by Maggie Platt
As she leaned over to get a closer look at another wound—this one along his jaw—Eryx began to stir. His eyes fluttered open and shut, and his breathing became uneven. His eyes opened just slightly, and he squinted into Tovi’s face. Confusion wrinkled his forehead as he whispered something, and Tovi moved her ear closer to his lips so that she could understand.
“Tovi?” he breathed, barely audible. “Tovi . . . ?” Less than a second later he was unconscious again.
Tovi was stunned. How did this terrifying man know her name?
CHAPTER 22
There had to be another explanation.
King Damien stood at a window ignoring the sounds of Rhaxma’s party. His eyes never strayed from the girl as she cared for his wounded weapon. So kind and gentle. But those colors . . . they were dangerous.
He watched as Tovi summoned nearby loiterers to carry Eryx home, but she stayed behind. She stood alone in the middle of the courtyard, looking so small, her gaze slowly swiveling from Rhaxma’s party to Calix’s home to Eryx being carted across the open expanse.
She took hesitant steps to follow after Eryx, but then she paused. After another moment and a few glances back toward the party, she seemed to make up her mind and walked briskly toward Calix’s house.
As soon as she disappeared, Damien excused himself from the party and went home escorted by half of his guards. His son and grandson stayed behind with the rest.
“I was not expecting this,” he muttered to himself, walking toward a certain place along the wall of his hidden corridor. Tovi had caught him completely off guard, and he hoped he had sufficiently masked his shock. The last thing he needed was for the Masters on that balcony to feel his mix of speculation and panic.
There had to be another explanation. He paced, searching for any plausible reason for those colors. Navy blue hair. Brown eyes with a little purple star.
It was a coincidence, he assured himself. It had to be. Tovi’s colors were exactly the same as the young man in the mural, but that didn’t mean anything. And those colors matched someone else from his past, someone he thought was gone.
Now as he looked at the mural, he knew that his denial couldn’t keep up with the mounting evidence.
There had been too much recently. Too many pieces falling into place.
Just recently he had learned of the blue-haired man’s name and location. Finally, one of his spies had spotted him going in and out of the caves in the foothills, dangerously close to the northern entrance to the mines. His name was Tali. Tali was from Adia. Tovi was from Adia. They must know one another. Unless there was another explanation . . .
Tali.
He stopped in front of the four painted faces and stared at him. So, his name was Tali. The face in the mural had plagued him for so long that it was hard to accept such a simple name.
Tali.
Tali. He said it out loud and hated the way it rolled off his tongue.
Tali was wandering in the forest, so close to this mountain. Too close. Then this young woman appears, the target of more than one of his weapons. And her hair and eyes happened to match Tali’s. But there were no women in the mural with that coloring. Surely it couldn’t be . . .
He shook his head and didn’t allow himself to think about that night twenty years ago. There had to be another explanation. There had to.
He walked out of the corridor and into the bright throne room, blinking several times. One of his generals was waiting for him. Damien did not sit down. Instead, he motioned for the middle-aged warrior to follow behind him. As they walked out of the throne room Damien asked, “How quickly could we mobilize the troops?”
“That would depend on our mission, Your Majesty. Will we be gone long? Lengthier trips require more preparation.”
“Yes, that is true,” he pondered. “I have a matter of urgency, and we will need everyone we can spare. They may need to camp below the clouds if they can’t complete the task in one day. Prepare them with haste. I want an immediate report when you are ready.”
“And what are the orders?”
They reached a large library. All four walls were hidden by leather-bound books in perfect rows. A large, ornate table stood in the center of the room and was covered in writing tools, ink, and ledgers. Damien pushed all this aside and unrolled a large map of the mountain and the lands surrounding it.
“Descend through the mines and exit through the northern gate. Once you are in the foothills, organize into small search parties. Leave no stone unturned,” he said, gesturing with fluid motions. “You are looking for a young man with dark blue hair and brown eyes. There is a purple star on his left iris. He answers to the name Tali.”
