by Isabel Wroth
She knelt, glancing at Dhega one last time, then leaned forward far enough to see herself reflected on the perfectly still water.
An olive-skinned woman with vibrant green eyes and vivid orange hair stared back at her, and nothing happened. She waited, waited a little bit longer, then sat up and looked back to Simo.
"Nothing's happening." Simo didn't say anything, so she repeated herself a little louder, "Heh-low?" she sang, getting up to wave her hand in front of his lean face, but the prince didn't even blink.
Jalia moved to Dhega, snapping her fingers at him to get his attention. Nothing. His gaze remained fixed on the place she had been kneeling. Entayta was there, leaning over the pool, the other princes were over on the steps, and even when she jumped up and down and screamed at the top of her lungs, no one moved.
"What fresh hell is this?" she rasped, her pulse pounding hard enough for her to feel it drumming in her ears.
"Not hell. Just a remarkably sophisticated piece of technology."
Jalia's stomach dropped to her toes, the breath heaved out of her, and the urge to run hit her hard. "D-dad?"
He looked exactly like she remembered him, wearing his dark gray uniform with its cobalt blue piping, the right side of his chest covered in the medals and commendations he'd been given over the years.
Five silver stars sat in a perfect row on either side of his collar, the braided cord attached to his left epaulet twisted just so over his bicep.
The creases in the leg of his trousers were sharp enough to cut, his dark gray boots spotless and shiny enough to reflect whatever was above him.
He even had his ridiculous hat tucked up under his arm, his left hand held stiffly behind his back, fist folded just so. He had wings of silver in his dark hair, the same silver color of his eyes that were always so cold and disapproving when he looked at his youngest daughter. Him and Jared, they both looked like they had a pole shoved up their asses for how tall and straight they stood.
This was definitely hell.
"Hello, Jalia. What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into today, hmm?"
She felt like she was five years old again, standing in front of her scary papa, trying to hide her sticky fingers and the scuff on the toe of her shiny black shoes.
"Surprisingly, today has been low on the trouble scale. Uh, what are you doing here?"
Her father didn't move a muscle, but somehow still conveyed a shrug. "This is your subconscious, Jalia. You're here to face your greatest fear."
"Of course, I am," she said with a half sarcastic nod, everything inside her immediately turning to ice, expecting the verbal lashing she would have normally received for having dared use that tone with General James Justus.
"But I'm not afraid of you, so where's the real monster?"
Up winged one of the general's perfectly groomed eyebrows, and her stomach curdled.
"If you're not afraid of me, why are your palms sweating and your heart beating so hard you can barely breathe?"
That was...a good question. He moved to walk a stiff circle around her, his gaze narrowed in judgment as he took in her outfit. She looked down and found herself wearing the uniform of her childhood. A dove gray dress with a cobalt sash that ended at her knees, white tights that were so itchy, and shoes that always squeaked when she walked.
"Jalia! I asked you a question!"
She jerked like a marionette on a string, shoulders going back, heels clicking together in reaction to that powerful bark that made soldiers immediately fall in line.
"You scare the fark out of me, dad. You always did."
"There, doesn't it feel good not to lie to yourself?"
Jalia huffed, forcing her hands to unclench from the fists she'd made at her sides, forcing herself to remember this wasn't real.
She was on Minos, not in the foyer of the family quarters on board her dad's latest post.
She took a deep breath, in and out, in and out, wiping at the cold sweat gathering on her forehead.
"I suppose it does."
"Excellent. Now, look me in the eye, and tell me why I scare the fark out of you." Jalia pulled her gaze up from the shiny toes of her round shoes and met the ice-cold stare of her father, wondering if there was anything about her he was proud of.
"Out loud!"
She flinched again, getting angry at herself for not being able to control the age-old habit. She looked the general in the eye like he ordered, and she told him the truth for the very first time.
"I hate you, and I'm terrified you know it."
"Is that all?"
