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writersplanetarium · 4 years

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Facade: New Beginnings

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11 Part 12

Aelin and Rowan: The Burning Hatred Between Them

Aelin sighed as she spotted another article about her and Rowan. It’d been a few months since she’d gone and spilled the beans, and the news sites were still talking about it. She and Rowan had since developed a... friendship of sorts. After they’d confessed to each other what they hadn’t dared tell anyone else, they found themselves in a sort of in between place with each other, not sure whether they were going to settle for being friendly coworkers, aquaintences, or close friends. Aelin was trying for friendship, and he wasn’t pushing back, which was a good sign.

Now that they were actually getting along, the articles were pointless, but Aelin knew if she went out now and said they’d made up, it’d seem like a publicity stunt. Oh, who was she kidding, she knew no matter when she did it, it’d seem like a publicity stunt. It had worked in their favor though. They were still the hot topic, especially since everyone was loving the new season of the show and their character’s budding romance.

She had even missed him a little when he went home to spend the holidays with his family. However, with Rowan gone, Aelin could have a party at her house, so she had everyone over for the holidays and not risk upsetting the delicate balance of their relationship. It was a nice, family-friendly party filled with all her favorite people. And yet somehow she found herself looking out the window and sighing at the empty house next door.

She tried not to let her mind linger on the man. Tried not to think of how he’d started waving at her when she’d drink her coffee on her porch before his morning run. Tried not to think about how she’d catch him taking the garbage out at ungodly hours of the morning rather than the night before like a normal person. Or how he’d always get his mail after he’d been working out, so he was sweaty and shirtless. She definitely wasn’t letting herself think about any of that.

But now Rowan was back, the holidays were over, and they’d gotten their new scripts. He’d come right over once he’d put his stuff away and eaten dinner for the reading. And despite their new friendship of sorts, Rowan scrunched up his nose at the first scene, and Aelin finally set her phone aside, putting the articles out of her mind.

“Really?” He asked, “A sex scene right off the bat?”

“We’re supposed to be in love, Rowan, what did you expect?” She laughed, “They’re giving the people what they want.”

“But why does it have to be sex? There are more ways to show affection, to show they’ve grown closer.”

“Yes, but this is the most fanservicey,” Aelin said. She prodded his leg with her foot. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll be gentle with you. I only bite a little.” He rolled his eyes but seemed to be fighting a smile.

“Let’s just get on with it. Your line’s first,” he said.

“You mean the various sounds of pleasure?” She teased. He gave her a flat look. “Okay. Okay. Let’s see.” She flipped open the script. In the middle of their intense moment together, a loud knock on the door startles them both. Charlotte speaks, breathlessly. ”Who is it?” Aelin called.

“It’s Henry,” Rowan said, reading Fenrys’ part. Charlotte and Daemion give each other a panicked look as they see the time and notice they’re late.

“Just a minute!” Aelin said with a bit of franticness in her voice. They both jump out of bed, Charlotte clutching the sheets around her, and Daemion grabbing his underwear from just beside the bed, the both of them racing around the room to get dressed. “Dae, where’d you throw my underwear?”

“I didn’t throw them anywhere,” Rowan replied, “You did. Check by the dresser.” Charlotte continues to look, not checking by the dresser.

“Seriously Dae, I need-” She turns, finding Daemion half-dressed, holding her underwear up by a finger.

“I told you to check by the dresser,” he said.

“Whatever,” she laughed. Charlotte quickly dresses and pulls her messy hair back before turning back to Daemion, who’s dressed as well. She steps closer to him, lacing their fingers, pulling him down to her. “I’ll catch you later.” She kisses him intensely, and when they pull apart, neither seems to want to let go. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he replies.

“I love you most,” she says. They part fully and Charlotte grabs her bag and puts it on. She makes her way to the door where Henry is waiting. “I do expect you to finish what you started.”

“Always,” he says. He presses a quick kiss to her neck before letting her slip out of the room to meet with Henry. We see him give a fond look at the door, thinking about the girl who just slipped out of it.

“Aw, that’s cute,” Aelin comments. Rowan makes a small sound of half agreement, clearly just wanting to keep working.

So they did. They went through the rest of the script, reading through their lines. It was... odd, now, though. It was easier to read scripts and act with him when she hated his guts, but now... Now it had a different energy to it. Now... it was more tender. Awkward. They were practically friends now, and she had to pretend to be in love with him. To want him. Though if Rowan picked up on the feeling, or felt anything was off himself, he didn’t mention it.

So Aelin brushed it off.

“You want something to drink?” She asked as they finished off the episode.

“Sure,” he said, reclining into her couch, “What have you got?”

“Water, wine, apple juice, and milk.”

“Water’s fine,” he said. She nodded, grabbing him a cup of water and pouring herself a glass of wine.

When she returned to her living room, she caught sight of Lysandra in her kitchen window, grinning like a lion that just caught a gazelle. Rowan was flipping through his phone, so he didn’t notice her staring, but Aelin most certainly did. She saw her best friend lift her phone, and Aelin knew she was texting her.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, his eyes still on his phone as she set the cup down. Aelin’s phone buzzed, and she scowled at Lysandra but picked it up anyway.

It looks like a certain SOMEONE is getting quite comfortable on your couch

He came over to run lines, Lys. Trust me he’s not getting too comfy.

Well he didn’t just run out as soon as you were done. That’s a good sign

It’s weird being nice, and then having to pretend we’re in love.

You two have a new dynamic now. You just have to adapt your acting to suit it. Which you’ll get the hang of in no time. I mean if you can pretend to be in love with him when you hate him, you can do it when you like him. You’re both professionals, so if you’re worried about him thinking you LIKE like him, remember he knows you’re acting.

Aelin rolled her eyes.

I can see you rolling your eyes, you know.

