her other friends?

Once the cups were no longer scalding to the touch, he tasted the jasmine tea with a spoon; it wasn’t as good as Dad made it, but then he didn’t make it as good as Mum either, so it was fair game.

He took the tray to Dad’s office at a serv-droid’s pace, careful that the tea didn’t slosh over the rims of the cups. It would have been smarter to pour the tea at his destination. Alas, Kai had never carried a tea tray before.

It was thanks to this cautious approach that he heard Dad’s words drifting down the hallway and could pause before he was heard.

“We’re talking about war, Torin. That threat isn’t going to just go away by exchanging pleasantries before and after meetings.”

Kai gripped the tray tighter. He crept forward, keeping the cups steady and listened to his father’s escalating voice.

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” said Konn Torin, Dad’s grouchy old adviser. He had been adviser to Kai’s grandfather and if he somehow managed to be immortal, then he’d probably stick around to be Kai’s adviser when he inherited the throne in about fifty years.

Kai guessed that he liked him. He didn’t like when Torin told him to stop slouching.

“So why doesn’t Camilla understand that? Or any of them on that stupid panel? Do they not realise the gravity of this?!”

He held his breath. He had never heard Dad this angry.

“Perhaps—” Torin hesitated, “perhaps they have not been made privy to the same information we have.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Torin sounded unsure. “A conversation I had with Governor-General Andrews. He seemed rather flippant about the matter. He ventured so far as to say that Levana was, ahem, ‘bluffing.’”

Dad laughed incredulously. “Bluffing? Are they having the same meetings with Levana as us?”

“Actually, I would say no, Your Majesty.”

Dad was quiet for a while. Kai’s fingers were turning white around the knuckles.

“So Levana is isolating her threats to us,” he said finally.

“That seems to be the case.”

“Because we’re her main target,” he growled. “That’s why she killed off her husband, isn’t it?”

Kai blinked. He had heard that Levana’s husband had died, but it hadn’t been big news. He was a mere guard. It was unsettling to hear Dad call it a murder in such an undisguised way. At the time of its announcement, he had never implied such a thing.

Kai knew being the emperor meant keeping secrets. He hadn’t known that meant keeping secrets from him.

“Come now, Rikan, we don’t know that she seeks a marriage alliance yet. They have nothing presently to offer us,” said Torin persuasively. “They don’t have any bargaining chips for such an arrangement.”

Torin’s confident assurance was marred with a tinge of doubt. Dad was not convinced.

“For now. But they’ll make a reason.”

Dad. Always the optimist. Always able to find a silver lining.

No. Mum had been the optimist. Maybe he had been mimicking her, pretending to have the same steady faith that she had for Kai’s sake. Maybe internally things weren’t as okay as he always made them out to be. 

War. Threats. A marriage alliance?

His hands tremored, sending a loud rattle through the china.

Kai heard the dual intake of breath from inside the office. He finally reached the door, peering inside with trepidation.

Dad’s tight shoulders relaxed at seeing him. “Oh, hey Hǔ zi, How long have you been there?”

“I just came now,” Kai lied. He lifted the tray. “I, uh, wanted to bring you some tea before the conference.”

He smiled warmly. “That’s very kind of you, Kai.” He sat as Kai walked over to the desk, laying the tray down gently. “Would you like some, Torin?”

Torin coughed, hands tucked behind his back. “No, thank you. I’m quite quenched as it is,” he answered, abstemious as always. From the significant distance he maintained between himself and the desk, he had probably surmised that this was Kai’s first attempt at making tea.

Dad sent Torin a long, pointed look. “Take a seat, Torin. Have some tea.”

Torin sat as ordered and Kai poured a cup for each of them. It was unnerving—his father, moments before ready to rip out Levana’s throat, and now the soft, gentle father he’d always known. 

“Dad,” Kai started, a little shakily. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you on Thursday. I know how important your responsibilities are. You don’t have to give them up for me.”

He smiled sadly, “Thank you, Kai. I’m sorry I can’t always spend time with you. I want to—all the time.” His eyes shone and he reached out to graze Kai’s cheek. “You’re a good boy.”

He should feel indignant being referred to like a child, but Kai just felt warm and safe. “Thanks, Dad.”

He retracted his hand to sip his tea and beamed. “Tastes great! What do you think, Torin?”

“Delicious,” Torin said in the way he might have if Kai had left a rodent in the cup.

Kai shuffled from foot to foot. “Dad? What’s happening with the Lunars?”

