Ambrosia

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  The scent was subtle and floral. “Lavender?”

  Erolina set it down. “Exactly. Scent is a powerfully underrated sense in humans. He won’t realize it, but after tonight the scent of lavender will be forever connected to the image of you. When he thinks of lavender from now on, he’ll be thinking of you.”

  “That’s pretty clever, actually. But is it right to take all his feelings about lavender and shift them to me?”

  Erolina slid some matching bracelets onto Philiastra’s wrists. “All’s fair in love and war, young one.”

  “I guess so.”

  Erolina opened up a fine case, filled with a set of beautiful long fingernails. With a tap of a sigil, they leapt out of the case, affixing themselves atop Philiastra’s own nails. She was surprised how sleek and elegant it made her hands look, and the shimmering opal was beautiful to look at.

  As the final touch, Erolina took out a beautiful diamond lariat collar with an opal stone set in the center and set it around her neck. It felt so cool and refined against her skin.

  “There, done.”

  Erolina stepped back to look over her work. “Wow. You look amazing.”

  “I’m sure I don’t look all that good.”

  “No, you really do,” Erolina responded, pulling out a full-length mirror.

  Philiastra approached the mirror timidly and then looked into it. At first, all she could do was stand there with her mouth open. Gone was the awkward girl she was so used to seeing. In her place was a beautiful woman, elegant and graceful. The dress was magnificent, like silk over glass, flattering her form exquisitely and giving her a balance and poise that radiated an intelligent beauty. The difference was so striking it didn’t even feel like her. It was as if she had just met a long-lost older sister, but cultured and vibrant.

  Philiastra shifted a little just to make sure it wasn’t some kind of trick. She reached up and touched the diamonds around her neck. It was still her, but a radiantly beautiful version of her. If Erolina were an artist, this was her masterpiece.

  “Is this…me?”

  Already, she could feel the little nagging voices at the back of her mind. Resisting the urge to feel confident. This wasn’t her, this was skillful painting, a canvas and a façade; she could never look this good.

  Erolina leaned in, pleased with her work. “Wars are won by she who prepares beforehand. Storgen doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

  Philiastra giggled in spite of herself and rocked back and forth, admiring what she saw. “I do look good, don’t I?”

  “You look ravishing. I actually worry I might have done too good a job. At this rate, I’m going to lose out to my rival. Now, about my part.”

  “Right, I’ll grab your stuff.”

  * * *

  Philiastra was bubbling over with conflicting emotions as she stepped into the Acropolis. It felt like she had a wake before her, heads turning to gaze and gawk at her. Men had never looked at her this way before. A mix of admiration and hunger that made her feel both flattered and uneasy. The women looked at her very, very differently. Contempt and jealously, so thick in the air she could almost feel it condensing on her leaves. She didn’t know why, but it pleased her to no end to have the women at the party look at her in this way, and without even realizing she was doing it, she gave a couple of sultry little smiles to their husbands, and giggled inside when their contempt boiled over into absolute hate.

  The whole edifice had been rededicated to the celebration. It was strange to see the long rows of desks and offices replaced with lounge chairs, layers of dance floors, and scores of minstrels playing live music. Even the winding staircases had been repurposed, slides of water leading down into pools of red wine for any partygoers brave enough to jump in. Everywhere, Ambera’s priestesses danced, sang, and drank with the crowd. Already there were scores of young locals wearing initiate robes, excited to join the sisterhood as their parents looked on uneasily.

  The second level was dedicated to live stage plays, mock duels by actors retelling the chronicles of legendary heroes, tragic love ballads, and of course, multiple sagas of Ambera’s greatness and victory, most of which were of dubious historical authenticity.

  The center of the Acropolis was dedicated to a gladiatorial arena, where crowds cheered and gambled on the results of the bouts between would-be champions and various exotic beasts brought in especially for the event. White tigers and land dragons, razor-beaked two headed eagles as tall as a man, and even an amphisbaena. The great snake coiled around in its cage, hissing from its two heads, one at each end of its body.