Aelin laughed lightly.

I’m not worried about anything. It’s just... different.

Embrace the change, Ace, embrace the change.

Aelin looked up at Lysandra through the window and her friend winked before heading deeper into her house where Aelin could no longer see her.

“You want to watch something?” Aelin asked, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Do you have anything good?” He asked.

“By your standards? No,” Aelin said, “But even grouchy old men like you need to enjoy a movie so bad it’s good every once in a while.”

“I’m barely older than you,” he said with a flat look.

“Old. Man,” she said again with a grin, poking him in the arm with her foot just enough to nudge him. He rolled his eyes.

“We’re going to watch an awful movie,” Aelin said, “And you’re going to love it.”

“Are we to the point yet that you can force me to watch bad movies?” He asked. She picked up the remote.

“Just got there, Buzzard.”

********

Rowan glanced at Aelin as she watched the movie with mirth in her eyes. It was awful. Cheesy times ten with the most Rom Com dialogue he’d ever heard. It reminded him of his first movie, an awful thing that filled him with regret every time he thought about it. But... he liked watching it with Aelin. Despite the fact that he’d never admit it out loud, she was actually pretty funny, and her commentary amused him to no end.

“Yes, of course I’ll go on a week long vacation with you, man I’ve only known for three days.”

“Yes, definitely walk up and stand that close to me while I’m not looking.”

“Of course I’ll marry you after not even knowing you three weeks! We’re soulmates.”

It actually made him smile. It was a nice shift from the awkward tension earlier while they read their lines. It hadn’t gone badly, but it sure as hell just felt... different. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but where things used to be all spark and anger fueling them to try and be better, they were just... there with each other. Somehow, the comfort brought discomfort that the movie helped to reduce.

“You enjoyed that,” Aelin said, moving closer to him.

“I did not,” he lied.

“You did too!” She laughed, “You liked that! You thought it was fun. Look, you’re smiling.” She poked his cheek and he rolled his eyes, dropping the smile.

“I’m going home.”

“No!” She said, grabbing his arm, “You have to stay and watch more bad movies with me.”

“I have to do no such thing,” he said, “Besides, it’s getting late, and you’ve had a whole bottle of wine.”

“One more movie,” she said, “Just one more. This one’s the best.”

“Aelin-”

“Too late, it’s already playing,” she said, picking up the remote and selecting the new movie. He rolled his eyes, but watched anyway.

Usually when he went back home for the holidays, he was glad to be away from Aelin. His family could get crazy, for sure, but they didn’t blast their music so much he could feel it in his feet over a hundred feet away. But this time... He’d actually wanted to come back to her.

She didn’t move back to her spot as the movie started, having made herself comfortable with barely a foot’s worth of space between them. So close he could smell the mix of her jasmine soap and the wine she’d downed. He promptly ignored it.

She was going strong for the first thirty minutes with her witty remarks and full laughter, but at around forty five minutes it started to die down and her laughter turned to huffs and her sentences turned to words, trailing off to less and less until her head hit his shoulder.

“Aelin?” He looked over at her. She was out cold. He let out a sigh, grabbing the remote. He hit pause on the movie and shifted, gently laying her down on the couch. He tucked a pillow under her head and pulled the blanket off the back, laying it over her.

He turned on his phone’s flashlight as he shut off the TV so he’d be able to find his way out. He paused when he looked at her sleeping, peaceful figure in the dark, only the moonlight coming in through the window illuminating her. He patted her head gently, pushing her hair out of her face, before making his way back home, collapsing into his bed to find himself with dreams filled with that familiar bubble of laughter.

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fableweaver · 6 years

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Arc of the Little Saint

Demi sat in the most luxurious room she had ever seen, finely woven rugs, silk curtains, intricate wicker work over the windows, and furniture of rose and cherry wood filled the room. The scents of sandalwood incense and jasmine perfume filled the room, the sound of a fountain outside in the gardens adding the music of water. Demi sat at a table spread with a fine meal of goat roasted and stuffed with almonds and plums, pilaf, rice cakes, and fresh peaches and oranges.

Across from her, peeling an orange was the king. Akeem had come to see her every day since claiming her ten days ago, each day with a present. He had started with jewels and gold, then moved on to perfumes and oils, all the finest goods Xin had to offer. Then he had tried imported goods, Lirian jade and silk, Daunish porcelain, and even a wood box from Alda. Demi had turned her nose up at each one.

She hardly touched the food, only eating bread or plain rice. Akeem ate as he pleased, picking at the food as he occasionally glanced at her. If their eyes met he would look away at once, a blush spreading over his cheeks. Demi did not need to be told the boy liked her. He finished his food and rang a little brass bell he carried, and servants hurried in to clear the table. All the servants were either women or eunuchs here in the heart of Akeem’s harem.

“You must eat more, you are getting thin,” Akeem said once the meal was cleared away. Demi did not answer; she had not even said a word to him after they had met. She had not told him her story or her quest, though he had asked her to tell him the story. Akeem sighed and rang his bell again.

A servant came in with her day’s gift, setting it on the table and quickly leaving. The object was covered with a silk draping, but Akeem pulled it aside. A brass birdcage sat on the table, the bars intricately woven in a spherical shape in a work of art on its own. Inside was a beautiful hummingbird with purple feathers that gleamed like jewels.

“It’s very rare,” Akeem said proudly. Demi didn’t have the heart to tell him a bird like this was common in certain places, the Oasis of Hamil had plenty of them. “She is from a rare island off the coast.” It was a male hummingbird if its plumage was colored and Demi doubted it was from an island. “I bet she has a wonderful voice.” Hummingbirds could not sing.

Akeem opened the cage carefully as if afraid the little bird would fly out suddenly. He reached in; trying to grab it, but the bird flitted about on swift wings that could barely be seen they moved so fast. Demi sighed and put her hand on Akeem’s arm. He withdrew, watching her as she reached into the cage. The hummingbird hovered around before at last alighting on her finger.

