The Edict

by P. J. Keyworth

  She could smell the scent of rich spice and soap. She had counted herself dead the day she’d been chosen by the Edict of Maidens, so what did it matter how or where she died? But she would not be taken by him - nor any other man in this place. Her defiance lunged into consciousness. Let them try and take her. He would have to kill her first.

  “Go ahead, barbarian, prove me right.” Her heart beat wildly against her chest. She thought it would burst through her skin. She had baited him but her mind ran fearfully over what he might do. Silence! Why couldn’t she ever be silent?

  He chuckled, his breath sweet, white teeth gleaming against olive skin. He straightened, his height seeming more than it ever had, his body broader, stronger than she had seen it before.

  “Get dressed.” He nodded to material draped over the cabinet. She looked at it and then back at him.

  “No.”

  He came at her then, his hand grabbing at her neck, his fingers tightening as he drew her face to within inches of his own. “You may have been able to rebel outside, but this is my Kingdom and within these walls I will be obeyed.” His voice was forceful enough to cow any subject.

  Her breath came out strangled and hissing. She spat at him.

  He barely flinched. He released her to wipe his face.

  “That’s one way to taste you.”

  The words caused her skin to crawl. He was mad.

  “Dress.” He resumed his seat. Apparently, he was going to watch. Kiara looked at the Reluwyn dress in disgust.

  “Wear it or leave this room naked.” He looked at her as though he already saw her so. “Both choices are equally agreeable to me.”

  Kiara bit back a retort and instead asked the question she was burning to ask. “Why am I here?”

  A smile spread across the Prince’s lips. “Because I wish you to repay me for the trouble you have caused.”

  “Trouble?”

  “I was caught, remember?”

  “You did not wish to return to this?” Kiara’s words seem to hit somewhere between his armour. His gaze faltered for a moment, something else shining between the rays of fury.

  Kiara indicated the rich furnishings. “What hardship you suffer, my Lord Prince,” she mocked.

  The taunt brought back his anger. He ignored her and continued, “You have been chosen to participate in the Edict of Maidens, woman, and although I doubt you’ll be chosen,” he masked a smile. “I’ll take my payment when I test your abilities.”

  The words made her feel sick. The feeling wrapped its way around her stomach. She threw off the covers, dropping her dirty feet to the floor.

  “Perhaps you should bathe before you dress.” Apparently, he was going to order the bath to the room, for he pulled upon a rope, Kiara assumed it would summon a servant. He was a Prince? How could he be the Prince?

  She had to get out of here. The pain in her head was growing. Would he watch her bathe too? She felt her stomach contract.

  “And where do you think you can go? Do you really believe you can hide from me in my own palace?” asked the Prince, a smile still playing over his lips. She stumbled towards the door, almost falling against the handles.

  Everything was spinning. The Prince made no effort to stop her leaving, but followed instead. She came out into a corridor which encircled a courtyard. Pillars lined her left, and there was a wall with various doors in it to her right. She had to get out of this place.

  She moved forward quickly, swallowing down the feeling of sickness, grasping at any pillar or wall near enough to balance herself. She moved along a mosaic floor, her dirty, travel-worn clothes seeming even more out of place. Her hair fell forward and she batted it away, trying to see where she was going. She barely noticed the people that surrounded her. Women and girls were sat in the gardens talking and laughing, and servants were handing around food. Conversations stalled as this strange creature passed, and faces were veiled in respect as the Prince came after her.

  She could hear his footsteps behind her, relentless. She knew it was him. She fell against two large doors that led from the courtyard to another corridor, her breathing ragged. There were guards at the end but Kiara didn’t notice them. Nothing was normal, nothing was real.

  The Prince nodded to the guards who moved aside, allowing the woman passage. The floor turned to stone slabs that were cold under her feet and when she glanced upwards she could see tapestries hanging from brass poles the length of a hall filled with columns. This was not real. It could not be real.

