Chapel Orahamm's Blog, page 8

Book Review Blog

If you are interested in seeing what I have been reading recently, I do have a separate blog: Books in the Cottage if you are interested in recommendations or just snooping around.

I’ve recently reviewed both fiction and non-fiction, such as Gods of Jade and Shadow, A Court of Thorns and Roses, The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, and Why French Women Don’t Get Fat.

I intend to continue reviewing books through the year. It helps me feel like I’m doing something at the end of reading a book and lets me talk it out somewhere. Most people around me aren’t readers and don’t really care about my writing, so I need to put my thoughts somewhere. I just figured I’d share about it over here.

Struck: Ch 4

Struck

Chapter 4: The Gaul

Katie Gibson

“So, I hear we have a mortal in the Great Houses’ Realm,” a voice boomed in the hall.  Heart pounding in his chest, Hermes sat up, startled from his nap. Sweat beaded on his forehead.  He was going to die.  Yep, it was the end of him and everything he knew.

Hermes looked to the front entrance.  There stood the man, bristled in all of his glory and regality.  He was draped in a fine silk shirt and linen trousers with a royal purple cloak around his shoulders.  In one hand, he grasped his bolt like a walking staff.

“Well, is no one going to welcome me in?” Zeus took off his cloak.  A servant materialised from the air, a wind nymph, and took it, quickly disappearing as fast as she had appeared.  “Hermes?  I thought you were out finding a woman?” Zeus smiled evilly.

“Looks like the Fates found someone for me, my Lord,” Hermes responded sarcastically.

“Oh?  Is that so?” Zeus mused, finding a seat on the chaise.  He eyed a silver plate of grapes but decided against it.  He instead picked up a goblet of wine that Apollo had left for Hermes.

“What do you know of a du’la, oh king of the gods?” Hermes spat out.  Zeus coughed and spluttered, wine spraying unceremoniously everywhere.  Hermes brushed away a stray droplet from his cheek.  “You know of it then,” Hermes eyed the choking god.  Well, if there was ever a time to worry, it was when the king of the gods started spitting up a very good vintage of wine over a simple question.

“A du’la, Hermes?  Where have you heard of that?” Zeus brushed at his shirt.  The wind nymph reappeared with a stain stick and towel and helped him get the wine stain out of his shirt.

“When Apollo burned his fingers on one,” Hermes answered, averting his eyes from the indignity of the disgraced lord.  He could feel the heat of the man’s gaze settle on him, even if he was avoiding it.

“Before you were more than a small child, though in a temporal time shift this might not make a great amount of sense seeing as the clan was technically after your greatness in Greece…” Zeus tried to make clear.  Hermes waved him off.  He was all too aware that they, as members of the Great Houses could move through time more like moving across a map rather than linearly through a book.  “The Fates fashioned a cruel trick, bargaining with a clan of mortals that referred to themselves as the Gauls.  The reason for it has been forcibly lost in time.  If I know anything of Chronos, he and the Fates were probably drinking and gambling away the outcomes of god and mortal alike when they came up with that little beauty,” grumbled Zeus.  He looked world-weary and older, drained.  “This person cast an Uediumi?” he asked.

“How should I know?  Orion came pounding on my door after Demeter harassed me with her rugrat and sent me by starfire to Chronos.  Chronos told me I had to protect this mortal in return for one request, to be fulfilled after I helped.  I get zam-boom banged right into a parking lot in Texas and catch this miscreant trying to mug the man.  Bastard got him good in the leg, so I did what I knew would be for his best and called Apollo in to help.  It didn’t initially occur to me that he would take the mortal to the realm of the Great Houses, but there’s been no harm done.  He’s not even aware of where he is at, and we can take him back whenever it’s good for us,” Hermes reassured Zeus.  “Apollo pointed out the pendant to me when he picked the guy up.  That’s when he mentioned that it was a du’la, and as he keeps telling me, I’m now thoroughly screwed for the next mortal century,” Hermes grumbled, collapsing into an armchair.  Hermes rolled his head on the back of the chair to turn a burning eye on Zeus.  “He won’t elaborate on why exactly I’m screwed.  It’s not nice to kill the messenger all the time, and this particular little thing seems to have slipped everyone’s mind recently in regard to me.  Is this a joke? Is it funny to you to watch me fumble away at some great mystery?” Hermes was beginning to radiate heat.  The leather of the chair cracked in the silence.

