by J. M. Ivie
“Enjoying the view?” Zahra returned with a cloth and bottle in hand.
“I am. It’s beautiful here, and the smell is intoxicating.”
“What smell?”
“Roses… and vanilla? It’s… lovely.”
Zahra giggled as she poured the liquid into the cloth. When she drew nearer, the lovely aroma grew stronger. It is her who smells so lovely. This must be her private chamber.
“This might sting,” she warned as she pressed the cloth to my elbow. It wasn’t bad at all, though, I knew a normal Archivist should be wincing. I tried my best to look uncomfortable, but, that proved difficult. There was a gentle kindness about her that warmed my heart. Her brows furrowed, wrinkling upward across her forehead as she cleaned the cut. Her lips pressed into a firm line and her hands worked gently. “Apollo, you’re staring.” She shot me a sideways glance.
“I’m sorry. It’s just—” my words caught in my throat. I couldn’t explain myself, not when I didn’t quite know what I was doing.
She turned her face toward mine. “Just… what?”
“Just—” I stopped as she pressed a finger to my cheek. A sudden jolt of pain pounded in my face, and I realized there was a bruise.
“You’re an interesting man, Apollo.” Zahra dabbed the oily contents from the bottle on her fingers and massaged it on the bruise.
“How so?”
“You have a brutality about you, yet, somehow, you have a gentleness I can’t pinpoint.” She finished and wiped her hands clean. “I hope we can become better acquainted during your stay here at Winsdale.”
I smiled and bowed my head. “Thank you for your kindness, Zahra.”
She turned away, yet, her eyes held my gaze. There was a long silence between us, one that held out longer than I thought it would. “You’re welcome, Apollo.” With that, she left the room.
___
After several days of agonizing organization, I cleared out and organized the upper left three bookshelves in the library. Zahra would often stop by and ask me questions, but, other than that, our contact was minimal.
“Afternoon, Apollo.” Zahra entered my small office, smiling. She carried in her hand an envelope that was decorated garishly. The shimmering gold flourishes seemed to taunt me.
I placed the books down on the desk. “Afternoon, Zahra.”
“I have news.” She placed the letter in front of me.
I looked down at the object, reading what it said.
The Emperor of Crëov request the pleasure of the company of Countess Zahra Winsdale at the fiftieth Annual Spring Gala at Hurricane Hall on the thirtieth day on the fourth month of winter.
Kindest Regards,
-Lord Theodore Hawthorne of Autumnfall
It sunk in. “Hurricane Hall?” I looked up at her, remembering what Nora told me.
“Yes, and Azu will not be joining me. As a tradition, in order for Nora and me to attend, we need a male escort. So, we are in a pinch,” she muttered. Her lip wedged between her pearly teeth.
“Rai Masters, he will not be escorting you?”
She made an annoyed sound. “How did you—”
“Nora told me.”
She sighed, kneading her temples. “He is accompanying the Empress of Arcadia instead. It will be her first time at the Hall, and he wanted to make a ‘good impression’ on her.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I was hoping, if your schedule so allows, you would join me.”
I smiled, picking up the slip of paper and flipping it between my fingers. “You’re my employer, are you not? I’ll do what you say…”
“I’d rather you come on your own accord, but, if you’d prefer me to force you to come, just let me know…” Zahra grinned. Her angelic face was a perfect disguise for the devilish wit lurking beneath.
I was treading a line. Her speaking like this will only make me like her more… “Are you sure you want me? I’m not exactly the most genteel person you could have in your company.”
“You don’t say!” Zahra gasped, feigning astonishment at my perfect assessment of my personality. “Well, I will need to teach you then before the gala.”
“Zahra—”
“Not another word. I must hire Nora. She will require your measurements,” Zahra muttered, seeming to have picked up on my hesitance.
“Measurements?” The book slipped from my grasp, landing on the desk with a loud thump. The only reply was a smirk from Zahra as she spun on her heel and left the room.
PART TWO
N I N E
NEARLY A MONTH PASSED since I came into the home, and I begged for some excitement. The mediocre redundancy of organizing every day became practically nauseating.
“Apollo!” Zahra entered the library that evening, handing me a note. “You have a visitor.”
I raised my brow, uncertain if it was one the Rangers come for my report. With a resigned sigh, I took the note from her and glanced it over.
I request to speak with the Archivist named Andras Apollo Faithe.
Nothing else was written on the letter. “Thank you, Zahra. Where can I find him?”
“Main hall.” She cocked her head as if picking up on my tensing nerves. “Something the matter? If you are threatened by this man, please, let me know. I will arrange for the guards to escort him out.”
I smiled, shaking my head as I slid the note into my breast pocket. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
Zahra didn’t seem convinced. She wrapped her warm fingers around my wrist, her touch—it was as if I thrust my arm into the heart of a blazing bolt of lightning. “Just ring the bell if you need anything.”
I gave her a quick bow, trying my best to quell my aching heart. No matter what, her presence tortured me. I hadn’t the least idea why Zahra was the only one who could inflict it.