  There were people, hundreds of people, she couldn’t escape, they parted and stared as she walked forwards. Dark Reluwyn eyes all turned upon her, haughty gazes took in her clothes, words passed behind her back.

  A man, taller than the rest, standing on the raised dais caught eyes with her.

  She drew in her remaining strength and cried out, “Release me!”

  “What is this?” bellowed Garesh, his anger terrifying. But Kiara was dead anyway, she didn’t care.

  “One of the latest arrivals for the Edict of Maidens.” She could hear the Prince’s voice behind her. It was filled with that arrogant disdain. She could not see the smile he wore.

  “Please, no! Please!” she cried as she turned to see the Prince striding towards her. But he did not relent. Her battle against nausea was finally lost and with a heave she vomited all over him.

  The smell was acrid but the Prince chose not to heed it.

  “You shall return to your quarters.” The Prince took her arm but received a sharp slap in response, her hand leaving stinging red marks across his cheek. His fingers pinched her upper arm in response, and it was just as well his grip was strong for in the next moment her legs crumpled beneath her. He caught her firmly and swung her over his shoulder roughly. She would have beaten his back with her fists had she remained conscious.

  When the Prince turned on his heel and retreated, chaos broke out in the hall. Sameedos and Mishka demanded revelation from Garesh, but the High Councillor remained silent, his furious eyes beholding the retreating form of what he could only describe as trouble for his carefully laid plans.

  Ikara was being given a massage by Ria. The woman had wonderful hands and a way of seeking out a knot in muscles as though she were a bird looking for berries. Her long fingered hands were strong and pushed and pulled the skin and muscle until it gave up to the unrelenting movements.

  “You’re in bad shape again. Have you been sleeping much?”

  They were alone. Only those of the same sex could massage each other, an art in Laowyn culture that had survived the invasion of the Reluwyn. In a community dominated by men, it was one of the only times Ikara could be alone with another woman.

  “No,” Ikara muttered into the towel her head was buried in. Her short silver hair was sprayed out in all directions.

  “Why?” Ria picked up a small terracotta vial of oil from a nearby table and was about to drop more of the fragranced liquid on the Commander’s back when Ikara started up slightly, a sheet clinging to her half naked frame.

  “Did you lock the door?”

  “Yes!” said Ria in exasperated tones, pushing at Ikara’s back to force her down again. “Three times I have checked and it was locked the first time! Now,” Ria poured more of the oil onto Ikara’s skin, her hands far more gentle now than her tone. She felt for the Commander. It was not easy being a woman within the Laowyn community, let alone their leader.

  Ikara had been private ever since Ria had known her. She rarely gave away what emotions she was feeling, like a spy with a secret. As a result, her back was like a pile of knotted ropes and it had only been a week since her last massage.

  “What’s bothered you this week?”

  “Everything.” Ikara answered vaguely, groaning as Ria worked a knot in her left shoulder.

  “There’s no use evading me - you are much more tense today.”

  Ikara sighed and turned, her back giving way under Ria’s hands. Imprints of the towel patterned her face and her hair
projected at mad angles. It was the most human Ria had seen her in a long time.

  “The Elders have met.”

  Ria took one of her arms and began working the oil into the skin.

  “They have all agreed to wait and see what the Reluwyn intend to do.” Ikara spat out the words.

  “And you do not agree?” Open questions, it was the only way to get Ikara to talk. And when Ikara talked, her muscles relaxed.

  “I know what the Reluwyn will do. They wish to kill us all. I can…I can feel it.”

  Ria nodded, moving on to Ikara’s hand and working the flesh between her knuckles, finishing by pummelling her palm.

  “Is that the only reason they wish to wait?”

  Ikara’s ice-coloured eyes flicked up to meet the warmth of Ria’s. “You already know the answer.”

  “Other arm,” commanded Ria.

