Chapter 33


    Zaidna


    The Empire of Judath


    Bakavoth Palace


    Sorai stirred, stretching her limbs in the warm but waning sunlight.  “Has my husband arrived yet?” she yawned, her voice still thick with sleep.


    “No, not yet, but he’ll come for you soon.”  Aila sat down on the bed and gently drew Sorai’s head against her chest.


    Sorai ran a hand across the silk sheets, catching her fingers on the petals that had been spread there, and thought longingly of Tashau and the eagerness with which he’d watched her all day long.  Would he smell as sweet as her handmaiden did now?  And would it feel just as good to lie in his arms?  “I’m a little nervous,” Sorai admitted.


    “You’re right to be nervous,” Aila whispered.  “I know you don’t love him, but you must not refuse him when he comes for you.  Try to be affectionate and it will hopefully end quickly.”


    Sorai turned her head quizzically, but Aila slid out of view.  “But I do love him.  I wouldn’t have agreed to marry him if I didn’t love him.”


    “You did not agree to this willingly,” Aila reminded slowly.


    Sorai creased her brow.  “What do you mean?”


    “You hate him, my dear, and understandably so.  He is cruel to you.”


    “Tashau isn’t cruel.  He’s kind!  I know I love him, and he loves me.”  Sorai folded her arms petulantly.


    “Tashau?” Aila murmured.  “Oh, I see.”  She tilted her head to look out the broad, circular window, and Sorai followed her gaze to the yellow sky and the narrow, gutted mountain cloaked in a swirling haze of dust and sand.  “Your husband loves you, but not in a way that an emperor should love his wife.”


    “Why are you being so hurtful, especially on my wedding day?”  Sorai sat up, wanting to be alone, but Aila caught her by the shoulders and drew her close.


    “Shh,” Aila cooed as she pressed Sorai’s face to her chest.  “I’m only trying to make what you fear the most hurt a little less—to prepare you for what’s to come.”  Even through closed eyelids, Sorai could see the silver-white glow of Aila’s skin.


    “You’re not really Aila, are you?”  Strangely, Sorai didn’t care whether this was her handmaiden or not.  There was something comforting in her embrace.


    Aila stroked Sorai’s head, fingertips pressing against her scalp.  “I should smooth these tangles.  It’s the least I can do after what he’s done.”  Sorai felt Aila’s fingers probe deeper into her hair, pressing harder and harder, until they seemed to slip painlessly through her skull.


    A shuddering wave of relief suddenly washed over Sorai’s body as several silver locks of hair drifted past her face to rest on Aila’s chest.  She reached for them idly, marveling at their gleam, but her fingers passed right through them.  How curious, she mused, before closing her eyes again.


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    Aila’s hands moved gently as she untangled more of the silvery threads.  “I wish I could have saved you the night that he took you.  I was justified in keeping Tashau alive to watch over the kada, but I could not justify interfering on your behalf.  Your sacrifice was necessary.  Please forgive me.”


    Sorai felt her anxiety fading moment by moment.  “Of course I forgive you,” she mumbled.


    “Perhaps some good will yet come of it.  He wasn’t always this way.  If he would only listen to reason, or exercise mercy.  I wish I could spare you from being with him now.”


    “Don’t leave me, then.  Stay here with me.”


    Sorai felt Aila’s body tense as she stopped her ministrations momentarily.  “I would stay with you if I could, but I cannot go beyond the parting.  Once you pass through it, you will have to be strong and endure on your own.  It won’t be forever, and you may find friends if you look, but I cannot help you there.”


    With one final tug, the last of the snarls came free and a veil of translucent white fell over Sorai’s face.  For a single moment, all of her worries were gone.  She felt like she could do anything, face anything.


    “I would like to meet you face-to-face one day, Sorai.  There is goodness in you that I wish all my disciples had.  Never abandon that goodness, no matter what he might do to you.”


    Sorai sank back into the pillows and was almost at once caged by solid arms.  When she opened her eyes, Anoth was hovering over her, his white and yellow robe already parted and spread to either side of her.  She couldn’t help but stare.  He was beautiful.


    “You’ve made me wait far too long,” Anoth muttered.  His fingers trailed down the length of her neck, between the folds of her bridal robes, before resting atop the scar he had torn into her chest.


    Reflexively, Sorai tried to cover herself, but he grabbed her hands and leaned close enough to catch her tears with his mouth.


    “Don’t be shy.”  Anoth’s lips melted against hers and she found that she could not resist them.  She dared to return his searing kiss, and in response he became more ardent as he squeezed the breath from her.  The heat of his skin and the taste of his mouth soon delighted her to the point of dizziness, until at last she was fully enraptured by his advances.


    But amidst all that breathless fumbling, her mind began to stir.  Why was she doing this?  She tried to push Anoth away, but her arms would not move except to receive him.  What was she doing?  How could she betray Tashau like this?  But she couldn’t stop herself.  Her body was powerless and pliable, surrendering to Anoth’s will even though she would sooner die than let him touch her.  “Let me go!” she shrieked.


    Anoth disappeared, leaving Sorai floundering in pitch black, tossing the bed sheets aside as she reached frantically for Tashau with bandaged hands.  Almost at once, a yellow light scorched her eyes, and she lashed out, scratching and screaming at the hand that gripped her arm.


    “Stop it!  You’re hurting me!” cried a voice that was not Anoth’s.


    Sorai immediately stopped her flailing.  Her rapid heartbeat continued to thud in her ears.  “Aila!” she cried as she realized she was attacking her handmaiden.  “I’m so sorry!  I-I don’t know why—”


    “Empress, what happened?”  Aila lowered the oil lamp, setting it down on Sorai’s nightstand.  She cautiously reached for Sorai, checking her face and eyes.


    “He was here, Aila!  Anoth was right here, touching me!”


    Aila balked at this.  “Oh, no!   Nobody was here.  I heard you from the sitting room, and there was no one here when I came in.”


    “But he was!  I can still smell him!”  Sorai hugged herself as guilt and revulsion swept over her.


    Aila’s brow creased.  “Well, you don’t have a fever.  You—you weren’t dreaming, were you?”


    “Of course not!”  Sorai snapped.  She was a daughter of the first house; it was impossible for her to dream.


    “Forgive my silly question.”  Aila bowed her head.  “Shall I send for your husband?”


    At first Sorai was tempted to say yes.  She needed Tashau to make all of this better—to ease her guilt.  But she was already in trouble with everything else that had happened.  Telling him about this vision—this hallucination—would be just one more reason for him to think she was insane.  “No, don’t send for him,” she murmured.  Whatever this was, it was clearly Anoth’s doing.  It was just a new way for him to stalk and torment her.  For a moment, she had thought that even if she were a hadir she would still find refuge from him, but she had been a fool.  If he could penetrate her very thoughts, what hope did she ever have of completely escaping him?