by Eve Bradley
“I’m ready now.”
“The healers obviously think differently,” Kalif smirked as he exited Valryn’s small cubicle.
When Kalif was gone, Valryn inhaled the scent of blood and medicinal herbs comingling. He stood and wobbled a bit, but the fire in his veins kept him going. Once on the ground, he began to do push-ups. The quickest way to feel better that he knew of was to strengthen himself. Even if his skills could be of no use to her, it was all he could do.
Catryn
Jurdu Palace, Yamar
Catryn gnawed on her finger, her other hand filled with the girth of a goblet brimming with wine. She jolted when there was a knock at the door. Guards shuffled aside to allow the swaggering Kalif into her sight.
“What do you want?” she drawled. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“I do see that,” he nodded lightly as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Very busy, indeed, my Peacequeen.”
“What?” she snapped.
“The woman I see now is changed from the one I escorted to Yamar. Why do you deny us your help?”
Kalif was dressed in cream silk, edges of gold hemming his shirt and loose pants. His black hair was free for a change, and he looked nearly unprofessional. She raised a brow and sipped the bitter sweetness. She didn't deny it. She was recuperating. She’d suffered from the explosion just as much as they. It hurt to think of them now. Even though she wanted to go to them, it was impossible. Her guilt was too heavy.
“I can’t help. Even if I wanted to,” she told him as she stood.
“You’re the only one who can. Do you not get this? How do you yourself not suffice?” he stepped closer.
Something about him caused her to feel uncomfortable. The way he looked at her as if he could see into her soul. It was like he could strip her with a look. She set her jaw and stared at him in an equally reckless way. He could not intimidate her.
“Is there something you want, Kalif? Otherwise, go.”
“You have seen the wealth of this Empire. If we fall, the rest of the kingdoms in the mainland will too. Millions of people will die, or be taken over by the Djinn. We don’t know how to defend ourselves from them save for you.”
“There are other ways. Humanity has always risen against darkness or curses,” she replied in an irritated tone.
“Because of the Peacekings and queens before you. Why do you think the gods designed it to be this way? Why do you think they sent a human the divine powers? There has to a balance. Without you, there won’t be hope.”
Catryn stayed silent and peered into the goblet between her fingers.
“You don’t know.”
“What don’t I know?” he was visibly distraught, arms out and face at a loss.
“You don’t know who the gods chose. Perhaps the entire thing is false. Who am I to tell anyone what to do? Why should I take gold and jewels from monarchs and demand that they respect me? Respect is earned, not given. And I’ve not earned an ounce of it. I told the soldiers that the Sultan so generously offered me that they return to their posts in Yamar. The men we brought with us, I dismissed. I don’t want anything from anyone.”
Kalif seemed completely bewildered. He raked a hand through his hair and walked closer, slowly, on deadly steps that Catryn watched keenly.
“Valryn told me that you were stubborn. I just didn’t know how much.”
“Well, for once he’s correct about something,” she smarted. “I don’t deserve them either. I cannot protect them.”
The moment the words ushered past her lips, she froze. He would know the heart of her weakness. The heart of her pain. She flinched as he came to stand over her, his lip drawn up in apparent disgust.
“Is that it?” he uttered. “You’re upset because you can’t keep these men of yours safe?”
She looked down.
“No.”
“Let me reiterate what I’ve just gathered. You are giving up completely, throwing away your role as Peacequeen because you’ve decided that you somehow won’t be able to protect your fucking “harem” of men?”
“Well, I would not call them my harem. They are supposed to be my convoy. And I have no need for them now. If I am not worthy of being a Peacequeen, I am not worthy of their support.”
The words were ground out of her, every fiber of her body straining. Could she convince herself that she didn’t care for them now? How far could she go? Where would she go? Could she slip into nothingness? Perhaps she could go back to whoring. At least those were skills one never lost.
Kalif placed one finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him.
