Glorious Sunset

by Ava Bleu

  “Violet, do not be afraid of what is to come,” he said softly in a voice gruff with some unspoken emotion. “If our Father will allow, I will watch over you all the rest of your life. The days ahead may be difficult, but if any part of me or your memory of me makes its way back into your soul, if any little bit of you can trust in me or in love again, please know that I will be here for you always, for I have never loved another. All those years ago, I thought He was cruel for taking you from me. Now I see I am the cruel one, cruel to ask you to remember the horror of that day. I am a selfish man. I wanted you too much to think about what I have been asking of you. You do not have to relive this memory, my queen. I understand. If it allows your beautiful, gentle soul not to have to feel the trauma of the day you were torn from this place, I am glad to be forgotten. I want only joy for you, no more pain. No more. I release you, my darling. It is all right to let me go.” He smiled gently even while his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Violet, the color of my heaven. Remember me, my love. I shall always remember you.”

  Chapter 25

  1600 AD: Jaha, West Africa

  Zahara strode into the Great Hall, picking up the skirt of the long tunic that bared one arm completely and bunched with gathered material at her bosom. The shells of her necklace would look far better lying against her brown shea butter–slathered skin than against the fabric of her dress, but past experience told her that a public adjustment of her bodice to achieve this end would not be appreciated by the villagers. She would have to find another way to generate the sparkle in her husband’s eyes. Instead, she gently cupped the ruby pin at her shoulder, the memory of her husband’s awkward delivery of the extravagant gift making her blush.

  She nodded to passersby and smiled, head held high. They could disapprove all they wanted; disapproval had never stopped her from loving Taka before and it wouldn’t now. With a quick movement she looked both ways before pulling at her top to reveal a little more skin before pulling back the panel of silk that separated him from the hall, stepping through into the circle of the king’s privacy. He read from a scroll in his hands, a wrinkle marring the area between his thick brows. From this vantage she could look at him like she so loved to do.

  He wore a chain of shells to match her own; and a chain of gold link pounded specifically for him lay against his own bare chest. She swallowed, as always, at the display of his wide shoulders and arms corded with muscles earned through battle and hard work. Overall, a fierce visage, but in happiness he would change. Once in a while his mouth, which rarely curved, would form a smile and those who witnessed it would feel blessed by having seen it transform the fierce and intimidating leader into a large, warm, and human man. The fact that it was so rare made its sight all that more valuable. Occasionally, he would laugh a loud booming sound, a laugh from his gut that would sound across the Great Hall and into the adjoining palace, and sometimes across the land with its deep baritone. Rumor had it that people in the next village would stop when they heard the ground rumble because they knew King Taka was laughing, and it was a glorious sound indeed.

  Zahara saw his smile more than most and felt his laughter as viscerally as if it were her own. She also felt the tenseness that coursed through him. Today his face knew no hint of gentleness, held no memory of softness. Zahara would do her best to change his disposition.

  King Taka felt Zahara enter and though his concentration changed to annoyance, he didn’t snap as was his right to do. He could never snap at her; never this woman. She was the most stubborn, insolent, determined woman he knew, but that was exactly why he’d married her. And why he knew that ordering her about was tantamount to waving a red flag for battle. Instead, he sighed without raising his head as he felt her move to his side, leaning against the table to place her face in his line of vision.

  “Put it down, Taka. You promised.” She leaned over farther, her body blocking his view.

  “This is important business, my love,” he said, keeping his temper in check. She was lovely, as always. Her eyes were a deep mink brown framed by lashes and brows of the same color. Her skin was the color of the drink that was made with sassafras and licorice root, and tasted as good: both sweet and warm at the same time. He was drawn to taste it right now, thrilled at the sight of the soft pink shells of her necklace lying against her skin just above the fabric of her dress. He knew he had only to drop the one offending shoulder of fabric to have her beauty before him. He imagined taking her naked into his arms, her perfect body round in all the places that made a woman different from a man. Breasts large enough to cup with still more to overflow; hips and a backside that swayed when she walked and made him long to be cradled within; the thin layer of padding that told the world she was robust and healthy, a woman loved enough to be well fed and beautiful enough to know her own power. She was stunning. But he was king. Usually this made him happy, but for the few times it forced him to deny the thing he wanted most.

