Five
The dancing soon ended, to be replaced by many other forms of entertainment. The tables had been replaced by cushions. Great piles of pillows and cushions of all sorts were strewn around the room. Irisi had been placed amongst a great many extravagant cushions. Atemu was nearby, having yet again been snagged by a hopeful. Irisi was paying attention to the entertainment, but her keen ears were trained on her prince. She had excellent hearing to begin with; she had amazed those who knew her with her heightened hearing. She could pick out Atemu’s distinctive voice across the room, and it seemed he had finally lost his patience.
She turned from the entertainment, hearing a rise in both his and the young woman’s voices. Many others had turned to them for a fleeting glance before making it obvious that they were absorbed in the entertainment. Only Irisi and Atemu’s father remained enraptured by the brewing argument. Irisi lifted her chin a hair, watching them from across the room, her grey eyes dark with hidden emotion. She was curious, but also displeased. Atemu knew better than to make a public scene. How many times had she counselled him against such actions when they were younger? She considered stepping in, but dismissed the idea. Friend to the prince she may be, but there were some lines one did not cross. She had looked away for a moment, taking stock of the other revellers. She heard a smack, like a hand striking a face, and a collective gasp and turned to see the young woman stomping way, “Please tell me -”
“He didn’t. She did.” The pharaoh said. He sounded angry.
Her eyes narrowed, her mouth mashed into a thin line, grey eyes sparked with a rare anger. How dare she? Striking a member of the pharaoh’s family was grounds for execution. The girl was dead. She thought. “She just crossed one of those rare lines that people hope to never see crossed.” She muttered. She rose to her feet, crossing the now near empty room. People were leaving in a hurry, punishment would be swift, and no one wanted to be around to see it happen. She approached Atemu, trying to erase her frown of contempt for the girl.
“I suppose you saw the whole thing, Irisi?” he asked.
“It is not your fault,” she told him, “Were I in your shoes I would have lost my temper too, and we all know how rare that is.” She said.
He turned to look at her, their gazes locked, “It is strange, Irisi.” He said, “Anyone else would have asked me if I were injured.”
“I assumed it would be an insult to whatever injury you took to your pride by being slapped across the face by some simpleton who got insulted.” She said, “I could still pose that question if you wish it.” She said.
He managed to smile despite himself, “That is alright.” He said, “You know me too well.” He told her.
“That is well; I was hoping that that particular detail hadn’t changed.” She replied.
“Atemu,” The pharaoh had arrived. “What was that about?” he asked.
“I am sorry father; I should not have lost my temper like that. I have never liked being fawned over and she would not leave off, I did not know any other way to escape.” He admitted.
“You know the penalty for the assault of a member of the royal family.” He said.
Atemu nodded. “Aye,” He agreed.
“Very well,” The pharaoh left them then, going to his throne room.
Irisi shook her head, “Come then, no sense standing in a big empty room.” She said.
“Would you like to go for a walk in the gardens?” he asked.
“A trip to the gardens of the palace after nightfall sounds like a perfect end to a splendid day.” She agreed.
Unthinking, he took her hand in his, as if they were little kids again, and led her through the gargantuan palace, to a small door near the back. He took her through it, and they entered into the palace gardens. She had reached up and undid the twin braids, allowing her hair to fall freely down her back. Obsidian hair framed her pale grey eyes, a delighted smile on her copper-bronze face. She had not retracted her hand from his, entirely content in the contact.
He stopped, however, near a pond, and released his grip on her hand. He frowned, his back to her. She instantly knew something was wrong, and wondered what it was. “What is wrong?” she asked, drawing up beside him. “You are unnaturally silent.” She commented.
“That girl will be dead because of my loss of temper...” he said.
“That is not your fault. She should never have hit you, no matter what you did.” She replied.
“The worst part about it is I know she will die and I do not care. Had it been you who had hit me, though, I would have fought tooth and nail to stop him from executing you.”
“A comforting thought, but why? Do you not think I deserve to be treated as any other?” she asked.
“No.” he said, “You should be treated much better, and because I know you wouldn’t hit me unless I truly deserved it.” He told her.
“I will tell you a secret,” she mock whispered, “I wanted to hit her back.” She told him.
He turned to face her, his violet eyes shadowed. “I would have let you if you had.” He assured her.
She smiled. It was different from any other smile she had worn that day. This was soft and gentle, a knowing smile that made men yearn for her. He embraced her, pulling her close to him. She allowed this, knowing her mother would scold her for it. Feeling his strong arms around her was the best homecoming she could wish for. She returned the embrace, resting her cheek on his shoulder. He breathed in the scent of her hair, closing his eyes. “I have missed you.” She heard him whisper, felt his breath on her neck.
She felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle, her grey eyes lidded themselves. “I have missed you as well.” She told him.
He stepped away, holding her at arm’s length and smiled, “Things are different now that you are here.” He informed her.
She chuckled, “Good, I would hate things to be boring.” She assured him.
He laughed outright, leading her through the gardens, the pale moonlight their only light. He tucked her under his arm as they passed the exotic flowers. She took a deep breath in, smelling the sweet fragrances, a small smile playing across her face. She flicked a strand of hair out of her eyes as she walked. “It’s so peaceful here.” She said softly.
“I would come here often during the day, if only to escape all the people vying for my attention. It soon became a favourite place of mine. It reminded me of you.” He told her.
“How so?” she asked. “I was never peaceful growing up.” She said.
“The flowers, all the different colours, the smells, it was like listening to you talk, so much diversity in the way you see things and how you express your thoughts.” He told her. “You know the difference between those girls and you?” he asked.
“I’m not a snob?” she suggested.
He chuckled, “True. But you’re not afraid to speak your mind to me. You don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, you tell me what you want me to hear.” He said.
She smiled up at him. “When did you get so tall?” she asked him.
“Huh? You’re the one who shrank!” He exclaimed.
She laughed, “I seem to have some catching up to do.” She told him.
