“LaJolla?” Sela looked down at his young assistant. “Are you awake?”
The young girl yawned and looked up from her book. “Of course, your Highness,” she answered politely. “Do you require something?”
He chuckled. “No, I was just coming to get you. The meeting’s over. Time to go.”
“Of course, your Highness.” She stood, tucking her books under her arms. “How did it go?” She nodded to the assistant sitting on the other side of the doorway as Sela began walking.
“As well as can be expected. The ambassador from Mikal sounded almost—well, ungrateful to us.” The prince strolled down the hall at a leisurely pace, easy enough for his short assistant to keep up with him. A small thing, but one much appreciated.
“Did anything she said sound odd?” LaJolla nodded to one of the guards that bowed as Sela walked through the magnificent archway to the royal wing. “You know what to listen for, your Highness,” she said reproachfully.
Sela chuckled and stopped to look down at her. “Aelekia, it’s almost like you’re disappointed in me.”
“Never, your Highness,” she replied evenly, staring straight back at him.
“I’ll let you pick my brain when we get to the rooms, good?” He adjusted the cloak he carried regally over his arm. “If Rhys doesn’t need you, that is,” he added slyly.
LaJolla shoved her books into his stomach. “Sela, you’d be useless without me. Show some courtesy,” she retorted, storming down another elegant hallway.
Sela laughed and tucked the books under his arm before moving off to catch up with her. “This is rude, you know.”
“I don’t care,” she snapped, not bothering to stop. “It was far more rude to bring up Rhys. You know that.”
Sela hurried to stop her. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, catching her and bending down to face her. “But you need to come to terms with it before—”
“Sela, stop it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Aren’t I the royal one here?” he chuckled.
“Yes. But that has absolutely nothing to do with the current situation.” LaJolla waved her hand over the recognition pad that allowed access into the inner chambers. “Sit down. We need to get to work.”
The room she opened was clearly for use as a conference room, with a table, chairs, and easel on one side of the room. The other side held a small tub that ended in the ceiling, a drink machine, and a few cupboards. The walls held the same intricate designs that were prominent through the entire city. Sela moved to the table and dropped the books in front of LaJolla’s chair before collapsing in his own. LaJolla moved around the room, turning on lights and activating the message tube. As soon as it was turned on, it chirped a message, informing her of an urgent note.
“Already?” asked Sela tiredly. “We just got here.”
LaJolla popped the message from the tube and unfurled it. She scanned it quickly before tossing it across the room to the prince. “You’re invited to a ball tonight, your Highness. ‘To celebrate the unity of all Atlantis’—what are they thinking?” She opened one of the cupboards and pulled out a prepared cup of cold nian. “Want one?”
“No. That is so unhealthy for you, LaJolla.”
She shrugged and chugged it. “It’s your fault I need the energy.”
He read the letter slowly and without comment. “I need an escort—LaJolla, please?” His brown eyes begged.
“Sorry, Sela.” She shook her head, easing into the chair. “Rhys already hates that I spend so much time with another guy, regardless of if it’s my job or not.”
“I could ask Captain Byli to post him—”
“No,” LaJolla interrupted sharply. “Your Highness, the day you start abusing your power is the day you gain disrespect from those you rule over.”
“I could just hint at it—”
“Rhys is 1st rank—Byli’s got no business putting him on duty at a ball. You know that.” LaJolla pulled out a roll of parchment, tearing a length off.
“Was that a note of pride there?” he teased.
“Of course, I would never take the honor of having the prince on my arm from your sister,” she said icily, testing the parchment’s dryness. “I wouldn’t dare to think of it.”
“LaJolla—!” he whined, falling pathetically across the table.
“Siwae’s grace, you’re the crown prince, Sela.” She dipped her pen in the bottle of ink, checking its consistency.
“Codarei’s going to lecture you again, my dear assistant.” Sela leaned on his hand, his brown eyes twinkling at her.
“That was one of your quicker mood changes, your Highness,” she commented, writing in a flowing script across the parchment. “And I don’t care about Codarei’s opinion, high priestess or not.”
“You’re so brutal, LaJolla.”
“It’s my job.” The message machine chirped at her again, and she reached out and grabbed it as it came down the tube. She read it quickly, her eyebrows furrowing together the more she read. “Siwae help us,” she murmured.
“What—?”
“Read this,” she ordered, handing him the note. “Sector 72B in the lower city had another uprising. The Guard posted down consisted of 5 4ths and a 5th. Apparently by the time a 1st was sent down to break it up, the riot was over.”
“Aelekia save the City,” the prince muttered rebelliously.
“Sela,” LaJolla sighed.