I walked through the sunset soaked halls, still deep in thought as I rounded the corner toward the main part of the house. The prospect of Ryanne appearing was the greatest since he was the most trusted. When I entered the main hall, a different sight met me.
“Barak?” My pulse quickened as relief flooded my heart.
“It is the Noble mudscraper himself!” Barak’s voice barreled through the hall as he made his way toward me.
“I expected Ryanne. You have no idea how relieved I am to see you!”
“I do not doubt it,” he said as he pulled at the collar of his black Chokha. “Your employer said we can speak in the garden. Mentioned it is quiet there.”
“She’s right. No one goes out there.” I gestured to the hallway.
“Good. I am tokia… perhaps you can dance for me and lull me to sleep. Put those tiny feet to good use.”
I elbowed him. “Am I to report?”
“You are.” He patted the ribs I elbowed. “You can skip the mundane, ‘I stood in the library all day dreaming about blood’ part. Has the Countess displayed any signs which might point to her being a Peculiar?” Barak asked in a hushed voice, ducking under a statue’s arm.
I laughed, turning down the hall. “So far it is hard for me to tell. She’s not normal, but, it appears she isn’t a Peculiar.”
“That is good. He needs all the information he can get. Once everything is made clear, you will be free to leave.” Barak nearly grinned, though, his face shadowed over when I pulled out the glass bottle with the silver potion inside. “You need to be checked. That stuff is not good for your health.”
I shrugged as I took a swig of the potion. “I get by.”
Barak’s brows knitted into a deep scowl, but, he remained silent as we entered the garden. Though, it was winter still, the garden was drenched in color. Hues of purple, orange, yellow, and blue peppered the still green foliage. I wondered what it would look like come spring when life was to be at its fullest.
Barak sat in the swing, staring at me and the garden with an intensity that was so inextricably linked to his person. The silence loomed in the air like a heavy blanket that was strangely familiar and somewhat comforting.
<
br /> I shook my head, finally ending the silence when I asked, “How is everything back at Siege Veil?”
“It has been its own unique Lapp. Ryanne is on a mission till further notice, so Niall and I are forced to communicate. We may have gotten violent with each other yesterday.”
I let loose a laugh. “Is he healing well?”
“It depends on which one of us you ask.” Barak’s eyes flickered with mirth, as if he replayed the scene in his head and enjoyed it.
“What started the fight?” I asked as I stared at the potion in my hand for a long minute, watching the liquid glisten in the waning sunlight.
“His tales of gore and violence. Not that I mind them, but, it does not end. It is as if we run around a loop, him retelling the same tale a thousand times.” Barak sucked in a long, wintery breath, exhaling a puff of white cloud. “I have been a Ranger for the past ten years. Started when I was nearly your age. I was here before any of you and I still remember the faces of some of those I killed. Some I enjoyed… Thoroughly. Others, not so much. It is the eyes… they stick to my mind and they do not let go. I doubt they ever will.”
His words carried weight… weight I wished they didn’t carry. I wished—needed—to be freed from the faces that tormented my memories. Somehow I knew I never would be.
“This, right here, it is what I dream of doing,” Barak muttered to change the subject, perhaps seeing the mood that had taken over me. I watched as his dark eyes scanned the evening skies and garden, drinking it all in. “Relaxing in a garden and not bothering to think of tomorrow.”
“Really?” I laughed. “I would have never guessed you to be a man wishing to sit on a swing-bench in the middle of a garden.”
He grunted, appearing slightly annoyed by my comment. “If I could, I would leave the Rangers. I would follow my grandfather’s footsteps and paint. Perhaps plant a garden such as this, and if I could, find myself that one person who would not mind putting up with me every day…” For the first time, I saw a shy smile rise on his face. “One day, I think I would be very old by that time, but one day, I will retire and finally live.”
I smiled. It wasn’t often Barak would reveal his thoughts or emotions to anyone, so I appreciated the moments when he would.
“Look at this, Apollo.” Barak gestured to a white rose-like flower with petals that looked like cotton. Little bits of fluff protruded from the stem, looking like clouds caught on thorns. “This is a rare flower called a cloud lotus. It only blooms during the winter, and it lives up to the name. And this—” He gestured to another flower, naming them off one by one. His eyes lit up, and he examined the entire garden as I trailed behind him.
“These past few years… I never knew you loved these things.” I smiled and plucked one of the dying buds he pointed out a moment prior. “When did you have the time to learn all this?”
Barak’s voice remained as even as ever, “I do not blame you for not knowing. I never speak of my dreams.” Barak breathed in and his eyes flitted toward me. “It is amazing what you can accomplish while tucked in the darkness of a fortress.”
I nodded. He had become fluent in all four languages during his time in Siege Veil. Luxterrian, Arclendic, Fiermontian, and Welkinian. Well, other than the occasional blunder with Welkinian. I supposed botany wouldn’t have been too hard to fit in.
“Now you know of my dreams, you tell me of yours?” He unfastened a few of the latches on his garment, allowing the sun to caress his bronze skin, unfazed by the winter weather.
