by Isabel Wroth
Jalia sipped carefully, wondering why she felt so sluggish. But more than that, she wanted to know why the king of Minos was sitting in the dark beside her bed, playing nursemaid.
"Why's it so dark? Where's Croft? Tom?"
Dhega reached over and touched a fingertip to the tall pink pillar beside her bed, illuminating the room in a soft glow.
"Your attendants are sleeping in the other room. Drink more; the tea will help filter out the last of the poison from your system." Poison? Had she been poisoned at dinner? She asked, and he scoffed shortly.
"You have been recovering for six nights; we are no longer within Islingrane. I brought you and the others back to Letau, my palace."
Six days? Had she lost six whole days? "What happened?"
"You lost your way in the labyrinth and from how deeply it was embedded in your palm, it seems you fell on a thorn."
"I fell..." she repeated softly, looking down to her left hand that ached so deeply, at the red web of jagged lines radiating from a puckered triangle in the center of her palm.
Jalia flexed her fingers, and the stabbing pain instantly brought the memories surging back with an outraged gasp.
"That shit spewing bitch!"
Dhega made a strangled sound of amusement at her vehement curse.
"I assume you mean Cockinti?"
"Yes, I mean Cockaholic! She pushed me! I turned a corner, and she shoved me! Tom, don't you dare!"
Dhega turned around to look at her room, frowning at her when he faced her once again. He even went so far as to reach out and test the temperature of her forehead.
"There is no one there, Jalia."
She snorted and ordered Tom out from wherever he was hiding. The dark-haired assassin melted out of the shadows just on the other side of her bed, dressed head to toe in black, his arms crossed dangerously over his chest as he glared at Dhega.
"You were asleep," the king accused, rising to his feet, a good head taller and broader than Tom.
"Was I?" Tom responded coolly.
Dhega visibly bristled, his chin lowering, curved horns tilting towards Tom, nostrils flaring as his eyes burned with banked fury. He looked ready to charge at one more word.
Impulsively, Jalia reached out and set her hand on his bulging forearm, not taking her eyes off him even when he twitched with surprise.
"You can go, Tom. To the other room and nowhere else. I'll call if I need you," she told him firmly, glad when he didn't embarrass her and argue.
His footfalls didn't make a sound, and when the door closed behind him, Dhega finally looked down at her.
"Don't ever come into my room again without my permission," she ordered, not willing to think about what would have happened if Tom had disobeyed.
Dhega glared down at her, his chest expanding with the depth of his indrawn breath. His hands twisted to fists at his sides, the muscle under her hand rippling with strength.
"This is my palace. I go where I will and ask no one for permission."
Jalia snorted, exhaustion tugging at her even as her bladder complained. She threw the covers back and managed to get her legs over the side of the bed, somehow able to stand tall and proud in the face of Dhega's furious expression.
"While I'm here risking my life to prove myself worthy to be yours, you face no task or challenge to prove you're worthy to be mine.
“I want to believe you came to sit beside me and care for my needs because you have a kind heart, and I'm grateful. But I am occupying these quarters until I fail or die, so you will treat me with the respect of a prospective bride and ask before entering my quarters."
The way his eyes flew wide and his chin jerked back as though she had planted her fist in his face...Jalia almost ruined her firm order with laughter.
Did no one refuse him or call him out on his behavior?
She gave him a nod and cautiously worked her way towards the bathroom. She was at the door when Dhega spoke, his tall, muscular body framed in the glow of the crystal lamp beside her bed. The low light made him seem far more sinister than he was.
"Why did you tell your man not to leave the other room?"
Jalia smiled slowly, knowing it wasn't a sweet smile in any way.
"He calls himself, Phantom. Unless he's on the job, we call him Tom. He's an assassin, and as you noticed, he's exceptionally well trained.
“If I hadn't given him that order, he'd have gone to Cockwhore's room and slit her throat."
For a time, Dhega said nothing and Jalia wondered if she'd given away too much information.
"No one has ever accused me of having a kind heart," he finally rasped, his eyes narrowed as though he thought she was making fun of him. Lying maybe.
Jalia lifted her shoulder, "It was not an accusation. Thank you for caring for me, I'll see you in the morning."
When she came out of the bathroom, he was gone, and Tom was standing in the open doorway of her bedroom watching her with a sly look.
She climbed back into bed, noticing for the first time she wasn't in the same room as before, and neither could she hear the waves through the open windows.
"Where are we?"
"The queen's quarters," Tom replied, chuckling as he shut the door again and left her alone.
*****
It was two more days before Jalia was able to come down and join the others for a meal. For those two whole days, Dhega had replayed over and over her firm command not to enter her quarters without permission.
Fearlessly, Jalia had looked up at him and demanded his respect even as she thanked him for his care and accused him of being kind.
She challenged him by speaking the truth, pointing out the risk she took to prove her worthiness to be his queen, while he risked nothing, gave no reason for her to believe him worthy to be hers.
It had never occurred to him to do such a thing. He had fought, bled, killed to claim his throne and was asking his bride to do the same. Yet he offered nothing to prove himself to her. Why would he need to?
No one challenged him. No one demanded more of him. No one commanded he give them his respect.
