by Aimee Moore
There were times during this haze of barely living when I was summoned to service Karne’s guests. Yasmil’s words about my duties in their chamber murmured past me. The part of me deep down that was still functioning was irritated at the intrusion into my grief, but I went without offering complaint or care; I was untouchable in the black waters of my numb despair.
Most of the guests looked at my curious limp or my marked arm, saw my disinterest in them, and returned to their pleasures. Some invited me to share. All were forgotten quickly enough.
One day I was summoned to attend a sparring room. I went without question, caring little when my limp caused the pitcher of water to slosh all over the tray I carried. I expected to find a room full of warriors whom I would ignore until my task was completed. Maybe even Karne himself, who I would also treat with indifference.
But when I pushed my way into the cavernous room with the wooden floor and open ceiling, I didn’t find the warriors I was expecting.
“Set it over there,” Yasmil gestured, wiping her glistening forehead.
“You need water,” another woman said to her.
“I’ll make her serve me in good time,” Yasmil said on a harsh breath, crouching low to face her opponent.
A spark of anger flared to life just long enough for me to wonder at its presence, then it sank into my cold nothingness as I limped to where Yasmil had indicated. The wooden floor was light and almost springy, spanning the large space from wall to wall. Each side of the room contained racks of weapons and tables. Various discarded objects were tossed across the tables, and I shoved jars of red and orange pastes aside so I could lower the tray.
The crash of steel met my ears, and curiosity tugged my vision to Yasmil and the other woman. Dress portion of the house garb removed, Yasmil was swinging rings of metal at her opponent, the razor edges winking in the light. Yasmil’s movements were quick and precise, the muscles clinging to her lean frame bulging and shifting under her dark skin. She was fierce, but I’d seen greater feats of combat.
I turned away to straighten the space up, gathering soiled towels and discarded straps of leather, submerging myself in my own thoughts. Finally, the clangs of steel and the soft grunts ceased, and the women gave light laughs and murmurs. Footsteps padded toward me, and I turned to see Yasmil’s orange eyes.
“Water,” she said, tossing her weapons on the table. They clattered onto the freshly cleaned surface, rattling the tray.
I handed her a glass of water, clasping my hands before me as she drank.
When she came up for air, Yasmil looked me over. “Who knew you were so docile. Pity you lack the grace to do your job well.”
“Are you done?” I asked, turning back to the tray.
“No. I’m intrigued that the death of your grunt has killed you so completely.”
I turned my glare on Yasmil. “His name was Dal. I wouldn’t expect Nialae to understand. All you do is lounge around and gossip and fornicate. You people wouldn’t know love if it bit you.”
Yasmil rolled her eyes. “The perceptions of a woman drowning in grief, how charming. If you ever crawl out of the puddle you’re wallowing in then you’ll see the ocean; and it is far more perilous.”
“I don’t care about your Nialae ocean.”
“If you were smart, you would. You’d realize that gossip is fragments of strategy, and pleasures are more than a way to alleviate the burdens of these fragments. But no, you’ve loved deeply for one paltry year of your life. Us Nialae in our thousands of years of living could never match up to that.”
Yasmil slammed her glass on the table, sloshing water on the gleaming wood surface. “Continue looking down your nose at us, human; we find it amusing while you clean our rooms and oil our backs.”
Then she grabbed her large blades with a clank and met her opponent in the middle with renewed vigor.
I collected the tray and left, not meeting any of their gazes as I went. My knuckles were white on the tray.
∞∞∞∞
Pillowed in a shroud of grief, it was easy for me to cast aside Yasmil’s words. She didn’t understand what I suffered. She was a soulless Nialae who would never know the cruel sting of losing the other half of herself.
It’s been five months since I lost Dal. Five full moons’ worth of starry nights that never once heard me call his name. Five eternities of loneliness. I didn’t know if the crushing grief would ever pass. If I would learn how to live in a world without my mate. Where would fate sweep me off to next before snuffing me as carelessly as it did him? Would I ever know joy from the remainder of my existence?
Yasmil eventually drew me into her room of clutter, watching me with her critical eyes as I sat in the chair across from her.
“It’s been months, ti—”
“Five.”
Yasmil paused. “Yes, five months. Karne wants me to start assigning you more important tasks in the house. Against my better judgment.”
“Fine.”
“He suggested more intimate encounters to help you get over your loss. Karne’s guests are usually high caste aristocracy, laying with them could bring warmth to your life and secrets to his ears.”
“Surely they’re not stupid enough to think that their secrets stay between the sheets.”
Yasmil gave a derisive huff. “Don’t be a fool; it’s all part of the game.”
“Game.”
“Yes. Haven’t you been paying any attention? Nialae trade slips of information all the time. It’s up to the receiver of this information to determine whether or not it’s truthful, what purpose it ultimately serves, and what to do with it.”
“That’s ridiculous. What if I accidentally give the wrong information or fail to interpret something as important?”
“Then Karne should choose a different game piece for that move,” Yasmil said, flicking her gaze down to a pile of parchment.
I crossed my arms. “I won’t be his pawn.”
