Deities of Deceit

Chapter Thirteen

Yarima Abubakar | Thirteen
THE QUEEN RETURNS
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"The Great Emperor of The Sands, Conqueror of The Dark Ages, Breaker of Curses, Witch of The Crown and Bringer of Rain, Her Royal Highness, Hareti Jaja," the royal court keeper declared Hareti's arrival before the iron doors to the council room, the most sacred and most protected room in the palace was pulled open.

Standing a few steps beside Hareti, who was two feet shorter than I was, I took a quick glance at the side of her face without moving my head. Her chin pointed higher, the sunlight from the council chamber gradually cascading across her stern face as the doors opened, illuminating every lingering expression.

No one else could see it, even if they claimed themselves to be of great intellect, or with the ability to read minds, no one else could truly see what lurked behind those blue eyes: Anger. Fierce and magnetic. Waiting. Tethering along the edge of the most revered, powerful person ever known to the kingdom of Arjana.

But I could. I always saw Hareti in all shades of her. The evil, the bad, the beauty, the good. She was a kaleidoscope of a woman who glittered only for me whenever the light of my eyes shone through her.

I knew a great deal that the day would not pass without the rich red color of blood painting my view. It troubled me. Hareti loathed blood more deeply than the moon's hate for day. But craved it like a fish craved water. It was what made and unmade her. Reti felt betrayed by her people and it festered in her heart like a disease. Darkening her soul from inside out. Someone would have to pay.

My visits to the temple of Oshun were always spent in the arms of Hareti where I felt the safest. She'd rid the temple of all her concubines and ban servants and guests alike from her innermost chambers. When I sharpened my sword over smooth stone, she'd lie in the corner, reading me poems or telling me her favorite tales of war.

When we bathed together in the bath of cherry blossoms, she'd wash my locs with olive oil soap, massage my scalp and lower back with her kind fingers before I was allowed to wash her skin with a soft sponge, from the tip of her toes, to the crown of her head.

If my behavior had been satisfying to her taste that week, she'd spread her legs for me and allow me clean between her legs with my tongue, and afterwards I was allowed to suckle on her nipple before rest. If I hadn't been good, she'd spank me to tease me or leave me kneeling against the wall for a few hours to punish me.

Whether Reti was breaking my skin, or bending me over to her will, I always knew her warmth and it was as beautiful and as fair as her soul.

But the last days we spent in the temple of Oshun before returning to the palace were colder than the falling snow of the west. She was distant from me, deep in her thoughts, plotting, deciding. Mournful silence boomed throughout the temple. There was no worshiping, so there was no merry.

I was in her presence but entirely alone. She neither cuddled me to sleep, or told me tales of war. I considered breaking a few rules. As many as I could to get her to again give me attention. But Reti was not a woman who welcomed deliberate disorderliness. And I wanted to be a safe haven for her to dwell in, until she was ready to blossom again for me.

The cold silence was better than her absence, so I waited for the weeks to come and go, staying close enough for her to feel my willingness to bow at her feet and offer my wisdom if demanded.

It was the second morning of the third week visiting the temple when soft golden rays glided across my face and I shifted in the silk sheets, grumbling just a little from discomfort. The morning had arrived too soon after a long night of training her royal guards.