Shahzar pushed
the needle through the muslin and pricked her thumb a third
time. Aggravated, she growled and sucked away the blood.
“Waste of time,” she muttered as she stood and tossed the
project into the palm-leaf basket by her cushioned seat. The
other women looked up, their dark eyes the only visible part
of their veiled faces. The light from the fire in the hearth
cast a warm glow on her witnesses. Shahzar stormed out and
slammed the door. She thought of Irlecain and how right he’d
been. It soured her mood even more as she hurried down the
arched halls, past the murals of the first queens and
stomped up the marble stairs to her room.
“I hate this,”
she fumed as her squat servant, Inell, darted out of the
princess’s reach. Shahzar paced and finally stopped beside
her desk. “I hate not being allowed in the fighting yards. I
hate how they control me!” She slammed her fist against the
wood. Onyx message sleeves rattled in protest.
Inell’s eyes
bulged. She normally took the brunt of Shahzar’s anger and
tried to remain calm. She set the day’s scrolls on the pile
at the corner of the desk and hurried to rearrange the
curtains around the bed in a deft attempt to avoid her
mistress.
Shahzar closed
her eyes, thinking about the council meeting. That morning,
Bishop Toman had chosen his successor. After a ceremony held
on the outskirts of the city, he began his hermitage. In the
meeting that followed, the council spoke against Shahzar’s
wish not to attend. She even voiced her blatant opinion,
which startled them as it always did. “What do I care? The
old fool wants to go off and die in the sands, then let him!
I’m his daughter by circumstance. I feel nothing for him,
nor do I want to,” was her cool offering.
She shook her
head, wondering if she should feel something for the old
bishop. Her last chance to know him passed when his camel
carried the nearly blind, old man into the wastelands.
“Are you ready to
change now, milady?” Inell spoke in the softest way, ready
to bolt if the princess lost her temper and decided to throw
one of the onyx sleeves from her desk.
The selection of
the new bishop meant that the night had finally come for him
to enter her bedroom. The council wanted to make a
production of it, a celebratory event. Her uncle stood for
her and forbade it. He promised her that he would bring the
priest discreetly up to her room with no pomp or fanfare.
“Yes,” she
answered, with a deep sigh. “Get me ready.”
The servant
helped Shahzar to undress. She folded up the soiled clothing
and piled the bundle on the chair by the door. Inell
returned to Shahzar’s side and pulled the ceremonial gauze
dress over the princess. A taut thing it was, meant to
accentuate her curves and tempt the bishop. Shahzar studied
it in the polished, metal mirror, her face clearly echoing
the rage in her heart. She went silent, letting her maid
believe she would go through with the rite. They all must
believe or else Shahmi’s plan won’t work.
Shahzar sat down
at her desk while Inell unbraided the princess’s hair. The
servant ran a brush through the wavy, black mass, patiently
straightening the curls. It was the one thing that could
calm her. Shahzar leaned back and closed her eyes when Inell
began to hum. An hour passed as she relaxed and let her mind
become one with what she would do that night.
When, at last,
the knock came, the princess took refuge within the curtains
of her bed. She lay there, fingering the cold handle of her
dagger beneath the pillow while Inell extinguished the oil
lamps. The room was swathed in soft candlelight and new
shadows danced across the thick walls.
Inell opened the
door. “He is here, milady,” she called. Her footsteps fell
away as she descended the marble steps. The door clicked
shut, and Shahzar was now alone with the new bishop.
Through a crack
in the bed curtains, she watched him. He was rather tall,
dark of skin and eyes, as most Kaladians were. His long,
straight nose and small mouth gave him away. He was the same
priest that had stared at her when she’d spoken with Toman.
The new bishop stepped onto the green carpet and eyed it
curiously. In fact, he studied everything about the ornate
room with eyes too wide and frightened to warrant Shahzar’s
plans to kill him. She pulled her hand away from the hilt of
her blade and pushed back the jade-colored, bed curtains.
He froze, his
eyes trained on her dress. Shahzar stepped deliberately
toward him, hoping he would bolt like a frightened animal.
His expression led her to believe he would.
“You’re early.”
She covered the distance between them in long, graceful
steps.
“I’m sorry, Your
Majesty. I can return again later if that is your wish.” His
soft tone held no air of self-importance.
“No. Better to be
done with this.” Shahzar stopped in front of him, thinking
she must stick to the task at hand and not waver despite his
magnificent eyes. He was a mere target, a device upon which
to pinpoint and unleash her rage. She reached up and
untwisted his russet-colored turban so that his hair fell
down against his back. Color rose in his cheeks, and his
breathing grew rapid. She touched the silver streaks among
the dark strands.
“How old are
you?” she asked, startling him further.
“Barely thirty.”
“At thirty your
hair is going gray?” She walked around him, surveying his
form, the way he carried his weight. It was a habit she’d
picked up in her training under Shahmi. Shahzar judged his
weaknesses. “What’s your name?”