Yasmil frowned at me. “Now you’re being deliberately obtuse; pawns don’t even know the game exists. He may be callous but he’s no fool; everything he does is with precise purpose. You should be grateful to be here, able to play a direct part in the Nialae rising. But no, you’d rather wallow in ignorance and grief.”
I let off a long exhale, slouching in defeat. All at once I was overwhelmed and tired. “I don’t even care at this point. Send me wherever you want,” I muttered.
Yasmil gave her head a small shake, then turned to her parchment to make some notes.
Soon after, I was summoned to the room of a golden-skinned Nialae woman. This time, I knew exactly what she wanted from me. A flicker of curiosity drove me to stay. What was it to be a pawn in this game? What was the game even about?
I stared into the fireplace as she circled me, examining her new toy.
“You are different,” she said.
I didn’t respond.
She laughed, then stood in front of me, placing her hands on my shoulders. She was careful not to disturb my shard as she pushed me back. I obeyed. Plush blankets met my calves, and the woman pushed me down on the bed.
I lay back, tilting my head toward the window, wondering if I would feel anything ever again. This window was dark; trees with yellow leaves sparkling in the inky, purple night. I had more in common with that endless night than anything else in my life. It cradled my emptiness in its vastness. It was me.
The woman gave a sultry laugh as she crawled forward, straddling me and setting her weight over the apex of my thighs. Cold hands met my wrists, pulling my hands up to the firm globes of foreign breasts.
I went through the motions for a time, wondering why I agreed to this, until she finally sighed in aggravation and shoved my hands away.
“You are cold to me,” she said.
“Forgive me,” I said, swallowing my own irritation. “I should leave.”
“Look at me,” the woman commanded.
I tore my gaze away from the window and looked at her. Her white ha
ir flowed freely down her back, throwing her golden skin into beautiful contrast. Her eyes, a frosted pale green, roved between my own for a time. Minutes passed, and her frown melted into apprehension.
She moved to lay by my side. Confusion knitted my brow as she wrapped an arm around my middle and pulled me close.
“What was his name?” She whispered.
I was silent for a time, unsure of whether I wanted to share. I was here to give my body, not my soul. But she was offering me something no one else offered me in all my time here: Understanding.
“Dal,” I said at last. “He was a Child of War.” My throat scratched and my eyes burned with the prick of tears.
The woman lifted my right arm, trailing a finger down my marks. “He would not want you to die inside your body.”
I stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe death is the only way to survive the grief,” I whispered.
“No. Grief is only the vessel that delivers our healing.”
The woman did not press me for anything else that night. She only held me close as silent tears wet my face. If I closed my eyes, squished them shut and lost myself to memories, I could almost pretend that Dal was holding me again. But the crushing reality of a slender body and delicate arms stole the daydream away from me.
She held me through the night, her warmth keeping me here in this room when darkness so often pulled me into the lonely pit of my misery.
We rose when morning intruded on us, and she tucked an escaped strand of hair behind my ear. “Love should make us stronger,” she murmured.
I took her hand in mine, drawing her gaze to my own. “Thank you,” I whispered.
A small smile played on her lips, and she gave me a sincere nod. I slipped away.
I never saw her again, but I would always remember her. There was no game that Yasmil spoke of, only kindness and understanding. From what I had seen in other guest chambers, it was a precious rarity.
I refused any other calls to private rooms, sticking instead to cleaning duties. I preferred those, because I could disappear into my grief and memories. I often spent time imagining Dal in our place of peace. We were so close.
I was cleaning a fireplace in a vacant room when the soot got out of hand, smudging up my arm. It blotted out the fine symbols of my tattoo, covering all that was left of Dal in darkness. I cried out and swiped at the soot, but it smeared, and anger rose its fiery head within me. I stood and threw the bucket of ashes across the room, screaming. The pristine furniture and sparkling white fabrics were ruined as the black soot snowed upon them.
I collapsed in tears.
“I know you would want me to be strong,” I whispered to nothing, clutching at my necklace. “But I don’t know if I can,” I sobbed, rocking. I thought I’d cried everything out. But there was more. More anger. More grief. When would it end? I could end it. But then I would be weak. But I wanted it to end more than I wanted to be strong. Despair ripped at me anew.
“I have wronged you,” Karne’s voice murmured from behind me.
I startled and turned to a chair that somehow managed to escape my wrath. Karne was sitting in it, ankle crossed over his knee, regarding me with a concerned gaze.
I glared. “Leave me. I want no part of anything you desire. I care not for your Nialae games, let this world burn for all I care. Take me with it.”
“I should have taken more care in delivering the news to you. Had I thought that you truly loved him…”
I turned a look of death on Karne. “Did you think me incapable of it? The inferior human that can’t possibly love? Did you think me empty headed, vapid enough to recover within a day? Or perhaps you thought I lied about loving a Kraw after they’d killed my family? Which is it Karne? Which horrible quality did you attribute to me?”
Karne furrowed his brow. “I thought it infatuation, nothing more.”
“Infatuation,” I whispered, on the verge of a hysterical laugh. Then I did laugh. I laughed like a mad woman until I was out of breath and more tears smudged my soot into paste.
