“Beilzen?” she repeated curiously, looking down at Fáelán and back at him. “I’ve heard about you. My name is Dalia.”
He kissed her hand, and Fáelán followed suit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Dalia. I thought that I knew everyone in the citadel, well, by sight, at least. Though, I’m certain that if we’d met, I wouldn’t have forgotten. You have me at a disadvantage, I fear.”
She regarded him warily. “I’ve seen you often, you, and your son. I’m Sarai’s sister.”
Beilzen’s heartbeat quickened, considering what she must’ve been told about him. “I see,” he said as his visage betrayed his thoughts. “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then. The gardens are most beautiful this time of day.”
Dalia watched him take Fáelán’s hand, turning to leave. For reasons that she couldn’t understand, that wasn’t what she wanted. She knew what she’d heard about Beilzen, and how he treated the former slaves, but she didn’t see any trace of that person when he was with his son. Quite the opposite. In fact, Beilzen appeared isolated if not with Fáelán. He never even took meals in the hall or attended the more festive occasions. He didn’t seem like the man Sarai had described. He appeared broken.
She took a step forward, scrutinizing him closely. Beilzen stood barely over three and a half cubits with what looked to be a slight, but firm build. It was difficult to tell beneath the cloak he wore, but he wasn’t much taller than her. His appearance wasn’t unattractive for a Nazilian, but she wouldn’t consider him handsome. There was something about him, though, and before she realized, she’d called out to him.
“You—you haven’t disturbed me,” she said. “It’s nice to have some company.”
He released Fáelán’s hand, looking at her inquiringly. When Fáelán ran off with his ball, Beilzen motioned for Dalia to take a seat on a nearby bench.
“Is there something that you wish to ask, Lady Dalia?” Although he fought against it, his eyes lowered to her full bust scarcely contained by her bodice. After clearing his throat, he straightened, focusing on her eyes again. Beilzen attempted to study her face: her ebon complexion, dark brown eyes, and thick lashes. Anything to keep his mind from what Daracus had taken from him, yet what he longed for daily.
“I’ve seen you and your son many times,” she said, drawing the focus to her lips.
“I wish that I could speak the same. This is the first that I’ve seen you. You must spend less time in the common areas than I do,” he said, glancing at Fáelán. “I haven’t always been able to have my son with me. I’ve missed most of his life, and can’t see how I was able to live without him. I do love him. Truly, I didn’t know love until he entered my life.”
“It’s a blessing that you have each other now.”
“It is, and I’m grateful,” he said. “Do you have children, Lady Dalia?”
“No. Children aren’t a blessing given to all.”
“You haven’t taken a husband?”
“No. That’s also a blessing not meant for everyone.”
He studied her intently, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. “I didn’t intend to pry. Forgive me if I’ve given offense.”
She rested a hand on his arm. “You haven’t, and please, call me Dalia. I wanted to learn more about you, Beilzen. We’re both surrounded by people, yet remain alone.”
Beilzen felt the warmth in her words and more so, her touch. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had touched him willingly. That truth assaulted both his mind and his heart, drudging up memories he’d tried desperately to forget. Not since Shiloh had anyone shown him any honest affection. The last woman he’d known was Denotra, and even then, she had wanted Pentanimir. That encounter had not only changed Beilzen’s life, it had nearly ended it. Forcing back those painful memories, he placed a hand atop hers.
“For some of us, it’s not by choice. Our actions sometimes force us to distance ourselves from others.”
“You have your son, Beilzen. He’s beautiful, and it’s obvious that he loves his father.”
His eyes lowered. “He does. Fáelán has his mother’s features, and she was beautiful, too.”
“His mother?” She removed her hand. “Will she be joining you, then?”
“No. Shiloh died some time ago. Fáelán has only my father and me now.”
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sadden you with memories of your wife. Fáelán may have his mother’s features, but he has yours as well: the shape of his eyes and lips are yours.” She smiled. “He looks to have your nose, too. I can see much of you in your son.”
He smiled at that. He also thought that Fáelán favored him though his appearance was overwhelmingly human. Not the eyes, though. He had his mother’s captivating eyes.