  “You ask questions but you already know the answers,” Ikara sighed again, lying on her back now with the sheet pulled up over her body. “The Great Spirit. When was the last time the Great Spirit moved and showed us what to do using the Ensper?”

  “When was the last time you thought about your own breathing?”

  “Just now when you were causing me pain.” Ikara’s lip curled slightly.

  “A smile! Well I never.” Ria grinned, suddenly looking just like the twin brothers she laid claim to. She gave Ikara back her arm. “We are given the Ensper for a reason, Ikara. Losing people to enemies does not mean the Great Spirit is not sovereign. Do you think constantly about how you must breathe? No, because it’s just happening all the time. The Great Spirit is here all the time.”

  “I don’t wish to speak of this any longer.”

  “How is Zeb?” Ria knew her friend and leader well. She obeyed without any further pressing. The subject was changed and Ikara relaxed again immediately. She was sitting now, drawing the sheet about herself and looking for her clothes.

  “He’s doing better, just bruised.”

  “And the girl?”

  “Gone.”

  “The Reluwyn prisoner?”

  “Him too…” Ikara paused halfway through pulling on a garment. “We missed a valuable opportunity for information there.”

  Ria hummed as she put away the oil and towels. “Do you think she ran off with the Reluywn?”

  “If she did I think her a fool. But Zeb didn’t seem to think so.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Ikara finished dressing and folded the sheet. “Something is going on I don’t know about.”

  “And what does Captain Fidel think?” Ria braced herself. At the mention of Fidel, Ikara always grew irritable.

  “He agrees with Zeb.”

  “And is he well?”

  Ikara continued to glare at Ria who simply answered by wiggling her brow. “Perhaps you should ask him yourself.”

  “Oh no,” replied Ria, “I think he prefers talking to you.”

  Before Ikara could think of a biting retort, a banging sounded on the bolted door.

  “Commander, I have news.” Fidel shouted.

  “Perhaps there will be light in the dark after all.” Ria said cryptically. She obeyed Ikara’s nod and unbolted the door.

  Chapter 11

  He was bent over the edge of a blade when Kiara entered. She had been summoned to the Prince’s chambers, a great honour – yet she had needed the persuasion of armed guards to obey the Prince’s demand. On the way one of them had explained the favour she was being shown, that one who is not summoned entered on pain of death. A pity she didn’t care.

  Dressed in robes laid out for her, she stepped soundlessly over the threshold, light shining on her gold sandals. Her nausea had subsided and with its disappearance a numbness was taking over. She was the walking dead. The only thing which kept her from revealing her identity was a faint flicker of defiance. She would give up her life for a much better cause than a petulant Prince.

  The robe was formed of twisted lengths of gold embroidery that clung to the curves of her body, designed to expose her stomach, chest and arms. Across her back, a golden panel covered her Ensper and the encircling tattoo. Strips of long fabric covered the front and back of her legs, but the sides exposed a silver scar across one thigh.

  Coscian, as head of the Prince’s harem, had been instructed to beautify all women brought in to the harem, and Kiara had been dragged to the top of his list when she arrived. She didn’t have to guess who had commanded that to happen.

  Yesterday, Coscian had forced her to stand in the flimsiest of muslin rags while he waxed the hair from her legs with quick, efficient motions. In fact, Kiara hadn’t been that adverse to the Harem Master - he was brusque, but who wouldn’t be when surrounded by hundreds of gossiping women all day. Kiara was sure he appreciated the silence she gave him. He even treated her skin more carefully after she winced. He’d asked about the scar on her thigh, and she’d told him it was inflicted by an Imperial Guard. He’d made no comment.

  The Prince looked up from the blade as Kiara entered. After taking half a step forward, she halted, recognition flashing across her face. That was her father’s blade. But she removed the look quickly. She could not let him know her desire for the sword.

  The guards closed the large gilt panelled doors with a low thud behind her. The sound of isolation. She considered lunging for the sword but quickly discarded the plan.

