Oleander

XIX. Harbors (part two)

"You foolish teacup," he whispered against her hair.

That wave of grief might have lasted an eternity, but through blurring tears and stubborn rain, Yalira watched Andar shift in the foreground of the palace facade. A signal for an arriving audience.

A flock of queens gravitated towards Andar, their unpainted, solemn faces decorated with searching eyes. Oristos shielded her so that Yalira could wipe her face and hide the sorrow before it could be noted. Andar greeted each of his wives. In a rush, their questions and censure flew forth. He absorbed it with such stoic, taciturn patience, that Yalira wondered if he meant to draw their attention from her moment of human weakness.

It was only Rishi's bright, calculating gaze that met hers. Only Rishi who abandoned Andar's circle to nod to Oristos, to inventory the exhaustion and pain marked onto Yalira's body.

"A bath, I think," Rishi said, pulling her away from the condemning curiosity that was sure to follow. They had sneered when Andar had paid her thought. What emotion would twist across their faces after he'd run into darkness and death to find her? Now that she was truly one of them? There was no fear left in Yalira, but the thought of an avenging Valen reminded her of that first meeting in the baths, their careful conversation in the gardens. A heavy hand holding her head beneath fragrant water, fragile treaties that became clever weapons. No matter the loveliness, these queens owned vicious edges.

Oristos squeezed Yalira's fingers with a last smile before returning to Andar. She could hear Oristos attempt to corral the irritated wives, all rain-logged and furious, with promises of answers and material retribution. The cloying hints of warm wine echoed as Rishi led her in the opposite direction, down the sloping, muddy path towards the bathhouse.

Where Andar and Oristos had shared guarded emotion, Rishi waited in perfect silence until they were tucked into the corner of the empty baths, shielded in steam. With gentle hands, she helped remove the torn remainders of Yalira's dress, unbraid her tangled hair. Naked and numb, Yalira watched the refracted pantheon that lived below the water's surface. The goddesses's tiled faces mocked her.

"I am alone."

Though she had feared it, anticipated its veracity, Yalira had not embraced the fate of Antalis until that moment. The words, barely a breath over the music of rain through the open ceiling, made it solid and true. Oristos's loyalty, his sturdy compassion, had tempted a fraction of grief from her, but now it returned with dark, suffocating agony. Her lungs ached with the weight of the hollow pain. The priestesses of Antala had fallen, their legacy lost, and not even their memories could console her.

Minutes or hours, Yalira could not say, but Rishi held her until the shivering ceased, until her tears quieted. Gently, the queen guided her into the bath and tended each patch of her broken skin with careful hands. It was only when Yalira's body was clean, her hair rinsed and sleek across the water, that Rishi interrupted her grief.

"Mourn them, Yalira," she said. "For you cannot change what has passed."

The pause was heavy with the sound of rain, of distant thunder. Yalira waited for Rishi's censure, for the sharp lecture that should have followed the ghosts of foolishness and pride.

"But you are not alone." Rishi placed a warm hand to her cheek. "You have me, dear one. And Oristos."

Again, Yalira wondered if Oristos would have consoled her, Rishi would have cared for her, if Andar had perished with her priestesses. Would she still have allies if she were Yalira, alone? Without divine power, without the guiding hand of the goddess, how could she survive in Semyra? The longing, tortured, wretched love Oristos held for Andar. The sharpness of bitter queens fighting for scraps of his attention. She wanted no part of it.

"I need silphium seeds."

Rishi stilled. Frowned.

"I can get them for you, but you'd be better served without them."

Yalira shook her head. She would not anchor herself to Andar of Tyr. The insistent energy that lived between them was already too tempting. Yalira refused to strengthen it with the bonds of the heir he so desired. Silphium tea, the favored contraceptive of whores.

Rishi's bright eyes researched each inch of her skin, looking for some invisible mark to prove Yalira's implication. Her words came softly, with the slightest of her wicked smiles. "Then you have Andar, too, it would seem."

Though Yalira had felt unchanged during gray dawn, her cheeks colored faintest pink under Rishi's knowing stare. For all the protesting she had given, to surrender so easily to Andar was another betrayal of the self. Another part of Antala's legacy burned to ashes. Her denial was reflexive.

"I do not want him."

She had said these same words, those moons ago, when Valen marked her as competition. When she was still High Priestess of Antalis. When Andar of Tyr was only a monster.

Rishi was kind enough to ignore their false ring.

"Regardless," she replied, her wide grin reflected in the water. "I will get you the silphium."

A/N

Another herbal historical tidbit! Silphium was said to be used as a contraceptive in Ancient Rome and Greece. Its depiction can be found on coins and was said to be worth its weight in silver. It was ultimately harvested to extinction. While it's fun to poke at the stereotypes of sexually promiscuous ancient cultures, contraception actually helps play a role in public health, woman's health, and sexual autonomy. 

At the risk of expanding this story longer than it already is (we've hit 100k!), I cut out some earlier scenes of Yalira providing silphium to prostitutes at the new altar. Don't worry, we're getting back to the intrigue soon.