Dad’s openness turned wary. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“Just…something some classmates said,” he fibbed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Are they going to declare war on us?”

“No. I won’t let that happen. They are…testing our patience at the moment. But don’t worry about it too much.” He reached for Kai’s hands, grasping them firmly. “I’ll protect our people. I’ll protect you.”

At that, Kai rounded the desk and enveloped him in a hug. Dad squeezed back. “I don’t wanna go to Changbai anyway,” Kai murmured into his shoulder. “It’s not cold enough for skiing. Let’s leave it until winter.”

It wasn’t true. Kai did want to go, but as he felt his father sigh in relief, he knew he had made the right decision.

He broke away and headed to the door. “Good luck with the conference.”

“Thank you, buddy. I’ll see you at dinner.”

On the way back to his room, Kai dwelled on these facts: 

1. The threat of war with Luna was very real, 

2. If Dad believed Levana had killed her husband, then she had certainly killed her niece, and,

3. It was the duty of the prince to do something to stop her.

But what?

———

He had a nightmare on Sunday. A woman was hovering over him, blood dripping down her fingers that gripped the handle of a knife. He couldn’t make out her face—he didn’t know her, not really, but she knew him. All that was visible in this dank, foggy mist was her gleaming, sharp teeth and black eyes, shining as he crawled up to him.

“You won’t get away from me,” she sang, though it was more of an echo, paralysing him to the floor.

She lifted her hand and he cried out, covering himself with his arms. But as she took the plunge, her direction shifted.

It landed on a girl next to him. She rolled away just in time, but the woman was undeterred, readying herself for the next strike. The girl was young, younger even than him, and she was crying. “Please,” she begged him, “Please! Stop her!”

The hysteria in her pleas broke through the spell rooting him to the floor. His arm shot out and grabbed her, pulling her away seconds before the blade pierced her heart.

“Thank you,” she gasped out. His mind blinded him to her appearance, her features, the true tone of her voice. Yet Kai knew her name. And he knew implicitly, that now he had helped her, she would do her part and help him.

———

Kai combed his fingers through his hair in the hover on the way to school. He had overslept, spending his precious hours of sleep pacing the floor, trying to shake off his nightmare. When that didn’t work, he had analysed it. Broken it down as though it were a vision sent from a deity.

He eventually wore himself to sleep. When Nainsi rolled in to rouse him at 8:15 (activated when he hit snooze for the fifth time) he only managed to dress, brush his teeth and stuff a croissant into his backpack just before his hover left without him.

Deeming his hair acceptable, he opened his bag and rummaged around for the croissant. The hover slowed to a stop. 

He glanced outside. “What’s wrong?”

“We are experiencing a minor delay due to traffic,” the robotic operator replied.

Kai saw a row of a dozen hovers piled up in front of them. “There’s never any traffic here.”

“This route is usually clear at our normal departure time, however as we are precisely seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds behind typical schedule, traffic conditions have worsened.”

He groaned. Homeroom started in eight minutes. He drummed his fingers on his legs, calculating. “How much longer will it be?”

“Approximately four minutes and twenty-one seconds.”

Gathering his bag and coat, he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Drop us to the ground.”

The hover began to descend. Kai flung open the door before they had even reached the street.

“Your Highness, the journey is not complete,” the feminine voice objected.

“I’ll run!” Kai yelled, jumping to the ground and taking off. He sprinted to the end of the street, tearing a bite from his croissant and nearly knocking over a pedestrian and a chihuahua dressed in a pink jumpsuit. “Sorry!” he called out.

The academy came into view as he turned the corner, some fellow late stragglers rushing out of hovers. He checked his port watch. Six minutes to homeroom. 

As he dashed up the courtyard and into the locker bay, he received a good helping of bewildered stares. Reaching his locker, Kai folded over his knees, gasping in air as his heart pounded in his temples.

A chuckle cut through his wheezing. “Hey, whatcha running from, Prince? Finally realised what was coming for you?”

Kai closed his eyes, holding out a hand. “Later Lijun, I don’t have time for this.” 

Lijun looked positively furious when Kai opened his eyes, but he just turned, pressed his thumbprint to his locker keypad and stuffed his bag inside.

“Oh, so you think you can just talk like that to me, huh?” Lijun snarled, ripping the pastry from his hand. “You think you can just—”

“Yeah, yeah, harass me later, I gotta go.” Kai seized his wrist, took another bite of his croissant, and sprinted away. Lijun would make him regret that later. But he had greater priorities right now.

The digital clock above the school’s trophy cabinet read 8:47. Three minutes left.