“Shiloh wasn’t my wife. Such marriages weren’t allowed until Sir Benoist became Zaxson. But we loved each other despite such limitations.”
“Of course, I’ve spoken without thought. Shiloh was human. My apologies.”
“There’s no need. It was a difficult time and we’re still not past some of those hardships.”
She nodded. “Where did you meet his mother?”
Beilzen turned away, uncertain of how to respond. He didn’t want to deceive her, but he wasn’t sure how the truth would be received. However, if he didn’t tell her now, Sarai definitely would. He didn’t want to give Dalia any cause to think him dishonest. Beilzen appreciated her much-needed gesture of friendship.
“Shiloh served the citadel,” he finally said.
“Fáelán’s mother was a slave?”
“I didn’t force her,” he said, quickly. “Both of us were young, too young to understand the consequences of our actions. We loved each other. Shiloh is the only woman that I ever truly loved.” His gaze lowered. “They punished her because of our relationship…because of me. I’m the reason that Fáelán doesn’t have a mother, and had he resembled both his parents, I wouldn’t have him.”
A look of empathy crossed her face as she realized what he meant. Dalia glanced over at Fáelán, understanding what could’ve happen to him, too. The love Beilzen shared with a human had caused her death. He still loved and mourned her. That was evident by his voice and his demeanor.
When he didn’t regard her again, Dalia gripped his hand. “Have you had noon meal?”
“Wha—what?”
“I always prepare a basket before I come, but I rarely have an appetite. Would you and Fáelán care to join me?”
“We—we would,” he said, standing and extending out his arm.
Dalia accepted it without hesitation. He placed a hand over hers as she gripped his arm, proceeding to the circled bushes. After calling out to Fáelán, they sat on the blanket, enjoying not only the meal, but the company as well.
Enemy Within
“When will they return to the city?” the old man wheezed, clutching his throat.
“It’s not certain. No longer than six suns, surely. He goes to retrieve his wife and son.”
“He travels freely with the savage?”
“Indeed. He and his brother as well. They parade those savages through the white city as if holding pride in having them at their side. Most I know are revolted by such a display. The whores should be serving the citadel, not wed to those who rule it.”
The older man’s heavy cough returned as he reached for his cup, soothing his aches. “How many?” he asked, coughing through each word.
“More than a few believe as we. Two more citadel guards have made their choice clear. They refuse to receive commands from a former slave or serve a corrupt Zaxson. He’s weakened our great city and polluted our blood.”
“And what about you, Nigel? What are you prepared to do for your city and the memory of its leaders?”
“I’ll do what I must to free our city from these usurpers.”
“What about the oath you swore as you donned the cloak of the Chosen?”
“It’s of no consequence,” Nigel said. “I swore fealty to Sir Ver
eux and Nazil. He is no more, yet Nazil remains. Pentanimir attempts to confuse the minds of the weak and apostatize the young and vulnerable. In Nazil, we serve only the Four, the true gods of these lands. Not those of this heretic. If one goes against the teachings of the Cha, they go against Nazil.”
The old man nodded, lying back in his bed. “You speak true. Join with the others and secure their loyalty. When the time comes, we must move swiftly. There’ll be no room for errors or hesitation. Pentanimir has made powerful allies; don’t underestimate the Benoists. With the aid of the demon beasts and pythonesses, they’ve become formidable. Nonetheless, we have the Four on our side, and they shall vanquish this evil and free us from this oppression. Together, we’ll make Nazil great again,” he said with labored breath. “What about Lady Merrimont?”
“I’ll be visiting her when I leave.”
“Be certain that you do, Nigel. For years, her husband stood as Second Chosen beneath the traitor. Though he was ten years Pentanimir’s senior, they elevated him over Sir Merrimont. This slight was perpetrated against the wishes of many and sat well with few. Yannick Merrimont’s honor was without question, and many are angered at his death. We need Sidra on our side as we continue. She’s well respected both within the city and without. Many will follow her lead.”
