ONC 2022 Longlist / Top 25 The Historical Award 2022 & 2023 hosted by @HistoricalFiction / Featured by multiple profiles
In the tyrannical kingdom of Aratta, a young widowed mother returns alive from the den of a mysterious king where women go only...
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"Gaston, I need those heads at any cost."
"Of petty thieves?" Vivasvat asks.
Borzou throws the chalice of wine at him. Vivasvat dodges the attack and lowers his head.
"What I want, I want."
"Gaston shall do what you wish," the commander-in-chief assures.
And like the very beginning we women wait with veils and servants to help us walk. Two heads from our crowd have been beheaded already. In Borzou, or Puramdara's words, the women were being lowly and too intimate with servants, thus the result.
The women are Cynthia and Rakshita.
I clench my fists. To see those truly cruel and heartless women getting punished at the hands of the divine would have been less agonizing yet here I only find a ulterior motive behind this so-called noble act of justice. They had to be punished for what they had done to Alexandria, but not at the hands of another culprit.
Maybe it's the way of the divine to kill a snake with a snake. But then who will kill Puramdara?
No, wait. Who will kill Borzou?
I know that person from a soulful level of companionship. Both him and his would-be murderer.
"I require Yeline and Fahima by my side tonight. I will hear no denial. If they don't come, I shall behead them."
The women addressed come up and stand in the centre of the court. They have always been frolicking hand-in-hand. The two more culprits of Alexandria keep their chin up.
"We wish to be executed."
The sheer courage they show is astounding.
Borzou smirks, tapping his foot impatiently.
"Then let Gaston do it here and now. If you have any last words to say to someone, do it this instant. You have a few moments left."
Yeline and Fahima bow. They whisper something to the servants accompanying them, and they slowly guide the two women towards me. I sit behind a curtain along with Mother and Yama.
What do they wish to tell me?
Fahima slowly lifts up her veil. Her kohl-lined eyes are smudged with tears and are puffy. Her cherry red lips pucker as she cries. Between muffled sobs she says, "We are sorry for what we had done. As redemption, we choose death."
Yeline too lifts up her veil, and again hand-in-hand they walk to the middle. Gaston wipes his sword with a muslin cloth.
Soldiers come and force Yeline and Fahima to kneel down. Their limbs are locked by iron chains. Yama crawls behind the Kandake.
"Mother, take him away."
"No..."
The Kandake is crying. She is losing two more women to this king.
"Your father had not been this cruel. I bet Borzou is a good match for Andhaka. A perfect replacement!"
Mother asks a servant to take Yama back to our room. I shut my eyes close as Gaston touches the sword at the neck of Yeline.
The woman, now unveiled for the last time before death embraces her looks at my direction, smirking like the shaitan. I don't know what is going inside her head, but death for sure makes people insane.
Tears and blood spill together as two heads roll and two corpses lie breathless over the marble floor.
****
A night passed in the blink of an eye. Time seems to run out of my hand.
And again this dusk we are back to the very beginning. Veiled and dressed lavishly, perfumed bodies standing in rows for the king to choose.
His next woman. His next prey.
Mother's face looks phlegmatic and stolid. She counts the beads of a rosary in quietude. The trumpets blowing stridently announce the arrival of the king.
"So here are the beauties."
Indeed, we are beautiful and fragile like roses.
I am the one with the most thorns. The most dangerous.
How much more reassurance do I need? Am I at a dead end?
The king takes no time to choose. A pair of cold hands lift up my veil.
He isn't my Borzou.
His eyes are cold and lifeless as he stares at me.
"You have no idea who I am, do you?" he whispers.
I keep mum.
Turning to the Kandake with joy, he says aloud, "Tonight your daughter shall be my bride. Bless her and send her in time."
A chaos unfurls in Mother's eyes. The beads of the rosary fall on the ground, making a mess.
"I shall wait for you, Sitara."
The king leaves humming to himself.
When all women have left with a heavy heart, only Mihrimah and the Kandake remains.
"I killed your father in an aura of illusionary love. I sealed death with a kiss." Her watery eyes contrast the cruel words. "Do what you must. I believe you will win. Where kings can't rule, it is called Aratta. It's us who truly belong here."
Mihrimah pats my palm, the touch making me shiver. I see her no longer as a naive child but a saviour meant to be here in disguise.
"Will you come with me?" I ask.
She nods her head.
"I have a plan. I will discuss it with you and some women. All must be ready."
"Where to assemble?"
"Bring your most trusted women to your room, Mother, including Estella. I shall come after getting changed."
The three of us embrace, basking in the beams of twilight. And then I depart to my room, closing the door and diving into seclusion.
If tonight I do it, I win. If tonight I fail, I kill not just myself but all and push generations to come at a risk.
I put even Yama's life at stake.
"Where are you?"
I search my trunk to bring out a silver dagger that Sage Budh had given me the day we met. I remember, the first time I went to meet Borzou in this palace I carried a dagger with me. Even now, which can be the last of either or both of us, I shall take a dagger with me.
A dagger made of pure silver, meant to only strike one- the widow or her prey.
