Chewing some of the melon, Marie lounged against the pillows. Khajir sat cross legged a few feet away near the water jug. With one hand, Marie gestured for water. He filled the cup and brought it to her. Saluting him with the cup, she took a long gulp.
Another servant came out as the sun started to go down and asked,
"Would the Princess like to bathe before the feast?"
"Yes, I would."
Khajir walked at her elbow as she moved down into the lower levels of the palace for the bathing rooms there. The tiled room was a mosaic of beautiful colors creating a stone garden on the walls. Khajir waited outside as women came to attend to her. They went into the bath rooms where the walls sweated and steam rose. They led her across the floor to the pool where she first disrobed, then dipped her toes in. Very warm water greeted her. Descending in to her waist, she splashed water on her face and into her hair. Some sweet smelling soap was applied to her limbs and she luxuriated in the process, though she occasionally had to lean against the bath's edge to keep from falling. Her balance was still far from perfect.
A woman dumped an urn of water over her head to wash away the soap. As she exited, she was wrapped in cotton cloth and rubbed lightly. Her whole body tingled with it. Then proper robes were brought so she could dress. When they went to cover her mouth with a veil, she initially stopped them.
"Princess?" they asked.
"Do what is customary," she said surrendering to them. A thin veil went over her mouth and nose so that all left unhidden was her eyes. The robes swirled around her as she moved when she exited the bath.
Khajir offered his arm as she came out and she leaned on him. He led the way through the palace to a set of doors.
In a flash, she recognized the doors. They were the ones held closed by the desert roses, but they weren't closed. They stood open and they went inside.
The feast table was already laid and others gathered themselves from their seats when they entered. Khajir led her to the main table where cushions were laid out for her beside her brother. He greeted them with a smile and offered his hands to his sister.
"Ban," he said. "You look so well."
"Thank you, brother."
Saba sat on his far side and was dressed in just such finery as Marie possessed. Gems glittered falling down her veil.
Naomie.
The word sounded foreign to her, but she attached it to the woman there before her. Then she sat down beside her brother.
"Eat. There will be entertainment."
"The physician says you have brought players."
"I have and they will do the great quests of Rostam for us all. Just as you would like." He leaned over and pressed his lips to her covered hair.
From the other side, a man approached. Marie looked up at him and the world narrowed.
Kevin.
Her breath came quick and her heart sped up.
"Kevin," she murmured.
"Did you say something, sister?" the prince asked. Marie rose from her place and put her hands out to him.
"Kevin."
"Princess," the man said. "It is unseemingly for you to behave this way. I am none but your servant. Please sit."
"Who is this Kevin you speak of, my sister?"
The dream frayed around the edges. The food on the platters began to sour and grow dark. The lamps fluttered and flickered, throwing shadows at strange angles.
"Kevin, don't you know me? It's me, Marie."
"The madness has returned," Saba said rising from her place. Khajir appeared at her elbow. The prince sat between Marie and Saba but Marie reached for her just the same.
"Naomie."
"Don't call me by that strange name."
"Ray."
"Sister, you are not well."
The room melted at the corners, the rock becoming slick and unsolid. The room went dark and when light once more returned, Marie was alone. Her clothes had changed again. She wore the simple cotton shift of the broken princess. Her feet were bare. The bracelet still sang on her wrist. The dilapidated nature of the castle laid out before. What had been a feast now appeared gross and forgotten. The oil lamps wore rust like lace. She kicked a rotten cushion and it exploded. On slow feet, she made her way out of the room. Then she was in the hall. The palace must have morphed because she was no longer in the throne room but on a lower level looking out at the cliff face across the gorge. The breathtaking sight awed her. Sun shafted down and left glittering trails in the air. She turned away from the sight and headed into the castle proper.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Under foot, the stairs were cold as if the very palace radiated with wrongness. Marie turned a corner and was met with stairs going down instead of up. Why would she want to go further down into the cliff? The thought did not discourage her and she took the stairs down two at a time. A rusted oil lamp burned with a fitful flame as she reached the bottom. She took it off its stand and used it to light her way down the corridor. So far from the sun, the gloom lay heavy. A breeze blew through and she sheltered the flame with her hand. The air took on a fetid, wet smell.