  Resting upon the newly constructed altar of Ambera was a special coffin of living ice, with Kleidí Ailuros, the great key to the underworld held within. Six magical locks held it closed, three on each side, the keys distributed to the highest ranking members present. Ophira had calculated it as a move to create solidarity with the former monks and help the locals feel safe that the Eternity Gate would never be opened, but judging by the way the locals stayed clear of it, Philiastra doubted it was having the effect she intended.

  Philiastra stumbled a little on the high-backed sandals, but was able to catch herself before tumbling over.

  “I can’t walk in these things,” she grumbled to herself.

  Erolina’s voice emanated from the crystal earrings Philiastra wore. “Remember, don’t walk, glide. Don’t step, mince. You’re not trying to move, you’re trying to show off your body.”

  The swinging weight tugging on her ear lobes felt odd to Philiastra, but she was grateful Erolina had selected a pair with clips so she didn’t have to get her ears pierced. She took the advice and found it was somewhat easier that way. The men weren’t overreacting, either. Presented as she was, she really was strikingly beautiful, effortlessly feminine, and her slight awkwardness and innocence only made her all the more appealing

  Long dormant instincts began to stir within her. She began to understand for the first time what Erolina had taught her. This was a mating dance, celebrating her availability, and oh, how the men around her responded. She quickly found she was acclimating to the attention. Instead of fear, she began to feel exhilaration. Every eye in the vicinity was fixed on her, every thought centered on her presence. She felt powerful, emboldened. Instinctively, she knew that all she had to do was ask, and any number of these men would trip over themselves to please her. It was as if they were mere puppets, their strings in her hands. She had to but give them a tug to make them dance for her.

  It pleased her so much she let out a little girly giggle.

  Priestess Ophira ran up, a magical key hanging from her belt. “Oh good, there you are, uh, wow…what happened you do?”

  Philiastra shrugged. “I took a shower, I did my hair, nothing big.”

  “Well, you certainly clean up well. And just in time too, it’s time to pour the wine temple.”

  “The what?”

  The priestess grabbed her by a gloved hand and led her through the crowd, where she found Storgen setting the final wine glass atop an impressive structure. A pyramid of empty stacked glasses, the crystal glimmering from the curled fox chandelier hanging above.

  Storgen looked devilishly handsome in the formal dress suit they had him in. His strong jaw and broad shoulders, combined with his tanned skin, exuded a strength that not even layers of clothing could conceal. His muscles stretched the fabric deliciously, as if everything he wore was just two sizes too small even when they were perfectly fitted. And yet his dark eyes had a tenderness in them that seemed to contradict his strength, giving him an air of mystery. Deep and captivating eyes, a vivid tidal pool that softly melted into a rich spring. His expression was playful as always, a perpetual resting face of mirth, as if he had just set a prank and was waiting for it to spring.

  She felt drawn to him like never before, as if she had a magnet inside her, a pull towards him so strong she had to stop herself from stepping forward.

  “How’s he look?” Erolina asked through the earring
s.

  “I don’t get it,” Philiastra whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’ve seen him every day for how long? He seems, different somehow. More manly. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “It’s because you were keeping your heart closed before.”

  “Pffft, I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

  Erolina remained silent.

  Ophira cleared her throat to get her attention, and then tapped her chin. Only then did Philiastra realize she had been staring at Storgen with her mouth open.

  She closed it shut, hoping no one had noticed.

  “He cleans up nice, too,” Ophira appraised, her eyes a little starry.

  Philiastra shrugged. “He’s passable.”

  “Hey, look at you, being all coy.”

  “Okay, that’s the last one,” Storgen said, dusting off his gloved hands.

  He hopped down from the platform and found himself face to face with Philiastra

  Her beauty stopped him completely in his tracks. A complete pause in his natural expression, he stared at her as one might look at a flawless work of art.