“You’re selfish.”
“No. I’m a realist,” she twisted his hand away with Faerus, keeping it away from her so that it was contorted at an odd angle.
He let out a breath that told her she was causing him pain. But hadn’t every man given her pain? He could learn to watch his words around her. And his hands.
“Never touch me again,” she seethed and sent him reeling back.
Kalif stumbled and then rounded back towards her.
“I have one last thing to say to you, Peacequeen,” he shirked and smoothed his shirt as if nothing had happened.
“What makes you think I want to hear anything else you have to say?” she tilted her head mischievously.
“Those you love will cease to exist,” Kalif told her, voice sharp. “Even if the Djinn do not take over the rest of the Kingdoms, a certain Raspandian prince will. There have been rumors...”
Catryn’s throat suddenly went dry. Her head pounded, and she stood. The gods buzzed in her ears, pressuring her to listen. She couldn’t ignore the persistence.
“What rumors?”
“Spies have noted that the Raspandian prince stopped in Evanona on his return to Raspandar. They say that he still seeks vengeance for his father’s death. Your witchdoctor being perhaps the highest on his list. But that means he’s willing to wage all-out war with you. And you, quite frankly, now have no one to back you since you gave back your army and loyal men.”
“There is more, but I don’t want to speak of it here,” he gazed into her eyes with valor now. Valor that made her unsteady. What could she do about it? She’d never be able to access her full potential. The healing. The persuasion, the supernatural elements, the raw strength, and power. None of it was hers. Only small wisps of Faerus and, when she was particularly angry, telekinesis.
“There is something you can do,” he said. “There’s a burial ground in the desert. The tomb of the last Peaceking. His records are there. Everything recorded in detail regarding the insurgence of darkness he too battled.”
“Ah,” she grimaced. “And you’d like to take me there? A little one on one excursion?”
“No,” he growled. “I don’t think that would be a good idea for either of us. I want you to go and decipher the texts. It could lend you knowledge on the matter. How to destroy this...block of yours.”
Catryn sighed out through her nose, arm dangling lazily.
“If the Sultan knew about this tomb, why would he not direct me there in the first place?”
Kalif crossed his arms, dark hair shining in the sunlight. He looked exotically handsome, and yet, something about him felt inhuman to her.
“The Sultan does not lay out his hand all at once, Peacequeen. And neither should you.”
It was with that he left her. She was puzzled and downed the rest of her wine. What did that mean? Was he warning her to keep her own secrets? She wanted to throw something. Either that or fuck. Fucking always left her feeling sated and relaxed. At least with sex as an outlet she could find a way to reach a blissful state of mind with ease.
Everyone was thoroughly convinced she was the only one able to protect them. Still, it did not seem plausible. Yes, she could destroy a Djinn. But truthfully, when there were twenty or so attacking on all sides, she’d been incapable of keeping up. She could perhaps destroy more if the men had not been there in the way. What they ne
eded was a way to know where the Djinn were coming from, and what their purpose was.
But she wouldn’t call herself a Peacequeen until she understood.
Maybe that’s what he meant. To do what she had to do behind closed doors before presenting herself again. She couldn’t tell what his motives were for informing her of the tomb. If the Sultan himself hadn’t mentioned it, why would he? Would it give her any clarification?
Catryn sunk in her seat.
It was the only option she had. And she would not risk anyone else’s life in the process.
Catryn’s bag was a thin canvas filled to the brim. She’d dropped dried meats, wrapped cheeses, and multiple flasks of water inside. She decided it was best to wear the shoddy pants and shirt that they’d worn on the way to Yamar. She slipped the boots up and looked at herself in the mirror. With the cowl up around her face, many would think her an ordinary citizen, aside from her deep red hair, she matched their coloring.
