If you looked at Kelita as she and Morabi strode into the throne room, you would never guess she was an emotional wreck the night before.
Her long, freshly washed dreadlocks were drawn up in a bun and decorated with spun gold. As she walked, her hair trailed an intoxicating scent of cedar and myrrh. Around her slender neck were her signature gold bands, which also adorned her wrists. And her royal silk cloak dragged on the ground behind her.
But it was her eyes, accentuated by the smoky shadows surrounding them, that grabbed the most attention. They swept the room of bowing nobles and supplicants, before she slowly settled herself on the gilded throne with as much grace as an ancient Egyptian cat.
Morabi stood beside her and unfurled a parchment. He frowned.
"Kaygen of Aruba, step forward."
A man stepped out from the gathering of courtiers, dressed in a while silk robe and white turban that contrasted sharply with his dark skin. He bowed at the hip, eyes fixed on the Empress.
"What is this about Kaygen of Aruba?" Morabi asked, one eye brow raised. "Surely not your salt mine permits again?"
"But that's just it!" Kaygen replied. "Its been two months since my permits expired. I can't operate my mines and it's driving me out of business. Why is the government not approving them!"
Morabi opened his mouth to reply, but Kelita's delicate hand on his arm stopped him.
"The emperor spoke to you Kaygen," Kelita said calmly, fixing her eyes on him. "Did you think the policy would change now that he's gone and I'm ruling in his stead? Well it hasn't. No slaves means no slaves. When you open your mines to inspections and satisfy us that you are not using slave labour, you can have your permit."
Kaygen clenched his fists.
"With all due respect," the businessman, said in what could only be interpreted as a disrespectful tone. "That policy is a ludicrous one. What do you think drives the economy? Slave labour! Besides, other salt merchants use slave labour."
"A situation I and my husband fully intend to change," Kelita said, smiling. "One trader at a time. Don't concern yourself with the others, they'll have to renew their permits too."
Kaygen's mouth twitched, a look on his face as though he was desperately holding back whatever words he wanted to fling at the Empress like daggers. But Kelita merely examined her nails.
A sudden commotion outside the doors to the hall snapped her attention back to her court. She exchanged a glance with Morabi, but he looked just as confused as she felt. Morabi stared pointedly at an imperial guard, who went to investigate the noise.
But before the guard could reach the doors, they burst open and a soldier stumbled through. Kelita opened her mouth to reprimand him, but her words caught in her throat as she took in his dusty clothes, bedraggled state and his horrified eyes.
"What is it?" Morabi snapped. But the soldier opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water.
Kelita rose and stepped down from the dais on legs that felt like trembling rubber. She recognized the soldier now, at least by his uniform. He was from one of General Agdel's regiments, the very regiments that had left the night before, with her blessing, to march on Bremon. Why were they back so early?
As if to put her tortured speculation to rest, the doors swung open again. This time a procession came through, shunting the disheveled soldier aside. The procession was led by General Rodrick, just as disheveled as his soldier and with a nasty gash on his muscular arm. But Kelita's gaze was drawn to the wooden bier being carried on the shoulders of four soldiers, walking in step behind Rodrick. And the body it held, of a soldier in black armor.
As she stepped forward and angled herself to get a better look, she stared at the barefoot, dusty toes of the soldier. Her eyes travelled up the soldier's corded legs, the black cuisses encasing his thighs, until she finally drew level with the face of her cousin, peaceful in repose as though sleeping. And yet, with every motion of the bier, Agdel's head rolled limply and exposed the deep, bright red gash and pink flesh at the base of his skull, where someone's blade had severed her beloved cousin's spine and life in one devastating slash.
Kelita screamed and stumbled to the briar, all thought of being empress forgotten as she poured out her grief. The soldiers hastily set down their load and stepped back, as she fell to her knees and grasped at her oldest friend in the world, her childhood playmate who she once wrestled and whose warm, strong shoulders she once climbed on to be jockeyed. Agdel's limp body was now cold and unresponsive and a stench of coppery blood enveloped her as she held him.
Agdel had been well liked at court, and everyone from the nobles to the servants now gathered around the wailing empress and the body she clutched to herself, as if to defy death. Some were openly sobbing, while others stared grimly at their fallen champion. Morabi stood behind Kelita, a look of shock etched on his face.
It was to him that Kelita now turned, but not for comfort. Her face, with the carefully applied eye shadow now smeared and mixed with her tears, was twisted in a vindictive rage. Her eyes narrowed on the old man.
"You..." she hissed. Morabi took a step back, his own eyes tortured by guilt and grief.
"You!" She screamed now and Morabi took another step back. "You... you did this! Your advise! You sent them to their deaths, you sent my cousin to his death!"
"I... I... no..." the usually eloquent Morabi now stuttered.
"Guards!" She shouted, pointing her shaking finger at him. "Arrest Morabi and throw him in the dungeon! As I live, he will be dead by tomorrow morning!"
She had already turned back to Agdel, as the palace guards who once took instructions from Morabi now sucker punched him in his belly and dragged the hunched over and breathless old man away.
🇬🇾
Pathrice walked listlessly through the rubble filled Rozaic palace hallways, her face streaked with dirt. Outside, the crowds shouted and bayed for the blood of the imperialists who had invaded their land, disregarded their customs and killed their people. The entire palace vibrated under her feet, as the crowd took another battering ram to the doors downstairs. It was a miracle the doors had stood for so long.
She turned a corner and came across Sheryn, peeping through a crack in the wall. Whatever she could see outside held her full attention, to the extent that she jumped and spun around when she heard Pathrice come up behind her.
"How bad is it?" Pathrice asked blandly. Without a word, Sheryn stepped aside. Pathrice peeped through the wall. She saw a crowd of Bremonian people in the courtyard, their faces contorted as they shouted and hurled rocks at the palace. It was clear that any attempt to reason with this rabble would see that unfortunate soul being stoned to death. That would be merciful. The alternative might see the person falling into the hands of the crowd, where they would be torn limb by limb.
"We have to get out of here," Sheryn said, her voice quivering as she looked up at Pathrice. "We can't reason with them and we're vastly outnumbered. It doesn't look like reinforcements are on their way. And if we wait them out, Prince Khalid might return with an army."
"I know," Pathrice said, dropping her voice as an Imperial soldier walked past, listlessly dragging his feet. "But we have to try and evacuate the soldiers. We can't just leave them here. Plus I have to go to the hospital and get Akhmed. I want to honor Sahelia's wishes."
"Can you..." here Sheryn wiggled her fingers and despite the morbid situation they were in, Pathrice giggled at how absurd she looked.
"Yes, I can..." Pathrice wiggled her own fingers. "And carry out about one to two soldiers at a time. We need to move about a hundred soldiers. And by the time I teleport twenty soldiers out of here, I'll be dead with the strain the magic will take on me. No. We need to evacuate them on foot."
Downstairs, the heavy thud of the battering ram reverberated through the palace. Dust came raining down from the ceiling and landed in their hair. Pathrice ran her fingers through her curls. Sheryn leaned against the wall with a disappointed pout.
They heard urgent footsteps and Rayne suddenly appeared before them, breathless.
"You two are up here having a chat, while that door downstairs is about two blows away from collapsing? Am I the only one who doesn't want to die today?"
"We're actually talking about ways out of this mess," Pathrice said, taking a step towards Rayne. "I think I might have a plan."