The Diplomat

by French, Sophia

  Melnennor switched to speaking Ajulai, and Elise frowned in incomprehension. “Remela, you are wondering why I am allowing you to continue on your treasonous path. My answer is your own. We both have a duty to our master, but Elise is too rare to sacrifice to the altar of his lunacy. Keep her safe. In time, her touch will change the flow of nature and bend the weave of worlds.”

  He bowed before leaving. Even after he was gone, Rema stared at the doorway. “I’m not used to being speechless,” she said.

  “That’s Mel for you,” said Elise.

  “Mel?” Despite everything, Rema laughed. “You have a nickname for that terrifying man?”

  “Melnennor is too long. Anyway, I think it’s safe now to try to wake her up.” Elise tipped a vial over Jalaya’s mouth. A drop of liquid reached her lips, and her eyes opened.

  “Jalaya?” Rema knelt beside the bed, clasping Jalaya’s hands tightly in her own. “Are you awake?”

  Jalaya sighed and turned her head to meet Rema’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I did drink that second glass.” Her eyes widened. “No! I remember! He was going to kill you!”

  “It’s over now.” Elise stroked Jalaya’s hair. “We just wanted to ensure you were well, dear heart. You can go back to sleep.”

  “Sleep sounds lovely. I’m not in my own bed, though. My bed has many more pillows than this.”

  “It’s my bed.”

  “We’re not sharing it, are we?”

  “Not quite. But anything is possible in dreams.”

  Jalaya smiled. “Make her happy, Elsie. It’s been so hard for her, and every day she seems to creep closer to that terrible darkness. You can save her. Bring her out of sorrow and into your love.” She closed her eyes and turned her head.

  Rema remained beside the bed, holding Jalaya’s hand, until she heard the familiar sound of her sleeping breath. As Rema released her hand, Jalaya mumbled. “She always sings in her sleep,” said Rema, wiping away yet another tear. “For a moment there, I thought the worst.”

  “It was closer than I let you know,” said Elise. “I took the swelling down in time. If I hadn’t, she definitely wouldn’t have been singing again tomorrow. Or maybe ever.”

  Rema drew a blanket over Jalaya and tucked it around her shoulders. “Should we stay with her?”

  “She’ll be fine. Everyone needs to be rested for tomorrow. Although now Jalaya has my bed, I’m not sure where I’m going to sleep.”

  “That’s simple enough. You can sleep with me.”

  “No objections here.” Elise adjusted the pillow beneath Jalaya’s head. “I don’t want to sleep alone anyway. I can still feel Bannon’s heart, wet and screaming in my hands.”

  “You saved our lives. I know it was hard, but you did the right thing.”

  Elise tilted Rema’s head gently with her fingertips. “I really should treat your wound too. You took a nasty blow to the forehead.”

  “I’m fine. Just exhausted.”

  Rema gazed again at Jalaya lying tangled among the blankets. The moment she had lifted that limp body, a tragic revelation had taken hold of her; Jalaya was no mere friend and bed companion, but something far deeper, a soul inextricably bound to her own. How blind Rema had been to think Elise had been her first true love. Now Rema had sacrificed love without knowing it, and she would never again fall asleep to the lullaby of Jalaya’s wise, caring heart.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” said Elise. “I saw how you reacted when Bannon threw her against that wall.”

  “How is it possible that I loved her, loved her as truly and surely as I love you, yet never knew it?”

  “What did I tell you?” Elise stroked Rema’s cheek. “Love is a feeling. It’s not about knowing.”

  “She wasn’t like you. She didn’t demand me. She simply tried to make me happy, asking for nothing in return. And so I took her for granted. How could I be so stupid?”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. How could you not love her?”

  “Elsie, I’ve given myself to you. I have no regrets. Come to bed. I need your solace, and you need mine.”

  They left holding hands, heedless of the risk of being seen. Despite her concern, Rema refused to dwell on her fears. Love was stirring in her heart, and at least until morning, it deserved to move there unhindered.

