Bel-mar bounded into the room and found the queen lying on her side, facing away from the door. He perched on the bed and gave her a gentle nudge. “Wake up. Good news. Keerat will never be able to threaten our family again.” He shook her again. “Nordhi-sha?” Her ashen skin was cool to the touch, and she failed to respond when he shook her harder. “DOCTOR! I need a doctor in here immediately.”
The royal estate sprang into action. The court physician rushed into the bedroom. She checked the queen’s breathing and pulse before turning to the king. “Sire, the queen is deceased. I estimate she died half an hour ago. There is nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”
Bel-mar retreated from the bed until he collided with a bookcase. He fumbled his way to a chair and collapsed into it. With a thousand-yard stare, he gazed at the bed. You promised you were getting better. Your fever was supposed to break with the rain.
The frenetic activity of androids removing her body and stripping the bed matched the turbulent maelstrom in his mind. He sat paralyzed as visions of their potential futures together swirled into his imagination and evaporated like soap bubbles in the sun. A home full of giggling children, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, and weddings, all gone. To never be.
It’s not fair! She survived all his attacks. It should be Keerat.
* * *
The state funeral was held under darkening skies. Angry black storm clouds rolled in as lightning flashed on the horizon. Well-wishers jostled to enter the temple as fat raindrops fell. Nordhi-sha’s father, Duke Binder-mar, narrated a multimedia eulogy as mourners rotated in and out of the temple.
For the first hour, Prince Rangpu crawled between his grandmothers. By the third hour, he sat observing the activities of the adults.
King Bel-mar stood head bowed and vacant-eyed, lost in a timeless void, unseeing and unthinking.
He returned to reality when Rangpu tugged on his leg. “Potty. Potty.”
Bel-mar scooped up his son and carried him to a private room for the families of the deceased. He undressed Rangpu and removed the soiled diaper. He dug through the diaper bag but did not find what he was looking for. “Nordhi-sha, where are the wipes? Did you put them in the diaper bag or the clothes bag? Never mind. I found them.”
Hearing his mother’s name, Prince Rangpu squirmed and cried out. “Momma. Momma.”
Bel-mar halted mid-wipe. She’s gone. She’s never going to pack his bags again. He watched his son’s eyes searching the room for his mother. How can I raise you without her?
The young prince flailed his arms and twisted from side to side. “Momma.” His crying intensified.
He will grow up and lose all his memories of her. To him, it will be as if she never existed. The stoic, aristocratic reserve inside Bel-mar shattered and tears trickled down his cheeks. The flow of tears turned into an uncontrollable stream. Outside, the thunderstorm that had been building for hours exploded into its full fury.
Rain poured down non-stop in great torrents. The sunbaked ground proved incapable of absorbing the sudden deluge. Floodwaters raced down hillsides and into city streets and villages unprepared to handle the record rainfall. Life ground to a halt as the citizens huddled in their homes to wait out the storm.
In the royal estate, Bel-mar sat slumped over with his forehead touching the bedroom window. Day and night, he stared blankly out the window at the howling storm. Booming thunder rattled the windows, but he took no notice. Time was an eternal moment of anguish. The king wept until his tears ran dry. Pain, unable to find a way out, racked his body in convulsions of grief.
Artee ensured meals were delivered, but otherwise left him undisturbed. The meals were untouched or partially eaten when he came to see Bel-mar on the fourth evening.
“Even the gods are against me, Artee. For weeks, we have prayed to them for rain.” The king looked out the rain-drenched windows at the angry skies. “They finally answer by giving us four years of rain in four days.” He crawled on his hands and knees to Artee. “The gods have taken my wife and now they want my kingdom.” Bel-mar wrapped his arms around the android’s legs. “How can I fight the will of the gods?”
“Sire, I cannot speak of the will of the gods. All I know is that existence is a constant challenge.”
“What is the point when the challenges never end?” He looked up at Artee with pleading eyes. In a weary and trembling voice, he begged, “Say the words. Tell me what you came here to say.”
The assassin revealed his weapon and took aim. His voice was thin and somber. “King Bel-mar, son of Ajeet-mar, I have been contracted to assassinate you. Prepare to die.”
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Bel-mar seized Artee’s hand and pressed it to his head. “She died alone because I held a press conference to gloat about my triumph over Keerat. Please end this suffering. I want to be with Nordhi-sha in the next life.” Thunder crashed and startled Bel-mar. He sobbed when he realized it wasn’t the sound of gunfire and that he was still alive.
Artee lowered his arm and returned the weapon to its concealed cavity within the hand. “What you are asking me for is an assisted suicide.”
“If you had killed me months ago, I wouldn’t know this pain. What kind of assassin refuses to kill their target? What is wrong with you?”
“Do you think Nordhi-sha would want you to die and leave her son an orphan?”
“No, but she was my life and my future. How can I live without her?”