  “I know I promised you. But you know you married a king.”

  “A king without a stroke of leisure in his whole body,” she said. “It’s a beautiful day, husband. I want to go out and run in the fields. I want to go out and ride our horses in the sunshine. You used to do that with me.” The lilt in her voice and its soft timbre made him vibrate with desire. As always.

  “I am so busy, Zahara. Tomorrow, I promise,” he said firmly to strengthen his own resolve.

  “I don’t know that I believe your promises anymore, my love.”

  Taka felt a flash of annoyance, wishing she were not so stubborn. “You have to leave. Go, busy yourself with something. I thought you and your maid were beading purses.”

  He saw a flash in her mink brown eyes. “Do not condescend to me, Taka Olufemi. I bead in my spare time but I am not a child to be easily amused by small stones and bright colors.”

  “I am king. I cannot humor you whenever you grow bored.”

  “If you humored me one-tenth of the times I grow bored I would be satisfied.”

  “If you do not go away I will call the guards and tell them you are harassing the king.”

  “And you would allow them to take me away in chains, my king? And what would you do about the injuries?”

  “Injuries?”

  “Yes. The injuries I would cause biting, slapping, and kicking you until they reach me. Do not even jest; you would never call your guards on me. Because you love me.”

  She was right and he knew it was clearly reflected in his eyes. When he looked upon her his insides dissolved in fiery heat. The sight of her caused him to burn from within. She told him once that in their most passionate moments his eyes would seem to fill with smoke, blaze with intensity. He believed her. The smokiness that revealed his desire was like the smoke from an evening camp: only a small measure of the true source of heat. He could barely look at her now without burning alive.

  “If you know I love you why do you torture me?” he said, aching to plant his lips on hers, knowing they would taste even sweeter than the deep red berries that had stained them the same fetching color as the brooch on her shoulder.

  “Perhaps I want to hear you say it. Perhaps I want you to regale me with stories of your love for me like a proper husband should.”

  “I will tell you all you want this evening. Right now, I am busy.”

  “But right now is when I want to hear it.”

  “Must you fight me at every turn?”

  “Of course. We fell in love fighting, and if I’m not mistaken I beat your royal behind soundly.”

  “I was merely a child.”

  “Oh, the scandal. The future king, whipped to tears by a common girl.”

  The memory made his lip turn slightly at the corner. “A common girl with scruffy knees and hair that a thousand beads and a million pots of precious oil couldn’t tame.”

  She pulled a braid from her headdress to twirl in his face. “My parents were scandalized. They wanted to send me away, you know. They hoped that by the time I came back to the
village you would forget that I had disrespected your little royal backside.”

  “I never would have forgotten.”

  “Neither would I.”

  “Neither did this village. I had to work doubly hard to prove myself with the men. I had to fight twice as many fights. I had to prove that I was a worthy warrior so that I could lead them into battle.”

  “So, you see, it is to my credit that you are the bravest man in the kingdom.” Zahara reached up to kiss him, disappointment on her face when he didn’t meet her halfway. He hardened his face and voice to her, the only way he knew to end this flirtation.

  “You must go, Zahara.”

  “Just one minute more.”

  “There is rumor of forces coming from the north. We need to prepare.” Her shoulders fell in defeat and Taka was both satisfied and disappointed that he had won this battle of wills.

  “Will you dine with me this evening, then?”

  “We will dine with you.”

  “Will we have guests again?”

  “Our allies. They will aid us in strengthening our defense. With our villages working together we will be unstoppable.”