  “Wow,” he said softly.

  She felt herself blush more deeply, and suddenly found herself feeling a little self-conscious. “Do I look…okay?”

  He shook his head, as if trying to snap out of a trance. “Are you kidding? You look more than okay. You look amazing.”

  It was so much fun to see him so completely entranced. She couldn’t recall him ever looking at a girl like that before, and the fact that he was looking at her that way filled her with delight.

  He leaned in closer, his face so close to hers that she could not help but remember the kiss from earlier. “Are you sure it’s really you under all that?”

  She chuckled nervously. “Yes. Yes, it’s really me.”

  He gave the most genuine smile as he looked her over tenderly. “You look beautiful, Phili.”

  She could feel her whole body blush, her very soul singing for joy. She had the attention of every man nearby, but this is the only one she really wanted.

  Storgen leaned back and folded his arms approvingly. “Boy, I had no idea you could look like that. Whatever guy you end up marrying, he is going to be one lucky fellow.”

  She pursed her lips angrily. “Thanks.”

  Priestess Ophira looked her over suspiciously. “You know…that dress looks familiar. Where did you…”

  “Ah, isn’t it time to pour the wine?” Philiastra stuttered.

  “Up you go.”

  Storgen grabbed Ophira by the waist and lifted her up onto the platform. The gathering crowd grew quiet. Storgen took out a large wine bottle, at least three times bigger than anything Philiastra had seen before, and handed it up to her, then he took out a second one and handed it to Philiastra.

  Ophira held the bottle over her head, her voice becoming a beautiful tenor as she spoke the words of the oath:

  “Be ye friend or foe, be ye foul or clean,

  hear the words of your queen.

  Spawn of egg or fruit of womb,

  from every spire, from every tomb.

  To those that walk, and yet unborn,

  Our hearts to her, the day is sworn.

  She to us and we to her,

  Ambera’s rule this day confer.”

  Ophira uncorked the bottle with a pop, and began pouring the clear, white wine into the topmost glass. It overflowed, cascading down to fill the four beneath it, and they filled to the brim, beautifully outpouring into the level below them.

  Philiastra uncorked her bottle and poured the white wine out onto the platform. The alchemic circle carved into the glass hummed to life at her command, and the liquid flowed upwards, running up the stems and filling the bottom glasses from below.

  The two flows worked their way towards one another. When they met in the middle, the spell triggered and the white wines transformed into a deep red wine, aromatic and luscious. The crowd was prompted to take a knee.

  “Ambera’s rule this day confer,” the crowd intoned.

  None of them noticed that Storgen remained silent.

  They rose up, and a handful of priestesses leapt upon the platform, handing out each glass and allowing the crowd to take the oath into their bodies.

  Philiastra nearly dropped her bottle when she tried to set it down. The long opal fingernails were getting in the way of everything.

  “Ow.”

  “What’s wrong?” Erolina asked.

  “I poked my palm. I’m not used to these stupid things.”

  Storgen saddled up to Philiastra. “Hey, you hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  The two of them slipped away, and found a spot at one of the catered tables. Harpy waitresses swooped down and set out food for them, flying as best they could in the short little miniskirts Ophira forced them to wear.

  The food was amazing, and Philiastra found she was enjoying herself immensely as they made small talk.

  “Don’t let it get too routine,” Erolina warned. “This has to be special. Scoot a little closer so he can get a better whiff of your perfume.”

  Philiastra scooted closer. Storgen’s rippling arms were right there beside her, nearly touching her shoulder. She had to fight the urge to reach out and give them a squeeze.

  “You know, I really enjoy being with you,” she said, making her voice a little more sultry than normal.

  “I know right?” Storgen said, taking a bite of steak. “It’s fun. We should go dumpster diving after the gala.”

  She perked up. “COULD WE?! Ahem, I mean, I don’t think that’s really something a lady should do, do you?”

