by Aderyn Wood
Hadanash lowered his voice a notch more. “It’s all to do with the interpretations of the Aurannan.”
“There’s a thousand different interpretations, and what would that matter?”
“Lipit interpreted much in the Aurannan differently to Father. He cast doubts as to whether Father would be the one king, as he so wishes to be.”
“So you think Father had him killed, for a difference of opinion?”
“Not Father.”
Heduanna’s eyes widened. “Qisht. But why—”
“Because he didn’t want Lipit revealing the truth to Father. That he would never become king.”
Heduanna’s frown deepened.
“Look, Father doesn’t even talk to me anymore. And my heir ring has still not been replaced.” He held his hand up to show his bare finger. “The thing you need to understand is that the only people Father talks to about his political strategising now are his lover and the barbarian.” Hadanash’s eyes narrowed. “And you, sister.”
Heduanna shook her head. “He only uses me to access the goddess.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.
“And so, you have influence.”
“What do you mean?”
Hadanash glanced at the door, then pulled Heduanna further into the gloomy office, until they stood in a corner. He lowered his voice. “Not two days ago some of my men intercepted a boat that had come from Urul for trade.”
“It’s nothing unusual, we still trade with them.”
“I had the merchant followed. At midnight he met with Qisht in a house of Phadite.”
Heduanna laughed. “Perhaps Qisht was hoping to prostitute himself.”
“No, sister. Qisht met with the merchant to relay information to him. We followed the merchant. He conducted no trade, and simply made his way back to Urul after receiving his message.”
Heduanna held her breath, remembering the night she’d seen Qisht at the witch’s house. It seemed entirely plausible he would do such a thing as Hadanash described. “And what was the message he relayed?”
“That Phadite has forsaken Azzuri.”
Heduanna gritted her teeth. “That weasel.”
“We know at least one contact now. And when he returns he shall be apprehended.”
“It’s not true, Had. She hasn’t abandoned us.”
“I know. But perhaps we could use your contact with the goddess to influence Father about Qisht. He won’t listen to a word I say about him. But he’d listen to Phadite, if she gave him a direct message about Qisht’s duplicity.”
Heduanna stared. “I’ve had no such message from the goddess.”
“Are you sure you haven’t, sister?” Hadanash took a step closer. “Let me tell you something. When I was in Urul, I saw how differently things are done there. Lies are all a part of the game to achieve the best outcome. Father is out of touch. He has no understanding of how to play. Urul has thousands upon thousands of soldiers and slaves. Father is leading Azzuri into a war that we will never win, and each Azzurian citizen will become new slaves for Urul when the time comes. I believe I can prevent that. I formed an allegiance of a kind with the king himself when I was there. I believe I can make him trust me again, and it’s not too late to put you on the Urul throne as queen. But if we’re to do that, we need to stop Qisht’s influence, and you have the power to show Father that Qisht is nothing but a traitor.”
Heduanna chewed her lip. She thought of the seat of high priestess. Wasn’t that to be her fate? Or was it after all the seat of queen as she’d first envisaged?
“Think on it, sister, but not for too long. The Urul king returns soon, and who knows what damage Qisht will do then.”
Hadanash turned to leave, but Heduanna stalled him with one more question. “Had.”
He looked back at her. The light seeping in from the door highlighted his sharp features, and he looked exactly like a younger version of their father. “Yes?”
“How’s Kisha?”
Hadanash raised an eyebrow. “Content, sister. That’s all you need know.”
Danael
Danael stood with the others in the king’s contingent, in perfect formation. They held spears upright, and long shields perfectly aligned. The enemy king had swiftly disembarked from his galley. Hadanash greeted the king and his entourage, including the young Prince Rabi, on the palace docks. It took no time for King Amar-Eshu, the gold loops in his ears tinkling as he spoke, to declare his desire to see his betrothed, the Princess Heduanna.
Hadanash smiled and bowing his head replied, “All in good time.” They took the steps together to the Palace.
“This is an insult!” The enemy king thumped the table with a heavy fist and the cup of wine spilled, staining the table linens red.
“I told you, didn’t I, brother?” Prince Rabi said with a grin, before swigging his own cup of wine.
Danael had been summoned by the king to sit at his table in the dining hall, to formally welcome the enemy king back to the palace of Azzuri.
“I apologise if—” King Amar-Sin began.
“Apologies will not do. You have brought the anger of our Zroaras down upon you. He will be insulted by your arrogance.”
“But I would think he'd be pleased. My daughter is to become high priestess, a humble servant of the gods.”
King Amar-Eshu bared his teeth. “You insult my city, you insult my family, you insult my God.”
“And you insult my brother-king,” Rabi added.
King Amar-Sin took a slow breath through his nose before replying to the enemy king. “You have many talents, my friend. I did not know consulting with the gods was one of them.”
Amar-Eshu stood with a snarl. He glowered at the king for a handful of heart beats before turning on his heel to leave, his young brother following in quick pursuit.
“I have another offer for you,” King Amar-Sin said quietly. “One that will align our two cities just as well. Another marriage proposal.”