Zeus watched him, unphased.  He poured himself another glass of wine, watching him with indifference.  “Pretty much…well…” Zeus tried to look for the right words, floundering like a dying fish on the shore.

Hermes sat up to face the god.  How had he never been informed of what a du’la was?  How had he navigated the paths of the Great Houses without being informed of such a strange creation of the Fates.  His life had come after the Fates and Chronos had made the pact…but that didn’t seem right.  The Gauls had come long after the utterance of the Great Houses existence.  He would have heard something.

“There are very few that have a du’la roaming around in this world.  The Gauls were not massive, but they had a need.  They needed trade to sustain themselves.  It was primarily the gods of travel and protection that were invoked into the du’lii Uediumi,” Zeus started.

“What is a du’la?  What is this Uediumi?  Concise small sentences, please. I’m not in the mood for beating around the bush,” Hermes was in a foul mood.

“Du’la is Gaulish for leaf.  Uediumi – uediiu is I pray.  It is quite literally a prayer on a leaf.  You said Apollo burned himself on a pendant, a necklace ornament, yes?” Zeus asked.  Hermes nodded.  “That would be the ‘leaf’.  There is probably a spell written within it that implores the particular god or goddess it is connected to,” Zeus elaborated.

“Apollo said that there was a trade involved in this ‘uediumi’,” Hermes supplied.

“He should know, about a dozen turns back, a woman cast one on him and he was stuck in the Middle Ages as a magician.  He had to stay with her until she finally grew old and died, then he came back here and has buried himself in drink and travesty ever since,” exasperated, Zeus downed his glass without savouring the contents.

“You jest, surely.” Hermes remembered that Apollo had gone to the mortal world, but had returned rather quickly, a different man.  He seemed worn, and had tried to bolster his perception of youth with too many parties.

“Do you know what this man’s name is?” Zeus pondered the dredges of his glass.  Hermes shook his head.

“Do you know what he has given up for that one moment of rescue?” Zeus glanced up at Hermes, fully aware that Hermes wouldn’t know.  Again the god of travel shook his head.

Zeus took in a deep breath.  The Fates were cruel.  “He’s, let’s just say, he’s foresaken his position as a single man,” he supplied.

“Beg pardon?” Hermes blinked.

“Let me put it a different way.  This is going to screw with your sense of propriety.  In an extremely great technicality, he has in essence made you his concubinus.  For his life you serve his whims and desires and you keep him safe. A dog on a leash,” Zeus smiled maliciously.  

Hermes head snapped up, the colour draining from his face.  “That’s not possible.” His breathing became ragged and he was beginning to feel light-headed.  

“Shall I rub salt into your wound?” Zeus was beginning to chuckle.  

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Hermes was going to wretch.  

“You’re a familiar, a spiritual medium, a pet.  Bound to him until she dies.  What does any good and loyal servant do for their master?” Zeus was getting into this darkening mood. “With this contract Chronos and the Fates made, you will protect him with your life, no matter what happens. You’ll give him anything within your power to give.”

Suddenly a bang of a door snapped Hermes attention toward an approaching Apollo.  “Girl should be right as rain in drought,” Apollo walked into the room, pulling off a pair of surgical gloves.  He stopped dead in his tracks though when he realized who else was in the room with Hermes.  “Zeus,” fell out of his mouth in a hushed whisper.  The color drained from his face as his life flashed before his eyes.

“Glad to see you don’t just think of humans as guinea pigs,” Zeus chuckled.  If it was possible Apollo’s face turned several more shades paler before obtaining an amazing crimson hue. “Wait, girl? What girl?”