“Agreed. Her son Bastian is of concern, too. Everyone knows he’s fond of the Zaxson as was his father. We must bring him to our side.”
“Make it so. Give them no chance to corrupt Sir Merrimont’s son. Go now. I await word from Yarah as well. Soon, more will join our cause.”
“Yes, Sir,” Nigel said. “Should I send the healer to tend your wound?”
“He’s done all that he can. There’s no herb to combat the poison; the wound will continue to fester. The Four have allowed me to remain to aid in this. After Nazil has been cleansed, I’ll join them in the halls of honor.”
Sidra was seated in her lavish solar when Nigel was escorted to her. She peered over at the perfidious man, taking a long drink of strong liquor.
“I’m surprised to see you again so soon, Sir Branston. I thought you’d be in Yarah by now.”
“I had plans to do so.” He bowed. “But I was reminded of my duty to the white city.”
“Indeed,” Sidra said, motioning for him to sit.
“Yes, my lady.”
“And what brings you to my home again? Bastian remains in Yarah until his uncle’s return. Is it he that you’ve come to see?”
“Bastian’s visiting Xonath Karrhig?” Nigel asked.
“He did insist upon it. With his father taken from us, Bastian much desired the visit. The Zaxson was kind enough to provide an escort.”
His brow furrowed. “I see. Bastian is but one reason for my visit. There are many matters of importance we need to discuss.”
Sidra shifted her large frame in the oversized seat, rolling her eyes. “Is this more of the same?”
“I’ve been reminded of the importance of my words this day, Lady Merrimont.”
“By whom?” Her brow raised, tucking one hand beneath her double chin, knowing the question would go unanswered.
“Sir Branston, I haven’t any interest in such matters. Isn’t it enough that my dear Yannick was taken from us? My family yet grieves the loss of both husband and father. The words you speak are for ears other than mine. Must you inflict more grief upon us?”
“I beg pardon, my lady, this isn’t my intent, of course. I mourn for Sir Merrimont as well, and realize that your house has always been close with the Benoists. However, much has changed in Nazil and beyond.”
“Agreed, even more so for me. Tell me: if I’m able to endure under such circumstances, are you saying that the whole of Nazil doesn’t possess comparable strength to my own?”
“No, my lady. This isn’t at all what I believe. Nazil will always stand strong. It’s the direction of our great city that others and I question. No longer are the Four worshiped in the temple, savages sit in places of honor, and former slaves and abominations command our Chosen guard.”
“If it’s my support that you want, truth must be spoken.”
“My lady—”
“Truth, Nigel!”
He sat straighter in his seat, regarding the widow.
“The Zaxson hasn’t forbidden anyone to worship the Four,” she said. “Have you even visited our temple since Draizeyn was entombed beneath it?”
“Never will I enter the desecration that was once the holiest place. Nor will I give credence to that abomination who calls himself a priest.”
Her mouth quirked up in a grin. “Then you’ll remain ignorant, never learning the truth.”
“My lady?”
“The temple stands grander than before, Sir Branston. You speak of things that you don’t know. The priest that you name an abomination consoled my son when grief was heavy upon him. He comforted my son more than anyone else in Nazil, save Pentanimir himself. The priest’s name is Nzuri.” She paused, ensuring she had Nigel’s full attention.
“He’s Tabitha’s son.”
His mouth went slack, unable to contain his surprise or outrage. “You dare! I was but a boy when I learned of her death. How dare you soil her name? Not even you have the right to befoul my family.”
She ignored the slight, though she made note not to forget that he’d offered it. “Sir Branston, don’t play the fool. What would the High Priest have to gain from such an assertion? He didn’t know who I was, or that I’d known Tabitha years past. As he spoke her name, I recognized the truth in his features. He is Tabitha’s son regardless of your belief or disbelief. He has a brother, Emet, in Noraa and their family heritage is intriguing, and one which you should learn,” she said, cryptically.
“Both Nzuri and Emet are the children of your father’s sister.”
“Lies!” he protested, leaping from his seat.