Eshu paused his step.
“I understand you have not yet made arrangements for the marriage of your sister, Princess Adula.”
The little woman still seated at King Amar-Eshu’s table gasped. Princess Adula, no doubt. She was skinny and short, with thin hair and a head that looked a little too big for her body. She was all twigs and twitches it seemed to Danael.
Eshu slowly turned around, the heavy frown still on his face but his hands no longer gripped his sword. “I am listening.”
Princess Adula looked somewhat hopeful as she glanced at Hadanash.
King Amar-Sin continued. “As it happens I have a son, and I have not yet made him marriage arrangements either.”
“Prince Sargan?” the enemy king asked with a sneer.
Rabi laughed loudly, slapping his leg.
Adula gasped and gave her young brother a glare.
“Not Sargan,” the king replied. “Azzuri’s heir-prince, and your friend, Hadanash.”
Danael glanced at the heir-prince. If looks could kill, his father-king would be sitting in his chair, dead.
The evening banquet had filled the hall with tension. The two kings spoke not at all to each other, and barely said a word to anyone else. Danael had glanced between the Princess Adula and the heir-prince Hadanash and noted an unreciprocated interest on the part of the princess. Only Rabi seemed to be enjoying himself, stuffing his face with every dish and drinking a bear’s share of wine.
Danael’s eye was drawn back, as it always was, to the princess. Tonight she had forgone her simple initiate’s tunic and wore a dress with gold and purple panels that revealed her golden skin at her hips and shoulders. Her cheeks and lips had been brightened with rouge, and delicate kohl highlighted the natural curve of her eyes. Amethyst stones decorated her ears. She was, in short, irresistible.
“You can’t take your eyes from her.” Ubranaum came up beside him. He was also present at the banquet, along with Varashti, but they sat at a table near the royal cousins.
Danae
l bristled. Ever since that night, the last one of the Reaping, Danael had little and less to say to Ubranum.
“Bet you’d like to get you’re hands on her too.” Ubranum put his own hands up and scrunched his fingers down.
Danael looked away.
“Come now, friend. Why so serious?”
“Never mind,” Danael muttered.
“Prince Danael.” Qisht stood before him.
“Yes?”
“The king wishes to see you. Now, in his suite.”
Danael looked to the king’s seat. It was empty.
“Which king?” Ubranum asked.
Qisht stared at him the way he might look at a roach. “King Amar-Sin, of course.”
“Thank you, Danael. Please, sit.” The king gestured to a chair. They were in his small office that stood between the throne room and the king’s private suite.
Danael took a seat on the padded silk chair.
Qisht left them. There were no refreshments offered, no formal words; the king was studying Danael with a thoughtful air.
“You are the best swordsman in our entire army, were you aware of that fact?”
Danael frowned.
“You are. Your performance in the ring and on the field have proven such. Not even our general, nor his son Ilbrit, can match you with a sword in your hand.”
“If you say so, Exalted.”
“I do.”
Danael squirmed on his seat. “You got the… the treasure then?” Danael had given the pouch with the ring to Qisht, just as the king had asked.
The king nodded once. “I have a task for you. One that will bring its own set of challenges.”
Danael raised his chin. “I will help where I can.”
“You heard the talks today between myself and the king of Urul.”
Danael nodded.
“What did you make of them?”
“The king is most unhappy that you have not given him your daughter’s hand.”
“Indeed.” The king rubbed at a temple. “I have it on good authority that Eshu intends to steal into the temple this very night and take my daughter from me.”
Danael’s mouth fell open. “No. How would that be possible?”
The king shrugged. “I love my daughter. Very much. But the king is a handsome and charismatic man. I believe there is a chance he could be successful in luring her away from me. Unfortunately, there are those in Azzuri’s service, both in the palace and the temple, who will make such a capture possible for him.”
“What can I do?”
The king tapped his fingers together. “I want her guarded by the most apt soldier I can provide for her. You.”
“You want me to be her guard tonight?”
“At the temple. You’re to go straight from here to the temple grounds. Qisht will provide you with the uniform of a palace guard. But there’s one thing you should know.”
“Yes?”
The king pressed his lips together. “My daughter suffers from certain urges, it’s the goddess’s influence on her. She will undoubtedly tempt you into her bed. You are not to submit to her.”
Danael stared.
“It is dangerous for her and will almost certainly bring on a convulsion.”
“I thought that happened when she received visions from the goddess.”
“It does, and I’ve been informed that too many such convulsions may well cause her permanent damage. Perhaps even death, and that is a risk I am not willing to take. So please, guard her well, and nothing more.”
Danael opened the gates to the temple compound. He was taken aback by the simplicity within. Beauty revealed itself everywhere in the city, but here in the temple, the gardens were more functional than beautiful, with fruit trees and vegetables growing in neat beds. And the pool was not for swimming, but for drinking. Unlike the palace, there were no decorative frescoes upon the walls, no statues, no constant music. Just the stark and precise obelisk in the square, and the circle of lapis lazuli beneath it, marked with the eight points that allowed the priests to discern the hour.