Demi withdrew her hand, Akeem watching with a smile on his face. Demi stood and went to the window, pushing aside the wicker shutter and held out her hand. The hummingbird took flight out into the garden, a tiny purple comet that disappeared into the green foliage. Demi turned and sat down again Akeem gaped at her.

“Do you have any idea how much that bird cost?” Akeem said outraged. Demi looked back at him calmly as if she did not care. Akeem scowled at her and stood. “Fine have it your way, see if I come with gifts again.”

He stormed out both of them knowing he would be back tomorrow with another feast of a meal and a new gift for her. Demi waited until she was sure he was gone and stood to leave, going out through the gardens. The palace was much more extensive than Demi could have imagined, a whole inner complex dedicated to the women of the King’s harem.

These women were his sisters and mothers, aunts and cousins. Any woman close to the king in blood was kept here safe if she had no other family to protect her. His cousins were even sent here to be kept safe. As soon as Akeem married his first wife, he could take in more wives to please him, these lesser to the first wife but still granted safety and luxury. As it was Akeem only had one prospective wife and that was Demi.

She walked through gardens as lush as any jungle, but trimmed and clean of any leaves or dead foliage. The eunuchs of the harem kept the gardens clean and tended to the animals here. As Demi walked, she passed tame gazelles, impala, and peacocks, all watching her go uninterested as she had no food for them. She passed ponds and pools with gurgling fountains or giant water lilies floating on their surfaces. Frogs sang from the water and giant koi fish swam under the surface of the water. Lizards and iguanas scurried around in the trees or sunned themselves out on rocks. Parrots and birds of paradise sang from the branches of the great trees, and a few tame monkeys leapt about among the branches.

Demi even passed a walled area of the garden where a tiger was kept as a pet to the king, the beast lounging in a pool lazily as she walked by. Another walled area held a pool with a crocodile in the water, lazing out on the white sand in the sun. She didn’t feel sorry for these animals, they were petted and pampered here; feed until they were fat and content. To an animal there was no concept of freedom, they lived lives of instinct and desire and as long as those were fulfilled, they were content.

The gardens were large and expansive; Demi had yet to fully explore them. There were hidden gazeboes and other buildings in the foliage. White beaches could be found in some places where the lake was permitted into the walls. There were grand towers that let one up to look over the gardens.

It seemed like the only thing the palace was missing was a view. Even from those spires Demi found she couldn’t see over the palace walls or the distance of the lake to see the city below. She knew it was there, but Demi felt like she was suddenly isolated in a world of luxury.

She walked in a large circle through the gardens, dragging her feet to return to the harem after her meeting with the king. Eventually Sol drove her indoors; even the shade of the trees could not protect her entirely from Sol’s wrath. There were many buildings to the palace; it was much more expansive than Demi had dreamed. The palace she walked into was the main building for all the women of the harem. Wide halls decorated with mosaics of tiles and giant vases filled with water, built to let air blow through and cool the inside.

Demi walked through the wide halls, curtains blowing around over open doors and giving glimpses of women lounging about divans or pools. The women were all beautiful; those who were not became servants. Their only duty was to look beautiful; Demi learned that none of the women here ever had to do anything other than sit around like cats lounging in the sun. She walked past many rooms full of women chattering and sitting around doing nothing but talk. Demi found it utterly boring, but at this time of day she had to go indoors.

There were women here other than Xinians as well. Some Regarian women with golden hair and pale skin, or Lirian women with silk black hair and olive skin, had been sent to the harem as gifts to the king from foreign lords. Demi heard rumors there was a mage here sent as one of the late king’s wives. She had failed to produce any heirs, but she still cast magic spells for the king. Demi had not seen this mage; she had remained hidden in her own private bungalow in the harem.

She went to the heart of the harem, a grand hall decorated with great silk drapes and thick carpets. Women lounged on giant cushions or divans, female servants fanning them with palm fronds or fans made of feathers. The ceiling was a great dome of colored glass, letting in dappled light over the room like jewels of Iris. Fresh fruit and sweets sat on little tables over the room, servants feeding the women delicate bites as they gossiped. The younger women wore more jewelry than clothes, their fine golden skin mostly bare and glistening with perfumed oil.

As soon as Demi entered, she heard a ripple of gossip from the women. She hadn’t talked to them much since her arrival, not after the insipid questions they asked her. They seemed to think her silence arrogant so the talk of her was mostly venomous; especially when some of the women here had been sent as gifts to the king to be wives. It would be rude of the king to return gifts, but if he chose not to marry her he just put the offered woman in his harem. Most of the women were older than him as well, ranging in age from sixteen to twenty. No one took offense to the king being unmarried so far, after all he was still young.

Demi walked through the gossip unconcerned, approaching the giant round divan in the center of the room. On this divan sat the Queen mother Shahera and her five daughters the princesses of Xin. Shahera was beautiful still, though her face was lined and gray streaked her hair. She was nearly fifty it seemed, her daughters all at least five years apart each, the oldest nearly forty and the youngest four and ten. Demi knew this to mean Shahera had gone to the king’s bed barely a woman and bore him children all that time, only six living to adulthood and only one a boy.

Demi sat on the divan looking to these women and hiding her disappointment in them. Their heads were as empty as vases, though they were most beautiful women Demi had ever seen including the Priestesses of Euria.

“Has my son won you over yet Prophet?” Shahera asked with a winning smile. “What did he give you today?”

“A hummingbird,” Demi answered.

“Oh, that must have been wonderful,” Lamya, the eldest, said with a pretty sigh. “I miss father, he used to give me the best gifts.”

“Akeem only gives us jewels and gold,” Hala, the third daughter said with a toss of her black hair.

