PART TWO: THE BEGINNINGS OF WAR

A dry darkness rests on her shoulders, the monsters walking within it unaware of what lurks right behind them. Zalish watches from the shadows as the pair of revelers split, a blond man going one way and a raven-haired man turning another. She follows after the blond one.

He looks down, his golden brows furrowed as he attempts to read a note sprawled across his arm. Zalish had seen a girl, no older than sixteen, giggle beneath her veil as she painted the message along his skin with a stick of lip stain. The man lets out a dreamy sigh, likely thinking about what had transpired in the previous hour. Her eyes roll.

The Velish celebrate just as she imagined they would. All of them are stiff and boring. Stepping into that formal, she was greeted with the sight of sodden planks twirling in rehearsed circles. It was agonizing. She looks around, checking once more that there are no nosy eyes.

When she finds nothing, Zalish steps out of the darkness and wraps her hands around the man’s neck. “I’ll kill you if you so much as squeak.” She almost begs him to scream, but even this intoxicated fool understands his position. He doesn’t even mumble as she pulls him back into the darkness. They walk, her eyes flicking from him to the path they travel.

Then tension begins to slow her down and a sudden sharp pain explodes from her nose. The sound of the crack of her nasal bone and the tearing of her skirt fills the empty air. The blond man doesn’t even spare her a look as he attempts to rush off. Irritation fills her all at once, forcing a low sound to rumble from her throat.

Zalish reaches down and pulls at her filthy skirts, which had caught on on the jagged edge of a brick. Pissed at the fact that that man had elbowed her in the face and embarrassed that a dress had been what led to it, she lets the tiniest bit of control slip.

The amono makes a fist and punches into the wall, quickly grasping the biggest chunk of debris she can find. Standing, she cocks her arm back and throws it as she would have thrown her spear. The woman doesn’t even watch the outcome. Instead, she tears her skirts up the sides and ties them around her legs to form makeshift pants. She just finished the final knot when she hears the thud of a body hitting the ground.

Her fingers travel up to her nose, her sight darkening at the slightest touch. Her vision zeros in on the blond man. “You broke my nose, you bastard!” Stomping, she latches onto the incredibly high collar of his top and begins to drag him along. She grumbles, her nostrils wheezing in between the sounds, and promises that she will return to favor.

Full conversations quiet to murmurs once Zalish throws the man into the sparring ring. Just five hours ago, trainees had been given a task that was said to take at least a week to accomplish. Everyone in training to join the empress’s legion of personal guards was tasked with the tracking and capturing of one particularly annoying moony. Or as the Velsh like to say, a civilian disturbance, which essentially means someone that’s been causing trouble for the crown or her people.

Having not been ordered to do anything by Athula, and because she doesn’t like to spend excessive amounts of time with the empress, Zalish had set off on her task as soon as everyone was dismissed from their afternoon classes. With her target’s description, she was able to find his usually hunting grounds. It didn’t take long after that to find him.

She is a born huntress after all.

Only a few people litter the main training grounds, as most Velsh warriors seem to like to sleep at ridiculously early times. Still, she would have rather had the space to herself. With a heated sigh, she walks up to the first person she sees, a girl nearly as tall as herself with cropped white hair and a dagger the size of her head in one hand.

“You,” Zalish points to the girl who watches her with typical smazer eyes: dead and beady. Gods, why can’t they look normal? She points to her nose, her intent clear. “Punch the other side? It’s healing crooked.” Most of her companion trainees have already learned that she doesn’t and will never follow the Velish rules of courtesy. They’ve gotten used to her brutish mannerisms and harsh way of speaking.

Before coming to Velshlind, Zalish hadn’t realized how rough she sounded when speaking their language, but when compared to native women, she sounds fiendish. The woman had scared off her fair share of servants, unintentionally of course.

The smazer looks at her, her brows doing most of the work conveying her emotions. That’s another thing she has to thank Athula for every night. She no longer sees people’s ghosts when she looks into their eyes. Honestly, her weekly sessions with the god had done more good for her than anything, as he had taught her a few skills for conquering his blessings. She had expected far worse from him. “Please? My face is my only redeeming feature here. Help a woman out?” Weighing her options, the smazer strikes without warning, forcing Zalish’s nose out of alignment once again.

The unexpected force sends her rolling along the floor. She comes to a stop just as she reaches the start of the sparring ring. “Damn.” With a cough, she hurriedly straightens her nose and waits on her back for it to heal, her eyes trailing to the woman that had punched her. There aren’t many people here that can overpower her, but it seems as if this woman might be one of the few. That punch really hurt.