“Do you want him alive?”
“Preferably. But if not, his body will suffice.”
The general gave a curt nod and left the room.
Damien stood over the map. His flattened kingdom was in the very middle. A novice map reader might not realize it was a mountain at all, as the markings for elevation were nothing more than irregular tick marks along the edges of the zones that spread out like the rings of a lopsided bull’s-eye.
The mountain was surrounded by dense forest. Adia lay to the southwest, along with several winding valleys and rivers. The sea was southeast, and there were foothills and caves to the north. Beyond the foothills stretched prairie that faded into desert. But his people rarely travelled that far.
Damien’s dream had always been to subdue the mountain, which he had accomplished quite successfully. He had always hoped that his heirs’ ambitions would lead them to tame the wild lands beyond the blanket of cloud, that one day the entire known world would be under his legacy’s command.
His fingers traced a river that wound from the western edge of the map through Adia. After several meandering curves and a large loop south of the mountain, it eventually came to the sea. There used to be streams on the mountain. Clear streams of clean water rushing down toward the valleys and pooling in bright blue lakes that reflected the sun and sky.
Damien lost himself in memories of his boyhood. He remembered the feel of grass under his bare feet, the sight of trees reaching up toward the sky with waving leaves greeting the birds of the air. An image of his mother came to mind, her perfect purple curls framing her laughing face. She was sitting under a blossoming cherry tree reading her favorite book, the binding well creased, and some of the gold lettering worn away from the cover. He could smell the fragrance of the flowers, feel the warmth of the sun.
He shook his head violently, willing the depths of his mind to recapture that wandering thought and hide it away. Those had been evil days of idleness. It was before his epiphanies. It was before he shared his ideas with the people, gaining support and power until he finally ruled the mountain. Through his dedication to his system, he had finally harnessed the masses.
He sighed deeply and sat in an overstuffed chair, still gazing at the map.
What to do about the girl? There had to be another explanation.
CHAPTER 23
“So good of you to come, Tovi. Welcome to my garden patio. This is my favorite spot in the whole city.” King Damien sat at a table already laden with pastries, fruit, and bright juices. He was dressed exactly like the day before.
She gazed out at the garden. There was little color except the gray-green of hedges, perfectly shaped into a complicated labyrinth. The rest of it was paved with stone and ornamented with statues of soldiers aiming spears or wielding swords .
The previous evening, after returning to Calix’s house after the fight, she had not known where she stood with Calix. Would he calm down? Or would he throw her out? She didn’t want to stay, not after that outburst that showed his true colors. But, she had nowhere else to go.
She had climbed up to the room with the tall windows and canopied bed, where Cora had dressed her earlier in the day. She wondered if this was BiBi’s room, and she sat in one of the windows to wait for BiBi to return.
But BiBi did not return to
that room. Tovi heard her come up the stairs several hours later, singing a bit under her breath. The singing voice moved to the room next door, so Tovi peeked out.
“Tovi!” BiBi cried with a silly smile, stumbling just a bit as she moved toward her guest. “I had forgotten you are here. Is your room to your liking?” She hiccuped and giggled.
“It is fine. Are you sure this is not your room? Your closet is in here.”
“No, no, no. Those are just a few of my old gowns. This is my room over here. You’re in the guest room.” BiBi hiccuped again. “Which is kind of perfect since you are my guest!” BiBi rested her face against her door frame and grinned, her eyes only half open. Then, they burst wide in an instant. “Oh no, Tovi! You probably don’t have anything to wear to sleep. Hold on.”
BiBi rummaged through some drawers, producing two night dresses. “Here. These will be a bit too big for you, but they will do.”
Tovi had thanked her, went back to her room, donned the pajamas, and climbed into the giant bed.
She had woken in the morning and immediately began to cry. She had not dreamed about Tali for the first time in weeks, and she mourned this last connection to her family.
