A rainbow dragon.

A badass mermaid.

A unicorn.

I haven't talked to her in ages, too deep in my own depression to pay attention to her pain, too far to be able to hug her when she needed it. 

I only reached out to her when her posts turned truly dark and found out that I wasn't there the day she overdosed, when her heart stopped and had to be brought back by the medics. I didn't know that they were barely able to save her, that she spent several minutes being dead. 

I don't know where things went wrong, why this bright young girl turned so desperate and I have no words to offer that would make it better or show her she's worth staying. 

But she loves glitter and she loves rainbows, so glitter and rainbows she shall have in her mailbox every morning to let her know someone out there is thinking of her and another one every night before the dark makes it easy for the doubts to creep out of the shadow. 

Another dragon.

Another mermaid.

Another unicorn.

For as long as it takes. 

*The following is an excerpt from my book The Empress. Additional chapters are published under https://www.wattpad.com/user/zlatoluna. I hope you enjoy!

I push the last, smallest earing into its place and close it with a faint snap. "There," I turn my head to admire the crescent of shimmery amethyst stones along the edge off my ear.

"Purple is such an underappreciated color," I tell the girl in the mirror. Her face is still white as a ghost. I know she's scared senseless that she'd say something wrong, do something wrong, that the evening will end with her in a prison cell or the cage.

She curtsies without lifting her eyes from the floor, "As you say, Your Imperial Highness."

I contemplate my own face, the beginnings of the wrinkles smoothed out into unnatural flatness by the custom powder House of Akilah delivered just last week. It matches my skin tone perfectly, as they promised it would. "Do you think I look beautiful?"

"Of course you do, Your Imperial Highness!" She lifts her arm to her mouth as if she couldn't as much as think of the possibility of me not being the perfect beauty she just proclaimed me to be.

"What was your name again?" I snap my fingers, digging through my memories. I always make a point of learning their names. It makes dismissing them that much more personal. "Ah, Cassidy. Being able to command armies with one wave of a hand is so much more... interesting than being beautiful. You should try it sometimes." I check the other cheek, satisfied with the hint of rose on my pale skin. It's funny how much more popular pale skin became since I ascended to the throne.

"At the same time," I get up and the silky fabric flutters around the back of my thighs. "It helps when I can play it up for the envoys," I wink at her. "Men are inclined to be much more patient and forgiving with a pretty face than an ugly one."

"As you say, Your Imperial Highness," she repeats mechanically. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have the ability to follow my reasoning right now. Maybe I should try to reign my temper in a little with the staff. It's a third maid this week, after all.

"Leave," I command before I send her to the reformatory for being irrationally scared.

She scuttles toward the door as if I were a tiger bent on eating her alive, not a woman barely ten years older than herself. Why can't they find me a decent servant anymore? Does bravery no longer exist now that the revolution is over?

I cross my dressing room and slowly twirl in front of the oversized mirror with all its angles and crevices, designed to allow me to see myself in a way traditional mirror never would.

The thin, sleeveless coat hugs my torso and shows off my chest without being too obvious about it, while the frilly bottom reaches half way down my thighs, then shortens all the way to my hips in the front, a feminine touch designed to make me seem a little softer and yielding than I really am. The deep, rich purple of the fabric intensifies the green in my hazel eyes.

I catch a glimps of the TV screen behind me. The show is replaying the interview with president Matachi, the pretend head of the Orsino Republic. I wonder why they even bother putting a puppet up for the show when he has no real power to speak off. Besides, I've already seen the footage and the maid should've known enough to anticipate that. The mindlessness of the servants in general is rather frustrating.

Maybe I need to force the generals to train a couple of soldiers in the art of court service. I'm sure they'd do much better than the disorganized village girls, who spend entirely too much time thinking about their boyfriends and babies to really pay attention to the job.

Besides, I get along with men so much better than with women. I suppose it has something to do with the revolution and the way I ended up rebuilding the armies before I was old enough to marry. Too many hours spent in the command tent and not enough room to cultivate my feelings.

Too bad Gower, the master of ceremony, thinks it's unbecoming of a lady to be served by men in private.