“Better than some smelly bird,” Duha, the second daughter said, wrinkling her nose.

“Aren’t you from the bird riders?” Alya, the youngest asked Demi. “Did you not love his present?”

“Oh, stop Alya you know she’s mute,” Ghada the fourth daughter said.

“She is not, she just spoke,” Alya answered.

“All that little tart can say is a few squawked words,” Duha said. “Like a parrot!”

The women all laughed even Shahera, and Demi let their petty insults go. She wondered though at the women, it was a woman’s job to guide not only her children but her whole family. It was no wonder Akeem was so selfish with a family like this. But Demi could hardly fault them; these women were all raised spoiled.

Demi sat as the talk flowed over her, glancing out towards the garden longingly waiting for Sol to set enough and the day to cool. Burning Hour prayers came but Demi was the only one to offer her prayers up to the gods. When she finished her prayers she turned to see Alya watching her intent. When their eyes met Alya looked away and blushed, Demi leaving it be. She stood and left, the day had cooled enough now that she could explore.

She had spent her time exploring what she could through the gardens and palace. At first she had thought she could explore it all in a few days and be done with it, but she had been wrong. The palace was practically a city on its own, acers of gardens and many buildings. Demi worried that the eunuchs would stop her from her exploration, but she found that as long as she didn’t try to leave, they didn’t care where she went.

Demi found that there were old buildings of the palace left abandoned, parts of the gardens left to grow wild. These were inhabited by the animals of the garden, Demi feeling as if the garden was working to claim these places for the wild again. Demi had not found anything though to point to some hidden power or secret of the palace. The place was so large she wondered if it would take her years to find anything.

Life went on as always, Demi meeting with the king daily and he showered her with gifts each day. She pitied him, he led such a cloistered life, yet she would not let pity move her to show kindness to him. If she did it would be a cruelty to Akeem to show him favor when all she felt was pity for him.

She had no news of the outside and the city and Demi wondered what was happening with the people of the city. She worried most for her mother who still sought answers to their quest. She wondered too if her mother knew what had happened to Demi. She wondered if the Dontamen were still in the city or if they had left already. She found she missed not only her freedom, but the people she knew.

One day she had a visitor other than the king in the little bungalow that she met the king in every day. Grand Sect Samson had come to visit her instead of the king.

“You have no idea how hard it was to convince that little brat for me to visit you,” Samson said as Demi sat across from him. The meal spread before her was a simple meal of rice, bread, and bananas. “I had to tell him that I was needed to see to your spiritual health as a prophet. Even then he was reluctant.”

“I can guess given how long it has been,” Demi answered. “How are things in the city?”

“No better though I am glad they are not worse,” Samson answered, ignoring the food and smoking instead. “I have told those who attend services that the king has chosen the prophet to be his queen. I repeat your story, but of course it would be better coming from you. Many still wish to see you and hear you speak, and they hope you will come to visit them. Of course, they don’t know that only the king can let you leave the palace. And no king has let his wife leave the harem in centuries.”

“I don’t see Akeem letting me leave,” Demi said dryly. “What of Zar Ne Zar?”

“He’s taken another two settlements along the Ark,” Samson answered. “The king commands the army, but one of his brothers is the general of the army. Like all the king’s eunuch brothers he tells the king what to do. The army has not left Evalon since the King’s Wars, and they have never been good at fighting in the desert. If they tried to free the settlements the Pridesmen would just melt back into the sands to attack again. There are not enough resources in the world to support an army defending the Ark through the desert.”

“So, the king will just let Zar Ne Zar do as he pleases?” Demi asked.

“No, he has hired mercenaries, the Dunesmen,” Samson answered. “But again another of his brothers is the treasurer. He spends only a little coin for mercenaries to guard the caravans of the riches of the desert. He does nothing for the people. More and more of the nomads have been arriving in the city; I think to seek shelter from the Pridesmen.”

Demi knew that probably wasn’t true. Many of the nomads would be afraid of the increased Pridesmen activity, but they would stay in their oasis or known hidden paths for safety. Traveling to the Holy City would have been dangerous; it would have brought them out of hiding. She wondered what their reason for their journey to the Holy City then.

“I had one visitor though that you would be interested in,” Samson said breaking into her thoughts. “Hemi, your mother.” Demi dropped her bowl of rice and stared at him astonished. “She had apparently followed the guards from the slave district when they took you away. She spent the time I held you waiting outside the temple, looking for a chance to break in a steal you away. Only the security at the Temple of Euria is strong and no opening appeared. She saw you taken to the palace.

“The only reason I met her is because I saw her in one of our services and saw the resemblance. She wouldn’t speak to me until I convinced her I was interested in your freedom. I told her your story as you told it to me. She told me all about you, and how proud of you she is.”

Demi felt tears prickle her eyes and looked away feeling overcome. She wanted to see her mother so badly then but knew she could not. If Akeem learned her mother was in the city, he would put her in the harem to keep her with Demi. While Demi wanted to see her mother, she did not want her to be kept prisoner as well.

“Where is she?” Demi asked.

“I offered her shelter in the Sect, but she said the nomads make their own way,” Samson said with a grin. “She comes to speak to me occasionally though, asking strange questions of the gods.”

“We were sent on a quest,” Demi said.

“Yes, she told me, but I’m afraid I have no answers,” Samson said. “I hardly believe in the gods, only in the words men say that drive others. Talk of the gods can move armies or settle souls. That is what I wanted of you, your words hold power.”

Demi was reminded of who this man was and felt a chill through her veins.

“You are uncle to the High King,” Demi said. “How when you are so young?”

“My father managed to sire me on his fourth wife,” Samson answered. “A surprise to all when they had thought he was well past his childbearing years. I suspect I was a bastard of his fourth wife and that to hide the fact that his wife had an affair claimed me as his own. So, I was born a year after my nephew was and kept as a family pet mostly. You know your history, war and all that, well after the war marriage was needed for my nephew.