Tovi also hadn’t seen any sign of Calix since the party.
She now had a hard time focusing on King Damien over breakfast. Her mind was consumed by her dreamless night, the events of the previous day, and the significant task of avoiding Calix while living in his home.
Tovi blinked and came back to the present as King Damien was saying, “I want to make sure we educate you properly. I have arranged a few special lessons, but first we must chat about what you already know.”
Tovi gave a brief summary of the information BiBi had shared, including all that she knew about the marks of honor and how one becomes a Master. King Damien nodded occasionally to show he was listening.
“Excellent. Now, let me tell you more. You see, Tovi, the world is not such a complicated place. What I want is the very best for this mountain and the people on it. After many years of deepest thought, I know exactly what must be done in order for us to prosper and grow. That is why I hand out assignments. Each person is integral to the system of bettering our community. Some children are born with excellent brains. They must be put to the task of thinking and building and creating. Then there are those born with natural leadership and ambition who should be assigned to harness their desires and use them to better the world around them. There are those born with nothing but the ability to work hard. These skills are used so that the rest of us have food to eat, roofs over our head, and clothes to wear. So it is because of my great love for these people that I put them to work. Do you have any questions so far?”
“I don’t think so.”
“All right then. Take a look at this.” He clapped his hands, and a teenage girl stepped forward. Like the servants in Calix’s house, she wore a modest gray dress with a large hole cut out of the back. She turned so Tovi could examine her marks. “Each of these symbolizes a trait that people should pursue in order to be the very best version of themselves. All you need is to understand these seven ways of the world, and your life will far exceed anything you could ever dream.
“First, you earned your mark of Control,” he said, pointing to the hissing snake near the base of the girl’s spine. It was the same mark that adorned Tovi’s shoulder. “Leeto taught you that it is good to take control of your life, to do whatever is necessary to fully realize your potential. When you chose to leave that letter for Ganya, you finally took control. Thus, you earned your first mark before ever stepping foot on this mountain. You are very bright, and I think there is excellent potential for you to earn more marks and maybe become a Master someday. Oh, yes, I have great tasks in mind for you.”
Tovi had just taken her second bite of breakfast when Rhaxma joined them on the patio. King Damien smiled. “You will be spending the rest of the morning with Rhaxma learning about her specialty. Off you go!”
“Today we get to talk about the mark that looks like a set of scales,” Rhaxma said as they walked out of the palace. “It’s the mark of Perfection.”
Tovi only half listened. Her attention was caught by Eryx who was standing outside one of the courtyard homes. There was a bandage over his jaw, but the rest of his wounds and their stitches were exposed. His eyes followed her as they crossed the expanse toward Rhaxma’s house.
“In order for you to live life to its fullest, you should constantly strive for perfection. There are many aspects to consider, but the most important is how you look.” They reached Rhaxma’s home and went straight to a large parlor. The walls were covered in framed portraits of an entirely orange-haired, yellow-eyed family. “How you look changes everything. People will treat you with the amount of respect and honor that your appearance deserves. How you look has the power to make you a queen or ruin you. It is your choice.”
A tall mirror stood in one corner. “All right, you stand right here,” Rhaxma said, placing Tovi in front of it. She sat down on a puffy couch and rang a bell.
At this signal, a line of servants entered. “Ghita, go stand next to that mirror so Tovi can see you next to her reflection.”
Tovi noticed the girl’s face and how young yet tired she looked.
“Now, compare yourself to Ghita. In what ways are you prettier than Ghita, and in what ways is Ghita prettier than you?”
“I’m sorry?” Tovi faltered.
Rhaxma sighed and rose from her cushion. “You have so much to learn. First, look at her figure. See how it curves out right here and makes this pouch?” she asked, pointing to Ghita’s midsection. “That is not right. To be perfect, you must have a very tiny waist. There shouldn’t be any of this,” she said, pinching Ghita’s waist.
Tears were forming in Ghita’s eyes, and she was biting her lip.