He walked past the obelisk and entered the temple proper. “You are here to guard the princess?” A young priest hurried to him, his dark hair was cut short, and he wore two short feathers in his band.
Danael nodded.
“I must take your sword,” the priest said. “Weapons are not permitted in the temple.”
Danael frowned. “But—”
“I’m sorry, it is the rule. We must respect Phadite’s peace, in this place above all others.” He held out his hand and Danael reluctantly handed over his sword.
The priest grinned as he pointed to an adjacent building. “She’s in the first room on the upmost level. I suppose you’ve been told what the rest of us have?”
Danael blinked at the little man. Still a boy really. He grinned in a lusty way.
“Good luck,” he said before turning and leaving Danael to his vigil.
Danael walked along the cloistered passage to the steps, up to the third level and knocked at the first door he came to.
“Enter.”
Danael opened the door and adjusted to the brightness of the oil pots that lined the walls in the otherwise plain room. The princess sat at a table, stylus in one hand, clay tablet in the other. A jug of wine and a cup were the only other objects on the table. She looked over to him with one eyebrow arched. When their eyes met, it was as if a spark flared between them, but the princess quickly tore her gaze away. “You’re my guard?”
“Yes, Princess,” Danael said, bowing his head.
“Very well. Wait outside. Trouble will only come after midnight.”
“Trouble?”
The priestess focused her attention on the tablet. “That is all.”
“Yes, Princess.”
Danael cast one last glance over her lithe form, then he turned and stood in the shadow of the balcony. Below, the temple square dominated the view, and he watched as the young priest who’d taken his sword strode out to the circle of time, to the obelisk, and pulled the bell rope. The huge bell at the obelisk’s top struck seven loud gongs that echoed throughout the city – it was now mid-eve.
Danael turned his gaze to the view beyond the high walls of the temple’s grounds, where the city lamps blazed at street corners and various town squares. The sky was a blanket of stars. He’d been instructed to guard the princess through the night. There’d be another two bells until dawn. Danael’s hand went to his wide leather belt and touched the bulge beneath his skirt where he’d concealed a long dagger, just as Ru always did. He was glad he’d thought of it before he left his chamber. He placed his hands to his side, and put his feet shoulder length apart, just as the royal guards always stood. He was ready to do what he must.
His vigil had been slow and without incident. The quiet time following the darknight bell had been the most challenging. The dawn bell would be next, but in that stretch of darkness Danael found himself yawning almost constantly. He took to marching back and forth along the balcony to keep himself awake. He kept his mind occupied too, wondering why the king had entrusted his daughter’s life to just one man ‒ the barbarian from over the sea. He was just on the edge of a possible answer when a noise brought his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Soft voices somewhere down in the cloistered passages of the temple grounds, spiraled up to him. Then footsteps rung up the steps.
The Urul king approached. He, too was weaponless and thankfully without a guard of his own, though no doubt they’d be waiting by the temple gates.
“Step aside,” he said when he spotted Danael. His earrings tinkled as he approached.
Danael stood squarely before the princess’s door. “The Princess will take no visitors tonight.”
The king spat. “Camel dung. Let her know I’m here. She’ll want to see me.” He groped his crotch with a lascivious smirk.
“I will speak with him.” Her voice came from behind. Danael startled, but kept his eyes firmly planted on the king. Her fath
er had said nothing about allowing her to communicate with the king. His job was to stop Eshu from taking her by force, or stop Heduanna from going with him willingly, by whatever means necessary.
The king's eyes widened, but his demeanor softened. “Where are you, my love?”
“King Amar-Eshu,” the princess’s voice was strong and unwavering. “The goddesses is my only mate now. She is my wife, my husband, my child. She is my mother, my father, my sister and friend. I belong only to her. Therefore, I will not marry you, nor any other, and that is final.”
Heduanna stepped out of her room and onto the balcony, and Danael’s eyes widened when he saw her attire. She wore the thinnest stretch of linen, and the soft light coming from her room penetrated right through so that her form was more than clear beneath, and it took his breath away. What was she thinking? To drive this man wild with desire?
The king reached for her and she took a step back towards Danael. She stood right in front of him, her body touching his own, so that he could feel her warmth.
“Come now, Princess, have you forgotten your promise, made in Phadite’s own house atop the palace?” His eyes slanted. “I remember it well.”
“I forget nothing, but everything has changed. With Phadite’s blessing, you are to return to your galley, and leave Azzuri for good.”
The king lurched forward, reaching for her, but so did Danael, looping his arm protectively before the princess, blocking the king.
King Amar-Eshu gave Danael a scowl, and he spat to the side once again.
“The gods won’t be pleased if a future high priestess is forced against her wish.” Heduanna held her chin high, but Danael could feel her trembling against him.
“And what of my god? The great Zroaras, how shall he be appeased by this affront?”
“He will be gratified when I serve his sister, Phadite. Go now, please.”
The king’s mouth curled into a snarl and he stepped back and thrust a finger toward her. “You’ve brought down my god’s wrath on your city. Come next sommer, we will bring you the gift of war.”