  Chapter Thirty

  They lay beneath the blankets, their faces speckled by the moon as it shone through the branches of the tree beyond the window. Insects gathered in the garden, humming their sleepless song. Despite Elise’s naked warmth, not a single lustful urge stirred in Rema’s body, and by Elise’s shivering it was clear she felt the same. It was dizzying to have been so abruptly tossed from merriness to pain, from sorrow to relief, and it was impossible to contemplate the events of the night without being overwhelmed.

  “I murdered him,” said Elise. “He begged me to stop, but I couldn’t.”

  Rema kissed Elise’s neck. “Don’t think about it.”

  Elise turned to her side. Her eyes seemed impossibly pale under the moonlight. “I used to imagine killing Calan, yet I could never bring myself to do it, no matter how much he beat me. I knew that to kill someone would take me to an even darker place.” She shuddered. “I underestimated how dark it would be.”

  “You’re thinking about it.” Rema ran her fingers along Elise’s naked side. “I told you not to.”

  “You flinched away from me. After I killed him. You couldn’t even look at me.”

  “It was the magic. It made you look…different. You’re back to yourself now.”

  “It’s awful. This could be our last night together, and all I want to do is curl into a ball and cry.”

  “Then curl into my arms and cry there.” Rema pulled Elise closer. “Don’t lose that strong spirit I love so well. Do you want to know when I fell in love with you?”

  Rema felt Elise’s cheek move as she smiled. “Tell me.”

  “The day you defied Calan in the front court. I’d never seen anything as beautiful as you in that instant, cloaked in your grace and fury. I ached for you, and when you turned to me looking for support, it felt as if my soul were collapsing. After that, you became the center of my every thought. I wish I’d said something to defend you.”

  “Not even you can be strong all the time.” Elise’s voice trembled. “I try to be, and I fail sometimes too. You stormed into my desolation, confident, clever and strong. I wanted so badly for you to love me. I wanted you to see in me the same things I saw in you.” Dampness touched Rema’s cheek, and it took a moment to realize the tears were Elise’s, not her own. “Now here I am, trembling in your arms, frightened this will be the last time I’ll feel your chest move against mine.”

  “Don’t talk that way. We’ll share long lives, and at their end we’ll pass together in our sleep, both escaping this world in the same breath.”

  “Tell me about our future. I want to fall asleep thinking only of us.”

  Rema began to stroke Elise’s back, following the sensual contour from her shoulders to her hips. “Every morning we’ll wake together, still entwined from the night before. I’ll kiss you on the nose, and you’ll grumble at me. For breakfast we’ll eat saffron cakes and berries. Then we’ll read poetry together in the sun before resting in the cool grass, feeling the wind rush over our bodies.”

  Elise exhaled, her breath soft with emotion. “And each afternoon you’ll sit at your desk, wearing that thinking frown of yours. I’ll rest my shaggy head on your shoulder and watch your mind at work. As evening comes, we’ll talk and laugh about all the things we’ve seen and done that day. Then we’ll go back to our bed and love each other. Best of all, we’ll never be ashamed. Everyone will know you as my lover, and they’ll be glad for the joy we share.”

  “We’ll build a new house together. I’m tired of that mansion of mine. We’ll erect a tower on top to make you feel at home, and we’ll have a huge library so your books don’t have to be strewn everywhere.”

  “Jalaya
will visit and sing for us. She’ll have a lover of her own, a woman every bit her equal. Muhan will come to perform magic tricks, and your boring friend Artunos will join us for dinner and scowl at me. And Lor, he’ll come and drink up all our wine…” Elise sobbed. “I miss my little brother. He’s by himself now, he doesn’t have me to look after him. I miss him so terribly…”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Rema held her tighter. Why had it been so long since she thought of the pain of a sibling’s separation? How easy it was to be selfish when in love.

  “Please distract me. Tell me another of your father’s poems.”

  “I could recite one he wrote for my mother. They were inseparable. I was told that when she fell sick, he died with her, knowingly contracting her plague.”

  “I want you to make me happy, not sad.”

  “I’m sorry. Let me recite it to you in Ajulai.” Rema crooned the verses in Elise’s ear, their harmonies shivering and rolling from her tongue. Elise’s body relaxed, and her sobs subsided. She sighed as the last syllable faded from Rema’s lips.