He supposes it would send a wrong message to the all the prospective grooms we've been leading around by their noses for the last twelve years. I'm not entirely sure if they're expecting me to be a virgin; they will be disappointed if they do, but it's one image that needs to be kept up before it becomes too obvious that I don't intend to accept anyone's hand in marriage.

I straighten the simple circle of a crown on top of my head, my favorite one of the many the old emperor left behind in the palace safe. It was suggested I have a custom one made, one that personifies who I am as a ruler. I find that this one does just fine.

Maybe I will marry a soldier. They are used to following commands and wouldn't require much training to be molded into the prince consort. One day, when the advantage of being considered a marriage prospect is no longer needed.

"Your Imperial Highness?" A knock comes from the door, followed by the familiar voice of my chief advisor and closest counselor.

"Come in, Madoc!" I nod to my image, satisfied with the message it projects.

"Your Imperial Highness!" He bursts into the room, still breathless from the run up the stairs. He really needs to realize he isn't as young as he was when we chased the old Emperor down the palace stairs. "Prince Sion himself will be attending the banquet as a part of the Calina envoy!"

I turn back to the mirror and smooth away flyaway hair that somehow unwound from the thick braid that goes all the way around my head. "I see. Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

Anyone else would retreat, their shoulders round, worried about the punishment I would choose for their incompetence. Not Madoc, though. Madoc doesn't waste his time on agonizing over his own destiny, not until my own problems have been solved. That's why he's the only one who can hope to bring me news like this and come out unscathed.

His mirror image meets my eyes. "We only just found out, by accident too. A servant that returned from Calina's embassy a month ago recognized him while he was in with refreshments for the ambassador. He notified us immediately and we've verified his report at once. There wasn't time to ascertain the reason for the deception, but you should know he will likely be present at the gathering and might seek you out."

I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin. "Remind me, what do we have on His Royal Highness, Prince Sion?"

"Twenty-seven, the second son of King Octavio, spent most of his years in the library, very good at diplomacy with a penchant for adventure stories. That is, he prefers to read them rather than create his own."

Only years of practice prevent me from rolling my eyes. I'm not sure how they expect me to marry someone so unlike myself. He isn't even the crown prince, the third prize in a hat full of seconds.

"Well, then we'll just have to see what the purpose his little ruse was, won't we?" I smirk to myself. I've dealt with worse than a bookish prince, younger than me to boot.

"As you say, Your Imperial Highness," The corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. He's known me since before my father died and stood by my side while I rose through the ranks to the commander of the army. Formed the army, really. He knows what I've been through and he isn't worried about one daddy's boy, even if his daddy happens to be a king. "May I accompany you to the ballroom?"

"The hail storms have... have destroyed a significant number... number of fields in the south. We're... we're anticipating shortages in... in almost every crop that comes from the Lake... Lake region." Delaney's advisor is out of breath while he tries to keep up with us on the way to the office and he has the advantage of not having been forced to wear a dress. A flowery dress and two-inch heels, the back of my mind complains bitterly.

I make a mental note for Madoc to have him run a few rounds around the palace every day. I can't stand inefficiency and he clearly isn't up to the task as is.

"Unfortunately, it's all mostly fruits, which means little reserves in the storage," Delaney adds next to me, completely comfortable with the pace. "The prices are soaring."

"Have them cut the palace orders to one-third at most. That should help with getting the prices a little lower. Inform the cooks that they should adjust the menu accordingly and see if there's anything they can do without entirely."

A servant scuttles by, his shoulders hunched down and his head hiding between his shoulders the best he can.

I catch his arm. "You, run to the kitchen and have Alexei make me my favorite sweet tea, then bring it to my office." I meet his eyes. "Yourself."

He nods in a response, not nearly as worried as he should be. In fact, he's almost smiling. "It'll be an honor, Your Imperial Majesty."

I only half listen to the rest of the report while I lead the procession of advisors and guards down the hall toward my office door. I stop at the threshold. "You have your orders. I'll send for you if anything else arises."

