Olivia

by Robert Oliver

  “What the…”

  Frasie covered her breasts. “I can explain, Aiden. I was—”

  “What the hell is going on?” He looked at Kytis.

  “The young lady is trying to explain.”

  He approached the portrait on Kytis’s easel. He scanned over Frasie’s seductively posed nude body. His muscles stiffened, his mouth went dry, and his gaze narrowed.

  “Aiden, calm down,” Frasie said. “Please, let me explain.”

  He marched to Kytis, balled his fist, and let every ounce of his anger and frustration connect squarely with Kytis’s face. The noise from the impact and the thud of Kytis hitting the ground was immensely satisfying.

  Frasie hovered over Kytis. “Aiden! You knocked him out! How could you?”

  He scoffed. “You’re naked, Frasie! And you let this creep paint you. Every part of you. How could you? No, never mind. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

  Frasie finished putting on her underclothes. “Like I told you, there’s a good reason! You have to listen to me.”

  He stared at the painting. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Would you stop glaring at that and listen to me?”

  He shook with anger. “Glaring? At your naked body? Do you know how long he gawked at every part of you as he drew this? And you don’t want me to look at it?”

  “No, it’s not that,” Frasie replied. “I mean… I don’t want you to see it, but that’s not why—”

  “But he could see it! I thought you were out trying to help Olivia.”

  She gasped. “Olivia! Oh, please, Aiden, tell me you didn’t leave her alone.”

  “No, Emira is with her.”

  “Good,” she replied. “Aiden, we need Kytis awake. He was going to use that painting to help Olivia.”

  He laughed. “He told you that? He actually said that your naked body is going to save Olivia? And you believed him? That’s hilarious!”

  Kytis groaned. “It’s true.”

  He stood over him and grabbed him by the shirt. “If you want to remain conscious, your words must be nothing but the truth. And, even then, I won’t make any guarantees.”

  Kytis awkwardly nodded.

  “Did you touch her?”

  “Aiden!” Frasie exclaimed. “Do you really think I’d—”

  “I don’t know what to think! But I asked Kytis the question, and I expect an answer.”

  “No.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Frasie added.

  He stared into Kytis’s worried eyes. “I know he is. It’s the first truthful thing he said since he arrived in Selandis. Tell me—did you come to Selandis to seduce Frasie?”

  Kytis looked confused. “What? No… of course not.”

  “Don’t be so surprised. I know about Rachel.”

  “Rachel?” Frasie asked.

  “His departed wife,” he replied. “She looked a lot like you. Green eyes, curly red hair. Freckles.”

  “Yes… Rachel looked a lot like Frasie,” Kytis replied. “But I had never met Frasie before I came to town, and she’s certainly not why I’m here.”

  Frasie helped Kytis stand. “Look, Aiden, we don’t have time for your issues with Kytis. Can you still help Olivia?”

  “I think so,” Kytis replied. “Aiden, I have no quarrel with you, and I have no intention of sleeping with Frasie. I pose no threat to you.”

  Frasie frowned. “You have no reason to be jealous.”

  “That would mean more if you were wearing clothes,” he sneered.

  Kytis grabbed the painting. “Let’s leave your boorish boyfriend to fulminate on his own. We’ve got to save Olivia.”

  Frasie snatched her dress and cut an angry glare at him. “Good idea.”

  He could think of nothing constructive to say. He had already let enough hurtful words come from his mouth. No matter how awful Frasie’s behavior, he could think of no reason to continue venting his anger toward her. She was incredibly naïve. Perhaps he took advantage of that.

  And then, right as they were leaving, it hit him. That unusual glisten in Frasie’s eye. He last saw it when he reunited with her, Farius, and Olivia in the Laharan plains. He thought nothing of it then, but it was so distinct that seeing it now returned the distant, almost discarded memory to his mind.

  Could he have charmed her?

  “We’re leaving now, Aiden,” Kytis said.

  The thought had crossed his mind to search his room, but not now. That would be too obvious. They proceeded outside the hotel and started toward the temple.

