Desert Winds

Chapter Two: Groomed For Burial

It was well past mid-day when they had stopped to take a break, one that many of the soldiers were grateful for the evidence clear on their faces for their grins were ever so wide. Raha tried not to scoff at the thought that these great soldiers found riding horseback for a couple of hours difficult. The ever so mighty soldiers of Nejemard she thought sarcastically. Raha noticed how they all kept their distance from her as if she was a snake and they were petrified of the venom she posses and may insert within them from one fatal bite if provoked. They should be she thoughts causing a light smile to form across her face, the idea was quite amusing that grown men who had endured immense training were scared of a girl who was just a slave mere hours ago. Her moment of joy was short lived when she heard a cold voice in front of her.

"What are you smiling at?" The man with slate eyes asked her.

Raha hesitated from habit as a slave she had to think one hundred times before speaking, choosing her words with up most care." Myself." Raha admitted after much contemplation.

"Are you really that funny?"

"I honestly think that I'm quite comical, if I do say so myself."

"And would you regard the situation you are in now as comical?" He asked his voice smooth and silky.

"I will live to see the next dawn, I promise you that. And when I do I assure you it will be absolutely hilarious." she replied with a smirk present on her face. Instantly, the man stiffened at her words but his eyes concealed any emotion from surfacing, he turned on his heel and walked straight past her. The cold air leaving with him.

**

The palace itself was a sight to behold;a grand spectacle almost as if to warn those who approached it that its beauty could compare to non. Large domes with intricate designs, pillars made from the palest marble smoothed to perfection, supporting the masterpiece from collapsing. A grand garden filled with wild-flowers which spread serenity with their sweet odour, but one flower in particular caught Raha's gaze was the Jasmine, plain in its appearance it was overshadowed by the other more vibrant flowers and something about it warmed Raha.

Raha wasn't oblivious to things around her and quickly realised that a crowd was starting to form, they were keen to see the new bride whose family would have to mourn her death the following dawn. Jokes on them she thought bitterly no one cared if she lived or died, the world wouldn't even notice her death let alone bat an eyelash at it.

Raha carefully got off her horse when they arrived at the wooden stables and a pain shot up her back, an ache overcame her due to her sitting position from riding for hours but nonetheless she adored riding. A group of servants were waiting patiently for them, except one with armour that was handsomely decorated with medals and he hastily walked towards the man with grey red and bowed his head with respect. Hands grabbed Raha's arms and gently pushed her towards the palace entrance and down the hallways until they halted to a door and scurried inside it.

Raha's clothes were taken off her and she felt self-conscious her cheeks burning a bright red under their scrutinising gaze, their eyes trailing to her ribs and sharp shoulders and then to her marks of slavery-her scars. Looks of pity burned into her and Raha loathed that look, for she had witnessed it a few to time. She was plunged into a warm bath of roses and she welcomed the sweet aroma, she drenched herself in the sweet scent as plenty of oils were rubbed onto her back and for once in her life Raga felt peaceful.

One woman, an old woman with lines on her which added to her beauty ordered the other servants out of the chamber. She approached Raha as if she were a timid child starved of kindness a smile present on her face. She touched Raha's back where her scars were engraved.

"I can get rid of them for you my dear," she almost whispered in a gently, soothing voice.

The statement caused Raha to turn her head so fast she may as well have snapped it.

"What?" She asked uncertainty leaking through her voice.

"The scars, I mean. I can make them disappear as if they were never there to begin with." The woman replied.

"How?"

"My dear, you cannot be that oblivious. Which other kind can practise such an art? "

"Djinn." Raha whispered realisation dawning upon her.

"Yes my dear, none of the other girls questioned my ability when I came to prepare them. They were overjoyed when they came to know that I can perfect their appearance, getting rid of blemishes that have haunted them every time they look in the mirror, making their lips plumper, skin ridden of eye bags. So tell me dear, what do you want to change?" The woman have Raha a small circular mirror.

Raha loathed mirrors; they just reminded her of her imperfections that she had to bear with.

Raha stared at herself intently, her cheeks were sunken, her eyes were too big nearly out of proportion with the rest of her face, a slight scar grazed her forehead from the time the masters wife slapped her causing her silver ring to cut into Raha's forehead. But it was her scars that first came to mind , the scars of slavery that burned deep in her skin. If she said yes to the woman, the scars may be ridden from her back but they will always be in the darkest corner of her mind. Taunting her.

No, these scars are a part of me. Proof that I have suffered through a blazing fire and come out of it scarred, yes but much stronger,Raha thought.

These scars empowered her.

"My features are of those as my ancestors, to say I want to change them or modify them would be an insult to them. My scars are not a disease in need of a cure." Raha said fiercely.

A small smile found its way onto the lady's face and she lowered her head with respect. She called the other servants back into the room and once again Raha was grabbed in every direction.

She was dressed in a dark plum silk kaftan, its borders heavily designed with gold sequins like little flakes of stardust, her hands were decorated with a floral pattern from a golden henna, her neck held a choker made from the finest of diamonds, her ebony hair ascended down her back till her waist in waves, her eyes were exaggeratedly lined with kohl accentuating them to make them appear more cat-like.

The ladies left the room for Raha to inspect herself in the mirror and Raha felt... sick.

This girl staring back at her was not her. Silks and diamonds. They have groomed her till perfection for a burial. She walked towards the bathing room and washed the kohl off her face, and then returned back and removed the necklace, a weight instantly lifting off her. All this pretence make her feel sick, if she was to die she will die with humility.

The door opened and Raha was met with grey eyes.

-Love Layleh,Always xx