"The exhalation of the grave."
Her lamp only illuminated a few feet ahead, so she came upon corners unexpectedly and after more than one turn knew she could very well be lost. Yet even the idea of backtracking seemed out of the question. She didn't know where she had come in, so how to get out? With a steadying breath, she made herself stop and think. If there was a way in then there was a way out. All she had to do was find it. She needed some way to mark the passages she had already been through. Touching the wall, she dragged her fingers along it. The dry stone flaked under the pressure. No, it wasn't the stone but rather a coat of what might have been paint. Inside she exulted as she peeled it further off there at the corner to make a marker for her journey.
"Now I know I have been here."
Marie turned the corner and holding the lamp high and off to the side, she continued forward. The oppressive stink grew worse as she wandered, marking passages as she came to them. Finally, with one more turn, she came to why. She entered a room she couldn't see the edges of, but what her circle of light fell on told her a sad tale. Bodies, some whole some not, littered the floor. Blood splashed in places. The room vibrated with the droning of flies. Marie covered her mouth and looked away. This couldn't be. She had never seen it in her mind, so how did it exist?
Across from her, a light shone, but it would mean crossing the floor to get to it. Probing with her toes, Marie attempted to walk across the room. Several times she stepped in something squishy and though she refused to look could tell she waded in gore up to her ankles.
"He killed them all."
The knowledge gave her no comfort. She sought him in order to put him down. The light shone brighter with each step she took and beyond it she could see reflections.
A hand fell on her shoulder. With a cry, she leapt forward and skidding in a circle to look back. Behind her, a shadowed figure with luminous eyes waited. It still held out its hand as if it would touch her again.
"Who is there?"
"You cannot go forward."
As she circled the figure, she nearly slipped in guts but kept her feet. Drawing closer to the figure, she shone the light near it. Familiar features greeted her from a face covered in blood.
"Sylvia."
The woman reached out with both hands trying to grab hold of Marie who backed away. With blind motions, she kept coming forward.
"You cannot go. You have not won."
"Won what?"
"Your way."
The ghost batted at her and the flame flickered. Marie froze. Without the light, she would only have the beacon to guide her, but it was across a world gross and dangerous. On her right wrist, the triangular bracelet captured the light and turned it back. She brought it forward as she looked at the other woman. Sylvia did not recoil from it, but reached for it with grasping claws. Marie pulled her arm back.
"Tell me what I must know."
"You must learn it for yourself." This time, Sylvia stepped forward with uncanny speed. The distance between them disappeared and Marie was face to face with the woman she had learned to distrust. Yet Marie refused to back down. Sylvia had not frightened her in life; she would not be allowed to frighten her in death. The torn shift that covered Sylvia's body did not hide her wounds well. Marie could see where broken bones protruded from her chest. The maroon of dried blood covered much of the upper half, though it ran in rivulets down the lower as well.
"He chose me over you."
"His choices mean nothing here," the ghost said reaching up with slow hands to trace the circle of Marie's face. "Only yours. You brought this darkness into being. It will consume you as it has consumed others."
"No, it will not." Confidence surged through Marie as she knocked away the unwelcome hands. "I know that you are dead," she said. "Your time is over. Mine has begun." It was then she felt it, another presence in the room. This one stood off to the side, but she could almost see it. Sylvia was not her true enemy, it was. "Come into the light," she demanded.
It did not move. Turning away from Sylvia, Marie advanced toward it learning the skeletal frame as she moved. The Gravekeeper waited in this hall of death with his scythe at the ready. It only awaited the right moment to strike.
"If you would strike at me, then do so now. I see you. I am not blind."