  Frasie stopped. “Aiden, I don’t want you near me. Not now.”

  “Olivia is my friend, too.”

  She glanced at Kytis. “Yes, but you can’t seem to behave yourself.”

  He stared into her eyes. “What has he done to you?”

  “Nothing. The better question is, what has he done to you?”

  He could have sworn there was the slightest hint of a smile on Kytis’s disgusting face.

  “You can’t keep me from seeing Olivia.”

  “I’ll go on ahead,” Kytis said, then left them alone.

  “You are a welcomed guest in the temple, Aiden. But Emira can change that at any time.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “This isn’t you, Frasie.”

  “I’m the same me I’ve always been,” she replied. “It’s you who’s changed. I think we need some time apart.”

  “That’s exactly what he wants,” Aiden said.

  “Take care, Aiden. Please, keep your distance. I’ll have someone from the temple keep you apprised as to Olivia’s health.”

  And then she left.

  It wasn’t her. Her walk, her voice… it was not Frasie. She didn’t use the word apprised. Frasie was naïve, but not so easily fooled.

  There was no doubt she’d been charmed.

  Chapter 42

  Dark, rich red hues dominated Kytis’s living room in Masola despite the intense sunlight pouring through the spacious bay window. Intricate tapestries lined the walls, while plush rugs covered the wood floors. A large bookcase that stretched from floor to ceiling filled the wall opposite the window. The air smelled of books and old paper, and faint dust hung in the air—only visible in the rays of afternoon sun.

  Manis and one of his friends reclined in a chair and the other man with the hurt knee laid on the sofa underneath the bay window. Mauria and Shareis examined his knee.

  “It’s dislocated,” Shareis observed.

  “I agree,” Mauria said, then pointed at his toes. “And I bet it’s pinching off the blood supply to his feet.”

  She precisely the determined the angle and position of the bones in the joint and smiled. “You’re going to be alright.”

  She sharply pulled with a subtle twist, reducing the dislocation in one swift move. He cried out in agony.

  “The pain will soon subside.”

  He thanked her after he caught his breath.

  Mauria cleaned their cuts and scrapes. “You boys acted like fools.”

  “We’re grown men,” Manis said.

  “Not after what I saw,” Mauria replied. “Can you two make your way home?”

  The man with the knee injury carefully stood with the help of Manis’s other friend. “I’ll help him.”

  After they left, Mauria sat next to Manis. “How long must this war continue?”

  Manis buried his head in his hands.

  “Listen, Manis, the Proctor Wars were hardly a one-sided affair,” Mauria said.

  “They started it,” he replied.

  “The Sawmill Attack was likely a false flag,” Shareis said.

  “False flag?” he asked.

  “Special agents working for Selandis set fire to the Masola sawmill. The Varesh was quick to blame the Proctors, yet there wasn’t enough time to conduct a proper investigation.”

  “What nonsense,” Manis said. “Is that what you Proctors really think?”

  “Many do not believe the official ver
sion of events,” Mauria said. “Adrious and I are among them.”

  Manis rolled his eyes. “My brother believes all sorts of foolishness.”

  “In the end, it doesn’t really matter who started it,” she said. “What matters is that the fighting is over and that both sides suffered tremendous losses.”

  “I don’t trust them. Or you.”

  “You can’t mistrust an entire race of people, Manis,” Mauria said.

  Shareis leaned forward in her seat. “You have no reason yet to trust me. Nor I you. But we must start somewhere. We are family.”

  Manis snarled his nose. “I don’t think I can stomach it.”

  She sighed. “You hear our words, but you don’t listen.”

  “You think you’re the first person to tell me how wrong I am for hating your kind? I hear it from Adrious and a few other limp-wristed men in town all the time. Hell, I even put up with it from my own mother. What makes you think you have the magic key to lift me out of my supposed ignorance? Hmm? Maybe it’s self-preservation.”