“He was my mate, you gods damned fool! I should have known a creature such as you wouldn’t have the capacity to understand it!”
Karne glared at me, then stood. “Come, Sera.”
“Do not call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”
“Seraphine, then. Come with me.”
I shook my head, turning away.
“It would appear you are in need of a bath. And a comb. And perhaps a new gown.” He strode toward me.
“I care not. Let me have my filth.”
“No.” Karne grabbed my arms, and I shoved at him, but then we were in the sultry heat of the room of pools, the smells of perfumes mingling with the acrid tang of water on stone. The splashing women, naked and laughing, stilled when they noticed us.
“Get out,” Karne said. They cast glares my way, then grabbed their towels and robes and left in silence. One of the women rose from the shallow pool I had awoken in only months before, vacating with a curious glance.
“I don’t want a bath,” I said over the rush of waterfalls. “I want to be dirty. Dirty is a shield.”
“No one likes to be filthy,” Karne said. “And fewer prefer the services of one who does.”
He approached me and I backed away. “You can tell your guests I tire of servicing them. They are an intrusion to my regular duties.”
Karne frowned. “Have they harmed you?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Were they not satisfying to you? I hoped some servicing would offer comfort. At the very least, something to look forward to.”
“They are not my mate,” I said.
“You prefer men.”
“I prefer Dal.”
Karne let off an impatient sigh. “I’m sure you’d like a clean outfit. Let me remove the ring,” Karne said.
I stood fast, glaring. Karne’s gentle hands wrapped around my neck, warm and just calloused enough to be noticeable. He was looking down into my eyes as he did this, and I stared back, letting my gaze drift as he worked. Karne exuded a gentle pressure on the back of my neck, followed by a blossoming heat.
Within moments the ring clicked, popping free. My blackened outfit slid down my body, clinging to what little curves remained over my jutting bones. I dimly wondered if one day I would stop torturing my body with bouts of starvation. Or perhaps I’d finally let it finish me off.
Karne swept the dirty rags away, then looked at my exposed form, gaze tapping on the shard in my shoulder only once. At one time I would have been insulted. Embarrassed. Afflicted with the urge to cover or curse him or fight. Now I didn’t care.
I just wanted to sleep forever, where I could be with Dal. That place, we’d only dreamed of it, but it was ours. And it was out there somewhere, and maybe my spirit could leave my body and go there. Maybe Dal’s would be waiting.
“You have not been eating,” Karne said at last.
“I had a pear yesterday,” I said in a petulant tone. “Do not mother me.”
Karne cast a slight frown my way. “Come, sit in the bath. I’ll join you.”
“I don’t want your attentions. I want to leave this place so I can grieve in peace.”
“You mean where you can die alone,” Karne said. He tsked. “I thought you stronger, Seraphine.”
I scowled, then spoke in a low, dangerous tone. “You don’t know what I suffer, you judgmental bastard. Return my gift to me and I’ll show you strength.”
“Perhaps I don’t know what you suffer. But I’ve lived eons longer than you, and I know when someone has lost the will to live.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, turning away.
Karne took my arm and led me to a sunken stone tub, helping me down the steps.
The hot water swirled away my soot and tension. Karne, naked now, lowered himself into the pool nearby. I didn’t have the will to snarl indignation into his face.
I would let him do what he wished, because I didn’t care what happened to me anym
ore. My body was simply a dying husk encompassing the precious memories it had built.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
I obliged, happy to not look at him. A gentle tugging began at my scalp.
“You have been forgetting yourself,” Karne said. The tugging stopped for a moment. A glass chinked on stone. A perfumed smell lit the air. My hair tugged and pulled at various spots again, tangles pulling at the tines of a comb, making a tink-tink noise now and again.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” I said. “You have your docile slave, just as you wanted.”
“I never wanted a docile slave, Seraphine. I wanted a lover.”
“How terribly disappointing for you. All of these women to choose from, and not one of them is satisfactory.”
“One of them more than satisfactory. She’s an intoxicating blend of strength and delicacy, honesty and loyalty. In a society where no Nialae will ever be these things, she shines brighter than any moon Tanebrael would revere.”
“I pity this woman, wherever she is. Either she has fled your presence or you have chosen the cruelty of making her one of your slaves. Neither speaks well of you.”
He paused in silence. Then he resumed working at my hair, using more scented oil to smooth it out.
“I am going to retrieve the Helegnaur soon. I wanted to ask you to come.”
“Because you cannot touch it yourself,” I said in a flat tone.
“Grief makes you very hard to be around,” Karne said in a sour tone.
“Then leave me.”
“And miss the opportunity to gaze upon this naked body? I think not.”
Nothing in me stirred. When Karne finally finished brushing and washing my hair, he turned me toward him. Keeping his eyes at a respectful level, he glanced at my hair in thought. Then with a wave of his hand, my hair began to pull itself up in an elegant twist.
I stared into the distance as he did it. Dal loved my hair wild and free.
Then Karne handed me a soap. “Please,” he said.
I stared at nothing as I ran the soap down my arms. He turned to give me privacy, laying deep in the pool with a contented sigh.