  “That language makes me dizzy. But say it again in a way I can understand.”

  “As you wish.” Rema touched her lips again to Elise’s ear.

  “I was born alone and parted,

  Caught in neither life nor death,

  Blind and without understanding,

  A roaming emptiness.

  But when my fingers touched your face,

  My eyes began to see,

  And when my body felt your heat,

  My blood began to flow,

  And when your breath first met with mine,

  My lungs began to move,

  Yet only when my lips found yours

  Did I begin to live.”

  Elise wept, and Rema kissed away each tear as it fell. Sleep came to them in embrace, bringing dreams of Elise floating in the warm bay beside the mansion. Her hair drifted loose in the water as Rema swam beside her, supporting her and teaching her to swim. Jalaya was with them, laughing as she was splashed, her face radiant.

  Rema awoke to find Elise still sleeping in her arms. It was early morning, and idle birds were gossiping to one another on the branches beneath the window. Rema sat upright, aware of a dull ache at her forehead, and touched the dried blood on her scalp. The tenderness of the skin brought back every memory of the night before, each one as articulate with terror as if she had just lived them. She shuddered, and Elise stirred and rose beside her, her face hidden beneath her hair.

  “Good morning,” said Rema. “I have to catch Ormun as soon as I can. Will you visit Jalaya and give her my love?”

  “Mmmm.” Elise brushed the hair from her face and kissed Rema clumsily on the lips. “I’ll go to her as soon as I’m dressed. Why do you need to see Ormun?”

  “To find out what clothes he’s wearing.”

  Elise wrinkled her nose. “How odd. Rema, I’m sorry if I was a little overwrought last night.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. We’re going to share everything from now on, and that includes our sorrows.”

  Rema opened her wardrobe, searching for a uniform not sullied by blood or neglect. As Rema hunted, Elise drew back the blankets and stretched. Her figure was so unlike Rema’s, curved where Rema was straight, round where Rema was flat. Too many of the women Rema had courted were insecure about their bodies; even Jalaya fretted about her lack of height. Not so Elise. She was all the more beautiful because of her confidence, that remarkable way she wore her body without apology.

  “Stop staring,” said Elise. “Go and do your important business!”

  Rema smiled. “You’re right. I’ll have a lifetime to stare.” She put on her boots, adjusted her hair and splashed her face with water. There was still dried blood on her forehead, and she sponged it off. “Ugh. There’s a nasty purple bruise here. Ormun will want to know where I got it.”

  “Put on a hat.”

  Rema returned to her wardrobe and took out a perky black hat with a ball of red fuzz on its peak. She donned it and presented herself to Elise, who covered her mouth as she tittered. “It’s painfully sweet on you. But it’s not very Rema.”

  “It’ll have to do.” Rema peered into the mirror and straightened the hat. “I’ll come visit you and Jalaya as soon as I’m done with Ormun, so we don’t need to have a teary goodbye just yet.”

  Elise walked naked across the room and kissed Rema with such force that the hat slipped over her ear. “Tonight, we’ll have to do more than sob at each other.”

  “Make that a promise.”

  Elise laughed as she fixed the hat. “Get out there and solve all our problems. Don’t worry about what Mel said to you last night. I have faith in you.”

  “I’ll be with you again soon, enchantress of my heart.”

  “Don’t say sappy things like that. You’ll get me weepy again.”

  They shared a lingering kiss, and Rema headed toward the door. Elise remained standing naked in the sun, her hair draped about her body and her eyes distant with thought. Though she appeared human once more, there still seemed a touch of the otherworldly upon her. What had Melnennor’s strange prophecy meant? Had Rema fallen in love with a woman or a goddess?

  It was early enough to catch Ormun in his chambers, but his eccentricity could place him anywhere in the palace. Some nights he never slept and instead walked through the menagerie, pulling faces at the animals. Some days he never rose. It was a relief to find a golden guard standing outside the door of Ormun’s room, indicating that the Emperor was within.

  “My lady,” said the guard, touching his helmet.