  “I have no doubt it’s self-preservation,” she replied. “But not from me, or others like me. The real demon you fight is within. I think it took residence in your soul when you saw your mother flogged in the town square.”

  His countenance broke for a sliver of a second before he stiffened his resolve and pointed his finger in her face. “They flogged her because of what your mother did to her.”

  “Lilly was no angel,” Mauria said. “But… she loved me. And she loved you.”

  “Then why would she leave you to rot?” Manis asked.

  “To save Shareis,” Mauria replied.

  He nodded. “Exactly. You, Shareis, took my mother away from me.”

  “Those cowardly elders who had me whipped did that,” Mauria said. “Not Lilly, and certainly not Shareis.”

  “Proctors were the enemy,” he said, his finger pointing out every syllable on the arm of the chair. “The elders were trying to protect Masola.”

  “The elders were as ignorant as you have been,” Mauria said. “And look what that ignorance has cost you. Cost me.” Mauria turned to her. “And cost your sister.”

  Manis swallowed hard as he pondered his mother’s words. “If Lilly hadn’t come along—”

  “If Lilly hadn’t come along, we wouldn’t have been blessed with Shareis. Oh, Manis, you loved Lilly. I wish you could remember.”

  “I remember her taking up space in the barn like some animal,” he replied.

  “She stayed out there to protect us.

  Manis pointed at Mauria. “You hid her from us!”

  “To protect you and your brother,” Mauria said.

  He stared out the window. “I remember a lot of pain. That’s all she brought. Pain.”

  “Do you remember the snowball fights you had with her?” Mauria asked. “Her telling you a bedtime story, or her cooking. No, Manis, you’ve blocked all the good things with your hate. A hate that has been horribly misplaced for years.”

  He stood and walked to the window. “I don’t know what to think.”

  She slowly approached and stood next to him. “You’ve been wearing that hate so long it’s become a comfort to you.”

  He rolled his tongue in his cheek, then looked at her. “You’re not like us, Shareis.” He slowly exhaled. “And… well… Maybe that’s a good thing.”

  “I don’t know how much we share,” she said. “Life hasn’t given us the chance to find out. But we’d both be fools if we gave up the opportunity to know each other.”

  He struggled for words.

  “Lilly told me you were sweet young boy,” she said. “So kind and considerate.”

  Manis narrowed his gaze. “I’m not sure that boy is there anymore.”

  Mauria approached and put her hand on his shoulder. “That sweet young boy is there, Manis. I see it through those hateful glares.”

  He turned to her. “Maybe. Look… I… I have to sort some things out by myself.”

  Mauria took his hand. “You’ve been trying to do that your whole adult life, and it hasn’t worked.”

  “I had to,” he replied. “I didn’t have anyone.” He started to tear. “I didn’t have you.”

  He began to sob profusely. Mauria embraced him. “You have me, and you’re not alone. You haven’t been in a long time.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said through tears. He turned to her. “And I’m sorry to you, too, Shareis.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m happy to finally meet my brother.”

  Chapter 43

  Kytis and Frasie entered Olivia’s room. Kytis carried a canvas and stand and set them up next to her bed.

  “Thank you for staying with her, Emira,” Frasie said.

  Emira put her hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “I didn’t mind at all. It was a pleasure staying with you, Olivia. Get well soon.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t need a babysitter, Frasie.”

  Frasie frowned. “We’ve already been over that.”

  “Yes… I know. Where’s Aiden?”

  “He…” Frasie looked at Kytis. “He won’t be here. He had something else to do.”

  “Oh. What is the painting?”

  “Can we show her?” Frasie asked.

  Kytis turned it around to her. “Of course.”

  She gasped and leaned up in bed. “Frasie… that’s a wonderful painting. You are truly beautiful.”

  Frasie grinned. “Thank you.” Frasie walked to her bedside. “That’s the most reaction I’ve seen from you in a while.”

  “I’m enamored by the quality of the painting and your gorgeous figure.” She gestured to the work. “Your breasts are fine—not too small. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Frasie glowed a brilliant shade of red.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything in front of Kytis. But you are a stunning woman, Frasie.”