I watch them disperse into the little offices along the corridor, their noses in the little notebooks, scribbling notes for later. The guards check the room, then take positions by the door, a well-rehearsed ritual of me entering my own office. Lance wanted me to keep two on the inside, just in case, but the four outside was where I drew the line. I'm not ready, not even after all these years, to have someone intrude on my every waking moment, particularly not someone I know only by their first name.

I make myself comfortable and reach for Lance's report on the rebels. I have all the important parts pretty much memorized, but pretty much isn't good enough for what I have in mind.

A knock on the door reminds me that there's another business to be settled. "Your tea."

"Your tea, Your Imperial Majesty." I raise my eyebrows. "Come in." I wait until he closes the door behind himself. "You seem to have a very peculiar difficulty remembering the appropriate way to address the Empress."

"You could say that I have a peculiar dislike of titles in general. Particularly ones that require the use of more than one word." He puts the tea in front of me and sits down without being prompted. "Having a good day, my lady?"

"Acceptable so far. I do, however, seem to be having some issues with my memory, Prince Sion. I recall telling Sir Idris very clearly that your presence in my palace is... unwelcome."

"You must be mistaken, my lady. My name is Skip, Skip Hellina, your faithful servant." He smirks.

I stand up, walk over and lean against the desk right next to him. I don't know why exactly, but I want to be closer. Maybe a part of me is wondering if the memories of his touch were amplified by my temper running high that evening. Maybe I need a change from Lance, I've become lazy in that department and stuck with the familiar for way too long. If he only weren't a prince. "Well, Skip, you bear an uncanny resemblance to a certain prince that I've specifically forbidden from visiting. I don't pay nearly well enough to make the risk worth your while."

"A big risk translates into a big reward. I intend to win." He smiles. "Tell me, my lady, what did your advisors say about the rebels?"

I pull my shoulders up and raise my chin higher. "It hasn't become an issue worthy of my attention yet." Then I falter again when his lips curve up just slightly. He sees right through the act, probably after having witnessed thousands of similar performances at his father's court. Add the fact that I much prefer a straight forward talk to acting and I'm probably not that difficult to figure out. "Unfortunately, you were right. They are becoming a threat."

"I'm glad to hear the situation was sufficiently explained." He bows his head before he looks up expectantly. "Now, my lady, tell me, why are you so afraid of me?"

There's a good chance I actually cringe when he says that. "I'm not afraid of you. There isn't a single man in this kingdom that I'm afraid of."

He stands up and stops right in front of me. I have to tilt my head back uncomfortably if I want to see him in the eyes and that doesn't make me feel any more in charge after I admitted he had been right. "Never mind how truly ridiculous that statement is. All smart men..." He smirks, "and women are afraid of someone. Especially the ones who have as many enemies as you do, my lady. But as far as you go to get rid of me, that makes me think there must be something more that you're saving just for me."

I burst out laughing, a full, real laugh at his misguided expectations. "Don't flatter yourself, Prince Sion. Anyone asking for my hand gets treated the same way."

"You have no intentions of marrying for the country? Are you too much of a romantic to treat it like a business transaction?"

I'm now laughing even harder. "Definitely not a romantic. I simply..." I cut my eyes away for a second, "don't plan on sharing my power with anyone."

"Not even the rebels?" His smile looks a little strained now.

The mention of the rebels in the middle of the conversation cuts my laugh off immediately, but I recover fast. "Prince Sion, I don't think the rebels are interested in sharing the power, either."

He, of course, misunderstands my reaction. He steps closer, so close I can almost feel him through the thin fabric of my sundress and lifts his hand to stroke my cheek. "I can protect you, my lady. I don't want any of the power, just the responsibility of caring for you. Imagine having someone who genuinely cares by your side."

I swat his hand away and freeze him in place with a glare that comes directly from the middle of the winter. "Prince Sion, do not touch me uninvited. I don't know the customs of Calina, but in Juniper it's expected that the man gets a permission first."

He backs away immediately and I regret my words the moment the heat of his body dissipates into the empty air. "I apologize, my lady." He bows lower than he's done so far. "I didn't realize that my touch would be that unwelcome. Please, forgive me for the intrusion."