And that was true. The broken princess in the book had been blinded by her love for the Dark King. Losing her sight along with her power before she could hope to stop the evil. Marie had no such handicap.
The halo of light found the Gravekeeper standing in one corner and he readied his scythe as if to strike. When he swung, Marie put her arm up and the blade glanced off something made of gold. It struck again and this time, Marie had to duck its blow.
"I will not lose to you," she said. Sylvia grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. The Gravekeeper stepped into place to lop off her head. Marie struggled and her eyes went wide as the blade came back, arcing in the light. As it descended, she threw herself down to the floor beside the lamp which had fallen from her grip. Sylvia came with her. They separated. The creatures turned on her again. Marie pressed her lips to the bracelet and said,
"Sylvia, we loved you."
The other woman stopped as if struck rocking back on her heels.
"You were cared for. This is not you."
Knowledge. The realm of the skull. She had known Sylvia, had cared for Sylvia, had mourned Sylvia. Now she would give her rest.
Sylvia turned to the Gravekeeper and threw her arms around him. Now he struggled to be released from her grasp.
"Go," Sylvia cried. "Go now."
Scooping the lamp up from the floor, Marie made for the light. Behind her, she heard the scythe come up and down with a meaty thunk. Had Sylvia died again? Had she truly died the first time if she was caught her in this dream world? Marie knew the answer to neither question and concentrated on getting to the stairs she could just make out beyond the portal. She reached them at a run and threw herself upwards. A tiny star followed her and settled into the bracelet around her right wrist.
Now the area was well lit and she could see the stains on her hands, feet, and knees. Her streaked gown clung to her sweaty body. Her skin wanted to crawl away from the bloody areas, but it could hardly do that. Brushing her hair away from her face and putting it in some semblance of an order, she continued forward. On this level, windows adorned the hallways so one could see out to the next cliff. Night held sway. How long had she been in the deep reaches of the castle? It didn't matter. The fresh breeze awakened her senses oppressed by the closeness and dark of the catacombs.
"He killed them all," she whispered as if she needed reminding of her brother's crimes. Darkness had possessed him. Still possessed him. Only she could set him free and only by first making him whole. The lamp began to burn low, its fuel nearly exhausted from the long trek under the sands. She placed it in the next stand she found and walked by starlight. When she reached a staircase going up, she took it. That led to a corridor with doors. She tried a few, but they were locked. A curious certainty said they weren't the right doors anyway. What she wanted was further up ahead. Another staircase and up she went. Now she was level with the desert frosted silver with the moon. The wind stirred the sand where she could see it. The throne room would be on this floor.
She did not run though she did pick up the pace toward her destination. Then she reached the room of three doorways. The desert roses still clung to the doors and kept them closed. Marie put her hand down on one of the flowers and it reached for her, drawing its buds along her arm.
"You do a service to me," she said. The two side rooms were nearly clear with the grandest flower holding the throne room door shut. Pressing her hand against the wood, she felt for the presence within. It snarled at her through the expanse. Marie took a hurried step back. It wasn't time yet for that. She entered the right hand smaller room.
Inside the room felt warm and inviting. A charcoal stove burned heating it from the chill of the desert night. A bed, not unlike the one where she had convalesced lay off to the side. Beneath her feet, a well-woven rug. Screens and tapestries adorned it with colors.
"Where am I?"
"Oh, Ban, you have come." Naomie came out from behind a screen to greet her.
"Naomie."
"Saba," the woman said. She adjusted the ringlets near her face and smiled. "Certainly you are ready for the feast?"
Did she not see the blood? Had she somehow been immune to the screams of so many? Marie shook her head.
"There will be no feast, he has slaughtered everyone. Surely you heard."
"Nonsense," Saba said. "You jest."
"I do not such thing," Marie said crossing the space to grab the woman by the arms. "You must have heard it."
"I heard nothing. Now let me go."