"I'm terrified that no matter what I do, I'll always be an embarrassment to you. I'm terrified I'll die without getting to spit on your shiny shoes.
“I hate you, but I'm afraid I'll never get to say it to your face and watch that vein above your eyebrow bulge.
“I'll never tell you what a carbon copy of you Jared is, and what a compliment that isn't.
"I'll never tell you how heartbroken I was when you sent me away because I wasn't good enough to be your daughter.
“I'll never tell you how much I hated you for abandoning me at Telantes, or how much it hurt when none of the family cared enough to inquire as to whether or not I was even alive.
"And even if I did get to say all those things to you, I'm afraid you wouldn't care. I'm afraid you'd just give me the look you're giving me now, ask me if that's all, and dismiss me like one of your soldiers.
“I'm terrified that there's something so wrong with me, that the one man in the universe who's supposed to love me unconditionally would prefer it if I did die. I'm terrified if my own father can't love me, no one else will."
*****
Agony.
It gripped her entire body in the most vicious cramps she'd ever experienced. Frozen in place, Jalia saw her own panicked reflection staring back at her.
Her toes curled, her calves twisted, her thighs and belly were so taut she wanted to scream, but her back spasmed so intensely Jalia couldn't do more than wheeze.
She tried to cry for help, but her jaw was clenched together, hell, even her face was twisted with debilitating spasms.
Dhega's image appeared beside hers in the reflection pool, the whimper that feathered out of her pinched lips felt like razor blades in her throat.
"Get the healers!" even the echo of his bellow made the pain worse, but moments later something was shoved under her face, something that released sweet-smelling smoke, and everything faded away.
When she opened her eyes again, she was lying face down on a padded table. She could see three pairs of feet within her range of vision, feel strong, warm hands working every inch of her body with something slick and tingly.
One of those hands hit a particularly sore spot, drawing a moan from her because even as it hurt, it felt so unbelievably good.
"Marchesa?" Jalia groaned again in answer, and whoever the woman was speaking to her murmured a soft sound as she stroked a firm hand down Jalia's aching back. "You are in the house of healing, Marchesa. Can you tell me how you feel?"
"I hurt...everywhere," she whimpered, her eyes rolling a little when another pair of hands began to knead at her feet. Six people had to be touching her, at least.
"Are we causing you more pain, or helping to soothe the soreness?"
"Both, please don't stop."
Someone laughed gently, kneading deep into the muscles of her thighs and calves. "We have only begun, Marchesa. When your muscles truly release, we will help you into a hot bath. Take a deep breath,"
Jalia obeyed, and as she exhaled the healers pushed their hands down on either side of her spine, her body making grotesque sounds as bones and ligaments popped back into place, followed by a flood of unbelievable relief.
"How long was I there?"
"In the temple? Two days."
"T-two days?"
"Yes."
Her back spasmed again, and once she was able to breathe, Jalia almost started to cry. "My attendants have a medical kit
with drugs. Vita-shots that will heal anything. Get them. I want it now!"
"O-of course! Um, just a—" the speaker yelped, all the women around her gasping in surprise.
Jalia felt a tiny pinch on her arm, and two seconds later her entire body went completely lax. The pain eating its way through her muscles vanished, the vice around her forehead, the sporadic twitching that left her struggling to breathe, all gone within an instant.
She was able to lift her head without feeling like her neck would bend backward and snap with the pressure, unsurprised to find Tom at her shoulder with an injector in his hand, and an impressive pair of black eyes. His nose was broken, blood drying around his nostrils.
"Better?" he asked, as though nothing was wrong.
Jalia glared at him with all the strength she had left, "Why didn't you give me that earlier?"
"It's your third one." Tom told her calmly, "They knocked you out with some kind of smoke, and I had to give you a muscle relaxer so we could get you off the floor.