It took a good deal of force to weave past the loitering students blocking the hallway. Eventually, Kai found his target by the library door. Yìchén was engrossed in his portscreen, loudly making sound effects as he swung it around like a steering wheel. “Yes! Triple hit!”

“Yìchén!” 

Yìchén lept in his skin, dropping his port and only just managing to catch it midair. “Kai! I hadn’t saved that level,” he moaned.

Kai raced over. “Is Jenny here?”

“She said she’s hanging out with Myla today. Something about being sick of our testosterone-fueled—”

“Good. I need to talk to you. Without her.”

Confusion was scrawled across his face. “We have homeroom in only a minute.”

One minute. No time for formalities then. Kai grabbed his shoulders, ignoring the Game Over chime from the port and the mystified look in Yìchén’s eyes.

“Tell me what you know about Princess Selene being alive.”

Notes

Did you know that every member of the Rampion Crew has a short story about their childhood EXCEPT for Kai? This is an egregious oversight and I had to remedy this immediately.

Btw this is set when kai is 13 because right now cinder is 11 and waking up for the first time so it’s like princess selene is waking to the world and to kai!!

虎子 (Hǔ zi) means tiger cub in Mandarin

He scowled. His posse of minions sidled up to him, eyeing Kai with boyish smugness. “Whatever. I want you to come to my place after school. We’re going to play some games. Have some fun.”

The fun was laden with implication. Kai knew from the way this pack picked on the girls in their class and ganged up on the boys at recess that fun would be some form of torture for him. 

“I’m not interested,” Kai responded flatly, shoving past the wall of shoulders. 

“Hey!” one of the boys yelled, grabbing his elbow. “Don’t just walk off.”

When Kai pushed ahead all the same, the boy ripped his port from his hand and flung it on the ground. A crack rippled across the screen.

Kai snatched it up. “I’m going to go tell Kang-dàren that you’re harassing students.” He did his best to keep his voice level in the way he had heard his father speak when dealing with accusatory politicians. 

“Oh yeah,” Lijun mocked, “just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you rule this place!”

Kai reached the door just before they grabbed his bag straps. He slipped inside the classroom. 

Kang-dàren glanced up. “Kai? What’s wrong?”

“Lijun again,” Kai said, holding up his portscreen as evidence.

She sighed, standing and spreading her hands on her desk. “I’ll go get him. You can leave out the back door.”

He nodded and waited until he heard her trudge to the hallway and inform the recalcitrant youths that their parents would be called again before he left for biology class.

Lijun was correct, though. Kai’s princely status did little at this school. Everyone here was elite—the children of politicians, dukes and dames, celebrities and billionaires. He was grateful for this normalisation. School was one of the only places he didn’t feel like the most famous thirteen-year-old in the world. But his lack of leverage did have its downsides. Particularly when it came to playground bullies.

After biology, Kai was walking past the front office on the way to the school canteen, his friend Yìchén by his side nattering about the latest update to Alien Invasion. Through the glass barrier, Kai saw Lijun slumped in a chair, his stern-looking father glaring down at him. He grabbed Yìchén’s arm, pulling them out of view.

“The game controls are way better now and—” Yìchén halted, glancing around in confusion.

The office door slid open. Lijun exited stiffly, his shoulder trapped under his father’s firm hand. When he saw Kai, his expression became impossibly more sour.

Kai darted his gaze to the floor, hoping to play it off as though they hadn’t noticed him.

Lijun didn’t like that. “You know, Your Highness,” he seethed. “You wouldn’t be the first royal that people got sick of. Remember what happened to Princess Selene?”

His father dragged him away, but Kai saw a quiver in his deep-set frown. The man, a cabinet member, was publicly against many of Emperor Rikan’s policies and a staunch supporter of an anti-monarchical democracy. Kai wasn’t surprised his son had followed in his footsteps.

Lijun mouthed a “Don’t push your luck” as he was led down the hallway. Kai could only look away.

Yìchén shivered, ever the coward despite his mother’s status as a military general. He was a gangly teen, about a ruler’s length taller than Kai, with his hair and eyes the same shade of brown and his cheeks covered in a smattering of pimples. His face was stuck in an interminable grimace. “He scares me.”

Kai tried to shake off the strange aura, but Lijun’s words were lodged in his mind. He worried, for the first time, that perhaps his taunts were more than childish insults. Perhaps Lijun would sooner see Kai fall into some horrible, fiery accident.

Just like Princess Selene.

———

“Everything okay, bud?” Dad asked.