“The woman I told you about was to be my nephew’s wife. Ironic. The rest is how I told you, sent away to Menfer and then to Xin. The unwanted son of the Drasirs. So that is my story, do you trust me now?”

“No,” Demi answered. “But I respect you more for the telling.”

“Fair enough,” Samson said with a wry grin.

“You said you would speak to your nephew about the king keeping me here,” Demi said.

“I sent a letter yet he has yet to respond to it,” Samson answered exhaling a large cloud of smoke. “I doubt it will be promising. He will tell me to deal with it; he won’t rouse armies over one king wanting to marry a girl. I had hoped he would want his daughter to marry Akeem to spread the Drasir blood through all the royal lines. But he has good control of Xin; it is places like Dridia or Hyria that he would rather gain more control in.”

“I though the Hyrians fought with Regis in the Kings’ wars like Xin,” Demi said.

“Xin and Regis have always had close ties and given the power of the Sect here the king has little to fear from Xin ever gaining too much power. But Hyria has always been a wild card. They do as they please and while Hyria did side with Regis this time in history they had fought against Regis on occasion. In fact, no alliance has lasted long for the Hyrians, the only alliance they hold dear is with themselves. And they are as hard to read as the sea and just as fickle.

“Arian will have a hard time getting a Regarian into their court. I think that is what he is saving his daughter for; when she is a bit older she will maybe catch the eye of one of the lords there or even one of the princes. His other daughter died in that attack during the prince’s wedding, so he no longer has the other daughter to spare. He will put Pricilla in the Court of Tears even if it kills him.

“Sorry, even if I hate politics it seems my Drasir heritage gets the better of me sometimes. This does little to help you.”

“So, if the king will not interfere then what of the Sect?” Demi said. “Surely they are concerned about the cult growing in Evalon.”

“They are but again they will only pressure me more to come up with results,” Samson answered. “I am their authority here. They may send more of the knights if they can be spared, but I doubt it. I would not call on knights anyways, they will do little to alleviate the situation and probably only make it worse. The Sect often only thinks in that tact anyways, knights to beat down those who speak against the gods. It has worked in the past and they hope it will work now. I do not see it working now without near genocide of the Elmerians who drink the poison faster than anyone.”

“So, there is no hope of aid in convincing the king of letting me go?” Demi asked.

“Have you tried asking him?” Samson said.

“No, I have not even spoken to him,” Demi said, and Samson sighed a smoke cloud again.

“See that is where the problem lies,” Samson said. “He is a boy that all his life he was told he could have anything he wants. Defying him and refusing to give in only makes him want you all the more.”

“But giving him what he wants will only indulge him more,” Demi said.

“I’m not saying you should marry him,” Samson said. “I’m saying your coy attitude is only endearing yourself to him. You need to speak to him more, make him fall for you even more, twist him around your finger, and I’m sure with a teary-eyed plea you could convince him to let you out into the city. Once you’re out of these walls I can get you into the Sect where he can’t touch you, not without angering the gods and even Akeem knows he can’t cross the gods.”

“I’m not sure I can do that,” Demi said. The idea of manipulating someone like that seemed like black magic to her, and wrong in some way.

“Think on it in the meantime,” Samson said kindly. “I must go, I will see if I can visit again, but I am very busy.”

“Thank you,” Demi said. “For the news and advice. I will do what I can to aid the people.”

Samson simply nodded and left, a cloud of smoke following him out. Demi considered his words as she continued to explore the palace. While she was where she wanted to be to seek answers or the mysterious power she had hoped to find, Demi wasn’t finding anything. Maybe Slad had been right there was nothing she could do to make sure the Phay marched. If so then she was needed more out in the city than here in the palace.

Akeem continued to bring her presents, but Demi still couldn’t bring herself to try to manipulate him in any way. One day her gift was something Demi had not expected.

Sitting on the table before her was a silver mask. The mask was a half mask to cover the eyes, and the crown shaped into Lun’s disk. The silver was engraved with a ripple design and polished until it reflected like a mirror. A veil of fine white silk hung from the bottom of the mask to hide the lower face.

“Tonight is Isra’s Night,” Akeem said happily. “You are to attend the feast with me. You will wear Lun’s face tonight, I will be Sol her husband.”

Akeem produced a gold half mask, crowned with Sol’s rays with a veil of gold silk. Demi saw him grin boyishly and felt herself blush in response, so quickly picked up the mask and put it on. The look of joy on his face lit his eyes telling Demi that whatever he felt about her it was genuine.

“Be sure to wear the costume,” Akeem said happily. “I can’t wait for tonight a servant will come to your rooms so be ready.”

Demi nodded and Akeem nearly jumped to his feet as he raced from the room. Demi removed the mask and sighed. She went about her daily exploration and when it came time for the feast, she returned to her rooms to dress. She found the costume was made of the finest white silk and embroidered with silver thread. She pulled on pantaloons, a tunic, kaftan, and a chador. As well as the silver mask she had jewelry of silver and moonstones as white as milk winking from rings and bracelets. Soft white slippers completed the outfit, Demi looking at her reflection. She looked lovely, though more like a child dressed as the moon goddess.

A tap on her door told her the servant arrived and she left her room to follow the eunuch out of the harem. The eunuch led her through gardens and halls and to one of the great halls of the palace. This one was an oval in shape, great arches covering the walls and opening the hall to the cool night air. People filled the hall lit by mage lights, everyone in gold or silver masks and colorful costumes. The eunuch led her to the dais at the end of the hall where the throne sat.

