Royals Rise Read online

  Copyright 2017 by K. Manna

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  K. Manna

  Saint Paul, Minnesota

  kmannabooks.com

  [email protected]

  ISBN: 978-0-9985584-0-0

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017900322

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  Editing: Sherry Roberts/The Roberts Group and Ruth Goodman Akin

  Cover Art: Phatpuppy Art Studios/Claudia McKinney

  Typography: The Font Diva/Catriona Crehan

  Photography: Crys Haupt

  Model: NaDay

  Dedication

  For my big gor and liddle gal.

  While even through the thickest darkness,

  I still find you glowing something fierce.

  You’re the magic that makes up my world,

  which has inspired me to create another world of magic.

  CHAPTER ONE

  BIRTHDAY BASH

  Eli slowed down, but I kept running toward the enormous willow tree that stood high before us. Pushing my way through the long strands of bluish-green-tinted leaves, I reached the massive tree trunk that twisted up from the ground. Conveniently encircling the body of the tree was a staircase carved into the wood. The steep steps circled round and round until the branches arched out from high above. When I reached a sturdy branch, I slid my booty down on it. The bright-yellow sky peeked through the leaves, the light glistening against my skin.

  “Hurry up, Eli! Get up here!” I yelled.

  Suddenly, the branch beneath me shook, causing me to tighten my grip. “Ah!”

  Eli laughed. “Got ya.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Whatever, you punk. Now, sit with me and behave.”

  “You know that’s hard for me to do.” Eli smiled.

  I hated when he looked at me so dang cute. It always made me smile. “Yeah, I know.”

  Eli plopped down on the branch beside me and reached for something on a limb overhead.

  “What is it?” I asked, peering over his shoulder. “Let me see.”

  When Eli turned toward me and opened his hand, I saw in his palm a little cocoon glowing the color green.

  My eyes grew wide. “Can I hold it?”

  “Sure.” Eli let it fall into my hand.

  It felt warm to the touch. Suddenly, it began to slowly open and the green glowing caterpillar inside stretched, growing wings right before our eyes. Once its wings were fully formed, it flew off of my hand and into the air.

  “Catch it! I want to keep it!” I yelled, excited.

  Eli shook his head. “No, leave it be in nature where it belongs.”

  I spotted another glowing light on the leaf hanging above my head. This one was the color purple. I grabbed for it. “Look, here’s another one.”

  Then I spotted another … and another. We watched in amazement as tons of glowing cocoons in a rainbow of different colors began to light up all around us.

  Our jaws dropped open. Then I imagined one of these glowing critters flying right into my mouth and I snapped my mouth shut. Hundreds of butterflies began to emerge from their cocoons. They flew in every direction, their soft, delicate wings brushing gently against our skin when we got in their way.

  “You have one caught in your hair,” Eli said, reaching to pluck it free.

  I leaned forward to make it easier for him to reach the butterfly, and when I did, I had an inkling of a feeling that he might kiss me. His eyes said he wanted to. I think his lips began to pucker. I leaned closer …

  Dammit!

  I hated when that happened. Just when the best part of my dream was about to happen, my full bladder interrupted everything.

  Ugh! Typical. Just, typical.

  Not wanting to get out of my warm, cozy bed, I moaned. “I don’t wanna get up.”

  My chubby cat, Juicy Lucy, kneaded the blankets at the foot of the bed.

  “Juicy Lucy, will you go to the bathroom for me?”

  She ignored me and kept to her own business of kneading the blankets.

  “Such a difficult life you have.” I sighed. “Fine.” I threw back the covers and scooted out of bed.

  After taking care of my personal business, I quickly tiptoed back into bed and curled up under the blankets, hoping to fall back asleep and continue with my dream.

  But then, just when I was about to doze off, there was banging on the bedroom door.