I shook my head, sitting down on the bench. “I never gave it much thought. I assumed this would be it. Nothing more than what I do,” I whispered in the silence of the dusky garden.
Barak pat my shoulder, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if he were grinning. “You will find it. I am sure.”
T E N
I WAITED OUTSIDE FOR Nora and Zahra, watching as the carriage rolled to a stop. The dawning spring wind was upon us. I knew if we didn’t hurry we would miss the grand beginning.
“Aren’t you handsome! You almost pass as one of the Hierarchy. I must tailor all your suits now. Your appearance has improved splendidly!” Nora squealed, satisfied with her handiwork
“Are you saying it was bad before?”
“Oh, monstrous! You have no sense of style, Apollo. None whatsoever.”
I laughed as I saw her waltz from the manor in a lively yellow gown. It hung loose about her upper torso, but gripped tight to her waist, then flowed once again like linen in the wind about the rest of her form. “Is that some deceiving trouser you’re wearing?” I asked after noticing how the dress tapered down below her ankle-high white boots.
Nora nodded, spinning around and revealing the loose-fitting trousers. At first glance it would have looked like a dress.
“Like it? It’s one of my favorites!”
I nodded, “It looks lovely.”
It was then Zahra exited the home, leaving me at a complete loss for words. The dress itself fit her to perfection, and the red of the dress complemented her deep copper skin. The rose-embroidered lace wrapped around her arms, chest, and waist, drawing all attention to her regal figure. Her dove-pin had been made into a necklace which graced her delicate neck. Her cheeks didn’t need the rouge, nor did her dark lashes need the kohl she had added. Honestly, I didn’t complain… she looked gorgeous.
“Are you all right, Apollo?”
Her laughter pulled me from my thoughts, I realized I had been staring at her. My stomach dropped and my chest tightened. “Yes, I’m fine.” I opened the door for her with such a haste that I garnered a dubious glare from Nora.
___
The train whirred through the city of Autumnfall, raging up the steep slope of the mountain range. Hurricane Hall. A palace fit for the Emperor of the Crēov province. We climbed up the first mountain, exited the train, and began our trek to the Hall itself. A white, horned horse trotted up the path pulling a comfortable carriage for us. I assumed Rai Masters had gone out of his way for it.
Working our way up the rest of the slope, the carriage finally leveled on the massive bridge which spanned over the gorge. Waterfalls poured from all sides, thundering and furious. Golden flags, bearing the symbol of a black crescent moon and orange leaf, waved in the misty wind. The symbol of Autumnfall.
There were levels to this place gone unseen from afar. Zahra told me the banquet hall lay below the gates, looking out through one of the many waterfalls. Guards in glittering gold armor stood at attention along the bridge, their spears pointed toward the sky while their eyes were ever watching each guest who arrived.
Zahra, Nora, and I entered and presented our invitation. The man squared his shoulders as he sifted through the guest list, running a bony finger along the names. “Welcome, Countess Zahra and esteemed guests. Enjoy the festivities.” I fought back a wince when he spoke. His voice reminded me of rusty gears grinding.
I expected Emperor Rai Masters to make his appearance later. From the rumors it was said the Empress, who Masters was to be an escort to, fell ill and refused to come.
“I will have to leave you, Apollo.” Zahra’s hand gently touched my forearm, and it was as if her touch left a burning imprint on my skin.
I bowed my head slightly.
“I’ve made sure you will sit with me at the feast table. You and Nora both.”
“You didn’t need to make any special requests on my behalf, Zahra.” I finally looked into her eyes. There was something behind her expression that made me question why she even wanted me around.
“I’ll have none of that.” She looked behind me. “We will sit at the table with the others who share a similar rank as I. Emperor Masters may make a brief appearance as well…” She sighed, as if running through the scenario with me so I wouldn’t make a mess of things. “Please, stay out of trouble?” Without another word, Zahra left with a group of other royals walk through the gardens.
I supposed Rai Masters would be there, guiding her before the festiviti
es. With little else to do, I followed the crowd into the ballroom, noting all the guests wore white. Their ethereal colors would make both Zahra and Nora stand out like flowers in snow.
A hand gripped my shoulder, “I almost did not recognize you!”
Barak’s voice. His accent was unlike any other I heard—unique to him and him alone. I turned to see him. He was dressed like a royal from Fiermont, standing directly in front of me. His unruly shoulder-length black hair was slicked back, drawing full attention to his steely features. His sharp jaw curved at his cleft chin, mirroring his personality. Sharp and to the point. One onyx stud earring pierced his left ear, an ancient Fiermontian insignia, one those of Noble birth were known for wearing. He had told me it was for him to never forget his heritage. I released a breath. “I can say the same for you. What are you doing here?”
“I am here as a personal guest to a woman who, unfortunately, will not make it tonight.” He winked at me, pulling out a card. “Baron Heti-Giconi, at your service.”
He looked the part, taking into consideration his features now with his newly given title.
“So, is this the title you don to weasel your way into the hearts of women?”