No one, until Jalia.
He was king, a warrior, powerful and wealthy beyond reason, but it seemed that was not enough. The Marchesa required more.
With a vicious spurt of satisfaction, Dhega watched her come towards him wearing the gown he had ordered made for her.
The white fabric clung to her breasts and fell in a slick, gauzy waterfall that frothed around her feet.
It billowed in the wind, hugging every curve of her body for heartstopping moments, held up by strings of pearls that draped across her elegant shoulders and slithered down the center of her spine.
Her hair this morning was a vibrant magenta, pulled over her shoulder in a hip-length braid, wrapped in more of the pearls he'd sent.
Her sunkissed skin all but glowed against the whiteness of the dress, her movements graceful and sure as she crossed the distance to the waiting table with her head held high.
Jalia swept the skirt of her gown to the side and carefully sat, glancing at him with eyes the color of the sky at twilight.
Purple shot through with facets of glimmering pink. She said nothing in front of the others about her dress, but she smiled softly and inclined her head.
"Oh look, you're still alive." Cockinti drawled facetiously, dropping a piece of food onto her plate with a curl of her lip.
Dhega watched the delight chase across Jalia's face to see the ilphoori fruit in the basket before her, how she eagerly plucked one up and brought it to her nose to inhale the fragrance of it before picking up her knife to cut into it.
She peeled the bright pink flesh away from the seed and threw the stone across the table to nail Cockinti right in the face.
Cockinti screamed in outrage, Akeyko lunge sideways to avoid her flailing hands, and Jalia's lips pursed into an apologetic moue.
"Sorry, Akeyko. I was aiming for the garbage."
Axtasusa hollered with mirth, clappin
g Jalia on the back hard enough to drive the breath from her.
"You will be welcome in the halls of my horde, human! Should you fail the challenges, I have many brothers who would wed you."
Cold, ruthless, immediate rage-filled Dhega at the thought of some faceless Duggan touching what...what belonged to him.
Before he could outwardly react, Jalia straightened her dress and caught her breath, offering the unattractive female at her side a smile.
"I'm honored, but I prefer horns to tusks."
She winked at Axtasusa when she said it, but the admission was like a soothing drink of cool water. Instant relief from the heat of his jealousy.
Dhega stared at Jalia, wondering what power it was she held over him. She was full of fire and brave words, but she was also soft, vulnerable, and unbelievably delicate.
He watched her as she bantered back and forth with Cockinti, and then he took notice of the quiet, calculating gleam in her gaze.
It reminded him of the way his fore-sire had studied the pupils he taught, sizing up the young warriors to gauge their skills, their weaknesses.
Jalia was observant, using her opponent's anger against them, seeking out any edge she could to win. Dhega wasn't sure if it was the thrill of the game or the prospect of becoming his queen that drove her.
"Your dress is lovely," Entayta murmured, no inflection of expression to suggest she was anything other than sincere, but still, Dhega was cautious of the quiet female.
"Thank you. I've never worn it before, but it's fast becoming my favorite."
Cockinti made an incredulous sound, thrusting her elegant nose in the air with a sniff of disdain.
"On Dish, only a whore would wear something meant to gain attention so obviously."
"You know, I think your ass is getting jealous of all the shit pouring from your mouth." Jalia cooed sweetly, noisily sucking the juice off her fingers while she looked at Cockinti and batted her lashes with false kindness.
"Enough!" he ordered, interrupting whatever outraged retort Cockinti would have made.
"You have survived the first three labyrinths and have had plenty of time to rest. Today my people will come to air grievances and face my judgment.
“You will each take a turn to sit beside me and share your thoughts, your council on how to resolve their needs or mete out punishment.
“I am a servant to my people; I would know now before you proceed further, how you would serve them."
"Serve them? I don't serve anyone." Cockinti scoffed.
Dhega raised his arm towards the staircase. "Then forfeit your place in the contest and leave."
To his disappointment, Cockinti remained seated, her bottom lip rolled out in a pout unbecoming a female of her age. He shook his head and called for Nivir, glad when his guard came forward immediately with a leather pouch in hand.
"The stones within the pouch are numbered, you will take your turn at my side accordingly." Nivir moved to offer the pouch to Jalia first. She reached in and showed him the flat, white stone with five lines across it. She would go last.
"Ha! I win!" Cockinti cheered, looking around the table with her stone held aloft.
Axtasusa snorted and gave her a pitying look. "We don't care."
Akeyko suddenly laughed like she'd just heard the most hilarious joke, and Dhega was sure he hadn't ever been more disturbed by the sounds of a female's mirth.
*****
The throne Dhega sat on was made of horns. The legs of the chair, the armrests, the wide arched backrest, Jalia counted ten pairs and was told by one of the royal guards, Zavir, they where the horns of traitors.
Zavir was proud to point out the newest pairs adorning the macabre seat and tell her how Dhega had commissioned it after the second male to challenge him for his crown had failed.
An effective reminder to all those who thought about challenging him, but gross.
Jalia listened while he passed judgment on those who came to him for help and found his style to be on the brutal side. To his credit, he ignored Cockinti's demands to kill every foolish person who approached.
