A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)

Chapter Eighty-Nine

"Queen Cassia Boadicea of Idriola here to see you, Emperor."

Emperor Elio sits at the bedside of Advisor Ryu, his brow almost against Ryu's, his breath exchanged for his love's.

As soon as he sees me, or the Northern Queen's version of me, he beams too-widely. It is like his entire face is molded instantly, like a child pulling up their lips to make their skin look like ill-fitting masks. I perform a strange bow, dipping forwards on my knees with my hands placed primly over my stomach. It's the only move I can make in this hellish corsair. Corset. Whatever.

I lower my flaxen lashes, hovering like moths over pale cheeks. "Šāhanšāh," I address him in too-careful Rahasian. "King of Kings. Imperator Elio, the Chosen, godliest one of the Empire, the one who sits upon the throne in Rahasia." I look back up, monitoring that slow, lazy smile on his face. How much of Elio hides behind those fiery eyes? How much of Cato? I cannot tell. He moves closer to me, taking in my still-like-marble face. "The One who Cato has blessed, the prize of the Elder god who turns back our enemies from the North. Slayer of Golems." I smile then, staring up at him with the most moony gaze I can muster, like a young maiden in hopeless love, love for a handsome, bronze-royal face.

He takes my hand in his, adopting the polite Northern custom. I'd only learned snippets of etiquette from my father. I was still a royal lady myself, albeit one who was more interested in how to snap a man's spine rather than elaborate bowing-and-scraping. He kisses the palm, black stubble scraping the outside of my skin. I try not to recoil. I look at his eyes, but he betrays no sign that he cares for Ryu as anything more than an Advisor. "You forgot Owner of the Sun itself, Regina." Again, I watch his eyes. Again, he doesn't turn back to Ryu.

           You forgot the title of Best Actor in all Rahasia.

I smile and giggle prettily. "Your brother?" I point curiously to Ryu, feigning ignorance. Elio frowns, but then swivels away and covers it up with a too-sweet smile.

"My Advisor," Elio walks over to Ryu, pushing back a damp cloth over his brow. Ryu tosses in his sleep, his robe drawing up his thigh as he sprawls feverishly in the blankets. He swallows, blushing slightly as he turns away and pulls the sheets over Ryu's body. "He took ill. There's been a bit of a resistance in my Empire. But, trust me, that treacherous dragon will be decapitated long before our wedding day."

I walk beside him, feeling how his body tenses when I get too close. Anger? Fear?

"Your father, before he passed, told me you'd pledged celibacy in service to your gods." I tilt my head to the side, reveling in his discomfort. "But I want children."

I walk closer. Closer. My hand on my dagger hidden next to the mirror over my breast. I pull it forwards. Ratu had sharpened it earlier. It's thin as a feather.

"Children?" Elio swallows, looking down at Ryu with an indiscernible expression.

"Yes," I skirt around Elio, and he gasps when he catches sight of the blade. I point it towards Ryu, feeling ill as I press it against his branded neck. "Ten children. Twelve. Some might even call it an army. Yes, but you know all about armies of children, don't you?" I see my eyes in the dagger's surface, switch back to one the color of blood-moon, the other luminescent. My voice lowers in pitch, back to the natural rhythm of Ode of Ngayoh, not some princess's squeak. "Hello again, Elio. Come with me, or I kill Ryu."

Elio does something I didn't suspect.

He laughs.

"Hello, Ode. I was wondering when the real you would come out to play." His laughter sounds like a jackal's desperate cry. "Too bad I won't fall for that same blackmail trick again. Ryu's become, how do I put this? Disposable."

And then he pushes the dagger downwards, making a sickening squelch in Ryu's flesh. The dancer's lithe body convulses in pain, amber eyes wide in horror.

I scream, pulling desperately at his silver threads of life, healing him. I pull the bloodied blade back at once, dropping it to the ground, my hands slick with blood. Ryu heals, slowly. I put my hands against the knitting flesh of his neck, feeling for a pulse.

               Steady. Dear Divine. Thank you for not taking him away from me.

Blood drips down my nose. I try to wipe it away, but find that Elio's taken up the blade and pressed it against my neck. His entire body trembles violently, his tattooed skin giving way to skin that's tough and thick as a beast's hide. A flat forehead, shorn hair. A face that's so intimidating that it isn't handsome, but there's strength beneath it. Intoxicating power. In those eyes, bloodlust. In his smile, teeth as sharp as a lion's. A smile like a hyena.

He knows. He knows I have Kane's eye.

"Hello, Ode." This time, the voice is musical. "Elio's can't play now. Elio's been replaced." Cato the Elder points back down to the bed. Ryu's form... no the body on the bed was never anyone's at all.

It's a decoy.

An enchanted dummy.

This isn't Elio standing behind me is it? It was a play. A facade.

I look to the dummy, lying on the bed, his eyes seemingly shut forever.

Not again.

I can't have come too late again.

Ratu and Arno run into the room, alongside nine of the royal guards. General Ibrahim, I see, has already slumped to the ground, a brutal lump growing on his skull, blood trickling down. Ratu takes down two guards with a blade. Arno tackles a third to the floor. My friends still wear their legionnaire disguises, but Cato waves his hand, and they freeze up.

"Don't touch them!" I scream, spit flying out my face, mingling with the blood trickling down from my nose. Through the haze of pain, I see that our disguises melt off us like candlewax. We're all bruised and bloodied.

"Let's take a walk outside, out in the gardens. I don't want to get blood all over my new palace floors." Cato chuckles, and in a sing-song voice. "Kane, brother, come out to play."

Kane stays silent.

"No matter," Cato's breath tickles my ear. His callused skin presses into my back. I feel the scars of multiple stab wounds, all healed by godly might. "He'll come to save his whore soon enough."

Gods, I squeeze my eyes shut as Cato lifts me off the ground by my throat. There's a sickening crunch. No air goes in or out. Nothing. Just desperate, mewling gasps.

I can't go. Not like this. Not so weak.

               Everything goes black.

***

Champions,

Too many plot twists? Or, as Ratu says about traps, a woman can never set too many?

Best

Sophia