by Eve Bradley
“Catryn wasn’t taken,” Darrian piped in. “No one could take her without causing a huge commotion. There're no signs of a struggle. She left of her own volition. We just don’t know where...”
Glend stayed silent. He tucked a strand of dark blonde hair behind his ear and half-smiled when the Sultan’s gaze fell upon him.
“This is ridiculous. I have armies out searching. We have mages using location spells. Nothing is coming up,” the Sultan growled. “She’s vanished? Can a woman just vanish? You’re her convoy! How can this even happen? It’s never been heard of! Never in all history did a Peaceking abandon his own fucking convoy!”
“Who spoke to her before she left?” Majmal inquired sweetly, folding his hands together. His silky robes shifted, and the light from the open overhead spaces caused his bald head to shine and highlight the brilliant sparkling makeup and oils he rubbed into his skin so that he looked nearly doll-like.
“I...” Valryn began, rubbing the back of his neck.
Guilty. So guilty, Glend thought.
“I talked to her before she left,” Valryn admitted. “It was when we were still in the infirmary.”
“And? What did she say?” the Sultan nearly screamed, voice bleating with thick vibrato.
“She left thinking that she wasn’t meant to be Peacequeen.”
The gathering was hushed, and whispers slowly accumulated. Glend knew that Val had spoken to her, he’d felt the connection in the other room. It still hurt. But he hadn’t known what she said. It had been dark in the way of his connection to her. He was angry that she hadn’t come to see him, nor Darrian. Darrian was still nursing his dislocated shoulder, yet she’d only felt the need to talk to Val? He hated how much it stung him.
“No one else spoke to her afterward?” Majmal pressed.
“Kalif mentioned that he would attempt to right her perspective,” Valryn looked to Kalif, who nodded slowly in response.
“I was unable to make any progress, as you can see,” Kalif’s words were clipped, pointed in Valryn’s direction.
“So she just decided to be done with the lot of us. The sun goddesses daughter. Giving up. Pah. Perhaps she is correct, then!” The Sultan’s tone was dry and hateful.
Glend rolled his eyes.
“You’ve seen her power. You know something is blocking her magic. She’s got the crown on. The council stands behind her. She’s the Peacequeen. Your prophecies spoke of a woman of fire. It’s her...” he retorted, not trying to hide his annoyed tone.
The Sultan glared at Glend and then coaxed him forward with one finger.
Glend stepped lightly, heading for the man he’d been loyal to for so long. As he walked, flashbacks came to him. This middle-aged man using him, then throwing him to his daughters as a plaything. Sasha and Setora had been kind enough and exciting. Though early on, he’d assumed he had a preference for men simply because they’d shown more of an interest in him. Now that he’d fully experienced Catryn’s womanly body, he knew that he preferred it. Still, the Sultan was domineering and reminded him of a worse version of Davel Rordon. He’d bowed and scraped his way up the royal chain, winning his favor and doing as the Sultan wanted on many missions. He owed the man nothing. He belonged to Catryn, no one else. Didn’t he?
“I want you to come to my chambers, Glend. I think we’ve not been properly reunited,” the Sultan peered into Glend’s honey eyes. He tried to look away, but he sucked him in, and a cool wash rushed over his body.
“I belong to the Peacequeen,” Glend uttered quietly. Why was he so afraid? His hands began to shake, and his limbs burned with the urge to run.
“You’re a fool for believing that. She wouldn’t care. She doesn’t care about you...nor the others. She left. She left us all to rot. And for what?” he shrugged and crossed his arms, long gold robes sighing. “We can talk as we once did.”
As they once did. It was a way of saying that he had information he trusted only with Glend. But Glend didn’t want to be that person. He didn’t want to be his pawn in a game of power and secrets. But was there any choice? He looked back at Valryn and Darrian, hating himself even more. Disgust welled in his gut.
He offered Sultan Hajj the barest of nods and crept back down the steps.
Valryn’s face was hiding horror. Darrian seemed resigned.
