One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 8, page 7

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Bhanar Narak sat down upon the cushy mattress. The flannel sheets were rough under his hands, but comforting nonetheless.

The old woman patted the pillow. “Just lie down, dear. We’ll take care of everything else in the morning.”

Lying back on the bed, Bhanar yawned widely. Whatever craziness had occurred tonight, it surely would make more sense after a good night’s sleep.

He tried to kick off his shoes, but remembered he’d already removed them back in the strange chapel, before coming through the linen closet. He tucked his feet under the thick, quilted blanket, noting the blood-soaked bandage around his right shin. He should take that off, he knew, but instead he lowered head on the pillow and pulled the blanket over him.

Zhíanoso healed me. Weird. I guess the “divine right” of kings and emperors isn’t all the gooseshit I thought it was.

Bhanar turned onto his side, his eyes closed. Dust and fabric softener tickled his nose.

The motorbike race tomorrow was out of the question, what with his truck in the ditch. Hopefully the police would keep anyone from stealing anything during the night. Hopefully the police would catch the bastard Zhíno and put him in jail or just shoot him dead.

The bedroom door clicked quietly shut. Bhanar cracked open an eye to see the old woman gone.

He was supposed to be sleeping at the motorbike camp tonight. He was supposed to be resting up so he could win another race and earn praise from his peers. But he didn’t need any of that anymore. Not if he was the emperor--and he was the emperor, no matter what his grandfather or dad said. Their cycles had passed; it was his turn now.

His grandfather had taken the Imperial House of Narakamíníkı and turned it into just a last name, Narakamíníkı. Then his dad hacked off most of that, shortening their name to Narak. It was now up to Bhanar to return the imperial family to prominence, to restore the House of Narakamíníkı.

Bhanar snuggled into the goose-down pillow, moaning softly.

Starting tomorrow, he would act like the emperor he was. He would do all that stuff Zhíanoso told him to do. He would be the emperor that the media and the public all clamored for. And if anybody questioned his authority, he could just call Zhíanoso for support.

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