  “Come on, Go-Go, get up!” shouted my twin brother, Gage. “You have to finish painting the fence before the party.” Gage drummed a beat with his hands against my door. “If you don’t get up, I’m gonna sing your most favorite song ever.” He started to hum an all-too-familiar tune.

  Covering my head with the blanket, I complained, “Go away. Actually, can you wake me up in an hour?”

  No answer.

  “Gage?”

  Still no answer.

  “Gage, are you there?”

  Ugh, why does he have to be so freakin’ annoying?

  If there were such a thing as being born with an annoying gene, then Gage would definitely have it.

  Many people called me Go-Go, but it began with Gage. My brother had always hated my name Margo, so when we were nine, he oh-so-generously came up with a nickname. I completely hated it and hated him then, but the name eventually grew on me. One day he thought of a special Go-Go song and sang it repeatedly until I finally snapped and gave him the biggest titty-twister ever. Big purplish bruises formed around his nipples where my little fingers dug in. Any normal person would have learned his lesson that fine day, but clearly Gage hadn’t. He continued to sing his special Go-Go song when he wanted to irritate me.

  Hearing Gage singing down the hall, I threw my covers off with disgust. I would never get back to sleep now. I tugged on my grungy paint clothes and pulled my long dark hair into a messy ponytail. For the road (or for the backyard actually), I grabbed a cup of peaches n’ cream yogurt and a chocolate chip granola bar to dip in it.

  Mmm, dang, this tastes good …

  Since I kept all of my painting junk in the basement, that’s where I headed first. At the top of the stairs, I heard the sound of Gage’s video game below. One of the first things I saw when I reached the basement was my paintbrushes on the countertop—and they were not clean. Dry, crusted paint covered the tips of the brushes, which were stiff as a board now. This is what I get for letting Gage paint those stupid trolls in the first place.

  “What the heck is this, Gage?” I glared at him.

  Gage sat on the basement couch playing the video game, clearly too busy to answer.

  I threw one of the crusty brushes at him, hitting him on the side of the head.

  “Ow!” Gage rubbed his head.

  “Why do you have to be so dang lazy, Gage? Hello, use common sense. When you are done painting, you should always wash the paint out of the brushes. You’re buying me some new ones.”

  Gage rolled his eyes and went back to playing. “Simmer down. They’re just paintbrushes, woman.”

  “Yeah, my paintbrushes. If you can’t take care of my stuff, then don’t touch it, you dink.”

  Gage shook his head. “Take a chill pill. You have mad issues.”

  Frustrated, I gathered what I needed and walked out the sliding door leading into the backyard. It was completely useless to try to talk any sense into my idiot brother.

  It was Saturday, J
une 23, 2098, the day before our sixteenth birthday, and we were having a party.

  Everyone in Alacor has a big party on their sixteenth birthday because on this special day, girls and boys become young ladies and gentlemen, or so they say. I didn’t like the sound of that. I didn’t want to grow up. Not ever. Old people were lame and boring. Oh, and the responsibilities. Please! That wouldn’t happen to me. Not in this life.

  Still, I was excited about the party. For weeks, I had begged my parents to let me paint the backyard fence for the party. Painting was my outlet and something I ended up actually being pretty good at. My dad, Lloyd, wasn’t having it, but a whole lot of begging finally got me a big fat YES from my mom. Dad acted pretty pissed when he found out, but eventually he got over it. My mom, Celeste, said I would have to pay for all the painting supplies since money had been kind of tight around our house lately, and this party would make it even tighter. No problem, I’d said. I worked at my aunt’s coffee shop, and I’d been saving money.

  My mom enjoyed all the planning and decorating that came along with the party, so we left that stuff mostly to her, except for my fun idea for the theme. It was common to pick a theme from one’s childhood, and I chose fantasy—wizards and fairies and trolls, oh my.

