by Mira Zamin
As the carriage trundled through the streets of Nyneveh, my face was plastered to the window like any bona fide rustic. Heavy books on economic and political theory, genealogies, histories, all that I needed to review prior to entering the arena, crushed into my side. I would not be taken for a fool again.
While Aquia and Clemen were both large cities, they could not rival Nyneveh. Just the sheer amount of people that packed the paved streets made it nearly impossible for the horses to pull us more than inches at a time. The marshy-wet smell of the Menander River permeated through the carriage. Buildings, with arching windows and intricate carvings, surrounded us, so high that they threatened to block the sun. There, I saw the towering ziggurat, which housed the temple priest and gleamed bright with gold, scarlet, and blue. On the corners, men hawked pies and schnapps. Women buzzed about, selling ribbons and mirrors (and no doubt other wares as well). I wished Auralia or Oelphie could have been there to gawk at it all with me. As we crawled through the streets, I studied faces closely, and on a few embarrassing instants, was caught staring. A school of children surrounded the coach, tapping the windows and making faces. At this, my footman leapt down, waving his fist around handily and scared the swarm away.
The door opened slightly as the footman ducked his blond head inside. “Five minutes to the Palace, Emira-Regent.”
“Thank you,” I nodded, and quickly turned to making myself presentable. I had traveled in a gown of black georgette lined with cotton, meaning that no wrinkle or stain would show, and thus making it eminently suitable for travel. I combed out my raven’s nest of hair and clipped on heavy silver earrings. Lightly, I applied rouge to my lips and cheeks. No woman who had just traveled a week through midwinter frost—or had been battling a bout of the flu—could be expected to look any better.
As soon as the carriage halted in front of the Alhazar Palace, I leapt out. After the rollicking ride, I was eager to leave the infernal carriage and walk on my own two feet. With brightly-colored glass domes and its famed thousand towering minarets, the Alhazar dwarfed the other structures in its vicinity. Stepping back, I tipped my head to better see the Alhazar in all its glory. I could not help but gawp.
A man cleared his throat.
Two men stood before me: one breathtakingly handsome with sharp cheekbones, the other ordinary, but he watched me with an amused expression. Both were clearly noble.
“Emira Selene,” said the handsome one smoothly, bowing over my hand. Rubies glinted in his ears. I had never seen the trend before. I would have thought the style absurd but it suited him.
Unable to stop ogling, I curtsied.
“Emira Selene,” said another voice, infinitely more beautiful. Startled, I realized that it came from the plain face of the second lord whose ears also shimmered with stones. Sapphires, unless I missed my guess. “Now that you are finished fondling the stonework?”
Flushing, I repeated with another genuflection, “My lords.”
The plain one spoke again in his beautiful voice. My stomach swooped. Carriage sickness, I told myself.
“Queen Erina requested that we guide you to your rooms and make you as comfortable as possible. I am Kershid and this is my brother Liem, Emir of Tirahm.”
I nearly gaped. Those were the names of Erina’s sons…and they were brothers. The two looked very little alike, but I now noticed distinct similarities. Both had dark hair, straight noses that curved slightly at the end, and the honey-colored skin and eyes that the Tirahmi line was famed for.
“Well, if you will…?”
I followed the brothers through the marble halls of the Alhazar. The light shone through the immense stained-glass dome, casting crimsons, marigold, azure mosaics of light on the floor. The smaller domes were painted with minuscule flowers woven into an intricate pattern.
With my attention on the ceiling, I nearly stumbled several times only to be stabilized by Kershid. His eyes crinkled with amusement as if saying, ‘Oh you country bumpkin.’
“It’s marvelous, this place,” I breathed, too awe-struck by the grandeur of the halls to care what the refined sons of our Queen would say. The Mehal in Aquia was beautiful, famously so, but this was architecture on a much grander scale.
“Built centuries ago by one of our mutual ancestress, the illustrious Felisizia the Great,” said Liem, bowing politely.
In addition to raising the marriage age and building the Alhazar, Felisizia drove the Hademerians from Ghalain and created the treaties by which we lived with the Djinnat and Pari today.
“Would you take some refreshment before you rest, Emira-Regent?” he added.
“That would be wonderful. Lead the way.”
The room they brought me to was cozy with its carved wood paneling, fine silk rugs, and wide windows that gaped over the curling streets of Nyneveh. The small table groaned with fresh fruits, gooseberry tart, fresh-baked bread, and a nutty white cheese.
