Jezebel

Part Three: 8

"Your king will agree to go to war with Ahab," Olivine said.

Jireh halted, almost stumbling. "What?"

They had walked away from the market, winding through streets. It was only when they were a few compounds from the palace that Jireh realised Olivine was leading him back to the palace. They had been talking about a totally different topic, his children, wife and life in Judah, before Olivine said what she said.

"War? How do you know he would agree to go to war? War is serious—life and death serious."

Olivine stopped, turned then walked over. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and wisps of red curls escaped her hood, swaying before her face. It was a struggle to maintain eye contact with Olivine, and Jireh's observation didn't come through lack of trying. There was something about her gaze, like she could tell the entirety of who a man was by a single look. He never recalled that occurring when she was younger. Every attempt to get information of who she really was had proved evasive. All her answers had been padded with double meaning. "How do you know?" Jireh asked again.

"I just know." She shrugged slim shoulders and offered Jireh a half-smile. "It would be useless to attempt to change Jehoshaphat's mind. Some lessons must be learned through experience."

Jireh's heart leapt within his chest. "What are you trying to say? Will my king be harmed?"

"When your king agrees to join forces with Ahab, advice him to seek the opinion of a prophet—a true prophet."

"I—alright." Jireh nodded. At this point, he didn't even know what to say.

"I must leave you at this point." She turned to face the general direction of the city gate. "There is something I must attend to. Go to your king."

Jireh wanted answers, many many answers but he kept them all to himself. Soon, maybe she would finally open up.

***

Harel had done exactly as Jehu instructed. At any sign of trouble, he was to leave the ring of his last finger on the dining surface. He had managed to do that before he was led away.

Groaning within himself, Harel shook his head in a bid to clear it. He had promptly earned the scorn of the woman he loved. It was moments like this he loathed Jehu. Perhaps he was off snoring on a maiden's thigh while his brother was led away to certain death.

Though it was bright with the afternoon sun outside, the corridors were shadowy. The few amber lamps hanging on the walls did little to chase the thick gloom of the place. The stairs were steep and the air got cooler the more they descended. Were they heading to a dungeon? How would Jehu trace him? Did he have spies lurking around?

The sound of Gomar's laughter reached his ear. It sounded forced. Would the queen know she's pretending? The risk Gomar was taking. Extremely foolish. Queen Jezebel was a snake, very dangerous to handle. Fresh fear washed over him at the mere thought of it all.

At last they came to the bottom of the stairs and walked down an archway with small windows high up. Rays of sunlight slashed through the darkness and spilled light upon the stone ground. Deeply grateful for the natural source of light, Harel looked around. He counted four doors, two on each wall. All had strange looking creatures carved into their surfaces and there was... was that a person at the corner? Harel blinked once. It truly was. The person was covered in black garb, a veil hung over her face and a basin of water sat at her feet.

Rasaque stopped before the last door to his right.

Harel stepped aside as the queen approached. Her lips moved without a sound. Bending at the waist, she scooped water in her hands and splashed it against her face. Still mumbling, she stood aside and stared at Gomar suggestively. Gomar was smart enough to copy what the queen did without hesitation. Harel's fear multiplied at this point. He had a substantial understanding of rituals. Little things like ablutions had a way of smearing a bit of darkness on a person.