Oleander

XI. Dark Crescent (part two)

A stone, the heavy pit in her stomach lingered through the evening. It rolled in her gut through dinner, despite the animated chatter of the queens. Sasha, Dezma, and Xaisha expectedly absent. Rishi unexpectedly so.

Sasha had not been seen since her sequestering for labor. Dezma was still away in Kythis. Xaisha never joined the evening meal, preferring to keep company with her sickly daughter. Four queens and a priestess remained.

Alleta whispered that Rishi had requested her meal be brought to her chambers. A headache, the queens gossiped, was the excuse. Normally silent, Avalyn made a scoffing noise and mentioned that enough food had been sent up for an army. Fresh-bathed after sparring, Edyt mentioned that she'd seen Andar heading towards Rishi's door. The queens all laughed with the implication.

I'm certain they'll work up an appetite, they tittered over wine.

Yalira's cheeks flooded with color. The queens teased her for inexperience, for her chastity, for her virginal blush. She let them. Better they sink their barbs into misplaced expectations.

For it was not chastity that sent her heart hammering in her chest. It was the thought of Rishi and Andar alone. It was for the words that might be said and the trust that might have been misplaced.

The chest will have the answers, she repeated. Yalira couldn't explain why the answers felt so important, but her bones insisted with quiet urgency. All of Antala's priestesses sought truth—this obsession was no different. It couldn't be.

She was certain Andar wanted her alive, but would he feel the same if she stole into his rooms? The man was unpredictable, violent. She did not want his attention re-focused on her. Better she slip into his domain and steal the truth than be forced to barter with him once more. There was precious little she had left to trade.

Yalira ignored the curl of Valen's knowing smile and the insistence of her pointed glances. Those black eyes fueled the flames of her anxious thoughts.

She could not escape them in her dreams.

The dread remained the following morning, churning through her reading lessons during which Oristos lamented her inattention.

Despite its heaviness in her gut, Yalira vibrated with the energy of anticipation. The phantom touch of smooth cypress against her fingers, the letters of Antalis in her mind's eye. Their presence gave her the courage to walk beyond the entrance to her rooms and into the hallway that would bring her to Andar's domain.

In that moment, she was grateful that the man was too arrogant to keep guards posted through these inner corridors. If it was arrogance in his ability to protect himself or in the belief that he was too loved to be at risk for attack, Yalira was not certain, but as her hem swished whisper-soft across the polished marble, she thanked Antala for it just the same.

The high noon sun filtered in, illuminating the simple exterior arch to the place where the monster slept. During her previous visit, consumed with purpose, she had not appreciated the details of his rooms. She had been too surprised to find a scholar's alcove to appreciate its intricacies. Even the archway, though bare of paint or gilt, was painstakingly carved with intertwined branches of laurel.

Yalira swallowed down the tongues of fire-laced fear that rose in her chest. She would not let that desperate smoke choke her resolve. The promise of the answers she sought was near.

She listened intently for a moment, straining to hear any signs of movement in the room. Valen promised to distract Andar, but Yalira did not trust the queen. It would be just as likely that she sent Andar back to his rooms. They might have found common ground but, more and more, Semyra was a place that punished misplaced trust.