  Kytis smiled. “I think you made her speechless.”

  “She’s always telling me what a boyish body she has. But this picture proves otherwise. Kytis, you are a talented painter.”

  “Thank you, Olivia. Of course, it wasn’t difficult to create a beautiful painting when you’re blessed with a beautiful model.”

  “If you two don’t stop…” Frasie said.

  “My apologies, Frasie,” Kytis said. “The body is also a work of art. Some of us are gifted with a masterpiece. There is no shame in that.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me, Olivia, how have you been?”

  “Miserable would not begin to describe it. But… I’ll be honest: seeing that picture has perked me up somehow. And, Frasie, just so you know, it isn’t that I want to have sex with you. There’s something about it…”

  “The painting is magical,” Kytis said. “I am a pictomancer.”

  “A pictomancer…” she repeated to herself. “I have heard of the art but have never seen it performed.”

  “It is an ancient technique. I use it primarily to heal. You see, I embedded some of Frasie’s sensual energy into this work. Then, using a simple ritual, I can transfer that to you. I hope it will have some success, since a simple glance from you bolstered your mood.”

  “I suppose,” she replied. “I am grateful for the help. What do we need for the ritual?”

  Kytis walked to the window and closed the curtains. “Darkness, for one. I will need to extinguish your lamp and light some candles behind me and near you. No other part of the room should be illuminated.”

  Frasie looked around the room. “We don’t have enough candles. I’ll get some extra for you.”

  “I’ll need complete silence. It requires concentration. Only I can see the painting once I begin the work, else the effect will be reversed. Or worse.”

  She nodded. “Understood.”

  “Frasie… your help so far has been invaluable. But only Olivia and I must be in the sacred circle while I perform the work. You’ll need to remain outside the room.”

  “If you say so,” F
rasie said.

  “The spell will be most effective if performed at midnight,” Kytis said. “Thus, we must wait. Frasie, will you stay with Olivia until then?”

  “Of course.”

  “I must meditate. I will be in the temple gardens. I trust they are still open to the public?”

  “Yes,” Frasie replied.

  “Then we will begin this evening, Olivia,” Kytis said.

  “Thank you, again, for your help.”

  Kytis smiled. “I assure you—it’s my pleasure.”

  He left Olivia’s room and proceeded to the gardens. Meditation wasn’t necessary, but the beautiful scenery provided some respite from the pretentiousness of the Ael’Shanar. He stayed well into the evening, forgoing dinner, knowing that digestion would only sap him of the energy he would later need.

  Kytis arrived in Olivia’s room shortly before midnight. He couldn’t help but smirk at Aiden’s absence. Perhaps Frasie finally had wised up and kicked the impotent fool to the curb. His misfortune was merely a humorous and well-deserved consequence of his boorish behavior and clumsy attempts at wooing a woman clearly out of his league.

  He set a small bowl on Olivia’s nightstand and filled it with incense, then lit it, sending the dark, sweet aroma around her bedroom. He took chalk and drew a circle in the open space between her bed and window, then lit candles around the circle and at his easel.

  “What should I do in the ritual?” Olivia asked.

  “I’ll need you to stand inside the circle,” he replied.

  Olivia stood from her bed and rearranged her nightgown. It clung to her awkwardly and her hair was a mess. This once exquisite woman who could command the attention, and perhaps infatuation, of any man she so desired, had been reduced to a frumpy, sickly shell of a Skilla. He found it difficult to hide the joy he derived from seeing her in such a distressed state.

  She could barely walk. Before she reached the circle, she nearly fell. He caught her then gave her a brief touch of healing magic, just to keep her healthy enough to embark on the next phase of torture he had prepared for her. He helped her back to bed.

  She struggled for breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll try again in a minute. I’m so weak.”

  He took the chair from her desk and put it in the middle of the circle, picked her up, noticing her now prominent ribs, then set her in it.