After three such suggestions on the Shitter's part—without having even listened to their troubles first—Dhega dismissed Cocktail and looked up with an impatient jerk of his chin.
"Lady Entayta, this way please." Zavir bowed respectfully and escorted the blue haired lady downstairs.
Jalia watched Entayta take her seat beside Dhega, an irrational lick of jealousy lapped at her heels to see how regal the pair looked. Entayta's thoughts on the people who came to air their grievances were fair. Logical. Unemotional. Of the three Dhega allowed Entayta to judge, he only took her advice once.
Entayta made no outward expression to say this displeased her, and in fact other than a blank smile, the Nirian elite could have been a statue for all the emotion she displayed.
Akeyko went next, and like Cocktease, she was generous with the death sentences. She even offered to carry out the executions on Dhega's behalf, which clearly terrified the elderly couple holding hands before them, and everyone within earshot.
Axtasusa grunted beside her, making Jalia flinch, having totally forgot she was there. But alone like they were, Zavir not far away, Jalia looked up at the blocky face of the Duggan princess and asked the question that had been weighing heavily on her thoughts.
"Susa, why did you help me?"
The inelegant female looked down at her with heavy lidded black eyes, scrutinizing her for a moment before answering. "There's no meat and the beer is so weak it tastes the way my brother's breeks smell."
Jalia blinked in confusion, not sure what that had to do with anything.
"Ah..."
Axtasusa gave a snort of a laugh, waving her blunt hand at the chambers below.
"I cannot quit the tourney, but neither do I wish to win. My da wants an alliance with Minos and is counting on me to win it, but I will not be queen of a world in which there is no meat.
“So, I will continue and risk having an alliance based on friendship rather than marriage."
"I...I see."
"Besides," Susa said with a leer, "It pleases me greatly to vex the Shitter."
"Me too. Thank you, Susa. Looks like it's your turn."
Zavir escorted Axtasusa away, leaving Jalia alone to look down at the people and quiver a little with fear.
She had entered this contest under false pretenses, certain she could bluff and lie her way through it. Even standing on the platform in the shadow of Letau palace the first day, Jalia hadn't considered the whole scope of what it would mean to become queen of this world.
It was just a few silly puzzles, a maze or two, the threat of death, right? How hard could it be?
Jalia was a gambler, a nobody with a false background and a closet filled with someone else's clothes. In what universe would someone like her become a queen?
This morning an attendant had knocked on her door, a shy, rather gleeful expression on her face with an armful of the stunning outfit Jalia was currently wearing.
"A gift from his majesty, with his apologies."
No one in her entire life had ever given her a gift, let alone one so extravagant, and at first Jalia had intended to refuse it. To ask the attendant take it back and tell his majesty thanks, but no thanks.
Except Jalia had made the mistake of touching the fabric and feeling its softness. The attendant had offered to help her dress and in spite of misgivings, Jalia said yes.
Draped in hundreds of pearls, feeling the weight of the gown flow and settle around her, for the first time since adopting the persona Angel Eyes had created for her, Jalia felt like someone important. Someone worthy of a king. And to see the banked lust in Dhega's gaze this morning at breakfast had been a thrill.
"Your strategy seems to be working." Tom's voice cut through her thoughts like a knife through watter, startling her and sending ripples of unease through her.
"I hate it when you do that!" she hissed, not bothering to look over her shoulder as
she struggled to calm the racing of her heart. Tom made a careless sound, standing silently behind her. "Where's Croft?"
"Getting to know the staff a little better." Translation: busy having sex with someone. Croft just couldn't help himself, he had to have a willing female under him at least three times a day.
"Right. What are you talking about? What strategy?"
Tom pointedly looked down to where Dhega sat on his throne, not a blip of emotion in his black eyes. "He wants you, and you challenge him. Tell him no, show no fear.
“You're baiting the beast, and it seems to be working. Just be careful playing hard to get. Men with reputations like his, they don't take no for an answer for very long."
Jalia raised her chin as her shivers increased. "I know."
"Marchesa?" Zavir called for her, offering her a quick smile as he glanced between she and Tom curiously. "It is your turn."
"Thank you, Zavir. Tom, when you see Croft next, tell him we need to speak about his behavior."
Tom gave a solicitous bow, his dark hair such a vivid contrast to the ghostly whiteness of his skin.
"As you command, my lady."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jalia flowed towards him like a vision, gracefully climbing the steps of his dais to sit on the smaller throne one step beneath him.
The others had each sat in the same spot, yet it displeased Dhega immensely to have Jalia anywhere other than at his side.
She dipped her head, turning her chin to her shoulder, her voice just above a whisper as she glanced up at him with a beguiling smile.
"Thank you for the dress. It's beautiful."
On her, it was indeed beautiful. Her posture was perfect, the pearls blanketed her shoulders and spilled down her back, accentuating her body beautifully.
Dhega's fingers curled around the arm of his chair, itching with the need to reach out and follow the graceful arch, to learn the texture of her skin.
"The attendant you sent said it was a gift, with your apologies. What were you apologizing for?"
"Entering your quarters without permission. How does it feel to be treated as my queen?"