Marie released her and stepped back. Across Saba's chest, the tattoo of the heart stood out. The heart. Marie remembered what it was that brought her here.
"You love him?" Marie asked.
"With all my heart."
"So it would not matter to you if he slaughtered everyone else, you would be happy because you and he would be together." Not precisely the best logic, but when one considered matters of the heart, logic had very little to do with it.
Saba did not answer. Instead she returned to preening. Marie watched her and thought, what am I to do?
"Do you no longer love him?" Saba asked pinning Marie down with her gaze.
"Who?"
"Your brother, the prince. Certainly he deserves your love."
"He's not my brother. He's a figment of my imagination."
Saba shook her head and said,
"He is your brother. You made him so then abandoned him. Now he is only a reflection of what you made." Their eyes locked and Marie, who was still a turn behind, saw murder in her eyes.
"You would destroy him," Saba said. "And I will not allow you to."
"I won't hurt you. You're my friend, Naomie. I would never hurt her."
"I am Saba. I am in love with the prince. He is all that matters to me now."
The second gem in the bracelet lit up and Marie pressed it to her mouth.
"I will not let you protect him," Marie said. Then she reached for Saba who danced away from her hand. The two women went around the room together, a hand's breadth apart.
"You love him, but I love my family more," said Marie as she finally laid her hand on Saba's arm. The heart on Saba's chest reacted by pulsing a brilliant scarlet and the woman seemed to collapse. Yet as she went down, she pulled a blade from her arm and slashed Marie. A thin line of blood mingled with the blood already on her shift. The fabric gaped along her abdomen.
"I will not abandon him as you did."
Marie spared a thought for how it seemed she was always fighting her best friend with a knife and stepped away from the swinging blade. She truly didn't want
to hurt Naomie, but what could she do?
The secrets of the heart.
"What about Ray?"
Saba/Naomie stopped for a moment, the knife poised to stab Marie.
"Ray," the woman said.
"Yes, Ray, your love," Marie said. "He's not the prince, but he is a prince and he loves you dearly." At current, Ray was as caught at Naomie was in the body of a creature that held him hostage. The point of the knife moved in lazy circles. Marie watched it then switched her gaze to Naomie's face. She fought a battle behind her eyes which were wide and full. In the intervening moment, Marie reached out to grab Naomie's wrist and pull the knife away as the woman stood frozen. Once the knife was gone, Marie wrapped her arms around Naomie.
"Come back to me," she said. "Come back to Ray. Let go of this."
A sob racked Naomie's body.
"Who is this Ray?" A touch of anger in her voice though the tears streamed down. "I do not know him."
"Yes, you do." As Saba twisted away, Marie held her closer. "You know him or you wouldn't be crying." Saba tried harder to get away, flexing her arms and squirming, but Marie closed her arms tight. The bracelet lit up with its own light and Marie squeezed harder, pressing the air out of her friend.
Tears spilled out of Naomie's eyes and her mouth hung open. The heart on her chest slowed in its pulse, then went dead completely. After that, it faded one line at a time until there was nothing. Marie lowered her to the floor. A brief star glimmered from Naomie's forehead and settled into a crystal on the bracelet. She had two of the three pieces now.
"Naomie, I love you." Marie brushed the hair away from her friend's face and checked her eyes to be sure she was only sleeping. The rise and fall of Naomie's chest was rhythmic. Now she had to face Kevin.
She rose and moved out of the room, closing the door behind her. As she stood in the hall, the desert bloom took over the door and fastened it shut. Her first thought: rush back in there and see to her friend. Leaving her there alone was wrong. Yet she steeled her resolve. This would be over soon if she just had the strength to see it through. Across the hall, another flower withered and released the door it held captive. Marie put her hands in the ashes of the flower and it swirled about her like confetti. Then she opened the door. Stepping in transported her to an amphitheater under the stars. At the far end of the space, a stage crawled up from the sand. The tiers led down to it. A man stood on the stage far below her.
Dark King Rising Page 26