Kai dropped his backpack to the floor, sliding onto the stool by the kitchen island. Dad placed a plate of red bean mooncakes in front of him. “Yeah. Just the regular school stuff.”

His father stood behind the bench, wiping his hands on his trousers. He was dressed more casually than normal: a cream t-shirt rather than his formal button-downs, suggesting he hadn’t had any meetings today. Kai liked when his dad didn’t have meetings. It usually meant that he would be less tired at the end of the day and that the two of them could do something fun together. Kai hoped his own bad mood wouldn’t spoil it.

“Is the schoolwork getting hard?” he asked, watching Kai attentively.

“Nah.” He lifted his bag with his foot by the strap, reaching for his port. The screen was unsalvageable and when he thumbed the power button only half of the screen woke, the other dead black.

Dad frowned. “What happened?”

“My classmates happened.”

His expression darkened. “Lijun again?”

“Yeah.”

Dad sighed. It would be an abuse of his power to march into the Principal’s office and demand that the rowdy troublemakers be suspended, even when Kai knew he wanted to. Kai knew that because he himself wanted to give them a piece of his mind, and he knew that he didn’t get that indignation from his mother.

“I didn’t yell at him, I promise,” Kai insisted.

Dad shook his head. “I know you didn’t. Did you tell your teacher?”

He nodded. 

“Good. They’ll sort it out.”

They both knew that this issue had been ongoing for months without any signs of being sorted out. But there was no point dwelling on what they could do little about.

Dad nudged the plate closer to Kai. “Come on, this will cheer you up. I’ll make us some milk tea.”

Kai smiled halfheartedly and bit into a mooncake. It was delicious and succeeded at lifting his spirits, even just a little. “What are we doing tonight?”

“We’ve got dinner with some British dignitaries. The Annesley family, I believe.”

His spirits fell again. So many for fun this evening. Kai tried to brush it off. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. So...how was your day, Dad?”

Dad brought the kettle over to the sink, filling it with water. “Oh, the usual. Boring legislative stuff.” He winked at Kai. “I’ll be happy when you’re old enough to help me out with that.”

Kai rolled his eyes. “You just want to sit around watching net-dramas all day while I run the country.”

“Yep.” Dad grinned. He switched the kettle on to boil and stole a mooncake off Kai’s plate with a wink.

He liked the idea of working with his dad. It would beat Algebra any day. Since turning thirteen, Kai had noticed a lot of his classmates becoming grumpy, moody and irritated with their parents. Perhaps Kai would have also felt that way, but since losing Mum, he knew his time with his father was precious.

It was with this thought that he voiced an idea he’d had stowed away for some time. “Dad? Can we do something this weekend? Maybe go to the snow cabin in the Changbai mountains? The one we used to go to with Mum?”

Dad smiled sadly. “I’d love to. But unfortunately I’ve got an important conference this weekend.”

Kai chided himself for getting hopeful. Dad did his best to spend time with him, but more often than not these days, the answer to his requests was no. 

“Can’t you cancel it?” Kai asked, hoping he would be proved wrong.

“I’m sorry, Hǔ zi, It’s a really important one. But I promise we can do that next weekend.” He began pouring the hot water into the cups. 

Kai deflated with the use of the nickname. Hǔ zi had been Mum’s nickname for him. She said that when he was a baby, he tried to bite her fingers, just like a tiger cub. Dad picked it up after she had died. It reminded Kai of her, softened and calmed him, and Dad tended to use it to mollify him.

It didn’t work this time.

“I’m not thirsty,” Kai announced, sliding off the chair.

Dad startled. “Kai, please understand—”

He turned and headed to the living room. “I do, Dad.”

As he stomped off, the smell of jasmine wafting up to his nose, he heard his father sigh. His heart clenched.

Kai knew he was being unreasonable. The emperor’s duty was the heaviest in the whole world, and he had billions of lives resting in his palm. He couldn’t always make concessions for his son. It was just that—Kai felt more and more was being expected of him. Their fortnightly outings had become monthly affairs, and now once in a blue moon. Dad tried his best to balance both, but more was demanding his attention lately, and the word Lunars was what circulated around the palace the most. Whispers passed from servant to maid, guard to secretary, exchanged in hallways for Kai to overhear.

Kai supposed he had inherited his father’s spitefulness, because right now, he wished Queen Levana would just keel up and die.

———

Yìchén was practically bubbling over with excitement when Kai spotted him at the school entrance on Friday. Their friend Jenny stood beside him, looking supremely bored.