  Surprise was probably the only way she could win against a man twice her breadth and a head taller, but the Prince was looking at her. He didn’t smile when he saw her, though he took his time taking in her appearance.

  She stared back at him, her eyes hooded with derision and a coldness that she allowed to steal over her frame. She didn’t care, she didn’t care about him or what he intended for her. She still wasn’t sure why he had brought her here, but she would not be a willing pawn in his game.

  “Has the nausea subsided?”

  Kiara didn’t respond.

  “I ordered your water to be laced with a concoction from one of my healers. I can’t have you vomiting all over me again.”

  As he walked closer, Kiara saw his eyes drop to her body again. She looked past him and took in the sumptuously decorated apartments. Murals were painted across the walls, as they were in the harem, but these ones depicted great battle scenes. Swathes of fine muslin and silk were suspended tent-like across the ceiling, no doubt an allusion to the Reluwyn’s once nomadic existence. Low couches layered with cushions were collected around a table, beyond them stood a desk, beyond that a door to what Kiara assumed was a bedroom.

  “There is something I still cannot work out.”

  Her blue eyes retracted from the further extremities of the room and locked onto his. Perhaps he would now tell her what he would do with her. No doubt she would become a whore in his harem. Was now the time to reveal her race and save herself by forcing her own execution?

  “When I first met you, we were taken by Imperial Guards to the Watchtower of Grûl. I left you in a locked cell. How did you escape and come to be captured by the Laowyn Resistance in the Great Forest instead?”

  Her eyes hardened and then moved from his to look beyond his left shoulder refusing to make eye contact. She could still see the ends of his black hair which fell about his neck.

  He came closer, now standing just before her, forcing her head further back to maintain her defiant attitude.

  “Perhaps you decided to uncover your sex when you were stuck in the prison cell.” A taunting smile appeared on his lips.

  Kiara could feel the indignation rising but she held her temper. Let him think what he would, all she cared about at this moment was the blade in his hands.

  “I expect the guard was more than compliant.”

  “If you say so it must be true.” She was too focused on the blade to notice a look akin to vexation pass over his handsome face. All she could think about were his filthy Reluwyn hands holding her father's sword.

  “For all your protests, you ar
e now a whore in a harem. For someone who gives their body up for life out of a prison it's surprising you’d refuse me and lose the chance of gaining all this.” He gestured about himself. “Whore,” he said it again, his eyes challenging her to a fight.

  “Upset I don't desire you, Prince?” she asked sarcastically, her temper finally flaring.

  He laughed, harsh and grating. “It hardly matters. You already know I can take you any time of my pleasing.”

  Her eyes belied her fear but her body involuntarily trembled. “Give the blade to me,” she said it abruptly, her face unmoving. She wanted to take it from him and cut those hands off.

  “What, this?” He turned the blade over in his hand. “Yes, it is yours. As fine a blade as my armourer can produce. How a street-waif like you came by it…” he trailed off. “You want it?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.” He sneered. “Prisoners don’t get weapons, especially not in the company of the Prince. Now, tell me how you escaped Grûl.”

  She wouldn’t obey his commands. He may be the Prince, but she would never acknowledge him as such. She held out a slender hand.

  “Like I said,” he sighed, apparently disappointed she would not word-spar anymore. “Prisoners don't get weapons to play with.” He sheathed the sword, his face unsmiling for a moment, the taunting looks covered by something far less amused. He walked back towards the double doors. Kiara moved with the blade, pausing on the threshold. She watched him hang the weapon across two golden hooks beside the large, plush bed.

  “Though I'm sure,” he continued, as he came back and locked eyes with her, “You wish to maim me for touching your precious sword.” The amusement was back, the provoking curve to his lips. Whatever had made him check himself now gone.

  Kiara felt her top lip twitch involuntarily.

  “I can read your feelings from your face as easily as the words from a book in my hand.”

  He was close now, almost close enough to reach out and touch her. If she had the blade, now would be the time to remove those hands.