Hermes flicked a wrist. “He is of the third gender. Dionysus would be a better protector, or at least should be involked.”

“Ah. Apollo.” Zeus nodded his understanding.

“Gotcha. I didn’t pick that up, but if you say so. Did you explain to Hermes what he’s in for?” Apollo asked, a note of terror in his voice as he brought back the conversation.

“A concubinus, Apollo?” Hermes hissed.

“Oh for all of Olympus,” Apollo practically yelled, “Zeus, that’s just downright mean to the poor boy,” Apollo condemned the god.

“Can’t I play just a few jokes on the trickster god?” Zeus chortled.

“Play it on Loki next time you visit Asgard.  This is a matter of some levity, you obnoxious old geezer,” Apollo boiled.

“Oh that old Norse wouldn’t laugh at this magnificent humor.” Zeus all but fell out of his chair.

“I’m not laughing, and I’m sure as Hade’s bedspread not Norse,” Hermes growled.  From the vortex he extracted his caduceus.  His skin glowed a deep red-purple as electricity began to discharge around him.

“Oye, that’s for negotiations, Hermes!” Apollo tried to wave down his half-brother.

“Now, see here Hermes,” Zeus tried to placate the god.  Both Apollo and Zeus had not seen Hermes this angry since the destruction of the last of his temples during the Middle Ages and he had ruined the health of travellers in Europe for over a century.

“I am Hermes of Olympus, Messenger of the Great Houses, Keeper of the Ram and Feather, Protector of Travelers and Thieves, and Carrier of the Sacred Truths.  You who hath abused the privilege of the gatekeeper shalt know no mercy.” Hermes’s eyes had entirely blackened.  His skin shifted to an almost purple-white.  

“I haven’t seen him this mad since the defamation of his favourite herma before the sack of the Library of Alexandria.” Apollo went to back out of the room.  Hermes might be the god of good faith and luck, but he was no doormat to be walked all over and it looked like he had finally had it.

“Um…hi?” a hand caught at Apollo’s back to keep him from backing up.  “Am I interrupting something?” a shaky feminine voice asked from the door Apollo was trying to go through.

Zeus and Apollo turned in horror toward the sound.  Hermes, still glowing with murderous intent was the only one not to notice the new intrusion.

“Did you forget something, Apollo?” Zeus grumbled at the blond god.

“Like what?” Apollo whispered.

“Like the anaesthetic?”

“He should be out for the next week with the dose I gave him.”

“Well, it didn’t work.”

“Oh, really.  What gave you that idea?”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me, a mortal anaesthetic of any higher dosage and she’d be talking with Hades about purchasing a room,” Apollo retorted, inching away from the mortal.

“Mortal?” Zeus caught Apollo’s glance.

“She shouldn’t be…”Apollo whispered.

“A demi-god?” Zeus filled in the answer to the hanging question.

“Not possible.  All of them are accounted for,” Apollo stared in awe at the enigma.

“Hi, I’m right here, or have I gone mute?” the human asked before the floor began to spin.  He reached out to stabilize himself, and Apollo made to catch him.  He sank to the ground and Apollo was left in searing pain as the man’s skin burned his hands.

“Crap, I can’t pick him up while he’s awake,” Apollo shoved his hands into a water pitcher.  He looked up in time to see Hermes hunting down the distracted Zeus.  “Zeus…Zeus!  ZEUSSS!” Apollo pointed, flinging water all over the room.  Zeus turned to assess Hermes.  “This isn’t good,” Zeus mumbled as he eased over to Apollo.

“At least he’s pretty slow when he gets mad.” Zeus ducked behind Apollo.

“At least it takes him forever and a day to get him mad.” Apollo eased back, trying to get out of the room.

“He seems a bit more on edge than usual, wouldn’t you say?” Zeus continued his backward movement.

“Something about Demeter and Cupid recently I think is making this more difficult,” goaded Apollo.

Zeus’s eyes widened as he realized his foolish mistake at poking Hermes buttons.  “Oh…crap,” mumbled Zeus.

