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rule by kings. From then on, Tharser’s law was adopted.”

“Still missing a few facts,” Jafarr murmured.

“Like what?” she growled. “What did the Tarrns do that was so terrible to make the High Class hate us?”

“It is not what the Tarrns did,” Jafarr said. “It is who they are that’s the issue.”

She blinked, entirely confused now.

“Let me fill in the facts,” the redhead said, looking mostly to Jafarr for permission. It was weird how they deferred to him. Jafarr was probably the youngest in the room besides her. Then again, Jafarr Zeldar was an unusual specimen. And, his ancestors were in the rebellion from the get-go. Maybe they honored that. Or maybe they honored that he was the descendant of kings.

Jafarr nodded, letting the redhead speak.

Turning to Zormna, the red haired man smiled then bowed. “I am Eergvin Dolvar—”

Zormna drew in a sharp breath, recognizing the name.

“I see you’ve heard of me.” He smiled more broadly.

Nodding, Zormna inspected his face more intently. Like Orrlar and Jafarr, he did not look much like his ID photo at all. He was once a law student at the university. Very bright. In fact, she had secretly admired him when she had read his record. He had been captured three times, escaped prison each time, and had even helped people escape the Internal Security Incarceration Compound (ISIC)—the national prison which Zormna had visited on few occasions and thoroughly despised. He had been someone she had wanted to meet. And here he was.

“I believe your study of Arrassian history has been highly…censored,” he said.

Zormna stared.

“Maybe by the Kevin to protect you. Maybe not,” Eergvin continued. “But the details that you are missing are highly important.”

She stared more. “What am I missing?”

With a peek at Jafarr, Eergvin replied, “What do you remember about the destruction of Arras?”

Frowning, Zormna didn’t like how openly he said the name of their Home. She always felt like someone was listening. However, she replied, “According to our school text, at the end of the Troubled Era there was a war we now call the Great War. The king of Knarr—Ardell—evacuated his people into the asteroid belt while the rest of the world blew each other to bits.”

She paused. Eergvin rolled his hand for her to continue.

Not knowing where this was leading, Zormna said, “Those people who did not flee to…this place basically destroyed Home, leaving our Home the barren airless dust heap that it is today.”

‘Home’ Jafarr mouthed, slowly shaking his head. He watched her like he was amazed, though she did not know what for.

“And,” Eergvin urged.

Huffing, Zormna made a face. “I don’t remember much else. The Knarr nation resettled—” She made scowled at Jafarr. “—Arras after a while. And constructed a city. Oh, and I think some man named Aloea didn’t go with them. He and several others took off somewhere with a bunch of ships into space to start a separate human colony, but we don’t know where that is exactly. The Surface Patrol has been guessing where they are, and we think we found them. But it has not been confirmed yet because the Kevin doesn’t want to bring them into our political crisis and—”

“You’re digressing.” Eergvin chuckled, amused at what had loosened her tongue. “What about the reconstruction? You still haven’t mentioned what happened then.”

Zormna blinked with a withering look. “I already told you. There was a political coup d'état. The royals were slaughtered on their thrones. And the aristocracy took over, which is why those morons are leading us now. After that were plagues—and his ancestors,” with a wave to Jafarr, “left the High Class and started the rebellion. What other details are there?”

Eergvin stared at Jafarr with amazement. “She knows about your family but she doesn’t know about hers?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Zormna said, “When you meet a guy named Jafarr Zeldar, you do all the research you can.”

They all gazed at Jafarr, who looked annoyed from all the attention. He said, “Why didn’t you research your own family?”

Zormna leaned back. “It was forbidden. To defy the Kevin—”

Jafarr snorted. “It’s not like you haven’t before.”

“This was different.” She glared at him. Like she had done, Zormna was sure Jafarr had researched her record to know his adversary. That meant, of course, that he saw how often she got into trouble with authority.

He looked away, shaking his head.

“Look!” She rose from her seat. “Scouring the files for information on a known rebel is a great deal different than researching the links between records of dead Tarrns. Most of our families would not profess any connection with anyone else, to protect the others. When my parents were killed, no one knew my father and uncle were related. That’s how I survived. And when he took me in, no one except my uncle’s partner knew I even existed. My birthdate is not even in the records.”

“When is your birthday, Alea Zormna?” Eergvin asked, now subdued.

She groaned. “What does this have to do with anything? What is it about my family that makes the High Class think Tarrns are going to bring about the end of the world?”

“The end of their world,” the blond man corrected.

Zormna scowled at him.

“Look, look, look.” Eergvin shook his head, trying to stop an argument. “We got off track. Back to the facts you are missing. What were the names of the royals who were slain?”

Zormna blinked at him. “King A…” She shook her head. “It started with an A. Hold on a minute. I always think of Alea Arden when he comes up in lessons.”

Al chuckled.

Scratching her head, she murmured, “Ardell? No. No. That was Queen Zormna’s father. Uh…Azdrov? Astrov? No. Not that. Um…”

“Alzdov,” the blonde said. “My name is Azdrov.”

She stared up at him then blinked. “Azdrov Eddrin. I knew you were familiar.”

Azdrov smiled. But to be honest, she didn’t know much about him. He had been assumed dangerous, and definitely against the government. But that was all she knew.

Sighing, Zormna nodded. “Ok, so Alzdov…Durrn. The king’s name was Alzdov Durrn.”

“But you know about Queen Zormna,” Eergvin said.

She nodded.

“Tell us what you know about her.”

Shrugging, Zormna replied, “I don’t know. Famous beauty. Big flirt. Had lots of suitors. Probably the kind of woman who would have annoyed me to death.”