“Hi Jenny,” Kai greeted as he reached them. “Are you feeling better?”

Jenny was as put together as usual with the exception of a reddish glow to her nose. She was dressed in the standard girl’s uniform, and though they followed a strict policy on jewellery and makeup, she rebelled with gothic touches where allowed. Her black hair was tied into pigtails with little skull barrettes. Her lip balm was purple rather than the more common pink and Kai knew her beautiful topaz ring had the hidden internal engraving, Live to die.

“Mostly. Nanay told me if I have the energy to sneak out last night to Myla’s place then I have the energy to come to school.” She gave a side glare at Yìchén. “Though I think I have another headache coming on.”

“Kai!” Yìchén gasped, bouncing on his toes. “You’ve got to hear about the forum I was reading through last night!”

Kai cast Jenny a sympathetic look. It was too early in the morning for one of Yìchén’s seminars. While Jenny was sick for the past week, Kai had been subject to a number of them.

The bell rang for class. 

“Uh, why don’t you tell us about it in study hall?” Kai suggested.

Oh boy, did he. After their separate first classes, the three met up in their usual spot in the library between the netscreens and the bean bag lounge. Kai and Jenny tried in vain to practise their second-era history flashcards as Yìchén regaled them with his findings.

“So I was thinking about what Lijun said yesterday—you know, about Princess Selene? And I got curious cause I don’t know much about her other than the fact she died in a fire, obviously,” he rambled, taking no breaks between words. “But then I found something super interesting. It’s this secret that Queen Levana is hiding, you’ll never guess—”

“That the fire wasn’t an accident? And that Levana killed her?” Jenny guessed in a monotone, resting her chin on her palm and staring at the digital bookshelves.

Yìchén’s mouth hung open. “You’ve heard the rumours too?”

“Oh come on, everyone knows that Levana killed her. That’s as good as fact.”

This caught Kai’s attention. “I didn’t know that. Is there evidence that she killed Selene?”

Jenny scoffed. “Evidence is relative. Think of the situation: you’re an evil princess who happens to become queen regent when your sister dies. All that’s standing in the way of you and the throne is a dumb little three-year-old. Wouldn’t you want to dispose of her while she’s young and helpless?”

“No,” Kai protested, very unfond of being compared to the Lunar royals a second time. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t because you’re a softy,” she corrected. “We’re talking about a crazy evil lady here. Of course she killed Selene.”

Kai wilted into his seat. Jenny, ever the nihilist, likely made these conclusions long ago. Maybe his father had sheltered him because Kai had honestly never considered it before. Could an aunt really kill her own niece? And a toddler at that?

“Anyway, that’s not the secret I was talking about, though I definitely believe that’s true,” Yìchén interjected. He lowered his voice, glancing around conspiratorially. “As I was researching the princess, I found this forum that goes beyond the murder. They have very strong reason to believe that Princess Selene is—”

“Students.” They all jumped at the scratchy voice. The head librarian stood by the table, glowering down at them. “This is your study period. I would hope that you three would be diligently studying. You can discuss your flights of fancy at recess.”

“Yes, Imai-dàren, sorry,” Kai said respectfully, bowing his head. The others exchanged quick sorrys along with him. Imai-dàren was one other the sterner librarians, cranky and so ancient that even Kai’s dad remembered being scolded by her when he attended the academy.

Yìchén waited until she’d gone to lurk elsewhere then fixed his eyes resolutely on Kai’s. “They think Princess Selene is alive.”

Jenny barked out a laugh. Kai slapped a hand over her mouth, smothering her giggles as Imai-dàren sent a searing glare their way. 

“Jen, you’re going to get us a detention,” he hissed, but she all the same continued chortling, the sound only just muffled by his hand. It was probably against the code of conduct for one student to manhandle another so flippantly, but Kai knew Jenny wouldn’t have an issue with it. The pair of them had been in the same class every year since kindergarten. Her mother was a renowned Filipina soprano, a favourite of the Imperial family, so the two had always grown up in the same circles.

Also, there was that two-week stint last year when they’d dated. Well, if hanging out in the library once before school and meeting up twice on the weekend for ice creams can be considered dating. It had fizzled out before it had even begun to produce a flame. Despite the awkward months that followed, they had managed to salvage their friendship. Now a year later, the short spell had made them even more comfortable with each other.

Plus, he’d gotten his first kiss out of it, and he really wasn’t complaining about that. After all, even stupid Lijun hadn’t had his first kiss yet.

Jenny peeled his hand away. “Okay Yìchén, those games have finally rotted your brain.”

