Hold Me Never (Holding Never) (6 page)

He did it once. He can do it again. The young Captain
must be still alive, somewhere inside this cruel Commander's body.

“
Let me go,” I breathe.

He doesn't answer.

“
Why, Jaxon.”

“
Why?” I grab his collar fiercely. “Why
can't you let me go!”

In a dead voice, he says, “He will burn your town
down, raze the whole town to the ground, and kill every last one of
those people.”
Those people you said you love, and miss,
and hope would be safe.

“
No.” I shake my head. “No.”

“
And he will massacre all the soldiers under my
command. Some of these soldiers are young men from the towns.
Conscripted into the Imperial Army.”

I turn away from him.

I don't want to go to the Palace.

But, how can I run away?

My entire town would be destroyed, thousands of people
slaughtered because of me.

Do I want that?

I close my eyes briefly before looking up. There are
faint cracks of light in the night sky. Dawn is just about to break.
As the stars continue to fade, I know without a doubt that I have to
go to the Palace. I cannot run, and strangely enough, I don't want
to run.

A faint orange light is spreading from the corner of the
sky. Jaxon's large fists are clenched tightly over the reins but he
doesn't make a move. He seems to be willing time to stand still,
hoping that this moment can be frozen.

I clear my throat. “Let's go.”

“
Zoey...”

“
We have to.”

“
We...we'll walk the rest of the way.”

“
Okay.”

He helps me down, and it feels good to stretch my legs.
Jaxon holds me by the arm with one hand. With his other hand, he
holds the reins of his horse and leads us both along a narrow track.

“
Aren't you going to ride your horse?” I
ask.

“
I'll walk with you.”

We walk for a long time, covering miles along the
secluded road. He does not mount his horse, just walks beside me
towards the sunrise. The dirt track has widened into a paved road,
which merges into a smooth, newly tarred road.

Jaxon looks down at my dirt-caked, worn out shoes and
says, “Okay. That'd do.”

“
Do?” I frown.

“
And...try to limp, pretend that you're in pain,
as we approach.”

Oh. I have to make like I have been dragged behind his
horse.

There is the rumble of motor engines. I look up and
squint into the distance.

Despite the cold dread and terror rising in me, I find
myself breathless at the first sight of the Palace.

The Palace looks almost unreal in its gleaming
magnificence. The rays of the sun striking the majestic white marble
building bathes the Palace in a golden hue. The Palace gates gleam
pure gold and the roads leading from the Palace are clean and broad.
Armored vehicles guard the Palace and armed guards are stationed at
regular intervals around the periphery. The drone of motor engines
and the smell of exhaust fumes fill the air. There are military
vehicles pulling out of the Palace gates. In the middle of the
convoy of heavy military vehicles is a long, black limousine flying
the flag of the Unified States. The limousine is surrounded by
motorcrafts, which hover at the corners and sides of the limousine.
The reflective visors of the riders glint in the sunlight, as they
escort that dark limousine down the road towards the City. The
convoy departs with much fanfare, with the Palace guards saluting and
firing their rifles in the air. Someone really important must be
leaving the Palace.

I am tempted to ask who the soldiers are escorting out
of the Palace, but one glance at Jaxon tells me that he is in no
state to entertain my question. He is clenching his jaw so tightly
that his stern facade looks like it might crack under the pressure.
His brown eyes are staring at the vehicles streaming out of the
Palace with a strange intensity, the corners of his mouth working and
twitching. There seems to be some furious internal debate going on,
and I don't think now is a good time to interrupt whatever arguments
are warring in his head. If we can see the Palace from here, I am
sure that the Palace can see us as well. Any sudden movement or
sound and those Palace guards might train their rifles in our
direction and pump bullets into me instead of just firing blanks in
the air.

I am still gaping at the splendid Palace with its
glowing marble walls and gilded gates. Can it be true, what I've
heard? It looks so clean and beautiful on the outside. Can it be
true that behind these golden gates and polished walls, dark,
dastardly deeds are taking place almost every night? I have heard
that there is a dungeon built in the depths of the Palace, but maybe
they're just rumors. Tales whispered and distorted through time and
terror.

With a final gun salute, the last military truck turns
out of the Palace gates. The convoy speeds away from the Palace in a
blaze of flashing lights and trumpeting sirens.

I take a small step forward, bumping into Jaxon's
shoulder. He reaches out and takes my hand. Startled, I look up at
him, but he keeps staring straight ahead, staring at the gilded
Palace gates with the tormented stoicism of a man condemned to his
death. He looks like he is staring at a guillotine, a dead man
walking inescapably to his doom, instead of a Commander delivering a
criminal to the Emperor. My hand feels small and warm in his, and I
look down at our entwined hands, at how our fingers fit together so
snugly and comfortably. It feels nice, and I look at the beautiful
Palace before me, a mirage no doubt, but still a beautiful illusion.
I have no doubt that once I enter those ornate gates, the beauty will
start to crumble, the mirage vanishing as Jaxon leaves me.

These are my last moments of beauty.

Maybe my last moments of life.

I feel my throat and chest constrict painfully.
“Jaxon...”

He squeezes my hand hard, and lets out a shuddering
sigh. Keeping his eyes on the Palace, he whispers, “Stay...alive.
Don't break, don't die, d-don't cry, Zoey...” He looks down
and thumbs away the tears at the corner of my eyes.

“
You're going to leave me now, aren't you?”
I ask softly, blinking away fresh tears.

He shakes his head. “No.”

We start to walk slowly, hand in hand, towards the
illuminating sun which is soaring higher and higher into the sky.
About half a mile from the Palace, Jaxon squeezes my hand for a
painfully long time before finally letting go.

He turns his head to me without meeting my eyes. When
he bows his head, I swallow and nod curtly. There is nothing else to
do. This is goodbye.

