The Tattooed Princess

The Eye of the Storm

         Throughout the kingdom everyone could feel the effects of the king's unexpected illness. Many speculated how it was that he had become infected, being so insulated from the rest of his subjects. Others anticipated with concern just how the Pazyryk clan would get on without its tyrannical leader. There was an old Scythian saying that "bad dogs never die," and this embodied the feelings of those who feared that Sharvur would eventually  recover eventually, only to come back more austere and cruel as ever. Such was the belief of the young and beautiful Branka who was for the first time relieved that the king was so incapacitated and kept in a state of official quarantine. 

            This gave Branka and Zaria the rare opportunity to meet with the men they had come to love, and whom they wished to be with each night and day. Branka's Moshtok, her former teacher, and Tsudros, Zaria's tattoo artist were both good men and adored the Slavic girls back wholeheartedly. Both were only too happy to learn that their youthful paramours would be seeing them, at least for now, on a more extended basis while the kingdom was in its present state of disarray and confusion. 

        The palace was surely feeling the reigns of control loosening as Zaria's powers were now more accepted by staff and guards. Before she invited Tsudros to visit her in her palatial quarters, she had made preparations through Mila that Branka could leave the palace for several days and be with Moshtok in his empty house. He had been alone since his sister Tahime had moved out, taking a mate. Considering Svetlana's new fate, it was truly a magical time for all three of the girls during this dead of winter. For they had the unprecedented opportunity to feel unlike slaves for the first time in their entire year of captivity. 

            That evening, while Sharvur was in his state of delirium, alone, and soaked in a profuse sweat, Branka left the palace. Dressed warmly in Zaria's fine clothing, she headed out across the snowy roads to the encampment where Moshtok waited for her. She passed several piles of bodies stacked and covered by a blanket of white—a reminder of the plague which was only now showing some signs of abating with Sharvur's own sickness. It was also a reminder of what might befall her tormentor, should he, like many others, succumb to this epidemic which had raged in the tent cities below the mountain palace. 

            Moshtok met her at the entryway of his humble home. His dark hair, warm smile and smooth-shaved face reminded her of how much she had missed him as teacher and lover. They embraced for a long time in the doorway before moving into the warmer region of the house. 

            "My love, when Mila told me you would be able to be with me here . . .  tonight, I could not believe my ears. I was instead preparing to hear how you were terribly mistreated. Even further molested by my deranged and pathetic relative. And now . . . Sharvur  may die from his own wickedness they say." 

            "It is some sort of magic . . . perhaps divine, Moshtok. I hate to say that for your sake, but everyone now believes it was the king's own wickedness which infected him. Now he is being punished . . . as fate dictates." 

        "I will not miss him if he dies, Branka. Not after what he has done to you over these long months."

        "My love. . . I don't know.  I am just relieved to not be called to his chamber on these nights. Especially since his. . . loss . . .which only drove him further into torturing all of us."

        Moshtok was without speech. He just embraced her again.

        "Each day, dear Moshtok, I just worried for you here in the midst of this terrible curse outside the palace."

        "I have been fine, Branka. Though I have heard that many of my friends . . . and members of their families . . .  have been hit by this wave of fever. My sister's mate, Tellor, has shown signs of the sickness. Though in the last days she tells me he recovers slowly."