“You had a seizure on the way back from the lactic acid your muscles released, so I gave you another shot, and everyone thought I'd killed you until the healers could find your pulse. I was told if you died, I died, by one very pissed off Minoan."
Jalia winced in sympathy, "Your face?"
Tom shrugged like it was no big deal, and to him, it probably wasn't.
"I'll fix it later. You need food. Water too."
He said the magic words, and her stomach snarled furiously, the raw feeling of total emptiness making itself known.
"Yes. Where's Croft?"
Jalia started to get up but made it as far as pushing up on her elbows before she heard squeals and gasps.
Tom put his hands up in peace and turned around to give her his back, and Jalia realized that aside from a strip of cloth across her butt, she was completely nude.
Mortification fired across her face, but all she could do was clutch the measly piece of cloth to her chest,
"Ah, um, anyone have a blanket? Or a robe?"
"Here, Marchesa."
A soft white gown was slipped over her head, and despite the long sleeves and puddle of material around her feet, Jalia felt instantly cooler.
Her knees felt a little watery, so she leaned back on the table she'd been lying on and pushed her hair off her forehead.
"Croft?" she asked again.
Tom looked over his shoulder before turning back around, gave a jerk of his chin, his eyes narrowed on her, scrutinizing her movements, looking for any signs of pain or discomfort.
"With the pissed off Minoan, trying to calm him down."
She groaned, envisioning Croft trying to tell him dirty jokes or telling him the embellished adventures of Bloody Boudreaux and Company. She couldn't see Dhega being entertained or calmed by any of that.
"Let's go rescue him before he gets thrown in the dungeon. Again." Jalia held her hand out, thinking only to take Tom's arm, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and took her hand with his other, making sure she was steady on her feet before they took off.
Jalia hadn't ever been afraid of Tom, neither had she considered him a friend or someone to rely on, but these last few weeks... "Thank you, Tom. I'm not sure what would have happened without all your help."
"Surprised, aren't you?" Tom said with a good-natured snort, almost smiling.
"Extremely."
"If you do not stifle yourself, I will rip your tongue out!" Jalia winced at the furious roar that came so clearly through the closed doors and sighed at Croft's curious retort.
"Have you ever tried to do that with your bare hands? A tongue is awfully slippery,"
"Shut up, Croft."
The mercenary whipped around like she'd slapped him on the ass, and Dhega turned so fast Simo nearly got racked.
Prince Simo gave a broad smile, his relief to see her on her feet evident in the way he spread his arms wide and welcomed her back.
Croft was smiling, and everyone seemed relieved or pleased to see her. Or maybe they were pleased because they were no longer the focus of Dhega's wrathful impatience.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, his hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and the expression on his face could only be described as bitterly frustrated.
Jalia wasn't sure if it was the fact he couldn't show any emotion in front of so many others, or if he was righteously pissed to see Tom holding her up.
"Marchesa, we are so relieved to see you on your feet looking so hale and hearty!" Simo sighed dramatically, clapping his enormous hands together. He looked as though he might be related to Phelestes, only taller and more barrel-shaped. "But didn't we ah...put your man in the...dungeon?"
Jalia felt her face fall into the familiar frame where she smiled, but she was giving nothing away. "You could have put him in an airtight box, and he'd still have found a way out. I hope you won't take it personally?"
"Oh, no. No, no. No." Simo sang, glancing from Tom, to her, to Dhega and back. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek, and as she was a betting woman, Jalia wagered Simo was clenching his ass cheeks together right now.
"Thank you. I'm feeling much better, but I'm starving. Is there any chance I could get a snack sent up to my quarters?"
Simo's face lit up instantly with the excuse to be anywhere but there,
"At once! I will see to it personally."
He took off running, leaving his fellow princes to offer their congratulations on her recovery, shooting uncertain glances at Dhega, who remained stoically silent.
"If you wouldn't mind, your majesty, I would appreciate a few minutes of your time. In private."