Around twenty minutes pass before she gets back up, her round nose no longer wheezing.

With a cheeky smile, Zalish gives the woman a thumbs up, which she had learned was a sign of approval two weeks ago. She’s ignored for the most part, but that doesn’t matter. After realizing that the newly crowned princess is a barbarian that has a pension for grudges, most people, officials and trainees alike had just left her be.

No one kisses up to her. No one attempts to intimidate her. No one tries to befriend her. Even Vahkul has made himself scarce during these couple of months. And she’s okay with that. Well, she’s less alright with Vahkul ignoring her than anything, but that is a situation she plans to fix soon. If that bastard thinks he could keep her memories from her, he will be sorely mistaken.

For the first time, she wishes she had spent more time within the drakoen’s domain. At least then, the time she lost would be easily accessible.

Frustration boils beneath her skin as she returns to her previous task. Zalish brushes herself off, striding to the water fountain that rests on the farthest wall. Along the way, she picks up a helmet and turns it upside down. Once she reaches the fountain, Zalish dips the helmet in and scoops out a gallon of freezing water.

Moments later, the moony bastard that elbowed her in the nose is sputtering beneath the cold waterfall. “Wakey wakey!” Zalish calls out, her features pulled into a heavy scowl. Water pools into the divots of the ring’s stone floor. She’s hoping that it dries before the next training session, otherwise her instructor is going to ring her by the neck.

She points to her face, her blood still wet on her skin. “I should kill you.” The man scoffs, a hand going to push his limp wet hair out of his face. Upon seeing where he is, some of his bravado leaves him. “If this assignment didn’t mean so much to my performance, I would kill you now.” He pulls himself up, and to her amusement, she’s taller than him.

Her smile grows with the silence around them. Anyone that had gone back to training is now watching the dramatized scene with hungry eyes. There aren’t many smazers that are fond of moonys, and Zalish doesn’t blame them. From the gossip that reaches her ears, the normal folks don’t take too kindly to smazers. “Once I am graded for bringing you in, I will kill you.” Her cheeks go round as her smile takes over her face. She leans down to whisper in his burning ear, “And I will eat your remains.”

He takes a step back, his arms leaning against the cord meant to block in the ring. Zalish grabs at his stiff collar and throws out her elbow before he can block her. Her laugh is sharp as he falls, and it’s the last thing he hears before she knocks him out.

A sharp knock sounds at the door. Of course, Zalish ignores it. She shares a room in the trainee barracks with two other women, both of which are exceptionally more social than herself. If someone is knocking at the door, chances are it’s not someone coming to have a jaunty little conversation with her.

Besides, the morning bell hasn’t sounded, which means it’s not even seven in the morning yet. There is absolutely no way she is going to leave the comfort of her rock-solid bed to answer the door before seven. From the groans coming from the other women, whoever is on the other side is going to have to break the door down if they want to talk to someone.

“Temmy, get the door.” No one responds. “Temmy.” More groaning and knocking on wood. “Temmy, get the door or I swear I will tell Remnant Honduret about the red dust you keep between the springs of your bed!” Temmy finally rolls out from between her sheets.

“I will never understand why anyone tolerates you. You are the biggest bitch I have ever known,” she groans on the way to the door. Zalish can’t hold in her slurry laugh. It’s true. Vernice Flourin is one of the nastier people she has met here, but oddly enough, the woman’s venom reminds her of home. She enjoys watching her throw out barbs, manipulate the masses, and tear people down in the ring.

She supposes it’s only fun because she has never been a target. The two had come to an understanding after an incident that occurred a week after Zalish’s arrival. The door opens and some light whispering ensues. “Vin, someone is at the door for you.” Zalish rolls over, now three times heavier than she had been moments ago. She hates that name, the one that Elwin had given her upon her introduction into court.

The empress’s name is Elwin Dia Vin. Her middle name is her mother’s and her last is her father’s and the kingdom’s. Zalish has been Zalish of Zintonia for twenty- two years. She had been Tanitha Li for one year. And now she is meant to be Zalish Vin for the entirety of her stay in Velshlind. When will her identity be static?

“It is the royal druid.” A deep sigh leaves her, the vibrations rattling her bones. Vahkul. So, she is being summoned by the empress and her escort is the druid. It seems Elwin believes speaking with him will calm her soul before she reaches the woman that boils her blood. She has no idea just how annoying he really is.

With a huff, Zalish stands, dropping her sheets. She descends to the chest at the foot of her bed and digs out a pair of trousers and a loose tunic. After slipping on socks and boots, she makes her bed. The last time she left it in disarray, Remnant Honduret broke her smallest finger.