“Um…hi, yeah, what’s with the crazy glowing man over there?  Should I follow you?” The man asked from the ground.  He had a throbbing headache and a general disconnect with his feelings that comes with high dosages of anaesthetic.

He didn’t have great feeling in his legs and he knew if he was told to run, it sure as hell wasn’t happening.

“What’s your name, girl!” Zeus demanded.

“Boy. Ambrose if you would!  Who’re you?” Ambrose slurred as the world slipped again.

“Ambrose, hi, how are you?  I need for you to do exactly as I say,” commanded Zeus as he extracted his bolt from the vortex.  Ambrose watched him, slightly horrified, but also fascinated.

“Repeat after me, exactly.” Zeus moved Apollo behind him as he shifted forward to stand in front of Ambrose, but giving enough room that Hermes could see him.

“I can try,” Ambrose eyed the cool tile floor.  It looked so comfortable.

“Ma’cing, atespos uediiu,” Zeus provided the litany.

He gave it a good effort but he thought it sounded like he was drunk.  Immediately Hermes attention snapped to her.  “What exactly did I just say to the axe murderer over there?” Ambrose asked as he laid his head on the cool marble floor.

“Kind warrior, an answer I pray,” Zeus said without looking back at the mortal on the floor.  He didn’t want to give Hermes the advantage of a dropped guard.

“And what was that supposed to achieve?” she asked.

“Got his attention, didn’t it?” responded Zeus.

“Now what?” Ambrose asked.

“Try this: Delug nertos selua novio. Ta vasso uiro tu,” supplied Zeus.

“You’re joking right?” he murmured.  That was way too much to try to say in her state.

“Delug nertos selua novio.  Ta vasso uiro tu,” Zeus reiterated slowly.

“What are you talking about?” Ambrose asked.  

“It’s a rough estimate on Gaul, I hope.  I haven’t had to use it in a freakishly long time,” Zeus shifted as Hermes continued his slow approach.

“But what am I telling him to do?” Ambrose asked as his consciousness slipped.

“I’ll tell you after you say it,” Zeus was aware that she was falling asleep.

“Fine,” Rose mumbled out the words.  Immediately the murderous aura surrounding Hermes dissipated as he found himself forcibly genuflecting, his sceptre having disappeared into the vortex.  Hermes energy drained away and his legs and arms began to tremble.

“What gives, Zeus?” Hermes fought to say.  He couldn’t stand up, he was bound to the position.

“You should be able to command him without the pidgin Gaulish,” Zeus reassured Ambrose.

“Why would I want to command him?” Ambrose asked, his eyes closed.  He just wanted to sleep.

“So that he doesn’t kill all of us,” Apollo supplied.

“Sounded to me like you guys taunted him into it,” mumbled Ambrose.

“More like Zeus taunted him. I just saved your life,” Apollo grouched flippantly.

“Zeus?  Your mom must’ve loved Greek mythology.” Rose’s head throbbed as much as her leg, which was regaining sufficient enough feeling to inform him that he was in more pain than he expected to be in.  Apollo snorted.

“Zeus, when I get out of this, you’re moving in with Hades,” Hermes threatened.

“Ambrose?” Zeus prodded.

“Hmm?” he was so close to la-la-land it was intoxicating.

“Ambrose?” Apollo poked.

“What?” he growled.

“Hermes, this is Ambrose.  Ambrose, this is Hermes.  Ambrose, be a good boy and tell Hermes to take you back to the sick ward,” Apollo soothed.

“I’m not a middle-man,” Ambrose giggled, “middle-man. I’m a middle-man. Man,” and tried to roll over.  He squealed and shot upright.  “Bloody hell,” Ambrose shouted as he tried to get a better look at his leg.  His head swam with the sudden blood rush.

“We can’t help you, Ambrose.  Say ‘Hermes’, please,” begged Zeus.

“Why the hell would I say Hermes?” He asked, and that was all it took.  The spell holding Hermes to the floor broke and he rose to a towering height.