“Bishop Raynier.”
He averted his eyes to the shadows moving beyond her desk in
an obvious attempt to avoid looking at the curves of her
body.
“I saw you that
day in the temple. I remember you,” she murmured accusingly.
“You stared at me.” Her manner softened because he looked
away. She felt less of a target then.
“I didn’t mean to
offend you, Your Majesty,” he said with sincerity.
She leaned close
and stared into his eyes, drawing his attention. “Don’t call
me that. I’m Shahzar. Please, call me by my name. If we’re
in public, you may call me by my title. Here and when we
speak privately, I am Shahzar. May I call you Raynier, or do
you already cleave to your new title?”
“Raynier is
fine.” His breathing hastened.
“Are you in a
hurry to be back to your temple, Raynier?” Her voice was
quite calm. She felt satisfied to see a bead of sweat break
upon his forehead.
“No.” His amber
brown eyes locked on hers.
“Mmm.” Shahzar
stepped back from him finally. The stray thought occurred to
her that he could be useful if she let him live. It
contradicted all her uncle had told her. “Let us speak
frankly,” she began, “now and in all things we discuss. We
are to make a child. This isn’t my choice. If I’m to be
queen, then I must perform this task. I have but one hope in
you, but I think my hope will be lost when you answer me
this. Do you possess the dark power?” She pressed her luck
by being so direct, crossing a taboo line.
His mouth gaped.
“No, I do not!”
“Does any priest
within the temple possess it?” She went on, ignoring his
indignation. She had to know, had to be sure.
“It is
forbidden.”
“Then,” she began
as she turned from him. “It is as I feared.” Shahzar went to
her desk and glanced over the papers there, the countless
scrolls, the onyx sleeves, the quills, the ink, all was in a
state of turmoil. She liked it that way, though it bothered
Inell. She liked it that way because it disturbed her so.
Shahzar always felt Inell was spying, and so she forbade her
to organize it. It was easy enough for the princess to find
what she needed among the clutter.
She ran her
forefinger over the curled parchment from Irlecain. He was
in Binitha when he sent it, tracking down the old Shan-Sei,
the priests that knew how to channel Ishas’s energy, how to
manipulate the dark power for their own causes. If any
remained, she had faith he would locate them.
Shahzar faced
Raynier, still unsure of what to do. She took in a deep
breath and let it out in a sharp sigh. “Let’s get this over
with so you can return to your post and I can return to
mine.” It upset her to lead him on, but she needed the
murder to look legitimate. Blood stains on the carpet
instead of the bedsheets might cause questions in the
morning. Shahzar closed her eyes tight for a moment and
pushed away all emotion.
Rain began to
drip against the arched window as clouds darkened the sky
and the room in turn. The bishop stood frozen, staring,
clearly disappointed and at a loss for words. Shahzar
wondered if he could sense the change in her. The sky
reflected her mood, the churning emotions that curdled in an
unfamiliar place inside her.
She came to him
and took his hand, struck by how warm it was in hers. He
followed her to the bed and sat as she directed him. First,
Shahzar knelt and pulled off his boots. She set them neatly
by the bedpost. She unfastened his black robes. The bright
light from the plethora of candles lit his bare chest. It
was speckled with hairs, some gray and some dark. She
studied them, memories of her uncle’s battle-scarred chest
tarrying in her thoughts. For a moment, her gaze caught on
the amulet he wore. It was copper-colored, representing
Ishas as a shapely woman with her arms upraised. Shahzar
reached out to touch the holy talisman, but let her hand
fall lower at the last second. Her fingers worked to untie
his brown silk belt, her mind disconnected from the moment.
Raynier breathed so fast that she felt it against the top of
her head.
“Shahzar,” he
said, barely a voice in the word.
She glared up at
him, wondering why she’d gone so far. “Why do you stare at
me like that? What do you want from me?” He had that same
look in his eyes, the one from the temple when she’d smiled
at him through the window.
“I’m in love with
you,” he added in a breathless voice.
His silk belt
drifted from her hand and whispered as it touched the
carpet. His words stunned her. He seemed so relieved to have
spoken them, but they tore at her heart. Mystified by his
declaration, the princess stood and backed away. Her
backside hit the edge of her desk and she stumbled.
The rain, such a
rarity in Kaladia, turned angry. It beat at the stained
glass in the arched window frame. Shahzar spun around and
bent to light a candle on the desk, then another. Her hands
shook. This isn’t going as planned, she thought.
Rain should be a good omen. But it doesn’t feel so.
Smoke drifted from the yellow flames in snaking tendrils.
She ran out of candles to light.
Shahzar
knew she had to end the moment, to kill him before her
feelings took over. She’d never been nervous over the
prospect of killing an enemy before. She didn’t turn,
refusing to look at him, trying to stay on track. “Go. Lie
in my bed. Make it warm for me.” Her voice sounded cold.