Of course, there was a little more build up to that point, but that isn’t really important. What is important, is that she doesn’t want a repeat of that.

After making sure her sheets are crisply tucked under her mattress, she moves past Temmy and files out of the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches the woman waving her fingers, a lewd smile on her face. Zalish rolls her eyes and marches past the druid.

Their steps fill up the heavy air, and because Zalish is Zalish, she decides to speak into it. “Are you enjoying being her great grace’s loyal lap dog?” The pair both face straight ahead, their eyes level and their hands swinging. Vahkul’s stiffens. “Has joining the ranks of Trige and Hunts been all you’ve ever dreamed of and more?” Zalish’s tongue runs over the words like it’s a marathon, her accent more pronounced than she had originally thought it to be.

The mainland’s tongue is soft and slow and flowery as opposed to her mother language. The grunts and scrapes and rushing were hard to get over. Even Talagrek is harsher than this. Every time she speaks it, she feels as if she’s meant to be serenading someone. It makes her soften.

“Princess, what do you think I did before I was stationed on your coast?” She shrugs, unsure of why he’s asking. Zalish has never imagined the druid before. She has never thought of what his life was like before meeting her because she has never needed to. The only glimpse into his past she had seen was when she manifested one of his ghosts, and that had been all she needed to see.

Vahkul had been filled with such guilt that it hadn’t even taken much of her energy to bring the spirit into being. Clearly, he was a part of whatever had killed and mutilated the girl, and that means his life before her couldn’t have been flowers and Velsh teapots. “I’ve never thought about it before. I would imagine that you were just a healer. That’s what you’re good at right?”

He nods, his hands clasping behind his back. “As you know, before I joined the army, I was with a traveling coven. But once I was excommunicated, it was almost as if my abilities had been siphoned from me. I couldn’t heal anything. Not even myself. So I was placed in one of the lowest regimens. I did the dirty tasks. Cleaned bedsheets, emptied chamber pots, scrubbed barrack floors. Anything ordinary soldiers didn’t want to do, I did.”

He finally looks at her, just out of the corner of his eye. “So yes, being the lap dog of Empress Vin is everything I imagined it would be and more.” Zalish watches his face, the one he tries so hard to keep blank. She sees what he’s trying to hide with little effort, and it actually triggers a modicum of understanding within her.

“Do you miss Yukos?” His feet stop walking, one of his hands desperately grasping onto the opposite wrist.

“No.” That’s a lie, and it’s written plain as day across his face. He misses the Onesians just as she misses home, or the thought of it.

Still Zalish nods, and waves for him to continue escorting her through the echoing hall. “I think I would miss it, if I remembered anything about it.” All she has are memories of Lily, which have been stewing in hatred for months. Her image is so badly tainted that Zalish’s hands begin to tremble with anger at the barest thought of her. “That woman took my memories from me, and you safeguard them. I would think you, of all the people here, would understand what that feels like.”

Two weeks had passed before Zalish had seen Vahkul after her arrival at the Palace of Shadows. He had spilled his guts at the sight of her, crying about how he was manipulated by Elwin and forced to do her bidding. He had poisoned her, and it had made her body so weak that the drakoen’s manipulations had nearly boiled her body from the inside. He is the reason she was vulnerable enough to allow Athula to slip into her mind. And ultimately, he is the reason she is now trapped in this contract. But, understanding what that felt like to be manipulated, Zalish had let him off the hook with only two punches to his face.

The difference in their situations is that Vahkul has his memories. She doesn’t.

The druid sighs, his hands folding into the layers of his dark green ornate robes. Zalish is surprised when he pulls something out and holds it for her. “What is this?” She grasps the scrolls, which are tightly bound with a thin piece of leather.

Vahkul clears his throat. “During my spare time, I have been taking lessons with some of the palace artists.” He wets his lips and fiddles with the chord holding his robes closed. “Once my abilities improved, I made you some illustrations to go with the notes I wrote for you.” By now, the pair have paused, their eyes locked on one another’s.

“You… drew me pictures?” Her brows raise in surprise.

Vahkul bows his head. “I wrote up records of our shared time in Yukos, but once I finished, I felt that just words weren’t enough to help you remember everything that happened. So, yes, I drew you pictures. Now, come along, princess. Empress Vin has grown tired of your aversion.”

So, while Zalish was plotting his demise, Vahkul has been creating records in an attempt to help her recover her lost memories? She sucks her lips into her mouth, tapping the scrolls on her palm. Then she nods. “Okay. My hatred for you has lessened considerably.” She turns and begins their journey once again. “And good for you, I had just made friends with a man that can create explosives small enough to swallow.”