  I thought of it as setting my childhood free. When Gage and I were little, I dreamed of being a fairy, while Gage constantly pretended that he was a ninja. That’s when my mom started a little ritual on my birthday. She would fill a balloon with air and glitter, then hold the balloon over my head and snip the bottom. We would laugh together as “fairy dust” rained down on me. Glitter would be in my hair for days, even after washing my hair a billion times. As I got older, we stopped doing it. This childhood ritual seemed, well, childish to me. My mom still enjoyed the thought of it, though, and each year she asked if we could do it. But I stayed strong and wouldn’t cave in. I had outgrown the glitter balloon, I told her.

  Friends and family were to arrive for the party around nine that night, a little late for some to begin a party, but there was a perfectly good reason for that. I was born at 12:03 in the morning and Gage shortly after at 12:19 on the most perfect day of the year, June 24, 2082. We planned for the guests to be partying with us up to the actual time of our births. Perfect, right? I was sure our friends would still be going strong at that time, but as for the fam … well, they are getting a little old and rusty, so I had no expectations for that bunch.

  My paintbrush glided over the tall wooden fence, blending together the different shades of purple that made up the mother fairy’s long, wavy locks of hair. They fell down her back, tumbling around her feet onto the ground. All that I had left to paint were her hair, wings, and part of the flower that she sat on. Then my mystical scene would be finished, and in plenty of time for the party.

  From behind me, I heard a familiar voice say, “Hey, Go-Go, your masterpiece is looking pretty damn good.”

  Turning my head, I saw one of my closest friends, Eli, walking toward me with skateboard in hand. And might I add, shirtless. “It better look good because I’ve been working my butt off on it for weeks. Why are you up so early? Weren’t you up late at bragging Brook’s bonfire last night?”

  I didn’t care for that chick with her showy it’s-all-about-me attitude.

  “Yeah, I went. But I didn’t stay too late.”

  I acted surprised. “Oh, and why is that, Mr. Eli? Could you no longer stand all the gossipy girl talk, or was it just the sound of Brook’s annoying voice?”

  “I don’t know. Just tired, I guess.” Eli wiped the sweat from his forehead with the shirt in his hand. “Me and the guys are gonna go skatin’, so I’ll let you get back to your business. Do you want me to come early to help with anything?”

  “Sure.” I smiled. “Be here around eightish to help set up some of the heavier stuff, will ya?”

  Eli turned to walk in the other direction. “Sounds good. See you then, birthday girl.”

  I was chewing a piece of old bubblegum I’d left wrapped overnight. It no longer had any of its juicy, fruity flavor left, and it tasted like old poopy-tasting cardboard (not that I knew what that actually tasted like). My morning breath made for the poopy taste. Trying to be funny, I asked, “Hey, do you want a piece of gum?”

  He turned back to face me. “Sure. Throw it over here.”

  Oh, I had a better idea than that. I spit it at him as fast and as hard as I possibly could. He quickly jetted for it, catching it in his mouth.

  Ew.

  “Holy crap, you’re fast, almost as fast as Gage. By the way, I hope you like the taste of poop stuck on cardboard because that’s what you’re chewing on, buddy.” I laughed.

  Eli shrugged his shoulders. “I love the taste of poo cardboard.”

  “Whatever. Now get your bad boy self outta here because you’re distracting me,” I teased.

  Eli and I had known each other since the first grade when he moved in next door. He was like a lost puppy that I used to boss around. Man, the power I used to have over him in those days. Vaguely, I recall him sometimes buying and bringing me lunch at school, when I would tell him to. Since he lived next door, Eli, Gage, and I would walk to school together. I don’t remember events happening this way, but Eli insists that I would “force” him to give me piggyback rides to school until he wanted to cry out in pain. Let’s just say I wasn’t the smallest kid in our classroom, and he pretty much was. All of this “control” of mine ended when we were about ten years old. That’s when Eli’s macho dad had a man talk with him and insisted that being a wimp was simply not an option. I must have learned to accept it, though, and grew to consider us equals … at least most of the time.