The frustration that ebbs in my veins makes me close my hands in fists. He misunderstands that as well.

"Your Imperial Majesty, I..." He blurts out, but I just shake my head resolutely.

"Oh, shut up, Prince Sion. Pack your bags, go home and find yourself a different politically advantageous bride." I don't mean to sound bitter, I should know better than to allow anyone to hear that. I wouldn't have made that slip if he hadn't get me quite this frustrated.

In two long steps, he's back in front of me, closer than before. His hands land on the table, effectively trapping me between the hard wood of the table and the warmth of his chest while he bends down to my level. "I'd be long married if I planned on marrying for political advantage. I'm not going anywhere, not until I find out why you insist on staying alone. I know you're not the impregnable fortress you pretend to be. I can tell that you're just as intrigued by me as I am by you. And yet... You run."

I want to laugh at him again. Or maybe glare, glaring sounds like a good option. Isn't it what women usually do in these circumstances? I could at least kick him in the nuts. Now, that would be a response to a man's advances that I'm more than familiar with and I have to say I usually do enjoy when they writhe on the floor in pain. They should know better.

I close my eyes instead. I can't face him right now, not his dark glowing eyes. I need to get him out of the room, make him give up, hightail it back to daddy. I want him to kiss me.

He's still staring at me when I look at him. "Julianna, I'll..."

"You'll leave or I'll throw you in the reformatory, prince or not." I gather the remains of my dignity. No one has used my full name in ages. It sounds unexpectedly soft from his lips.

"You'll do no such thing." He seems too certain about it, enough to return some sense to my brain.

I punch up with the heel of my hand and he flies back. It wasn't even a hard stroke, just enough to get me some space to work with. I'm holding his arm and pulling him back, my foot ready in front of me before he ever realizes what's happening. He never had a chance. He trips and hits the floor hard. I almost feel sorry for him. That had to have hurt.

Somehow, he still manages to twist onto his back. I'm not fighting as hard as I would if he were a real threat and that costs me a few precious seconds before I land on top of him, the few seconds that divide me from getting him into a lock he wouldn't be able to get out of and him gaining enough room to move to get his hands free.

He doesn't look as surprised as I would've expected. In fact, he's smiling again. "If this is what you wanted, you only needed to ask." He lifts his chin toward my legs wrapped tight around his torso. "Although, if it's all the same to you, I generally prefer to be the one on top in the bedroom."

I look down at my sundress, bunched around my hips and my bare legs touching his sides. I really couldn't have chosen a worse day to switch my usual pants for something more girly. Damn Elinor and her insistence on softening my image in an effort to combat the public perception.

He plants his warm hands half way up my things and caresses the sensitive skin with his thumbs. The prickles of electricity it creates cloud my mind make it harder to hate myself for allowing him to keep his hands free. I want to move, but the firm grasp could just as well be glue where my oddly weak muscles are concerned.

"Does it make you feel more in control when you fight? Does the uncertainty and self-doubt go away? Does it release your frustration?" His fingers are drawing little delicious circles on me and all I want to do is melt against him.

I don't respond. I don't think he's expecting me to, anyway.

The door bursts open and two of my guards pile in, their guns in their hands.

"Your Imp..." One of them starts while he's taking in the scene. He turns beet red a second later. "The servant didn't come out... The noise...We worried." He stammers over his words, clearly not entirely sure whether he's expected to back out as fast as he can or give me an apology first.

I jump up, nearly as embarrassed as he is. "It's fine, Jasper. Leave now."

Prince Sion gathers himself up much slower once the door clicks closed. "My lady, I don't know what demons you're fighting, but I don't give up that easily. I'm not leaving on my own."

"You're going to lose this game, Prince Sion." My voice is still raspy from my breath catching in my throat earlier. The skin on my tights still burns with the memory of his touch and I can only imagine how it would feel if he kept going. "I will have you removed."

He gives me a playful smile before he closes the door behind himself. I know he doesn't have a clue about what to make of me. I feel sorry for him, I really do, so many confusing signals that keep him on his toes. I will make the call again, though. I'm used to making tough decisions. For the country and for myself.