Akeem sat watching the people, his eyes bright behind his golden mask. He wore a turban of orange cloth, orange and yellow kaftan and burnoose, and a yellow silken sash around his waist. He saw Demi and nearly leapt to his feet, his body language screaming his devotion. He controlled himself and stood gracefully, bowing to her as she stood before him. She bowed in turn and saw him smile more.

She joined him on his throne and they both watched as the nobles presented themselves to the king. The room was full of the smells of perfumes and food. Demi saw servants walking around with trays of fruits, pastries of almonds and pecans, fine kababs, cheese melted over flat bread, and much more. Music floated through the room between the babble of people.

“Wine?” Akeem asked holding out a gold goblet to her. “It’s all the way from Alda. They make the finest wine.”

“No thank you majesty,” Demi answered softly. Her polite response only emboldened him and soon he waved over every servant, trying to get Demi to eat some of the fine food. Since it was a feast of the goddess of night it would be an insult not to eat. Demi took a flaky almond pastry and ate. She then took a cup of kaffa, sighing over the bitter drink. It was well brewed and full of thick flavor.

“So, is this better than any feast that your people have?” Akeem asked lounging on the divan. “Are you not impressed?”

“I am,” Demi said she did not want to lie. Akeem sat closer to her; she could feel his breath on the silk of her chador. “Though I miss the nomad’s celebration.”

“The nomads?” He said as he stopped and she knew she had his attention, he was both jealous and curious she knew.

“Our masks are much different than yours,” Demi said. “The Pinmen make ours out of feathers so we are almost like birds. The Wickerfolk make theirs of wicker of course. The Horse Lords and Llemen make masks out of wood and huge, covering their heads and even chests. And the Pridesmen are said to paint theirs with blood.”

She had never seen masks of the other tribes but had heard tales. She wished she could see them though, she was sure the festival was very exciting down in the nomad’s camp.

“What else do you do on Isra’s night?” Akeem asked and she looked at him. His eyes were shining with fascination, not for her but for her words. Before Demi could say more Rashad came up to them, wearing a gold mask and jeweled turban.

“Majesty,” Rashad said nervously.

“What vizier?” Akeem said annoyed.

“I’m sorry majesty but you should speak with Duke Amir,” Rashad said wringing his hands. “You’ve put him off long enough. You need to see to your guests.”

“You go Rashad that’s what you’re here for,” Akeem said waving him away.

“Majesty I cannot…” Rashad said his voice breaking. Demi saw under his gold mask he was sweating and out of pity decided to intervene.

“Majesty, may I meet the duke?” Demi asked and Akeem’s eyes flashed.

“Of course!” Akeem said as Rashad choked and fluttered his tiny fat hands. He bounced after them as Akeem took her hand and led her down through the crowds of people.

After that they went around the various groups of people, talking to the lords and their ladies. All were masked, half masks of gold or silver, some wearing veils as well, giving an air of mystery to all those she met. At first she found it interesting to meet these people, but after a time she felt there was little to the conversation other than platitudes. The lords in turn did not know what to make of her, a prophet and nomad of the desert. They tried to be polite until one woman broke the polite talk.

“What do the nomads do to honor Isra?” the woman asked. She was a wealthy lady telling by her many jewels and fine silk kaftan. “I have heard they rut around fire pits and grunt like animals.”

Silence greeted this statement and Demi noted the king glaring at the woman. She was probably a mother of a girl who had been a likely match to the king until Demi came along. The king looked ready to say something scathing when Demi spoke first.

“No milady,” Demi said with a slight bow. “We of the tribes dance.”

“Dance?” the woman scoffed. “Please then, show us a dance of the savages.”

“Lady Azra I do not…”

“Very well,” Demi said cutting Akeem off. Startled he turned to her, but Demi turned away. Nearby the musicians played, men wearing simple wood masks, they did not notice her until she walked up and took a tambourine from one of them. She felt eyes on her as she walked to a clear space in the crowds and began tapping the tambourine. The musicians fell silent and a hush fell over the crowd as people moved back from Demi to make a clear space.

Demi concentrated on the beat she tapped out. She had always been a fine dancer, not talented but proficient. Now with all the eyes of the nobles on her she concentrated on the beat and prayed silently to Isra that she not make a fool of herself. She added to the beat with thumb rolls, beating on the head of the drum with her thumb. Then she raised the tambourine over her head and tapped it. She began a dance that was common to her tribe, the Beat of Wings it was called. Stomping her feet and jumping about, adding to the beat of the drum she danced to imitate the sound of great wings through the sky.

The musicians, silently watching, soon picked up the beat and Demi heard more drums join her in her dance. They only used drums as was tradition, in dances only drums were used to make the music. Demi wondered as she danced if any of the musicians were nomads or had once been, she could not tell under their masks. She wondered if they were slaves.

She danced the full dance, though it felt empty as she danced alone. She finished with a quick beat and stomp of her feet, taking a bow. She was breathing heavily and for a moment her heart beat in her ears like the drums. For a moment she felt her blood warm through her body, her body feeling suddenly light like she could leap free of all constraints. Silence lasted a moment and then a heavy applause sounded the moment passing. Demi looked up to see the king applauding, his eyes bright behind his mask as he grinned at her. He hurried over to her, taking her hand in his.

“That was marvelous!” Akeem said warmly. “Truly, I had no idea the nomads danced like that.”

He wouldn’t either, confined as he was. Demi looked at him and realized she was helping no one by keeping silent and sulking. This boy and the nobles deserved to hear her story just as much as the people of the city.

“I would like some kaffa,” Demi said. “And then majesty I believe it is time I told you my tale.”

“Really?” Akeem said looking startled.

“Isra’s night is a night of telling of tales,” Demi said. “It is time I told mine.”

Akeem nodded and led her over to an alcove. A servant came and poured kaffa in fine china cups, Demi taking a deep sip before looking around. Lords crowded around but stood at a respectful distance or sat on other seats around them. Akeem sat next to her on the divan, looking at her expectantly.