“Wait, what?!” Zalish laughs as she tucks her scrolls into the waist of her pants.

She tries to keep her eyes focused on Elwin, knowing that if they stray, she will have lost this battle. But the plate sitting in front of her smells so good. The dark red dripping from the thinly sliced pieces of meat keep beckoning her, and she isn’t sure how much longer she’s going to last. The last time she ate a proper meal was during her previous meeting with the empress.

She’s hungry.

And Elwin knows this.

“Are you not going to eat, darling?” The soft tapping of her fork on the ceramic plate is enough to snap Zalish out of her reverie. “Your tastes haven’t changed, have they?” No, they haven’t. In fact, since she’s been in Velshlind, Zalish’s tastes have only expanded. There’s something about smazer meat that just tingles her taste buds.

“Did you need something, your grace?” Zalish knows why she’s here, not just in the empire but in this room. “I have training soon.” Elwin looks up as she cuts a piece of her own meat.

“How have your instructions been going? It’s been a while since we’ve met.” Zalish has been avoiding her mother’s summonings for a little less than a month. The only reason she hasn’t been seized in her sleep is because the empress isn’t stupid. To get what she needs from Zalish, their interactions must be willful.

Zalish picks up her fork, finally breaking. The empress sighs, turning to wave her guards out of her sitting room. They all file out, a smidgen of reluctance shown on their faces. Once the room is empty of everyone but the pair, Empress Vin pushes from her small breakfast table.

Her hands clasp in front of her pelvis as she appraises her daughter. “I find myself wondering what you would have turned out like, had I kept you.”

Zalish swallows, and points to her mother with her fork. “Had you not sold me, you mean.” Elwin’s lips purse, but no argument leaves her. She had made the choice for the good of her empire, after all.

“I won’t say I had no choice. I could have let Velshlind fall. I should have, all the good this place has done for me. If I am to be really honest with you, I don’t regret it either. Sacrifice was needed to amend the wrong my father committed.” Except, the former emperor’s sins weren’t corrected, Athula had shown her as much.

The young amono smiles, her lips stained with blood. “You didn’t fix anything. You bought yourself a little time, but ultimately, your father’s decision is still destroying your empire. Now many cities have you lost already? How many mass graveyards have your troops dug?” The empress had traded her daughter for a protective veil made by the amonos.

All it did was keep the smaze from entering by way of poisonous rain and fog, but a veil couldn’t be made to encompass the entirety of Velshlind. And so all those that lived outside of the capital were at the curse’s mercy. That is why the empress first declared war with the Kingdom of Trind. All lands outside of Velshlind are unaffected by the plague. If she conquers neighboring lands, she can move willing citizens to safer regions. But while the empress is both cruel and powerful, she has very little military strategy. It is still only a matter of time before Trind is seized. “I didn’t call you here to argue, darling. I have received a message from your god. “

Zalish’s brows shoot up. Why is the empress of a monotheistic nation conversing with one of her gods? “Oh really?” Of course she doesn’t believe her, but it does make sense that her mother would attempt to use her faith against her. “And what did this god say to you?”

She eats another piece of meat, just barely keeping her drool within her mouth. Someone had smoked it, leaving the fat dripping and the meat oh so tender. She has half a mind to thank her mother.

Elwin bends to retrieve her glass. She takes a sip of the frothy liquid before speaking. “Your god gave me a warning. Or rather, a threat. He claimed that if my personal pursuits were to get in the way of his own, my country would fall to his under world.” Zalish pauses her smacking as her mother sucks her teeth.

It was Athula that had led Elwin to Zalish, now he is telling her to step away? It doesn’t make any sense, but gods rarely do. Elwin’s bird like eyes settle on her daughter, narrowing. “You will do whatever it is that he asks of you, and then I will take from you what I need. You have four months until my patience is worn.”

Zalish shoots from her chair, the furniture slamming onto its back. “You would dare rush a god?!”

Elwin’s eyes fall back to her glass, her free hand reaching up to finger her necklace. “Athula has agreed with this timespan. You may finish your meal then attend your trainings.” The empress throws her head back, the remainder of her drink slipping down her throat.

She leaves before Zalish can protest, not that she has too much to add. Athula has kept her in the dark for the entirety of her stay in Velshlind. He told her to focus on training, so she did. He told her to stay quiet in court, so she did. He warned her against praying to other gods, so she did not.

He comes into her head whenever he pleases, says whatever he pleases, withholds whatever he pleases. And she has allowed this. How could she not. She is his champion and nothing more.

But if Zalish doesn’t receive orders or information soon, she’s going to go crazy.

And all of Athula’s rules will vacate her head.