“It’s true!” he protested, splaying his hands before them desperately. “Look: there have been reports that the doctor that treated Princess Selene was executed not long after the fire. Why would she be killed unless she was hiding the fact that the princess is alive!”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, and how did we get this information? Luna is totally shut up. We can’t communicate with people up there.”

Yìchén gestured to Kai. “Kai’s dad does.”

She turned to him. “Has Levana been feeding your dad conspiracy theories regarding her dead niece?”

Kai scratched the back of his neck. “...No? I don’t really know what they talk about.”

Jenny cocked her head at Yìchén.

He bit his lip, twiddling his fingers on top of his portscreen. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh! Because there are Lunars who escaped and came here to Earth! They brought the information!”

This time, Kai guffawed. “There are no Lunars on Earth!”

“Exactly,” affirmed Jenny.

Yìchén hung his head, resting it on his elbows. “Fine. I guess you guys don’t get it. You just think it’s just one of my stupid ideas,” he muttered.

Kai reached across the table and patted his arm. “Hey, it’s not stupid. It would make a cool story. We just don’t think it’s all that…plausible.”

Jenny snorted. Kai kicked her foot under the table.

Disheartened nonetheless, Yìchén switched on his port with a blank expression. “We should be studying anyway.”

They worked dutifully for the rest of the period. But as Jenny quizzed Kai on second-era European wars, he stumbled over a few answers. His thoughts were distant. What did Dad say to Levana in those meetings? He knew Luna hated Earth, but why did Dad suddenly seem so stressed about it? Was something coming?

Jenny tutted as she marked down a 16/20 on Kai’s report. “You’ve been slacking.”

Kai tried to shake the premonitions away. “It’s because you haven’t been here this week to supervise me. Okay: who wrote The Communist Manifesto?”

———

Kai still hadn’t talked to Dad since their tiff. It was mostly circumstantial—that same night they had dinner with those dignitaries which ruled out the possibility of a conversation. Then the next day Kai went over to Won-shik’s house—well, mansion—to play video games. His mum had roped him into staying for dinner and as much as Kai enjoyed the immaculately-crafted dishes from the palace chefs, it was nice to have a normal homemade meal every once in a while.

He came home that night to a brand new portscreen lying on his bed, the lockscreen already set to a backdrop from one of his favourite net-dramas. Dad knew he loved it.

Now it was Saturday and Kai’s guilt was eating him up.

He knew the conference started after lunch so Dad would still be in his office preparing his notes. At 10:34, Kai switched on the kettle and began assembling a tray of tea and pineapple buns that Won-shik’s mum insisted he take home. He had never paid much attention to how Dad made his tea so he had to do a netsearch on his new port. While flicking through different recipes, a comm from Jenny popped up as a banner on his screen.

Jenny: heres a new conspiracy theory for yìchén

The link opened to an article declaring that Escort droids are aliens sent from Planet x7-12 in the Corneia galaxy to transform humans into mermaids through micro-radiation.

Kai left the message as Seen. Yìchén may be a little eccentric, definitely skittish, but he was still their friend. Kai didn’t like making fun of him. Jenny seemed to enjoy tearing apart anything that didn’t conform to her own misanthropy. Kai wondered—if he started to do something a little radical, would she be sending off jeering comments about him to her other friends?

Once the cups were no longer scalding to the touch, he tasted the jasmine tea with a spoon; it wasn’t as good as Dad made it, but then he didn’t make it as good as Mum either, so it was fair game.

He took the tray to Dad’s office at a serv-droid’s pace, careful that the tea didn’t slosh over the rims of the cups. It would have been smarter to pour the tea at his destination. Alas, Kai had never carried a tea tray before.

It was thanks to this cautious approach that he heard Dad’s words drifting down the hallway and could pause before he was heard.

“We’re talking about war, Torin. That threat isn’t going to just go away by exchanging pleasantries before and after meetings.”

Kai gripped the tray tighter. He crept forward, keeping the cups steady and listened to his father’s escalating voice.

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” said Konn Torin, Dad’s grouchy old adviser. He had been adviser to Kai’s grandfather and if he somehow managed to be immortal, then he’d probably stick around to be Kai’s adviser when he inherited the throne in about fifty years.

Kai guessed that he liked him. He didn’t like when Torin told him to stop slouching.

“So why doesn’t Camilla understand that? Or any of them on that stupid panel? Do they not realise the gravity of this?!”

He held his breath. He had never heard Dad this angry.