“We don’t know where she is. But we need to trust her. The gods chose her for a reason,” Valryn implored the people in the audience hall. His voice bounded off the marble floor, echoing out among them.
“I will have my guard out searching. We will track her down,” Kalif promised the Sultan. He then bowed and left the hall, flanked by a few of his top men.
“In the meantime, we must raise the city guard. No one is to be out at night. The citizens of Jurdu should be cautioned to take care with whom they trust and to keep to their homes as much as they can.”
Majmal and the rest of the court nodded and muttered amongst themselves. Glend couldn’t stop the shaking. He was afraid that everything he’d worked for was going to be destroyed. He wouldn’t be that person. He wanted to hold onto Val but couldn’t do so in public. The itch to grip just a piece of his clothing was fierce as if somehow that might hold him down and keep him sane.
“I expect you all to continue your duties as the Peacequeen’s convoy. Continue your training. Protect this city. And when this entire debacle is cleared up...” the Sultan exhaled sharply. “Do what you must to keep your queen in check.”
“I think that would be a difficult task to uphold,” Darrian snorted. “As you can see...no one keeps her in check.”
“I think you will,” he smiled viciously. “If Peacequeen Catryn doesn’t fulfill her end of the bargain, I’ll have no need for her. And it has been said that she has grand plans to stop the entire underground trade. If she abandons my people, the trade will continue per usual as it has for hundreds of years. Not only this, but she will lose the support of the wealthiest kingdom that could have ever backed her. Pathetic girls do not survive long here.”
“This is your Peacequeen you speak of. I’ll remind you of that,” Valryn snapped through a tight jaw.
“The one you for over twenty years have hoped and prayed for. That didn’t last long...” Glend muttered under his breath.
Darrian chuckled and then wiped his face clear when he saw the Sultan assessing them, rage bristling once more.
“Get the damn woman back whatever you do. Without her, we all perish in the sand.”
Glend dressed into something fresh before leaving to visit the Sultan in his chambers. The sky was sinking into a deep blue. Before he could go, Valryn’s hand gripped his bicep. Glend stopped and shut his eyes. He could feel the disapproval.
“This isn’t right,” Valryn’s voice hit him with force, and pain spread in his heart.
Catryn had left. She didn’t care, and neither did the rest. Valryn only wanted him because he was fascinated with the idea of being with the opposite sex. But it wasn’t a game. Darrian had claimed that Val loved him. Valryn had never said those words, nor did he express them in any action. Things had been twisted. He felt that he cared for Valryn, but there were so many things he had to take care of still. Past experiences that haunted him like snakes slithering at his heels everywhere he went. Sasha and Setora were only one part of his experience here.
“I have to,” he shrugged out of his grip. “If anything, I’ll get a better understanding of what’s been happening all the years I’ve been away.”
“You know Catryn won’t like it. And...I don’t like it,” Val’s true emotion leaked out in his words, as much as he tried to hide it.
Glend turned back to look at him. Slate gray eyes glared through messy black hair.
“You think it’s so simple. If I don’t go, it could make things worse for all of us.”
“But part of you wants it,” Valryn allowed his anger to sift in. “Part of you thinks this is all you'll ever be good at. And that’s why you’re giving in so easily. You t
hink playing the sensual secret keeper is who you are. It’s not. You’re her Guardian too.”
“And she left. After a traumatizing event, no less,” Glend chuckled darkly. “Tell me, why did she visit you? Why not Darrian or I? We don’t know why anything happened. The only way to get information is to manipulate people. Powerful people like to feel teased. I know how to tease. I made my way in life doing that. Sultan Hajj, Davel Rordon...a few others. I won’t fuck him. I’ll just...try to figure out what I need to do to keep everyone’s heads on straight.”
“You’re a liar,” Val spit vehemently. “Go on ahead. Go fuck the Sultan. See if that makes you happier.”
Glend rolled his eyes and left, the last image of Valryn with his chest heaving and face screwed into disgust burned into his brain.
As he arrived, he was filtered through a few sets of ornately carved doors. At each entryway, guards pat him down for weapons. He gave them all a dreamy innocent smile as he entered the last and came to sit right in front of the Sultan.