Hermes approached the man and knelt down, having had a few minutes to regain his composure, though he still was seething at Zeus.  “Are you alright?” Hermes asked, reaching to help him up.

“What gives you the impression I’m alright?” Ambrose backed away from the prior axe murderer.

“It was a question, not a statement,” said Hermes testily.

Ambrose caught her breath.  He was much too close.  Ambrose had flashbacks to the Tarzan cartoon and sympathized with Jane about the issue with boundaries.  He was looking at the wound that Apollo had meticulously sutured.  “As always brother, you tend towards perfectionism,” Hermes mumbled as he quickly hefted Ambrose into his arms.  He gave a yelp of surprise, but Hermes didn’t notice.

“Don’t think this is over, Zeus,” Hermes hissed before the door slammed closed after his departure.

Zeus and Apollo glanced at each other and back at the door.

Chapel Orahamm (C) 2022-2023. All Rights Reserved.

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Life of a Librarian: Ch 16

The old six-seater deposited us on the tarmac at the Roswell International Air Center at midnight.  Having flown out from a private landing strip above the parking lot of the Guild only forty minutes earlier, I still had no idea what the world looked like after having spent a week underground.  The chill darkness that met me on that tarmac brought tears to my eyes.  The smell of sage and tumbleweed, the breath of wind that ruffled my hair smoothed across my skin and wrapped me in a feeling of home.

“I hate it down there,” I didn’t realize I had said it out loud.

“The halls are dark and deep, towering columns with a thrumbing heart buried at the center of the mountain.  Would that a dragon burned away the lot and set about its lair within it would we be free of the confines,” Simil mused as he stared up at the blanket of stars above us.

“The dwarven kings died of greed and the villagers died of his stupidity.” I took his hand and tugged him to follow Roger.

“What are you two on about?” Roger grouched as we made for the terminal.

“The Hobbit,” we both stated at the same time.

“You two are creepy.” Roger took a side step away from us.

“Come and play with us, Roger,” we smiled.

“Oh Jesus, the fuck guys?” he squirmed.

“No Kubrick, Roger?” I giggled.

“Dude, Kubrick was one of the screwiest and most revolutionary Film Director Librarians we could have ever had.  I’ve heard legends of the green bathroom.  Let’s not.” He shivered.

I high-fived Simil as a TSA guard opened the door for us.  Roger had put up with the two of us talking for the last forty minutes in a cramped cabin.  Simil was beside himself to find someone willing to talk books with him on the same level.  Every once in a while he would start out a conversation on a book I had not read yet.  He was more than happy to send me an ebook copy to my newly issued phone every time I told him I didn’t know what he was quoting.  I was beginning to worry about the amount of homework he was giving me.

“How did I manage having to deal with two…two…children!” Roger turned to us when he caught us skipping a couple steps.

“You do realize we’re messing with you, right Roger?” Simil smiled amiably.  

Roger paled and drew in a frustrated breath.  “Would you too quit it?” he seethed.

“Can we get separate rooms?” I put on my sweetest smile possible.

“Is this what this is all about?  You’re being weird and creepy so you can charge more for two rooms rather than one?” Roger accused.

I shrugged my shoulders just a scant inch.  “It’s either that, or you get to deal with listening to me jump his bones, ‘cause you cockblocked me earlier by showing up,” I clapped back crudely.  Simil dragged in a sharp surprised breath at my candor.

Roger’s face colored up like roasted tomato.  “I’ll arrange it at the desk when we get checked in.  Can we just get the rental car?” He sagged, exhausted.

“Thank you!” I cheeped as we found the tiny desk for the car checkout.  Roger checked us in and grabbed the keys and paperwork from the attendant.  We made our way out and nabbed our rental car, a nondescript black sedan. Pulling out of the lot, we took Earl Cummings over to 194 out to Relief Road and up to 70 through the pecan orchards.  Black sentinels rose up on either side of the road in organized rows.  A light flashed by Simil’s side of the car.  A bright orange and yellow striped tent glowed at the corner of 70 and 139.  I shivered as a congregation watched us drive past them.