“Many lies have been told,” she said, calmly. “Yet, these are not they. If you have any doubt, visit the temple. If your desire isn’t truth, continue in ignorance.”
“Lady Tabitha was lost to us long ago. My father told us about the dreadful illness that took her from us.”
“Your father told you what he thought he must. Your aunt lived a long and happy life, Nigel. Tabitha and her husband, Gayu, shared many wonderful years together until Nazil laid waste to Hyorin. If you don’t believe my words, certainly those of Sir Neufmarche will prove more telling.”
Nigel’s eyes narrowed. Everyone knew the former Chosen had betrayed Nazil and taken refuge in Bandari with his savage wife. Even now, the stain of that betrayal was evident in his son, Wosen, serving as a Chosen for the Zaxson. If Sidra spoke true, Bandari would’ve been the only place Tabitha could have escaped detection and the consequences of betraying Nazil.
He straightened his stance, composed himself, and then returned to his seat.
“The lies of Hosdaq Neufmarche are of no interest to me. He, too, is a traitor to Nazil and the Four. No one has forgotten his role in the attack on the city, nay on the temple of our gods themselves. If this is the character of men that you put your trust, mayhaps I’ve been mistaken in my assumptions of your love for Nazil.”
She scoffed, laughing aloud at the poorly executed slight. “Never did I think it was mandatory to agree with every denizen and edict of our great city to be proud to be part of it.
“My husband pledged his life to not only Nazil, but to the Benoists as well. He and the Zaxson were like brothers. Now, you would have me turn my back on Pentanimir because you have a disdain toward the humans? He and his father before him have been nothing but honorable toward our great city and my family. No, Sir Branston, the House of Merrimont won’t join you in this treachery. In fact, if you don’t leave my home this moment, I may pay a visit to the citadel. Trust when I say that the Zaxson will grant me an audience whenever I would ask for it.”
Nigel rose abruptly, setting his goblet down hard on the table. With a stiff bow, he turned to leave, but paused when he
reached the door.
“Lady Merrimont, since you hold such an affinity for the Zaxson and the savages he’s forced upon us, mayhaps you should turn your gaze toward Cazaal.”
Sidra said nothing, feigning a yawn, and shifting more comfortably in her seat.
“It may interest you to know that your former slave has married the Caretaker of Cazaal. Gali is her name, is it not?”
“Hmm…I do recall a servant by that name. Yes, Sir Benoist purchased her for a healthy sum.” She smiled. “Yes, the Zaxson paid nearly four times her cost to us. Why should I care about her position now?”
It was Nigel’s turn to smile. “I’m certain that the attention paid to this savage by those in your husband’s company didn’t pass your notice.”
“Sir Branston, it saddens me that you’d attempt to sway me in this manner.” She smirked. “You’re not very good at this, are you? If it’s your intent to inform me about my husband’s interest in Gali, save your words for those who have a desire to hear them. Yannick’s appetite was large, and I cared not for his pleasures outside of my chambers. In fact, it was at my suggestion that he purchased a maiden slave to satisfy his more…feral desires and proclivities. He was quite taken with Gali,” she said, leaning forward.
“Between you and I, Yannick found her quite beautiful and loved her, too. Gali was pregnant with his child when I sold her to Pentanimir.” She chuckled. “My honorable husband wasn’t pleased to lose his paramour or the bastard she carried.”
Nigel’s smile faded. “Lady Merrimont, never would I speak ill against your husband. Sir Merrimont was most honorable—”
“You tell me nothing, guard of Nazil, that I don’t already know,” Sidra snapped.
“Pentanimir informed me about Gali and the Caretaker when we met. He also mentioned his wife’s relation to my former servant. It means little and less,” she continued, advancing on Nigel.
“The Benoists have rule of Nazil and their hands cover these lands. Draizeyn futilely attempted the same, and now he lies beneath the temple cold and stiff!” she said, poking her plump finger in his chest. “The Vereuxs are dead, and Nazil stands grander than ever before. You’ll find no accomplice here. I care not for the misgivings of a few angered by the loss of their slaves.” She waved dismissively. “Go now and don’t return to my home again.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 102