  “Do you trust them?”

  “Not all, but they are not foolish. If we can help them survive, it is to their benefit to keep us happy as well. They will assist us. But you needn’t worry about these things; if you do not want to dine with the guests I will keep a guard posted with you until I can come to you this evening.”

  “And tomorrow we will ride?”

  “Tomorrow, my love.”

  “One kiss before I busy myself playing with children’s amusements?” She placed a hand on the back of his head and her lips pouted in anticipation of the kiss he longed to give her. He removed it gently and wondered which of them felt the loss more keenly. He would make it up to her. Tonight, tomorrow, a thousand times over. He would make her smile twice for every time he disappointed her. But he couldn’t now.

  “One kiss will lead to two, which will lead to more; it always does. Save me a kiss for this evening?”

  “I will be asleep when you come to bed.”

  “I will kiss you anyway. You are more agreeable when you sleep.”

  She smiled. “Don’t disappoint me, my king. Without your love and your kisses I am lost. Deny me and I will be angry. I would hate to have to injure you yet again.”

  “I don’t mind being injured by you, my heart. You make up so sweetly afterward.”

  Chapter 26

  Violet sat up in bed gasping for air, drenched in sweat. The dream she’d just had, it was gone, but her heart still beat from the impact. She looked around but the bedroom was empty. Sun struggled through her window blinds. She showered and put on a face mask. She came out of the bedroom to walk across the living room and into the kitchen for coffee that was steaming in the pot. She went to the front door, opened it, retrieved her paper, and came back inside. All the while feeling as if something were missing.

  She stopped with her coffee halfway to her lips. She forgot to meditate. She should meditate. She really needed to. How odd. But suddenly someone was banging on the door and she went to it. She noticed a box on the ground near the door and was looking at it, trying to determine how her things got into a box, when she opened the door to Jerome.

  Oh, yeah, the boyfriend. He stood there, entitlement and indignation on his face. “Look, things were said yesterday that maybe shouldn’t have been said. I was probably a little hasty. I got to thinking about it and I realize you love me. But my feelings were hurt. I mean, you can’t expect me to sit around while you got another man, making a fool of me and all.”

  Violet took a two-handed sip of coffee. She knew who he was but what he was saying didn’t make any sense.

  “So I was thinking I could probably forgive you and all if, maybe, you show I can trust you a little. He ain’t here, is he?”

  He who? Violet was trying but her head was in a fog and it was like he was speaking but nothing meant anything. It was gobbledygook. It was Jerome, but she didn’t really want to see him. She didn’t want him there.

  She looked down at the box with her things and realized the items were those she left at his place, including a toothbrush tossed haphazardly across a silk blouse. Tossed there like it didn’t matter if toothpaste rubbed off on a $200 blouse. It wasn’t like she was rolling in money that she could afford to ruin a blouse over nonsense. Toothpaste would probably come out at the dry cleaner, but it was the point.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” he said, apparently having followed her thought process. “I was angry, you know. But like I was saying, I could probably forgive you.”

  She couldn’t recall what she might need forgiving for but she knew with certainty she didn’t care. She sipped her coffee and looked at him again. She wasn’t attracted to him in the least. Had never been. So why was she with him? Oh yeah, the Brenda Competition.

  She took another sip.

  “All I think I need is to be able to trust you,” he continued. “So I think you should just go ahead and let me share ownership in your business. I mean, that way we could always trust one another and it would prove to me that you are worthy to be my wife. Because after yesterday I really thought about cutting you loose, Violet. I really did.”

