Heir of Beasts

Ch. 2.6- The Offering of a Heart

A muffled hiss escapes my lips as the cold water touches my bare skin. Goosebumps rise along my legs in strange contrast to my sun-warmed back, which is probably burning despite the layers of fabric between me and the light. I bite the inside of my cheek and plunge one leg, then the other, beneath the swirling surface of the river, ignoring the sharp pins-and-needles pain that radiates upwards into my thighs and lower back as I wade beyond the shallows. Mud and silt squish between my toes as I walk, and tiny fish the same shocking silver as my dress dart through its floating, jellyfish-like skirts.  

         I train my gaze on his face. I would rather look anywhere else, but I won't let him think I'm shivering because of anything but the icy water. I won't crown his victory with my cowering and quivering. My tears have long since dried on my cheeks, and no new ones fall. I hold my head high, my chin lifted slightly in an unspoken challenge. I want us both to remember that this is my choice. A horrible choice, one forced on me by threats and extortion, but still mine. I'm here because of love. Not for the sick bastard in the river with me, but for a true prince. Amshira. That's one name, at least, that still means something.

         As I approach Sholu, I expect a great surge of feeling to overtake me. But the flood of anger and the rush of fear come in on a low tide. I've exhausted my capacity for feeling, and the dregs of emotion his face stir within me are mere aftershocks of an earlier quake. There's an echo of words spit in a rage, of hot blood burning brightly within me, but that's all. What's left behind is a blessed emptiness I can easily gild with years of manners and niceties handed down from my female relatives. The Amarin mask comes easily for the first time, and as he appraises me, I appraise him back.

         The tails of his poppy-red kata writhe and twist in the current like sea-snakes; the delicate golden vines embroidered along its neckline and sleeves glint brightly in the afternoon light. The buttons are rubies, or garnets, and reflect glittering red shadows on the water. He's silhouetted by the sun at his back, and shards of light shine through his golden hair like a coronet. His face is serene, lit from within by some immortal incandescence I don't quite understand. The water whorls around him, yet it doesn't seem to touch him.

         He looks like a prince, and I hate him for it.

         We're the only people in the river, and for a moment I consider lunging at him and trying to drown us both. But the water's too low. The best I could do would be to crack our heads open on the rocks rising above the current. I know I'm no match for him as I am now, in a tight, wet dress, unarmed, shivering but fighting not to show it.

         "You look strange," he says to me when we stand face to face. He takes my hands and I struggle not to shudder and pull away.

         "That's a charming thing to say to a woman," I mutter.

         "Strange, for you," he clarifies. "Strange, because I'm so used to seeing you scowling and snarling and gnashing your teeth like a wild animal. Your eyes wide, pupils dilated. Hands balled into fists, or crossed over your body protectively. So, yes, you look strange," he laughs. "You look like a bride, O'otani. You look... very well."

         "You look like a fool in the garb of a king."

         "I look like a new beginning," he says, somewhat softly. "That's what I look like. To them, maybe to you, too, though you'll never admit it." He leans forward and kisses me suddenly, and I reel back. I have to fight my every instinct to keep from striking him. That first drunken kiss was hard and fast as a blow to the gut. This is too tender, and far too real. Like we aren't enemies. Like this isn't all a lie.

         "You look pretty," he clarifies with an easy smile. "That's what I should have said. You look like a fucking queen."

         "And I feel like a petty whore," I snap back. "And if it weren't for Shira, I'd go to my grave before I let you touch me." I lean towards him, as if to exchange a few private words before the ceremony. "Do I look like a new beginning to you, Sholu Verlaina?" I make sure to keep smiling so the crowd is fooled, but my voice comes out like wrought iron. "Because looks can be deceiving. Truth is, I'm your ending. You just don't know it yet."