“That is horrible,” Tovi said. “Ghita, you are lovely. Please don’t cry.”
Rhaxma looked at Tovi with fierce disapproval. “Do not give praise to this slumpy girl. If you condone this kind of treatment of your body, one day you will look just like her. Then, no one will ever love you, and you will be a complete failure.” Beads of black sweat formed on Rhaxma’s forehead and upper lip, and she quickly wiped them away. Collecting herself, she continued, “Now, take a look at Ghita’s eyes. What do you notice about them?”
“They are a pretty color of brown,” Tovi said, stubbornly picking out their best qualities. “They are very bright. And they do have a nice shape.”
“Correct,” Rhaxma retorted with one raised eyebrow. “They do have a pretty color and shape. However, look here,” she said, indicating the space between them. “They are too close together. And, these eyelashes are very short. Yours are much longer.”
Tovi took a moment to look at Ghita’s eyes again, then looked in the mirror at her own.
“See how her nose is wider and dips down on the end? That is not nearly as pretty as your small nose and its nice little point. Her lips are too thin and cracked, and she needs to take better care of them. Her skin has these blemishes and pock marks, whereas yours is nice and smooth. Her hair is too frizzy, her ears are too low, and her teeth are too large.
“Ghita, you may leave. Cloris, please step forward.”
They repeated the process several times through. Tovi refused to offend the servants, but she began to see herself differently when she looked in the mirror. For the first time in her life, she saw herself in bits and pieces. She was proud of some things, like her beautiful eyes and her nice little nose, but shame rose up within her as she surveyed her unruly hair and the straight lines of her body that looked nothing like Rhaxma’s curves.
“Hello in there! Anybody home?” BiBi entered the room. “Can I speak with you for a moment, Rhaxma?” The two spoke quietly in the corner, occasionally looking over at Tovi.
While they spoke, Tovi continued to stare at herself. An image of Xanthe popped into her mind. The perfect face framed by lush hair. The perfect body barely
hidden beneath silk. Tovi’s cheeks grew pink and her eyes stung with the beginning of tears. Calix’s voice rang in her ears: “You are worthless.”
Would he have said that if she looked like Xanthe? Could he have overlooked the snake on her shoulder if she was more beautiful?
She rolled her shoulder, which was stinging worse than before. Her gaze moved down to her too-flat chest and her too-undefined waist. She had always been skinny, and Ganya had always wanted her to eat a little more. But for the first time, she realized how ugly her thinness made her. She wasn’t womanly like Xanthe, Rhaxma, BiBi, or any of the other women in the upper circle. They all had hourglass shapes with swaying hips, overflowing busts, and tiny waists. She glanced at the two woman in the corner and then back at herself.
She took a deep breath. Fitting in mattered only until she concluded her search for Tali. Then she could leave this place that left her feeling so inadequate.
“Tovi! Turn around and look in the mirror. You’ve earned it!” Rhaxma squealed from the corner.
Sure enough, Tovi turned to find the scales branded just below the snake. It was hard to differentiate between the pain caused by each separate mark, so she hadn’t noticed when it appeared.
“Well done, Tovi!” BiBi applauded.
Shyly, Tovi asked the question that had been forming in her mind. “What can I do to look . . . more like the two of you?”
They both burst into giggles. “You mean these, don’t you?” BiBi asked, pointing at her chest. “And these?” She gave a wiggle of her hips.
Rhaxma laughed and rolled her eyes at her friend. “Some of us have them naturally,” she said, poking herself in the chest and rear end. “Others of us . . . ”
BiBi finished her sentence for her. “Others of us, like me, need a little boost.” She reached into her dress and ripped a large pad from one of her breasts, offering it to Tovi to have a closer look. BiBi looked ridiculously lopsided without it. Then, she pulled up her dress to show Tovi similar padding tied around her waist that gave volume to her hips. “But at least I don’t have to bind my waist like Rhaxma does.”