“Perhaps—” Torin hesitated, “perhaps they have not been made privy to the same information we have.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Torin sounded unsure. “A conversation I had with Governor-General Andrews. He seemed rather flippant about the matter. He ventured so far as to say that Levana was, ahem, ‘bluffing.’”

Dad laughed incredulously. “Bluffing? Are they having the same meetings with Levana as us?”

“Actually, I would say no, Your Majesty.”

Dad was quiet for a while. Kai’s fingers were turning white around the knuckles.

“So Levana is isolating her threats to us,” he said finally.

“That seems to be the case.”

“Because we’re her main target,” he growled. “That’s why she killed off her husband, isn’t it?”

Kai blinked. He had heard that Levana’s husband had died, but it hadn’t been big news. He was a mere guard. It was unsettling to hear Dad call it a murder in such an undisguised way. At the time of its announcement, he had never implied such a thing.

Kai knew being the emperor meant keeping secrets. He hadn’t known that meant keeping secrets from him.

“Come now, Rikan, we don’t know that she seeks a marriage alliance yet. They have nothing presently to offer us,” said Torin persuasively. “They don’t have any bargaining chips for such an arrangement.”

Torin’s confident assurance was marred with a tinge of doubt. Dad was not convinced.

“For now. But they’ll make a reason.”

Dad. Always the optimist. Always able to find a silver lining.

No. Mum had been the optimist. Maybe he had been mimicking her, pretending to have the same steady faith that she had for Kai’s sake. Maybe internally things weren’t as okay as he always made them out to be. 

War. Threats. A marriage alliance?

His hands tremored, sending a loud rattle through the china.

Kai heard the dual intake of breath from inside the office. He finally reached the door, peering inside with trepidation.

Dad’s tight shoulders relaxed at seeing him. “Oh, hey Hǔ zi, How long have you been there?”

“I just came now,” Kai lied. He lifted the tray. “I, uh, wanted to bring you some tea before the conference.”

He smiled warmly. “That’s very kind of you, Kai.” He sat as Kai walked over to the desk, laying the tray down gently. “Would you like some, Torin?”

Torin coughed, hands tucked behind his back. “No, thank you. I’m quite quenched as it is,” he answered, abstemious as always. From the significant distance he maintained between himself and the desk, he had probably surmised that this was Kai’s first attempt at making tea.

Dad sent Torin a long, pointed look. “Take a seat, Torin. Have some tea.”

Torin sat as ordered and Kai poured a cup for each of them. It was unnerving—his father, moments before ready to rip out Levana’s throat, and now the soft, gentle father he’d always known. 

“Dad,” Kai started, a little shakily. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you on Thursday. I know how important your responsibilities are. You don’t have to give them up for me.”

He smiled sadly, “Thank you, Kai. I’m sorry I can’t always spend time with you. I want to—all the time.” His eyes shone and he reached out to graze Kai’s cheek. “You’re a good boy.”

He should feel indignant being referred to like a child, but Kai just felt warm and safe. “Thanks, Dad.”

He retracted his hand to sip his tea and beamed. “Tastes great! What do you think, Torin?”

“Delicious,” Torin said in the way he might have if Kai had left a rodent in the cup.

Kai shuffled from foot to foot. “Dad? What’s happening with the Lunars?”

Dad’s openness turned wary. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“Just…something some classmates said,” he fibbed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Are they going to declare war on us?”

“No. I won’t let that happen. They are…testing our patience at the moment. But don’t worry about it too much.” He reached for Kai’s hands, grasping them firmly. “I’ll protect our people. I’ll protect you.”

At that, Kai rounded the desk and enveloped him in a hug. Dad squeezed back. “I don’t wanna go to Changbai anyway,” Kai murmured into his shoulder. “It’s not cold enough for skiing. Let’s leave it until winter.”

It wasn’t true. Kai did want to go, but as he felt his father sigh in relief, he knew he had made the right decision.

He broke away and headed to the door. “Good luck with the conference.”

“Thank you, buddy. I’ll see you at dinner.”

On the way back to his room, Kai dwelled on these facts: 

1. The threat of war with Luna was very real, 

2. If Dad believed Levana had killed her husband, then she had certainly killed her niece, and,

3. It was the duty of the prince to do something to stop her.

But what?

———

He had a nightmare on Sunday. A woman was hovering over him, blood dripping down her fingers that gripped the handle of a knife. He couldn’t make out her face—he didn’t know her, not really, but she knew him. All that was visible in this dank, foggy mist was her gleaming, sharp teeth and black eyes, shining as he crawled up to him.