  “What are you doing?” Erolina whispered through the earrings.

  Storgen looked at Philiastra oddly while he chewed. “Are you all right? Since when do you not want to go dumpster diving?”

  “You said be the best I can be,” Philiastra said through clenched teeth.

  “I said be the best version of yourself. Don’t try to be someone you’re not!”

  Philiastra cleared her throat. “What I meant was, I’d love to go dumpster diving, but we can do that any old time. I’d much rather spend the night with you here.”

  “Nice recovery,” Erolina praised.

  Storgen nodded. “That’s a good point. How often do we get to eat real grox, after all?”

  Philiastra grabbed at her dessert spoon so she could dig into the custard, but had trouble picking the thing up.

  “I can’t do anything with these nails,” she grumbled.

  “That’s the point. It gives Storgen a chance to be gallant and do things for you.”

  “Gallant, huh?”

  Philiastra put her hands in her lap and looked down, waiting for him to notice. When he did, she looked up at him with her beautiful eyes, bashfully batting her exquisitely long lashes. “Storge, I’m having trouble with my dessert spoon. Would you be willing to help me?”

  Storgen looked at her place setting. “You’ve got like four different kinds there, don’t any of them work?”

  “It’s these nails,” she pouted adorably, placing her hand on his arm. “And this custard looks sooo yummy, would you help me try a bite?”

  She couldn’t resist the urge, and gave his arm a little squeeze. It was even bigger and harder than she thought it would be, and the sensation gave her a little electric jolt up her spine.

  He furrowed his brow. “You seriously want me to feed you?”

  “Pleeeeease,” she begged sweetly.

  Storgen rolled his eyes and rolled up a spoonful up for her. When he held it up, he found her looking deeply into his eyes. She bat her lashes one last time for effect.

  “Do you have something in your eye?” he asked.

  She slowly shook her head back and forth, managing to make something as simple as a ‘no’ seem absolutely bewitching.

  “Purse your lips like we practiced,” Erolina whispered. “Be subtle.”

  Philiastra leaned in as if for a kiss, wrapping
her lips succulently around the spoon, giving off the tiniest purr of pleasure as she savored the bite.

  “Do you like it?” he wondered as he pulled the spoon away.

  “It’s wonderful, she said with a wink, pursing her lips into a kissy face.

  “’Cause from that face you’re making, it looks like it’s really sour or something.”

  “I said, be subtle,” Erolina chastised. “Okay, this is one of my best moves. Feed him a little taste of your food, and as you do, trace your finger over his lips just a little, almost as if by accident. It’ll drive him wild.”

  “No, it’s really good, Storge,” Philiastra purred. “Here, let me show you.”

  With the tip of her long nail, she scooped up a tiny morsel and held it out for him to try, but she misjudged the distance and stabbed him in the cheek.

  “Ouch!” he yelped, pulling away.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “You really got me,” he chuckled, wiping his hand and finding a little blood.

  “I’m sorry, it’s these stupid nails, I’m not used to them.”

  “Nymph, you are messing up all my best moves!” Erolina barked.

  “It’s all right,” Storgen said, grabbing a napkin and holding it to his face. “I just don’t get you tonight, Phili. Why are you acting so differently?”

  Philiastra dropped her face into her hands. “You are so dense.”

  “Wow,” Erolina marveled. “If obliviousness ever goes up to five drachmas a barrel, I want drilling rights to his head.”

  Philiastra stood up. The other men at the table stood up as well. “I’ll be back, I ah, need to powder my nose.”

  “’Kay,” Storgen said, leaning back in his chair and taking a bite of a persimmon.

  As she walked away, the other men at the table sat down, save for one.

  “Do you not wish to honor your lady?” came a kindly voice.

  Storgen chewed slowly as he looked up at the man with curly blonde hair and an angelic face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Standing sends a signal that she is worthy of rising from your comfortable seated position, that you have noticed her departure, and it speaks volumes of your upbringing.”