Once her pack was filled with water and food, she scrunched the map inside. Kalif had gifted it to her when she’d asked. It was as if he’d been waiting for her. She didn’t care. Her mind was made up. It was at least a stepping stone to discovering the origins of the Djinn, or even the block that had been placed upon her. And, if she were honest, perhaps she was hoping that the Peaceking himself would provide her with a bit of guidance.
If anything, the time in the desert would be good for her soul.
Cat gave one last look at the beautiful chambers. She hoped that the men would not hate her too long for this. But even if they did, it was for the better. She couldn’t do much for them. If she could return with at least some sort of value, she’d be willing to associate herself with them again. She was anxious to leave because, as she’d heard, Valryn, Darrian, and Glend were nearly well enough to be discharged from the infirmary. Along with Majmal who would have much to say, she was sure. And she didn’t want to hear his inky words. She didn’t want him to expand upon whatever it was that suppressed her magic.
She reminded herself over and over: they wouldn’t be in the infirmary if it weren’t for you.
There was a crack and squeal as the door opened.
Catryn didn’t have time to do much of anything, but her jaw dropped when she saw who it was.
“Maru?” she gasped.
The wild Evanonan woman with black hair and large doe-like brown eyes assessed her stiffly as if she didn’t recognize her.
“Uh,” she coughed. “Peacequeen?”
Catryn was so knocked off-kilter she dropped her bag. Maru stepped inside quietly, gaze locked onto her. Catryn covered her mouth and then shook her head.
“I told you I would come once my sons were settled at the Citadel. They’ll be taught early on as scholars. We’ll see what Evanonan’s have to say of it when the time comes.”
“I didn’t think...”
Suddenly she felt Valryn’s incessant consciousness reaching out for hers. Then Darrian’s. And Glend’s lighthearted aura smacked her so hard that she wanted to bawl then and there. But she would not abandon her plan. She flew back behind a pillar and gave Maru a warning glance before setting up a blockade of thoughts in her mind.
It was only a few seconds before their footsteps could be heard.
“Maru?” Darrian’s voice rattled Catryn’s insides.
Just his voice caused her to ache. She couldn’t give in. There wasn’t a reason for her to deserve their loyalty. She prayed that Maru was scared of her enough to keep silent.
“Where’s Catryn?” Valryn demanded.
“Val, we haven’t seen Maru in a month at least. Give the woman a hello,” Glend admonished him.
Cat could imagine the sexy way his lip drew up when he spoke to someone like this.
“Did you have safe travels?” Darrian asked her.
“It was fine,” she was hesitant to respond.
Catryn wondered how they all felt about one another. Maru hadn’t wanted anything to do with their group union, which she understood. Maru hadn’t come from that sort of culture, and she was slower to warm. Catryn chastised herself. Why would Maru even want or think of any of them in a sexual way? Was this another one of her entitled thoughts? She shut her eyes to ponder.
“Have you seen her?” Valryn pressed.
“No, I think one of the servants said she was...out somewhere with someone,” Maru said, extremely unconvincingly.
“Who?” Darrian wondered.
“Kalif, maybe. He said he would try to get her to see reason,” Valryn growled.
“Reason with what?” Maru asked.
“Catryn...well. She can explain it to you herself,” Valryn spoke diplomatically. “I’m going to find her.”
“Why don’t you all go,” Maru told them. “I’ll come to find you all once I’ve changed.”
It seemed that the men agreed. They were anxious to find her, and each one stalked right out the door. With their receding footsteps, she let out a relieved breath. She opened her eyes to find Maru standing there, staring blankly.
“Why did I just lie to them?” she asked quizzically.
“I’m going,” Catryn explained as she shouldered past her. “I have something I need to do. You need to stay here and pretend like you never saw me.”
“Oh no, no, no,” Maru sneered through her laughter. “Not happening. I suffered through sweat and too much sun to come back to you. I left my sons for you. You explain.”
Catryn cursed herself and Maru’s impeccable timing.
“Alright, witchdoctor. Come with me.”