  She didn’t know what ridiculousness he was spouting. Her head was telling her to listen, to pay attention; it could be a good prospect. But this little voice was saying something else. It was saying:

  “Truth is, Jerome, I don’t want you. I can barely stand the sound of your voice. I had to force myself to make love to you and then I had to squeeze my eyes shut to get through it. You were only ever an acquisition to me. I was with you because I knew I could control you. I would never give you access to my business and I’m done giving you access to me. You’re a jerk with itty bitty little boy equipment and my chunky butt deserves better than you. So you can take your forgiveness and shove it. I’d rather be alone than put up with you for another minute. Fact is, if for some reason I were to drop off the face of the earth tomorrow, I would be sorely disappointed if I had spent today with you. It would be a waste of a perfectly good day. Please leave and don’t come back. And that’s not a tease; I really mean it. Good-bye.”

  Then she realized she’d spoken out loud. Jerome’s shocked face contorted with anger as he slowly came out of it.

  “What the—”

  Violet used one hand to slam the door and shrugged. Oh well, good riddance to bad rubbish.

  She put her coffee down and went into the bedroom to sit cross-legged on her bed to get back to meditation. Her brow furrowed with her effort to focus. She was so spacey this morning.

  She sat on the bed with her legs crossed, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. She had to admit, as always, the cleansing breaths felt good. She allowed her mind to be free and open, allowed her thoughts to drift away on a cloud, so peaceful, so gentle. There! This was where she usually stopped. No point in going any further. Nirvana did not have a place in her morning toilette. She didn’t have the time or inclination for it. At least, usually she didn’t. Today, she felt some part of her urging her to remain just a little longer. Nirvana was teasing the edges of her consciousness.

  She should really get dressed. She would be thrown completely off her schedule if she stayed any longer. But her heart wasn’t in any rush and unlike every other morning, she wanted to linger. She wanted to fall into the peace that promised to envelop her. She wanted to be cradled by the warmth she felt lingering in the depths of her consciousness. She longed to stay in the softness that existed, so different from what awaited her once she opened her eyes. She wanted to hold on to the feeling of acceptance, understanding, love. Last night’s dream teased the edge of her consciousness like a book waiting for the last chapter read. Right there on the edge, she could almost feel it.

  Violet’s head screamed for her to open her eyes so she didn’t have to see or feel the emotions that threatened to come but her heart would not let her. Instead
, she probed gently into the unknown recesses of her brain and the images came to her quickly like snapshots with no rhyme, reason, or order.

  Herself and a man in a palace. Oh yes, the genie. It was coming back to her now, the last few days he’d stayed with her. The genie and the brooch and the wishes. The brooch was in her head now. Big and gaudy and fake looking. Old. But then, new. Fresh and shined. Being handed to her as a gift. Feeling overwhelmed. The largest known ruby in the world, cut specifically for her as a wedding gift. Curious. She wasn’t married. But there she was standing next to a man with a headdress. She looked at him: tall, big, and strong, his serious face softened by joy and love, his voice booming with laughter. A strong, powerful man beside her; valiant warrior, brave fighter in battle, raised to lead and . . .

  She felt reticence when people came as guests; so many people with eyes that would not look into hers. But Taka said it was okay, so it must be. She sat at the large table and finished eating, looking forward to the end of the meal, and her husband smiled at her from the other end. That’s who he was, the husband! Her husband? But how? No time to figure it out because now she sees the sword, sees it slice into her beloved so quickly she barely has a chance to realize what is happening. Her blood grows cold as the steel is pulled roughly from his body, as if he were merely a goat to slaughter. As if he were not her king; the most wonderful man she’d ever known.

  Pandemonium, screaming, running, blood . . .

  He reaches toward her but someone grabs her around the waist and she’s being dragged up and away from her husband’s loving arms. She panics as she’s pulled away because her husband can’t stand and he’s struggling so to get to her. She sees his life’s blood flowing and he’s struggling with all his might to stand.

  No, my darling, don’t move! If he stays still perhaps he will not lose so much blood. She fights to go back to him, fights to hold him, knowing that he will die alone if she doesn’t get to him. She fights with all her strength and it isn’t until her attacker gets tired of her struggle and wraps large hands around her throat that she realizes she should fear for her life, too.