  Ever since Eli began having a mind of his own, I somehow started growing feelings for him. No one ever knew this, and no one ever would—unless Eli admitted to me first that he felt the same way. He had grown far too good looking, and he had finally grown taller than me too. Chicks flocked to his charm and pure hotness. The only reason Eli never kept a girlfriend longer than a month was because he became bored with them easily. The girls he dated were usually gorgeous but didn’t have much interesting stored up in the noggin. Thankfully, he wanted more than just good looks, so he would end up dumping them. I wished he would have looked elsewhere, if you know what I mean.

  Later that night after all the painting, cleaning, and decorating were done, I grabbed a glass of iced tea. Walking through the living room on the way to my room to get ready, I found my mom being the clean freak that she was, vacuuming the carpet in straight lines.

  Mom, like anyone even cares about the perfect lines in the carpet.

  When the Z-Screen started to beep, Mom turned the loud vacuum off so that we could hear. All the news on the Z-Screen was considered important.

  On the screen, a male news announcer began to speak. “It has been two days since talk of the royal family’s son, the Zyon, began. Investigators in the royal palace have been working day and night to uncover exactly who ignited such treacherous rumors pertaining to the Zyon’s possible birthdate. Well, investigators have, in fact, found the very person guilty of this crime. Zahria Hullian, the royal family’s nurse, has been arrested and will serve life imprisonment for her actions. Thank you for listening, and like the royal Zylo would say, ‘A closed mouth is an honest mouth.’”

  Anyone who disobeyed the royal family in any way suffered serious consequences, including life imprisonment. Everyone in Alacor knew this. So when stories like these came out on the Z-Screen, we were surprised by how dumb some people really could be. But it never failed. There was always somebody, somewhere, who couldn’t keep from doing or saying stupid stuff.

  The Royal Zylonians ruled all of Alacor. They controlled jobs, land, and money—practically everything. All laws were decided by them, and if broken, they would decide the repercussions. Negative talk and gossip about the royal family simply wasn’t tolerated, but most p
eople in Alacor would never have done such a thing because they were so obsessed with Alacor’s royalty. All of their power and fame made people envious. People wanted to be just like the royals. And people always wanted more, more, more: details about their life, pictures of them on any given day, doing anything, even something as simple as reading a book or taking a walk on the royal island. This was where the Z-Screens came into play. These screens hung in every household, in every building, and at every bus stop, playing daily news and updates throughout the day. Much of this information had to do with the royal family (of course). Even cell phones would beep and notify Alacor residents of important information being announced over the Z-Screens at any given time.

  I rolled my eyes. “I still think it’s a little crazy to imprison a lady for life just because she talked about the Zyon. It’s not like she killed someone.”

  My mom sighed. “Well, she should know better. Plus, she didn’t talk of simple nonsense. She talked about the one thing that no one has the right to talk about. The royal family holds their family tradition very seriously. Why do you think they are so protective and private about their first and only son? Those who work at the royal palace have to respect their wishes. If the royal tradition is to keep the Zyon’s birthday a secret until his sixteenth birthday and to keep him from the public eye until that day, then that is their right. People should obey the rules. It’s really plain and simple, Margo.”

  I rolled my eyes again, but this time at her. “Blah-to-the-blah. Are you done lecturing, Mother?”

  My mom took a second to think. “Well, I would be thankful if I met the royal family and even more thankful to work inside the palace, their home. I can’t believe how dumb these people can be with their …”

  I cut her off. “Okay, Mom. I get it. I have to jump in the shower now.”

  As I dashed for the bathroom, I heard the vacuum cleaner being turned on again and wondered how I had ended up with such a cleanliness-obsessed mother.

  Still, gotta love her, craziness and all.

  The clock read 9:12 p.m. I wanted to be fashionably late for my own party. Plus, I had heard only a few guests arrive so far. I knew Eli was there since he had come early to help Gage and Dad set up the tables and heavier stuff out in the backyard.