Oleander

IX. Unknown (part two)

Despite the hour, Rishi's chambers were lit. Her rooms were only steps beyond Sasha's. The dark ironwood gleamed in the low light of the dying hearth. Gilded edges flashed from the light of braziers creating a glittering decor that shamed the stars. And yet, despite the last breath of night, it felt as suffocating as Sasha's incense-clouded chambers.

Yalira's heart pounded beneath her ribs, against the bundle of secrets she held in her arms.

"I thought I might see you tonight," Rishi said from her lounge. Wrapped in layers of storm-colored linens, bathed in a perfume of frankincense and lotus blossom, Rishi watched her like an impatient cat, her dangling leg twitching back and forth. Behind her, the otherworldly gods of the Lytvian pantheon seemed to glower from their painted prisons on the walls.

"Then you know why I'm here?"

"I imagine that something went wrong with Sasha's labor." She examined her fingernails with feigned interest. "I could hear her screams for most the night. Poor pet."

The callousness of her false endearment pricked holes into Yalira's confidence. And yet, the hint of fear and sisterly sympathy veined through Rishi's words. Not even the sharp, sardonic queen could ignore the threat of that shared fate.

Before Yalira could speak again, Rishi stood. The dark fabric hung in lazy scallops from her shoulders, making her hazel eyes seem all the brighter. Her intricately twisted braids, tipped with golden charms, were in slight disarray, as if mussed. She ran her hand through them, as if to ruin them further.

"I was just with Andar," she said. Yalira expected a wink, an innuendo. The queen's voice was as serious as the hint of the frown that touched her face. "He's been fretting all night. I suppose his worries were founded."

"It is not happy news," Yalira confirmed. She pulled the hidden infant closer to her chest. The weak cries had quieted to noisy breaths. It would not be long now. This leap into trust felt like the edge of a cliff, no end below but darkness and unknown. The queen's mischievous humor had seemed harmless, her presence well-intentioned. As light and shadow played across her face, Yalira wondered if the sharp edge of her smile had always been there.

Forcing her nerves into iron will, Yalira stepped into free fall. "I need you to take the child to the steps of Carthas."

"A stillborn?" Rishi asked. Her tone sounded closer to statement than query. She moved closer, unable to keep the curious lilt from her voice.

With her long fingers, Rishi pulled back the swaddling to reveal the unfortunate monster. The misshapen head, the single eye. The barest whisper of surprise darted in her eyes before the queen replaced her composed mask.

"Clever. You can't take it yourself, can you? If anyone found you with this creature—" Rishi's voice trailed off for a moment. Yalira guessed they both imagined the same consequences. In a sharper voice, Rishi asked, "Did you pay Sasha's servants?"

Yalira shook her head, feeling a wave of fresh fear rise in her throat. Bribery had not occurred to her. Was fear enough to keep the truth from escaping?

"Should I have? I have nothing of value to give them. I—"

"Relax," Rishi commanded, placing her hand against Yalira's cheek. "I'll handle them."

Suddenly filled with suspicion, with regret in her decision to trust the Lytvian queen, Yalira stilled. Fear and desperation had brought her to Rishi's door. Now past the threshold, Rishi prepared and unsurprised, the priestess felt certain she had made a grave mistake.

"Why would you help?" she whispered. The darkness and fear of Semyra threatened to swallow her. Alone in the high city, Yalira had no allies, no friends, no followers. She was not a queen who could command the guards. She had made up her mind to betray her patron goddess. In the last hours of night, Yalira dao Eheia was only a woman.

"I have no love for Sasha," Rishi confessed. The truth of it rang louder than the memory of oleander against Yalira's tongue. She clung to that faint touch of Antala, for the last thread of hope. Rishi's voice was grim and firm. "But I will help you."

"Why?"

"Sasha is nothing, but you, dear heart, are my sister."

The words rang with earnestness, with affection. The taste of oleander was so faint, Yalira wondered if it was her own desperate desire to keep it there.

"Why were you even there tonight?" Rishi asked.

"I—I thought I could help. Andar asked that I be there."

Rishi's face sparked with interest before she smoothed it away. She grabbed Yalira's arms, bracing them together. A soft cry escaped the swaddled monster with the force of it.

"A lesson then, I think," she said.

Her fingers biting between Yalira's muscles, the priestess protested, "You're hurting me, Rishi."

Though her hazel eyes were as unflinching as stone, Rishi's grip softened. "Listen to me. Semyra is no place for kindness. Attending to Sasha, coming to me. These are kindnesses that could kill us all. You, me, your priestesses—we are all at risk. If you play the game, don't wager your own wellbeing and certainly don't wager mine."

The silence between their heartbeats roared louder than the dying fire, the shuddering breaths of the creature between them. Locked together, both dark-haired, both olive-skinned, Yalira wondered if this was her future.

On the sloping hillside above Semyra, she had told herself that this new world was no place for kindness. And yet, at the first cry, she had walked unthinkingly into danger. Rishi was right.

"I won't," Yalira promised.

"Good," Rishi answered. She gently pulled at an escaped tendril of Yalira's hair. "Corpses cannot be queens, Yalira.

"I will take this unfortunate little creature to the steps of your dark god. Not out of kindness, but because I rather enjoy being queen and not a corpse. You break the news to sweet Andar before he comes looking for answers."

She moved away to pull a dark traveling cloak from her wardrobe. It was an unstylish, functional piece of fabric. Dull and uninteresting, it matched the style of dress the servants wore. Beneath it, Rishi looked like a shapeless cook, a short errand-runner. If the queen had not just informed her that time worked against her, Yalira might have asked where to get such a clever garment.

In another breath, Rishi took the bundle. The movement spurred the infant into new cries. Yalira's heart ripped into pieces. This world was unfair and brutal.

Just one last kindness. One more thing to forgive, Antala.

Tucked into the small layered pockets of her clothes, Yalira plucked out a leaf of oleander. Despite Rishi's raised eyebrow, she chewed it into paste. Though her bones knew that her intentions were those of empathy, her heart thudded with the black implication.

Not truth. Not sight. As the prickly wave of oleander touched her, she spit the paste into her hand. She let the tortured creature suckle it from her finger. She had not lied to Andar that night in Antalis. Oleander took training, patience. While a single leaf would not kill an untrained adult, its power would overcome this tiny body.

Her dark eyes met Rishi's, challenging the queen to condemn her actions. There was nothing in the world that would repair its deformities, mend its flayed spine. But Yalira could end its—his—purposeless suffering.

Under Antala's thrall, the cries quieted into soft whimpers and then to quiet breaths.

Rishi's sharp eyes cooled with sympathy and she swallowed before nodding once. Yalira's heart fluttered with lightness. Her trust had not been misplaced.

With purpose, Rishi guided her toward the door. Both women now fought against time, against the brightness of dawn. Their wordless steps carried them into the hall.

"Be swift, sister," Yalira murmured. The words were familiar as the temple steps of Antalis. She hoped this time they would carry more fortune.

The Lytvian queen, hidden behind a bland cloak, pressed her lips to Yalira's brow. Her wide smile did not meet her eyes.

"I would wash before visiting Andar." Rishi whispered against her forehead, cradling the dying monster in her arms. "You're covered in blood."