"I will join you for the evening meal," he replied tightly, appearing to be less than enthusiastic about sharing anything with her.
Later when they were alone in her quarters, he crossed the distance between them and swept her up to hold her like he would never let go.
Her surprise faded away on a soft sigh, and she turned her cheek to his chest, closing her eyes to savor the way it felt.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his hand cupping her hair to keep her pressed to his chest, his lips tucked against the curve of her throat.
Jalia turned her face to kiss that muscle ticking in his jaw, to tell him she was fine, but his lips caught hers in a short, brief kiss. It couldn't have been called erotic.
It was filled with a desperate emotion she didn't have a name for. The sound of distant, terrible screams interrupted Jalia's growing sense of comfort, making chills race up the back of her legs.
It sounded like someone was being murdered, and when she breathlessly asked Dhega what the hell was going on, he only grunted impatiently.
"Entayta began screaming the moment she broke free of the labyrinth's hold."
"Why?"
"I didn't bother to ask, and to be truthful, I don't care. Simo will be here soon."
Jalia snuggled her lips against his pounding pulse, oddly touched to feel how it raced erratically just beneath his skin. The mighty, ferocious beast had been worried about her.
"Good. I'm starving, and so thirsty. All this oil on my skin is making me feel suffocated. Come join me in the bath once he leaves?"
"Yes," The blistering heat of Dhega's hungry growl left Jalia shivering for reasons that had nothing to do with Entayta's screams.
*****
Jalia loved the sound of the sea at Letau. She loved the smell of the non-venomous flowers at Islingrane and the beauty of the pastures. At Kaetonia...No.
She took it back. Not every palace had something she liked. Kaetonia, Antaeus, Ephidon, Myonaea, she could do without ever having to go back there again, but here at Dymigona, Jalia was in love with the bath.
It was more of a pool, really, large enough for four people at least. The heat seemed to radiate from the stone itself, warm everywhere she touched, but not so hot as to scald. The vita-shot Tom had given her had done wonders to soothe and heal her body, but something about the hot water made everything that much better.
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She lay with her chin pillowed on her arms, staring out the open arches at the desert beyond the palace walls, letting her thoughts turn back to what she had experienced within the temple, the realities she'd had to face.
Jalia had no illusions that she'd ever get the opportunity to confront her father and tell him what a bastard he was, and even if she did, he probably would try to write her up for insubordination.
It had felt good to confront him, even if it had only been in her mind, to vent years of frustration and anguish. But the truth she hadn't realized was so important, continued to echo in her thoughts like poison.
What was so wrong with her, that her own father couldn't love her?
"The Maze of Two Souls is the most difficult of the Nine," Her pulse leaped harshly, drawn out of her thoughts by Dhega's deep baritone.
"Our bodies heal long before our mind, even when we wish nothing more than to forget."
His long strides brought him to the edge of the pool where he sat the pair of trays he carried down on the floor.
He shucked his sleeveless gold and white robe with a roll of his shoulders, her heart beating an unsteady rhythm as she watched his fingers twist at the drawstring of his trousers.
Her mouth watered at the sight of him standing there, totally nude, half man, half beast.
The powerful muscles in his thighs bunched as he stepped down, the heavy pouch of his testicles swaying beneath the semi-erect flesh of his shaft.
She got a far too brief look as the water swallowed him, her gaze moving up the cobbled ridges of his belly, up to the enormous swell of his pectorals, his arms, and shoulders, the strong column of his throat, his square jaw, those lips that kissed her with such devastating bliss.
He came to her with a dark frown pulling at his brows, brushing her cheek with his knuckles, searching her face intently.
"Are you in pain still?"
Jalia wasn't sure if she was or not. "No, just processing everything. I'm not ready to talk about it."
"Food, then. You're hungry."
Jalia's shoulders slumped in relief, thankful he wasn't pressing her to discuss what she'd seen and heard, not having realized how truly fragile she felt emotionally.
"Starving."