Sultan Hajj was a middle-aged man. His skin was dark amber. His face was dominated by a hooked nose and puffy lips, while his eyes were dead dark. It was strange how he remembered him. Everything that Glend had done before was to scale the ranks. He wanted comfort, and, dare he say it, power. The Sultan had promised him these things.
Now she was gone, and he wanted to smack himself. Everything she’d made him feel, was it pointless? If she didn’t reciprocate those feelings, why should he stay? Just because he’d spent a few good months with her and Val, and even Darrian, did that mean he should throw away his entire life’s work? But he was branded, and the gods wouldn’t let him walk away. He didn’t want to walk away, although her absence suggested that she did. And with Maru no less.
Maru. He hated to say it, but he disliked her more now. Did she know what Cat’s plan had been all along?
He bowed as he entered into the Sultan’s lowly lit private quarters. Everything was gold, purple, orange, and red. Designs and jewels were scattered and engraved into every surface and fabric. It was similar to what he remembered. The bed was in the same space and haunted Glend as he glanced at it from the corner of his eye. Val was infuriated, and that had stung. Valryn’s consistent place in his life the past few years mattered more than the Sultan. But he couldn’t refuse, and maybe the Sultan had information yet to be revealed.
“Glend of the Rose Hills,” Hajj beckoned him.
He was lounging on the floor pillows, and a set of tea was displayed ornately before him. He sipped from the cup and smiled warmly. Apparently cooled from his previously hot temper.
“Join me.”
Glend smiled, and as he moved towards him, the guards receded, shutting them into the cozy space.
Sultan Hajj perused him without shielding his gaze.
“You’re older. I’d say...nearly masculine. The only thing unchanged is your face,” he said.
Glend cleared his throat and tugged a cup of tea towards himself.
“That is what happens. Boys grow up. Can’t fight fate, can we?” he smirked.
“No. No, we cannot,” Hajj agreed. “We missed you while you were away. You were apart of our family.”
“And you sent me away,” Glend shrugged. “I was doing as you asked. You trusted me to be there when a Peacequeen was ordained. I did everything you wanted me to do.”
“I trusted no one else with this,” he affirmed and smacked his mouth as he took one big gulp. “The truth is, imbeciles surround me. I still don’t trust anyone. And now, I don’t even have you.”
Glend stayed quiet in hopes that his silence would force the Sultan to expand on his words.
“My daughters, they play. Always. Neither is fit to act as heir. And perhaps that is my fault, you know. I have a thousand courtiers and rich influencers ready to support me, yet my daughters act as if this entire Empire I’ve built is a game.”
“Sasha and Setora?” Glend joked as if he’d never heard of them. “I thought they would sign on to co-rule.”
“You know that would end in tyranny and flames,” Hajj chuckled darkly. “Serpent above us, don’t get me started. They’d destroy this palace quicker than the Djinn.”
“The problem is that I raised them to be women. Not men,” the Sultan added, exhaling with frustration. “I didn’t raise them with responsibilities other than keeping their skin soft and brushing their hair. And the gods only know what sort of influence the rest of my concubines are on them. My only true blood heirs-wasted in the vapidity of womanhood.”
“You know it doesn’t have to be that way,” Glend tried to cheer him. “Catryn isn’t only focused on those things. Many women aren’t.”
“Your Peacequeen is no example. Women are wishy-washy in any form of the word. Their brains weren’t built to take on strategy and control.”
“What about your male bastards?” Glend nudged the idea towards him, smirking because he knew what response it would bring.
“Gods! You know that’ll never be an option. I couldn’t do that to Nilara.”
Nilara was his late wife. The Sultanah had been killed by a random angry citizen who’d just happened to sneak past the guards and slit her throat. Glend had listened to many hours of Hajj talking about Nilara, how she was the only one he’d ever truly love, how she was better than any other woman on earth, how she was extraordinarily generous and smart. The list of compliments went on for days, and Glend felt sorry that Hajj had lost her. But that had been nearly a year before Glend had arrived in Yamar as an adolescent.