Al laughed. Even Jafarr smirked, though he tried not to.

The others in the room did not seem to find it so funny.

“Ok… So what was the name of their sons?” Eergvin asked.

Blinking at that the space in front of her, Zormna’s mind went blank. “I don’t know. They had kids?”

The entire room stared.

“What?” She pulled back. “I thought they were killed. That was what it meant when they said the royals were massacred.”

Jafarr shook his head. “No, Zormna. They had seven sons before that even happened. The oldest and heir, Melzdar, was already a father.”

Chills went up Zormna’s arms. “You mean, what happened to the Durrns was like what happened to the Romanovs, the king’s friend slaughtered the entire family? Including the children?”

“You know about the Romanovs, but you don’t know about your own family?” Al looked exasperated.

“What do you mean my own family?” Zormna snapped. “You are talking about the Durrns. The last royal family. Besides, I watched Anastasia with Mindy McLenna five times. It is one of her favorite movies. She sings along with it. Andrew was the one who told me the story was real.”

They all stared.

“What?”

“Another detail missing,” Eergvin said, looking to Jafarr.

Zormna groaned, putting a hand to her head. “What? What detail?”

Jafarr frowned as he said, “King Ardell’s two sons died during the plague in space after the war.”

“Yeah, yeah. So?” Zormna stared impatiently at him.

“He had only one child left—his daughter, Zormna,” he said.

She still stared at him, waiting for when he would get to the point.

Sighing heavily, Jafarr closed his eyes. “My ancestor Zeldar the second (and the king’s brother) should have reigned after their deaths, some people say.”

Zormna nodded. She had heard that debate. It was ancient history now, either way.

“If he had, it would have perpetuated the paternal Tarrn lineage,” he said.

She still nodded, waiting.

“But when Alzdov Durrn married Princess Zormna Tarrn, Alzdov decided to perpetuate the Tarrn name through the maternal line. He stopped being Alzdov Durrn and became Alzdov Tarrn, to honor the king who had lost his sons.”

Zormna drew in a breath.

Nodding, Jafarr said, “The last royal family were called Tarrns. Not Durrns.”

Zormna dropped into the chair.

“The High Class hate the Tarrns because they are the rightful leaders of our people,” he said. “And it was prophesied that one day, the last Tarrn would come back and claim their right to rule.”

Her head felt dizzy. Zormna set a hand to it. It just wasn’t possible. “But history says the royals were slaughtered…”

Jafarr chuckled. “History is written by the victors—according to Winston Churchill.”

Still trying to collect her senses, Zormna shook her head wishing people would stop quoting Winston Churchill at her. “But how—?”

“Let me explain.” Eergvin looked to Jafarr.

Jafarr stepped back, nodding.

“You know the festival of names?” Eergvin asked.

Zormna nodded weakly.

“It was established as a ruse to protect the royal heirs,” Eergvin said.

She stared, confused already.

Eergvin explained: “You know how we take on a new name on that day, set new goals and start afresh? A day of really big costume parties where we can pretend to be anything and anyone we want to be? You’ve done that, right? Even in the Patrol?”

Nodding, waiting for what he was getting at, Zormna frowned.

“Well, on the very first name day, as you should recall from History lessons, the change was permeant. Jafarr’s ancestor, Zeldar Tarrn the Third had his name changed to…what was it?”

“Errd Zeldar,” Jafarr said.

“Who rejected the High Class’s overtures after the royal Tarrns were killed.” Eergvin met her gaze as he said, “The king and queen’s seven sons had done the same. Their first names became their last. Which is why they blended into society easily on record. Common first names became common last names.”

Zormna nodded. “Like Melzdar and Clendar.”

Eergvin nodded back. “And Effron, Lazdel, Astrov, Bently, and Zebba.

Her eyes widened.

“Like you, they each have one family medallion, for each of the seven sons. You are somehow the keeper of the Clendar medallion. And like you, a person can only know a Tarrn by the mark on their right shoulder.” He then chuckled. “In fact, it is why our people have always kept our shoulders covered. To protect the Tarrns.”

Zormna sat motionless. She was already feeling weak, but now she stared into space. Then she looked down at her hands. “But…”

“You don’t feel like royalty?” Jafarr asked wryly.

Her eyes shot up to him. “No! Are you kidding? I’ve been scared my entire life. What about you? I mean…I knew you were descended from…” She choked on the rest. Shaking her head, she murmured, “I don’t know how to handle this. This isn’t like a medallion you can just…you can just…”

“Throw around someone’s neck?” Jafarr finished, staring at her with a gaze she could not read.

Peevishly, she nodded.

The room went silent again.

Jafarr crouched across from her. Those fathomless eyes watched her face carefully. Zormna’s head hurt with overwhelm, but she finally had the facts. It made sense why the High Class would want her dead. History said they were ashamed of the coup. But at the same time, whenever an heir stepped up, the High Class squashed him. Like with the story of Anastasia, there was the possibility of upsetting those in power. From history, she knew of two famous Tarrn revolts, though she never knew why it had been significant until now. Now it all made sense.

“So,” Zormna murmured. “The High Class are afraid of a ten-thousand-year-old prophecy and all the surviving Tarrns.”

The others in the room nodded.

Looking to Orrlar, she asked, “What was really prophesied? I know my family is not bent on bringing about an apocalypse.”

The older man chuckled, glancing at Jafarr and his other associates—but always to Jafarr first. “Yes…uh, I suppose our half Seer Class man ought to do the honors on that one.”

Jafarr groaned, rising

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