“I wish that I could provide the answers you need.” Artee tilted his head, puzzlement in his eyes. “I miss the walks in the garden with her and the ones we will never share again. Is that what sorrow feels like?”
Bel-mar’s voice was weak and scratchy. “It’s an emptiness inside. Feeling like a part of you that you cannot live without has been lost. That is what sorrow feels like. Sorrow kills your soul and leaves your body an empty shell.”
Artee straightened with realization. “Sorrow makes you, not you. The Bel-mar I know has never wanted to die. Therefore, you are not prepared to die.” He stated plainly, “I cannot kill you today.”
Bel-mar laid on the floor, defeated. “If you’re not going to kill me, then leave me.” He provided no resistance as Artee lifted him into the bed and pulled a blanket over him.
Sometime in the night, the storm abated. By morning, sunlight streamed through the windows as Artee entered the royal bedroom. Bel-mar gazed at the far wall when Artee entered with a breakfast tray. He slowly turned his head and looked at Artee through blood-shot eyes. “I have lived under the threat of death for months, constantly struggling to find ways to stay alive one more day. You had your opportunity, and let me live. You put me to bed, and keep bringing me food like a servant-droid.” He wagged a finger at Artee. “You are a terrible assassin.”
“The worst. I continue to spare my target,” replied Artee, as he placed the serving tray on the bed.
“Serious question. Why have you not killed me yet?” Bel-mar asked as he picked at a bowl of fruit.
“The Assassins Guild is scrupulous about avoiding collateral damage. That is why I was waiting for you on a desolate stretch of road. When you told me you were not prepared to die, your reason was the long-lasting harm it would cause someone else.”
“You are an android, built to follow orders. I was alone so why did you ignore your programming?”
“I did not ignore it but decided to wait for better conditions.”
Bel-mar cocked an eyebrow. “Androids, at least the normal ones, are not designed to make their own choices.”
“Assassin androids are permitted a high degree of freedom and discretion on how to act within guild guidelines and the specifications of the contract. When you asked how long you have to prepare, I could have requested clarification from the guild. I continue to choose not to because you do not fit the profile for a target of assassination.”
“In what ways?”
“The guild primarily accepts contracts for targets that have proven to be a threat to the social order through their selfish actions. Apart from last night, your reasons for not being prepared to die are always selfless. You also have never intentionally tried to break the rules of our agreement.”
The king pushed the serving tray away. “I am ashamed about last night. Thank you for ignoring my self-destructive requests. I no longer feel hopeless, but my life remains purposeless with Nordhi-sha gone.”
“Your subjects are dealing with a catastrophic disaster right now. You have a purpose.”
“Last night proved I am unfit to lead the colony,” said Bel-mar as he leaned back into a pile of pillows.
“Sire, I cannot judge whether you are fit to lead or not. What I do know is that you are the king, and the people need you, right now, to make the decisions that will get the colony back on its feet.”
Bel-mar slumped even further into the pillows. “If I had given Keerat the crown, he would have to make the decisions.” He looked down at his lap in contemplation. “Maybe Nordhi-sha would still be alive.”
“Your cousin is in prison for trying to steal the crown. I suspect he also took out the contract to have you assassinated. Is that someone who should be in charge?”
Bel continued to wallow in his dark mood. “With that kind of ambition, maybe he deserves the crown more than I do. I did not earn the crown. I inherited it because my father died before the next election.”
“Even if you abdicate the throne, the contract remains active. Rangpu is next in line for succession, which makes him a threat to Keerat. All the evidence indicates your cousin was behind the attempt to kill him and your wife with the lion attack. There is no reason your cousin would not try again without you to protect him.”
My son! Bel-mar bolted upright, causing the serving tray to topple onto the floor. “Where is Rangpu? Who has been taking care of him?”
“The human staff sheltered at home with their families during the floods. You decommissioned the nanny androids weeks ago. I have tried to fill in but all I can do is feed and change him. He needs someone with child-rearing skills to look after him.”
Memories of Bel’s childhood - raised by androids while his parents administered the colony - crashed over him like a tidal wave. He was drowning in memories. Emotionally exhausted, he lacked the strength to resist the deluge. He submitted and let the memories pull him under.
Watching his childhood in fast-forward gave him the clarity he needed to shatter the calcified emotions from his childhood. We promised we would not delegate the job to androids. Forgive me, Nordhi-sha, but the colony is also a child that needs tending to. The job is too big for me. There is so much I do not know. Father was correct. To make the right decisions we need their expertise to supplement ours. I need their expertise.
Bel-mar sprang out of his bed. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. As long as I still live, neither my son nor the colony will be without their ‘father’ ever again. As he strode through the doorway of the bedroom, without a backward glance, he commanded Artee, “Have the nanny-droids reactivated. If you need me, I will be meeting with the royal council. There is much work to do, and I have squandered too much time.”