“Ah, this looks delicious,” I breathed, taking a helping of a curious chartreuse fruit flecked with black seeds. I found it sweet and tangy.
“How many others have arrived for the Assembly?” I asked after a few bites.
Answered Kershid in his lovely voice, “You are the last one actually. Your arrival will cause quite the stir—and a few lost bets.”
“I myself have won sixty gold denars,” said Liem good-naturedly.
I sipped my punch. The last one. My arrival heralded the beginning of political wrangling that would only end once the next ruler of Ghalain had been selected.
Let the games begin.
“News has reached Nyneveh of your marriage,” Liem said, interrupting my thoughts and kissing my cheeks twice. “Congratulations on your nuptials, Cousin! Now, who is it that you married? I freely admit I have no head for names and leave that sort of thing to Kershid.”
“Thank you, Emir Liem. My husband is Gwydion, Lord Gwydion that is, of Altus in northern Aquia.”
Kershid smiled. “We have also heard the romantic tale of your wedding. The maidens of Nyneveh have been sighing since. Your husband had been searching for you for years and finally found you the day the curse fell, swept you home, wed you, and made you Emira of Aquia.”
“My heart pounds just to think of it,” Liem fluttered in a high-pitched drawl.
I grimaced. “Oh, there was more to that than that.” I wondered how bruises would figure into the romance of the tale.
“And how are you handling the curse?” said Kershid.
My face grew still and I answered mechanically, “It is a difficult socioeconomic situation to be certain, but we are managing it quite well, given the circumstances.”
Kershid’s eyebrows arched. “I meant with your family.” He appeared surprised that I had not immediately grasped his meaning.
“Of course it is difficult, but everything will play out as it will.” I smiled blandly. I had not shared with anyone how I felt having my whole family enchanted, their lives hanging on a silly stipulation.
Kershid shook his head slowly. “I do not believe I could be able to bear up so strongly if I were without Liem. Like your Auralia, he is my twin.”
It was clear where all the beauty had ended up in that pair. Guilty at my ungenerous thought, I said, “So you understand then. Somewhat. At this point I know not what to do…I hope if I leave it to ferment for a while, some brilliant idea will spring up.” I opened my hands wide. “As you can tell, nothing yet.”
“Why did your husband then tear you away from your family, whom you are clearly devoted to and send you to Nyneveh?” asked Liem concernedly.
Blinking bemusedly, I replied, “Well, Emir, there is an Assembly called here…”
Waving a hand dismissively, he corrected himself. “I meant why did you not stay there and why did he not come in your place?”
In mock shock, I pressed a hand to my chest. “What? You would rather have his company than mine?”
With a gallant grin, Liem said, “Not at all. I only meant that any kindhearted person would
not part you from your family at such a terrible time. The whole of Ghalain grieves for you.”
“I would not be so confident of that.” I tried not to roll my eyes. “Gwydion remains and I come because of an imminent threat on our borders in the form of two of our very respected cousins, Quenela and Hadil.” I took another sip of the plum punch. “The only thing they grieve for is that Gwydion is an able military leader and was able to hire a good number mercenaries to supplement the soldiers recruited from the other emirdoms. He is needed for the army and I, at the moment, am relegated to politics. Perhaps if you could convince your mother to shackle Quenela and Hadil for breaking the Queen’s peace…?”
“If only we could, Emira,” said Liem. “Alas, you can understand why our mother cannot turn her attention to the Aquian troubles.”
“More is the pity,” I murmured into my chalice.
Kershid heard my words and glowered. “You must be tired from your trip. Come, let us show you to your rooms. Liem.”
We strode up the white steps that glittered in the generous sunlight, past rich hangings of silver and silk, and through the maze-like halls. Every now and then, I stopped at a wall to admire a tapestry or a painting, exasperating impatient Kershid. But I could not be weighed down by his evident disapproval, not now that I was at last free of Gwydion. Liberty was a heady emotion, and I fought down the grin that promised to conquer my face.
“How is your mother the Queen faring?” It was the question that had been playing in the back of my mind since I had entered the Alhazar.
Immediately, both men stiffened, their postures almost identical in discomfiture.
“She is…well…the physician says there are months yet,” muttered Liem.
“I pray for her recovery.”
Kershid shot me a look, which clearly said, Oh, I am sure.
Well, Kershid was not the one I had to convince of my sincerity. There were nine other Emirs and Emiras to whom that duty fell and Seasons, I hoped I was ready to meet it. They fought for the throne; I fought for my family.
Chapter Fourteen