As we near the gates, I see that the towering columns of
the Palace are covered with ornate carvings. The black and red flag
of the Unified States is flying high on the domed roof of the Palace.
I trip and stumble to the ground. No one helps me up. I struggle
up on my own to see Jaxon speaking with one of the guards at the
Palace gates. The guard comes forward to take the reins of his horse
and silently, the golden gates open.

Jaxon escorts me, his prisoner, into the Palace grounds
and hands me over to the guards on duty. “Get a doctor to tend
to her before the Emperor sends for her. She will need to be checked
and certified.”

Free of me, Jaxon steps back as two guards snap into
position on either side of me. I am led up the steps and through the
arched doors. I turn back and look over my shoulder as the double
doors close behind me. Jaxon is standing at attention at the bottom
of the steps, his gaze unwavering and unreadable.

The doors seal shut and I am led along a winding blood
red carpet, under glittering chandeliers, past gilded, intricately
carved pillars, deep into the Palace. I catch my reflection in one
of the mirrored walls I stumble past and see a pair of dazed, vacant
eyes staring back at me. The tear stains at the corner of those
wide, empty eyes have already dried and the face of the girl in the
mirror looks a decade older. But suddenly the face that I glimpse in
the mirrors is not the face of a hopeless, helpless girl but the
fierce, strong, protective face of my mother. My mother's face
morphs into a young girl's face, mine—as I watched her
relentless, brutal attack.

A young girl screaming.

A young woman smiling through her tears.

I force myself to smile into the mirror, and
instantaneously, my mother's face becomes my own. A young woman
smiling, but this time, there is no love and no tears. Just a grim,
cold smile.

The two guards stomp to a sudden halt in front of a
wall. One of them releases his iron grip on my arm and I raise my
hand to rub the sore spot on my upper arm. If he wasn't wearing
those thick, black leather gloves, I bet his nails would have gouged
into my flesh and drawn blood.

The other guard has his heavy hand on my shoulder,
holding me in place. I stare up at his dark, expressionless face and
back at the elaborate painting covering the whole expanse of the wall
in front of me. The painting depicts the Emperor walking on what at
first glance appears to be rippling water. On closer inspection, I
see that the shadows and shapes in the water are actually naked human
bodies. Hundreds of writhing, naked bodies, their faces contorted in
either pain or ecstasy. The women have their hair streaming out to
form waves, their limbs and bodies undulating beneath the Emperor's
feet.

In the painting, the Emperor is portrayed as a great
warrior, in full military regalia, his military uniform crowded with
gleaming medals and purple and red sashes with gold trimmings. His
crimson cloak fans out behind him, partly obscuring a bloody battle
scene in the distance. The look on his face is one of triumph, a
slight smile suffusing his narrow features. In one hand he wields a
sword that is dripping with blood. I'd expected him to be holding a
human skull in his other hand. Instead, he is grasping a swollen
fruit in his pale hand, his greedy fingers digging into the folds of
the fruit. The protruding, pink tip of the fruit is drawn to
resemble a nipple, but the image is hardly erotic. I feel bile rise
up my throat and I turn my head sharply over my shoulder.

Behind me, on the far wall directly opposite, is another
painting. The Empress's white face stares back at me from the
painting. She is dressed in her royal cloak and gown, but instead of
water, the Empress appears to be walking on fire. I squint at the
painting behind me, and can barely make out the human shapes in the
leaping, twisting flames at the Empress's feet. She walks on that
burning sea of naked, male bodies, a barely perceptible smile on her
thin, red lips.

With a forceful tug, I am spun back round to face the
Emperor's lascivious image. The guard has one hand pressed against
the painting, over the hilt of the Emperor's sword. When he steps
back, I gasp and blink rapidly. The image seems to be humming to
life, the background vibrating ever so slightly.

The vibration becomes even more pronounced, until I can
feel the ground shuddering beneath my feet. There is a soft beep and
I stagger back as the wall before me slowly rotates and opens like a
revolving door. I am bundled through the opening, and the wall
groans into motion behind me. I turn back just in time to see the
wall rotating back into place. I stare at the narrowing line of
light and contemplate making a run for it. If I am fast enough,
maybe I can just squeeze through that ever narrowing space. And if I
don't make it, I'd be squashed to a bloody pulp. But it's worth a
try.

I jerk backwards suddenly, twisting towards the wall
which is fast closing behind me. My movements are sudden and fast
but unfortunately, the guards are faster. They must have really
quick reflexes, or maybe they have escorted too many captives through
this wall, so there's just nothing they haven't seen. Their big
hands shoot out and yank me firmly back into position between them,
and drag me roughly down the corridor, further and further away from
the wall. I watch the wall close completely, and the sliver of
bright light vanish.

Panting, I force my eyes to adjust quickly to the dim
interior. I seem to be in some sort of corridor, rather than a room.
The floor feels hard and cold, unlike the soft, plush red carpet in
the Palace. The stone walls on either side of me look rough and
unpainted. The tiny overheads lights above me are spaced very far
apart, so that there are more shadows than light in this long
corridor.

The darkness and the sound of my ragged breathing and
dragging feet drive a sense of despair and desperation through me.
With a jolt of panic, I begin to struggle and scream. My screams
come flying back at me, magnified and multiplied by the echoes. My
own voice sounds alien and mocking, and my shrieks begin to sound
like hysterical, demonic laughter. All my kicking and screaming does
nothing to slow down the two guards. They march me steadily to the
end of the corridor, and press a button. A door slides open and I
find myself in a small elevator. Crowded between the two burly
guards in the small space, I fall silent. The descent is short and
swift. Just one floor down. I stare at the buttons on the side
panel of that tiny lift and realize that there are floors below and
above this one.