“You won’t get away from me,” she sang, though it was more of an echo, paralysing him to the floor.

She lifted her hand and he cried out, covering himself with his arms. But as she took the plunge, her direction shifted.

It landed on a girl next to him. She rolled away just in time, but the woman was undeterred, readying herself for the next strike. The girl was young, younger even than him, and she was crying. “Please,” she begged him, “Please! Stop her!”

The hysteria in her pleas broke through the spell rooting him to the floor. His arm shot out and grabbed her, pulling her away seconds before the blade pierced her heart.

“Thank you,” she gasped out. His mind blinded him to her appearance, her features, the true tone of her voice. Yet Kai knew her name. And he knew implicitly, that now he had helped her, she would do her part and help him.

———

Kai combed his fingers through his hair in the hover on the way to school. He had overslept, spending his precious hours of sleep pacing the floor, trying to shake off his nightmare. When that didn’t work, he had analysed it. Broken it down as though it were a vision sent from a deity.

He eventually wore himself to sleep. When Nainsi rolled in to rouse him at 8:15 (activated when he hit snooze for the fifth time) he only managed to dress, brush his teeth and stuff a croissant into his backpack just before his hover left without him.

Deeming his hair acceptable, he opened his bag and rummaged around for the croissant. The hover slowed to a stop. 

He glanced outside. “What’s wrong?”

“We are experiencing a minor delay due to traffic,” the robotic operator replied.

Kai saw a row of a dozen hovers piled up in front of them. “There’s never any traffic here.”

“This route is usually clear at our normal departure time, however as we are precisely seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds behind typical schedule, traffic conditions have worsened.”

He groaned. Homeroom started in eight minutes. He drummed his fingers on his legs, calculating. “How much longer will it be?”

“Approximately four minutes and twenty-one seconds.”

Gathering his bag and coat, he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Drop us to the ground.”

The hover began to descend. Kai flung open the door before they had even reached the street.

“Your Highness, the journey is not complete,” the feminine voice objected.

“I’ll run!” Kai yelled, jumping to the ground and taking off. He sprinted to the end of the street, tearing a bite from his croissant and nearly knocking over a pedestrian and a chihuahua dressed in a pink jumpsuit. “Sorry!” he called out.

The academy came into view as he turned the corner, some fellow late stragglers rushing out of hovers. He checked his port watch. Six minutes to homeroom. 

As he dashed up the courtyard and into the locker bay, he received a good helping of bewildered stares. Reaching his locker, Kai folded over his knees, gasping in air as his heart pounded in his temples.

A chuckle cut through his wheezing. “Hey, whatcha running from, Prince? Finally realised what was coming for you?”

Kai closed his eyes, holding out a hand. “Later Lijun, I don’t have time for this.” 

Lijun looked positively furious when Kai opened his eyes, but he just turned, pressed his thumbprint to his locker keypad and stuffed his bag inside.

“Oh, so you think you can just talk like that to me, huh?” Lijun snarled, ripping the pastry from his hand. “You think you can just—”

“Yeah, yeah, harass me later, I gotta go.” Kai seized his wrist, took another bite of his croissant, and sprinted away. Lijun would make him regret that later. But he had greater priorities right now.

The digital clock above the school’s trophy cabinet read 8:47. Three minutes left.

It took a good deal of force to weave past the loitering students blocking the hallway. Eventually, Kai found his target by the library door. Yìchén was engrossed in his portscreen, loudly making sound effects as he swung it around like a steering wheel. “Yes! Triple hit!”

“Yìchén!” 

Yìchén lept in his skin, dropping his port and only just managing to catch it midair. “Kai! I hadn’t saved that level,” he moaned.

Kai raced over. “Is Jenny here?”

“She said she’s hanging out with Myla today. Something about being sick of our testosterone-fueled—”

“Good. I need to talk to you. Without her.”

Confusion was scrawled across his face. “We have homeroom in only a minute.”

One minute. No time for formalities then. Kai grabbed his shoulders, ignoring the Game Over chime from the port and the mystified look in Yìchén’s eyes.

“Tell me what you know about Princess Selene being alive.”

Notes

Did you know that every member of the Rampion Crew has a short story about their childhood EXCEPT for Kai? This is an egregious oversight and I had to remedy this immediately.

Btw this is set when kai is 13 because right now cinder is 11 and waking up for the first time so it’s like princess selene is waking to the world and to kai!!

虎子 (Hǔ zi) means tiger cub in Mandarin