The Serpent's Veil

Stranger

The chafing of Khaya's new skin against itself was velveteen softness. With each step her hair bounced with the lightness of a cloud, and with each breath the gold leaf bonded to her flesh crinkled ever so slightly. Despite the cloak, even the slightest breeze sent gooseflesh rising across her limbs.

Khaya had never felt more unlike herself.

The eunuchs completely surrounded her, whether to protect her from prying eyes or ensure she couldn't navigate the palace without help, she didn't know.

All at once they were through the doors to the Prince's chambers. They did not break their circle as they guided her through the lounge through a set of arches to what Khaya could only assume was the bedroom. When the eunuchs bowed and took their leave, she could finally breathe.

The room was not as she thought it would be. The walls were calm, pale red with silver patterns, hardly decorated with paintings or other ornaments. Khaya swivelled on her heel and her eyes found the bed. Her whole family could have fit on it comfortably. The sheets were a green that almost matched her sirwals – had they matched it on purpose? – and looked soft enough to melt at the first touch. Rapturous verses from the Calipha's story resounded in Khaya's mind, and she quickly looked away.

She would cry after it was over.

Not now. She couldn't ruin all the work those girls had put in.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Khaya glided to the long table across the room. Her feet sank into the plush carpet as she peered at the paper spread out on the table. It was a map of the kingdom going as far as the edge of Byzantium. Baghdad was twice as big as her palm, while other towns were barely dignified by a dot. The elaborate cursive labels were too hard to read, and none of the symbols made sense. Clearly this was not a map with any practical uses.

She absently dragged her finger across it in search of Jorash, knowing she would never find it.

A violent clang of metal crashing on marble reverberated from the antechamber.

Khaya's blood froze.

How did I not hear him?!

She stumbled away from the table, thoughts scrambling.

Should I sit on the floor, the bed? Should I stand facing the door? What if he recognises me from that night?!

Another crash. He obviously wasn't in a good mood.

Khaya clenched her fists by her sides, keeping her eyes on the ground. She didn't even know why she was afraid.

Good mothers raise good sons.

She let out a long breath, and the sound of his soft footsteps filled her ears.

◊

The Prince walked in with one hand on his other forearm, working at the latches keeping his gold braces in place. He didn't even register her presence till she sighed.

He tilted his chin up and there stood... something beyond words. His tired and impatient eyes softened to curiosity, and his hands stopped their urgent work.

So this is what Yahya prepared for me...

She was like paradise in human form, gold and green and alive. The gold glued over her chest gleamed with each breath she inhaled. Her gaze was downcast, unmoving.

He wanted to see those eyes.

"What have we here," he mumbled as he walked towards her. Though he couldn't see it, her shoulders tensed as he began circling her, taking in every detail drawn onto her tiny body for him. His gaze fell to her hands, clenched in tight fists. Shaking.