  “I need to talk with Ormun.”

  Other visitors might have been questioned further, but not Rema. The guard knocked on the door, and after a moment Ormun opened it, his hair in disarray. Damn it all—he wasn’t yet dressed, only clad in a white linen tunic that reached past his bare knees. “Rema!” Ormun opened the door wide. “Come in, dear, come in!”

  The ceiling of Ormun’s chamber was supported by gilt columns, and a carved depression in the floor ran toward three arched windows that opened directly into the palace gardens. Had the palatial room been tidy, it would have stunned visitors with its austere majesty. Instead, it had become a heaping ground for Ormun’s clothes, as he refused to let anyone clean his chambers and had no patience to do so himself. A woman was huddled in Ormun’s bed, her face buried in the pillow. Judging by her golden hair, she was Ormun’s seventh wife. The woman’s breath was quiet and steady; hopefully her night had been painless.

  “So, you’re restless too,” said Ormun, shutting the door behind them. “It’s to be expected when we’ve such an exciting day ahead of us.”

  “And yet you’re not even dressed. Or is that what you intend to wear?”

  “No, no.” Ormun opened his wardrobe and gestured to the few clothes that remained hanging. “Perhaps you can help me pick something that’ll impress the court.”

  Rema concealed her relief. This was ideal—she could ensure the double would be able to match his appearance. “I’d be happy to. In my estimation, you should dress simply. Elise is from a simple part of the world, and it would make her feel at home.”

  “But she wears those fancy dresses, Rema! I’ve never seen anything like them outside of the most expensive brothels.” Ormun lifted a sleeve and sniffed it. “Why, I wouldn’t want to look plain beside her. What kind of message would that send?”

  “It would show your humility and goodness. I know you enjoy wearing that brown tabard with the wide sleeves, and it pairs so well with black leggings.”

  “It’s true, it’s a fetching combination.” Ormun scratched his head. “Fine! I concede! It’s all too much to think about anyway.” He gestured toward his sleeping wife. “Look at that thing. She’s with child, I think, but the healers aren’t clear on whether it’ll live. I have something like five babies now. I held one for a little. It gurgled. Ugly, fat little face.”

  Rema had no special sentimentality
for infants herself, but she wasn’t willing to humor him. “I’m sure you’ll grow fond of them as they age.”

  Ormun seemed not to have heard her, engaged as he was in wrestling with the sleeves of the tabard. Rema sighed and helped him put it on. “You still dress like a child.”

  “Some things stay the same.” Ormun flapped his arms, his eyes lively. “Even at twenty, I’d never have any idea what to wear, and I’d stump around trying to get some button done at the back. And of course Betany was never inclined to help. But you were, dear, always you.”

  He chortled, clearly pleased with his reminiscences. Rema looked away. It was his brotherly love enfolded in malice that had made these four years such a torment. If he were more predictable, if he had simply been a woman-hater like Calan, she would have understood him more and feared him less.

  A moment of desperate hope took hold of her. “Ormun,” she said. “My brother. If I asked you to remember all the years I’ve served you, been a sister to you, endured your cruelties, witnessed your atrocities and abetted your wickedness—if I asked you to remember all of this and then I begged you to let her go…what would you say?”

  “So it’s true.” Ormun tugged on his trousers. “You do love her. What’s her name again?”

  “Elise.” Rema took a breath, and the air carried with it a wild rush of courage. “Yes, I love her. I don’t want you to hurt her, and we both know that you will.”

  “No man is perfect, dear.”

  Rema took Ormun’s hand and looked into his eyes, searching through his madness for a sign of her long-missing friend. “I can’t keep doing this for you. You know what you are, and you know what I believe. You’re intelligent enough to comprehend what you’ve done to me. Let me have at least this happiness.”

  “Rema, dear.” Ormun squeezed her hand. “It cannot be. She belongs to me now.” He lowered his voice. “But you’ve moved me, treasured one. What if I let you visit her once a week? For one night of seven, touch her and take her all that you please. You’re right, after all. I have so many wives, and you have none! Why shouldn’t I share one of them with my sweet sister?”