“My story begins at the Oasis of Hamil,” Demi said calmly. She told her tale as she always had, with little embellishment and only the truth. She still kept the secret of the origins of the Arc but told them of Slad and the Phay. She wondered how the nobles would react to this near sacrilege of the gods, but she had little to fear. The nobles seemed just as awed and interested as the nomads in her story.

When she finished she was once more pressed with questions, mostly from Akeem. He seemed most interested in her encounter with Zar Ne Zar.

“And you say he commands the hunters?” He asked and Demi nodded.

“They follow him with near worship,” Demi answered. “The males are the warriors and they follow him as well, he had full command when he attacked Kurone.”

“Damn him,” Akeem said angrily. “King of Kings indeed, he is far too bold for some mongrel from the desert.”

“He is a great warrior majesty,” Demi said. “He is a man to be feared.”

“How do you know this if you have not seen him in battle?” Akeem asked. “From all you say he only has the hunters after him because he is handsome.”

“Majesty you know nothing of the Pridesmen,” Demi said. “The hunters do not mate with a man unless he is a great warrior, those who are lesser are lucky to gain a mate. Often the greatest warriors have a harem of hunters in attendance to them. The fact that Zar Ne Zar had a pack of women willing to hunt to gain his favor is a mark of a great warrior.

“And how he has over powered other prides and their warriors is another sign as well. If this is not enough proof for you your majesty then I offer this. I saw Zar Ne Zar move, that alone was enough for even me to see he moves with deadly intent and contained power.”

“You think highly of him then,” Akeem said displeased, his jaw clenched.

“Majesty I fear him greater than any of the dangers I faced,” Demi said feeling her hands shake at the idea of Zar Ne Zar. Seeing her tremors Akeem softened and took her hands in his.

“I am sorry my flower,” he said softly. “I grew jealous.”

Demi withdrew her hand, glad that her mask covered her blush.

“Majesty I have told you and the lords my tale to warn you,” Demi said. “There is more to our troubles than Zar Ne Zar. The people must have faith in these hard times, and I can inspire that hope. I must go to them to tell my tale and give them faith.”

Akeem looked displeased again and he turned to the gathered lords.

“Leave us,” Akeem said with a wave of his hand. The lords left and servants drew the curtains around the alcove. “Rashad, stay.” Rashad, who had been about to leave, stopped and returned to his chair.

“Demi, there are many dangers of the city,” Akeem said as if he spoke to a child. “Thieves, murderers, molesters, disease, and much else. I could not stand it if you were to come to harm. Rashad, tell her of the murders that happen in the streets, of the sins committed out under Sol’s eye.”

“Many sins,” Rashad said sternly. “Why just the other day I saw a man and woman fornicating in the street like animals. The audacity. And the day before last a boy was killed for a loaf of bread and no one even stopped to glance at the body.”

Demi looked from Rashad to Akeem in understanding. Rashad must have been telling these tales to his half-brother for ages to keep him in the palace. Maybe it was to keep Akeem safe, maybe it was to gain more power as vizier, but Rashad had lied to his brother to keep him a prisoner. Demi looked at Akeem and shook her head in pity.

“I have walked the streets of the city Akeem,” she said, dropping all formality and saw the affect it had on the king. “I have walked among your people; those you claim to rule yet have never looked upon their faces. I have seen children running and playing in the street. I’ve seen the great bazaars full of all the goods of Xin, spices and perfumes, fruits and rice, silks and cottons. I have seen the ochre women, painted red who sell their bodies in worship to the demi goddess Dione.

“I have seen the Arc run through the city and every man from beggar to lord swim through its water seeking to cool their feet from the dust of the road. I have seen the great gardens that are the heart of the city shade travelers on their way to market. I have seen the people of the slave market in their chains, hope gone from their hearts. I have seen Evalon in all her glory, from the underbelly to the great palace around us, and I say this Akeem: it is the greatest city of all the kingdoms.”

Akeem stared at her in awe, a tear welling up in his eye and he looked away.

“There is still much danger in going out of these walls do you deny that?” Rashad said seeing the danger she posed to his control.

“I cannot deny that,” Demi said sadly. “But there is danger in the desert as well. Scorpions, bees, the shifting sands, heat, and much else. We of the tribes risk out lives every day in the desert, do you know why?”

“Because you know other way of life,” Rashad answered. “You are savages.”

“We chose our freedom,” Demi answered. “We go where we please, only answerable to the gods themselves. Out in the wilds we are closest to the gods, for the gods influence the makings of the world there more than men who try to control it.”

“But you could die out there,” Akeem said taking her hand again.

“And that would be the will of the gods,” Demi answered. “That is life majesty to face death every day. It is hard but it is free, and we work to live lives in the very arms of the gods. To honor them and to honor ourselves.”

Akeem’s eyes filled with tears and she realized he didn’t understand. She was moved by his concern for her safety, but at the same time she felt the need to break free of such smothering treatment.

“I cannot agree Demi,” Akeem said looking away. “You will stay here with me where it is safe. Come, Isra’s Night is still young. There are moon pools I want to show you as well as music from the water glasses. You must see it.”

He took her hand and pulled her up; he had made his decision, so the matter was settled and over. Demi wanted to pull her hand away from him but followed knowing it would be a childish gesture. She had hoped her story would have moved Akeem to mercy. Maybe Samson was right, she needed to be more manipulative.

As Akeem pulled her through the crowds of people Demi noticed a servant following them. She watched him out of the corner of her eye afraid to turn and watch him though she didn’t know why. Something told her to beware of the man; he was moving fast through the crowds of people but didn’t seem to disturb them. He wore a servant’s wooden mask, his kaftan plain and unembellished.