“I can’t help but think she’d understand. If you have a child who’s half of you, who could do well at ruling, then why not? Instead, you’ll just hand off the kingdom to daughters you don’t trust?”
Hajj shook his head, annoyed by his words. He didn’t want to listen.
“In truth, that’s why I wanted you to marry one of them. You’d have taken over in my stead, and then I’d have been satisfied. But no. You’ve tied yourself to a bitch who abandons her people when they need her the most. The Djinn will be able to whatever whenever they please because she’s not here to cast them out.”
The air smelled of tangy tea and musky incense. Glend’s head felt clouded, and he sighed. He didn’t know why people trusted him so flagrantly.
“We don’t know why she left. Perhaps there was a reason. Did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s doing what she needs to do, right at this moment?” he spoke carefully. “I mean, gods and goddesses have a hold of her. I’d hope they wouldn’t allow her to be purely stupid.”
“It seems to be that way. With her leaving us as an open target to the Djinn,” he growled.
“The Djinn seem to be taking their sweet time about taking over humanity. Why’s that, I wonder?” Glend lazed back, letting his long braid fall back over his shoulder.
“I don’t think they have the numbers. Either that or they are waiting for something. Simmering in that forsaken desert,” Hajj’s words crept into Glend’s stomach, unsettling him.
“If she went west, we are fucked,” Glend said as if it were factual. “If she went east, she’s fucked.”
“Hm. Yes. I think you’re quite right about that.”
“Then what should we do in the meantime?” Glend stretched his arms overhead and saw that the Sultan was appraising him. Just like he used to, his eyes became darker, and lust emanated from him like a thick perfume. His jaw grew slack, and he looked deeply into Glend’s eyes from across the shining table. He shifted on the pillows.
“All we can do is study the texts. I’ve already sent my mages to scry for her. I’ve asked the soothsayers for guidance, and they are doing what they can to provide us with an outlook. If the stars, bones, and age-old magic of my people doesn’t find us some sort of solution, we may as well flee.”
“Flee?” Glend sat upright then. “The entire population of Yamar? Where would you go?”
“We’ve set up our convoy’s in Malavash. There and in Catharsa. Either way, the Djin
n will follow. It’s all about biding our time and staying alive until your Peacequeen decides to take her birthright.”
“What if she can’t? Majmal said she’d been cursed with Vulzos.”
“Vulzos...yes. The darkest magic there is. A poisonous, deadly weapon to anything it touches. We’ve read about it for centuries, poured over the accounts of it. In previous generations, Peaceking’s have taken it down, and whatever creature or being was wielding it. It is strange that she bears those marks...given that she is supposed to be the daughter of fire.”
Glend nodded, noticing that he was especially wistful now.
“What does that even mean?” he inquired. “Daughter of fire. And all the other names the Soothsayer’s claim.”
“They don’t truly know. No one knows. They see images. They’ve told me it a hundred times...she arrives in smoke and flames, born of otherness to bring peace to the nations. She may not know it, but the little wench is to free humanity of darkness whether she likes it or not.”
“Knowing her backstory, it is a hard concept for her to believe,” Glend took another sip of the earthy tea. “Three hundred years, and now her. And it has to be a problem of epic proportions.”
“Yes. We don’t fully realize yet what it all means. We could all die in the end,” Sultan Hajj said, eyes glimmering.
“We could,” Glend agreed. “But then again, everyone dies in the end.”
“That is true. But it is our actions today that bleed on through the next generations to come. And the result of those actions is us living on.”
“So what you’re saying is I actually have to be careful how I behave? How completely unfair,” Glend snickered.
“Yes. Especially now that you’re an elite in her convoy,” the Sultan showed a rare, slinking smile. “How that must taste...”
“I did what I had to do,” he stopped the joking. “You told me to integrate myself into her life, and that was the best way I saw. She’s been interesting to be around. I relate to her on a different level. We’ve come from similar starts in life.”