“Who was on duty? What was Byli thinking, allowing 72nd only 6 units, none above a 3rd--” He stood and began pacing the room. “I don’t like this,” he growled. He stood still while LaJolla quietly wrote a report, more than used to his mood changes and sudden outbursts.
“How many casualties?” he snapped abruptly.
“Sela—”
“Tell me, LaJolla.”
“None reported. The only missing were the 4ths and the 5th.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye.
“I need to talk to Byli.”
LaJolla flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Do what you like,” she said indifferently. “I’m not going with you.”
“Yes, you are,” Sela retorted. “I don’t care about your personal life—you’re my assistant, and until I dismiss you, you’ll go where I want you to go."
They glared at each other for a moment, until LaJolla stood up smoothly, rolling up her parchment with a practised flick of the wrist.
“Very well, your Highness,” she said calmly, tucking the rolls of parchment under her arm. “Consider me dismissed.” She turned to walk away, but Sela stopped her.
“LaJolla, I’m just stressed—”
“With what? Who you’re going with to the ball?” she mocked mercilessly.
Sela hung his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sit down.” She dropped her parchment on the table and steered him back to his seat. “Write Byli a message, for Siwae’s sake.” She fell into her own chair. “Honestly, Sela, you’re so gullible. You know I’d never leave.” She slid an ink bottle over to him.
The prince took the ink bottle and opened it, pausing for a moment to look at the girl across from him. “Even if Rhys told you to leave?”
LaJolla had her eyes closed, oblivious to his gaze. “Of course not. Rhys has no business telling me what I can or can’t do for a living.”
He eyed her carefully. “What about your father?”
“Your Highness, you know he’s the one who gave me this job. Even if he told me to leave, I probably wouldn’t.”
“Probably?”
She opened an eye to glare at him. “Don’t push it.” She closed her eye and laid her head back on the chair.
There was a short silence while Sela hastily scribbled down some nonsense on the parchment.
He paused again, quill raised from the parchment. He waited a moment, then reached a hand out to her. “What if I told you—” Sela was interrupted by a young woman crashing through the door. It was Izil, LaJolla’s friend and a member of the Guardians, an elite battalion of women warriors.
“LaJolla!” she gasped, leaning against the door frame.
LaJolla was startled awake. “Izil?” she said, momentarily speechless. She sprung into action. “Sela, get over here and help me get her to the table,” she ordered, rushing to her friend’s side.
Sela was up in an instant, pausing a moment to knock his ink bottle over onto the parchment. “Oops.”
“Sela, get over here!” LaJolla slung Izil’s arm around her shoulder. “Izil, what’s wrong?”
“Are you hurt?” asked Sela, concerned. He came over and helped her to the table.
“No, your Highness, I’m fine.” Izil gave a little bow before resting in the chair. “You know about Sector 72?”
LaJolla frowned. “Yes, we got the message.”
“One of the 4ths was Rsy.”
“Oh, Aelekia—” murmured LaJolla, collapsing into the nearest free chair.
“Wait, Rsy?” Sela asked with a grimace. “Isn’t that—”
“It’s Rhys’s brother.” LaJolla answered. She put her head in her hands. “It’s a wonder there isn’t a ransom yet.”
“That’s not why I’m here.” Izil paused and looked up at Sela. “Rsy’s commanding officer told the battalion that you were the one who gave the order to send Rsy to the front. Rhys is in the process of leading his entire squadron of 1st ranks over here.”
LaJolla was on her feet in an instant. “Sela, barricade yourself in my private office,” she ordered, pushing him toward the door.
“No!” He stood his ground. “LaJolla, they’re here for me. I’ll distract them—”
“Izil, will you take him for me? I’m going to try to keep Rhys busy for a while.” LaJolla grabbed a long overcoat from the hook on the wall and shrugged into it.
“LaJolla, you know it’s my job to—” Izil began, eyebrows furrowed.
“Protect female Atlanteans, yes, yes.” LaJolla turned and stared at them.
“Rhys hasn’t seen me in quite a while—he’ll have enough ceremony to stand on to get Sela to safety.” She grimaced and opened the door. “Take him to the thrones, Izil. He’ll be safe there.” She left, closing the door firmly behind her.
---------------
This was an idea I had AGES ago. If I wasn't so gods-cursed afraid of getting sick from NaNo, I would've done NaNo with this.
And before anyone asks, the ranks are the rankings given to the military of Atlantis. Easy enough to figure out from there, I think.
PS
This is the picture that inspired it. The girl who drew it is a very close friend of mine. In fact, she's having a party next week, and we're going to see Eragon together in two weeks.
whee 
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