He was nearly to their sides when Demi realized what about the man had so disturbed her. He was wearing bandages under his kaftan. Demi pulled on Akeem’s hand to get him to stop, but Akeem didn’t notice. The man moved suddenly fast, something dark in his hand. Demi moved before anyone even noticed the man. She pushed Akeem down out of the man’s reach just as he had made a grab for the king. His eyes widened behind his mask as his fist slammed into Demi’s side instead of the king’s.

She felt all the air driven from her lungs and then a sharp pain in her side. Demi stumbled back from the man, grasping her side. Only it wasn’t a dagger in her side, but a horn the length of her hand half way into her flesh. She felt her body turning cold, her muscles began to stiffen painfully and she fell to the tiled floor.

“Guards!” Akeem shouted from the floor as he scrambled over to her.

“No don’t touch her!” One of the lords shouted pulling Akeem back from Demi. “She’s been stabbed with a horn of snake sand.”

Demi heard the lord’s announcement but could do nothing. Her entire body was stiffening quickly; already it was getting hard to breath. Snake sand worked many ways, just contact with skin was enough to stiffen and deaden what it touched. Ingesting it was deadly, and if it entered the bloodstream it moved twice as fast.

“Get the mage!” Akeem shouted ignoring the restraining hands and trying to reach Demi. She heard shouts and cries, not sure if the man that had stabbed her had been caught or not. She put all her will into keeping her breathing normal. The pain in her side was great and she felt blood pooling under her. Already she could no longer feel her hands or feet, and her vision was darkening.

She felt a cool hand on her cheek pull away her mask and then she was looking up at a face that seemed as smooth and white as a porcelain mask. Red eyes blazed with power as the mage woman looked down at Demi, but she couldn’t even move to turn her head.

“Do something Sibylla,” Akeem ordered; Demi heard his voice as if through a tunnel. Her breathing was shallow now; it was hard to move her chest enough to get air in and out. Her heart beat painfully slow, her blood slowing though her veins.

“I can only keep her at death’s door,” the mage answered, her voice a deep timber with an exotic drawl to her words. “I cannot give her life.”

“Do anything just do not let her die!” Akeem shouted. The mages eyes never left Demi’s, trying to read Demi’s wish. Demi realized what Sibylla meant to do might not be a blessing; whatever life Demi was to lead now it would not be pleasant. Sibylla was trying to see if Demi consented to life or sought death. Demi knew she would rather die than choose a life of pain, but there was more to consider here.

She had to think about the people that needed her, about the mystery that still needed to be solved. If she died now all hope would be lost. She looked back at the mage and hoped she understood what Demi wanted.

“I understand,” the mage said to her not to Akeem. Demi saw her hand move over her but could feel nothing through her body any more. Her breathing eased but nothing else, her limbs were still numb and muscles stiff, she couldn’t move. Demi tried moving anything, her head, her mouth, even her eyes wouldn’t even move.

“What did you do?” Akeem asked.

“It is a life preservation sigil,” Sibylla answered. “She will draw breath and her heart will pump but that is all the sigil can do. I will now heal the wound in her side.”

Demi felt nothing as the horn was drawn out of her side and the mage cast a sigil to heal the wound. Demi’s vision was now gray and dull and she couldn’t move her eyes to look around.

“Can you not heal her of the snake sand?” Akeem asked, his voice still sounding far away.

“There is no cure for snake sand poisoning even with all the magic in the world,” Sibylla answered levelly. “She will not be able to move, speak, eat, or anything else. Her mind is alive, her heart still beats, and she still draws breath. I saved her life as you requested.”

“Not like this!” Akeem cried out. Demi’s line of sight suddenly filled with Akeem’s face, he was weeping as he leaned over her. She couldn’t even close her eyes as he leaned down and kissed her. At least she guessed she kissed her because she could feel nothing through her skin not even his breath on her cheeks. He withdrew and when there was no change pulled her up to him, her body stiff like a corpse.

“Akeem please,” Rashad said. “You will get blood on your clothes.”

“Enough!” Akeem shouted. “I want all of you out of here!”

Demi heard the shuffle of feet and the murmur of the crowd as they were ushered out of the hall, the celebration over. Akeem continued to hold her, but Demi could feel nothing of his touch. When the room was cleared Akeem finally put Demi down. He gently brushed her hair out of her face, seeming overcome.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered to her. “This is all my fault.”

Demi heard other people arrive and Akeem moved away so some servants could lift her up onto a cushioned stretcher. They carried her out of the hall and through the palace back to the harem. They brought her to the main building of the harem where the women had been having their own celebration. Akeem had the eunuchs clear the room and Demi was placed in the center of the room on a great bed.

Akeem sat next to her as the women brought flowers to lie around her as if she were dead. Orchids and jasmine blossoms joined roses and peonies around her until Demi was completely surrounded by the delicate blossoms. She could hardly smell them though; it was like all her senses had been dulled. She could still hear Akeem weeping at her side, Demi guessing he was holding her hand.

“Akeem,” it was his mother Shahera. “Come away from her Akeem, you’re making a scene.”

“I love her mother,” Akeem said crossly. “This is appropriate.”

“She is all but dead Akeem,” Shahera said scolding. “You are the King of Xin and must act like it. This girl cannot be your wife anymore, leave her here and we will care for her. You can visit her and look on her face, but you must move on Akeem.”

“Leave mother!” Akeem shouted. Shahera made a huffing sound and Demi heard her footsteps retreat. “I’m sorry Demi,” Akeem kept repeating. She wanted to tell him it was alright, that she would be alright, but she wasn’t so sure of it herself. Demi tried to make a sound but couldn’t, not even a gasp or a squeak came out of her.

She spent the rest of Isra’s Night lying like the dead, and Demi realized she had become nearly one of the dead herself. She was trapped now not only in the palace, but in her own body as well.

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