She hoped Maru could hear the reluctance in her tone.
Maru dressed in similar garb to Catryn’s. They walked through downtown Jurdu, the terrain uneven, and the road formed of dusty clay bricks. There were trees with giant leaves swaying as if they were being combed by hand. The hot sun did that to people, Catryn reminded herself. It made you think things and see things that weren’t true. But with Maru beside her, it would be easier to stay grounded.
It was strange walking beside this tousled dark-haired woman. She still held the same somewhat masculine walk, a face of feminine strength and plush lips, and a bull-headed brain. Cat was more scared to hear what she’d have to say once she knew what she’d been thinking, and she didn’t need anyone else trying to convince her otherwise. What she needed was to do this, and then, at least then, she’d know if she was worth the title.
Honestly, she was tired of it. Tired of how everyone automatically loved and adored her. She was horse shit glammed up in gold. A whore pretending to be pure.
“Start talking,” Maru said gruffly, in the way that only she could.
The sky was pink above them, clashing with a rising moon and starry violet entourage. The beauty of Yamar was celestial and relaxing. She could understand why everyone here focused on pleasure and calm. It could encompass only these things.
“I don’t owe you anything,” Catryn smirked, and part of her was glad that she’d be stuck with someone for the time. Maru especially. There was something about her that she wanted to unravel and explore. She would also be the handiest, if Cat were honest. And the most important part? She would not feel obligated to administer sex like a drug.
Maru was like a brooding magnet. Cat had always been somewhat pansexual, knowing this from her experiences at the pleasure house. But that didn’t matter, because Maru was straight-laced. Like the spine of a rigid prayer-reciting priestess. The best possible situation for Catryn to be in while she found clarity.
“Yes, you actually do.”
Catryn bit her lip. They ambled through the dusty pathways, and she stayed silent for a long time.
“I need to know that I can do this...that I won’t kill everyone in the process. I can’t care about anyone while I find answers. I need to just...focus on me.”
The words flooded out of her and felt nearly shameful. But Maru was silent, and her lips didn’t move up or down. No frown. No smile. Simply...acceptance.
“I’m all
for a woman finding her own strength. You don’t want a gaggle of groveling men surrounding you? Don’t want them smothering you with their sweaty love? Go on ahead. Do what you want to do. I won’t stop you. I just hope you realize you’ll have to come back and give answers after whatever we’re doing now.”
“Hopefully, by then, I’ll have them,” Catryn said darkly as they reached the giant outer gates of the city.
Glend
Jurdu Palace, Yamar
Glend strode through the halls alongside Darrian and Val.
They’d been summoned. In his experience, a summoning was often a negative experience. Though the Sultan had promised him a royal life, he’d given that up to serve Catryn. Now the entire palace was in an uproar. He picked at his bracelets as they walked, knowing that the rage they were about to witness would be shocking to his two friends. Lovers? Darrian didn’t partake...so could he be called that? It didn’t matter.
Soldiers cloaked in gold and violet opened the doors, the cobra sigil glittering on their chests. The Sultan stood at the top of the stairs where his giant throne was set. Glend could see his fury from a good distance. His eyes were wide and blotched red, veins popping on his forehead, and his jaw twitched. A freshly recovered Majmal stood at his right hand, and beside him on the left was Kalif. The slimy general that none of them particularly trusted.
“Gods, how long does it take?” the Sultan raged. “Where is she?”
Valryn stepped forward, features unwavering. If anything, he squinted at the Sultan as if he were wincing at how awkward the situation was. His tangled black hair fell over his forehead, giving him a roguish look.
“We don’t know where she went,” he explained stiffly, and from his tone, Glend could hear a grudge. “She said nothing to us.”
“I was informed that another one of your party arrived only this morning. Maru Laonoava, an Evanonan? The renowned witchdoctor? Would she have taken the Peacequeen?” Majmal interrupted the steaming Sultan, his voice quiet and level.