“Looks like they’re still there. Let’s head for the hotel,” Roger muttered as he merged onto 431 and took us back to 285.  We pulled into a cheap motel featuring a green-painted wooden alien.  I was completely turned around in the dark.  I doubted I could find the pecan orchard in the morning.

Checked in, Roger nabbed a second room and handed us our key.  “I’ll come get you in the morning.  Dress for a church service.”

“I don’t do reverent.” I frowned at the large plastic toy apple on the key.

“Clearly.” Roger rubbed at his temple and left. Simil and I glanced at each other over the key and back to Roger who was already dropping into a semi asleep haze as he let himself into the first room outside the office.  We walked past the rusted ice machine and let ourselves into our own frigid room.

Simil set the bags down inside the entrance and turned to me.  “Now, Ally,” he smiled as he pressed me against the door.  “Hatter?” my voice trembled.  His fingers trailed down the column of my throat to wrap behind my head.  Our lips touched and I was drifting.  “About what you said earlier?” He nibbled along the edge of my lip.  My mind was gone baby gone.  “Said?” I barely grasped the word as his fingers played magic down my sides.  I pressed closer.

“Probably a good time to ask you how far you want to go with this. You said jump my bones, but I might need some context here. Shangri la and hell are just a perspective shift away.”

His face was too close and I clammed up in embarrassment. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. With Sylwyn, I think he understood where I was, but we hadn’t talked yet either about intimacy. Would Hatter understand? He still had a hard time calling me Deus.

“I-um-” I tried to draw in a breath.

Hatter, getting the hint, slowly let go and gave me a bit of room. “Ally?” He let me have a moment to think.

“So, about that, Hatter. Do you understand me? You told Roger to call me Mr. Jaegar, so I think you do. And you saw me in that room from hell, so you also understand what I am, right?”

Hatter raised a confused eyebrow. “Well, yes. You are Thaddeus Jaegar and Alice. You are my Alice-Deus.”

“I haven’t-I haven’t done it with someone else since coming out or starting to transition. I’ll admit I’m horney as hell. T does not help with that, but I still get some real anxiety at the thought of being just another receptacle. So, I want to do it with you, I just…I don’t want to feel used.”

“How would I go about helping with this?” Hatter settled onto one of the queen beds.

I swallowed, the heat along my ear tips becoming painful. I rubbed at the cartilage in a bid for self-soothing. “I don’t, I mean. It. It’s hard to say.”

“Why?” Two-toned eyes regarded me with open innocence.

“Social conditioning. It’s awkward, or at least I’ve been trained to think this is embarrassing for so long that I’m just…I’m scared.” I fidgeted, uncomfortable at the thought of approaching, terrified at the thought of the million things Hatter could be thinking of me and this situation.

“Alright, then ignore social conditioning. It doesn’t apply to Simils anyway. You touch me when no one else will. So what do they have to do with any of this?”

I snorted at the logic. “I just want an orgasm too and straight penetration doesn’t really get me there. I don’t want to get to the end of us doing things and be left there with you snoring and me having to fix myself. Brings back some bad memories.”

Hatter cocked his head at that admittance and nodded. “Fair.”

Fair? Fair? What did that mean? What was going on in his mind? Deflated I glanced about the space, unsure of what to do with myself, or the man I’d locked in the room with me.

To my surprise, he leaned over and flipped the tab on the lamp, leaving us in darkness, save for the thin strip of sulfur light penetrating above the uneven curtain rod. “Hatter?” I asked nervously.

His heat seeped into me. Trapped beneath his arms, his breathing resonated through me. “My little rocking-horse-fly, let your imagination unfold. You have the magic to make your own reality. Join me.” He nibbled along my earlobe before taking my mouth, passion a flavour close to sunrise.

He let me up for air long enough for me to ask, “What do you mean imagination?”

“You’ve the talent to bring out rabbits and tea parties. To dress yourself in unreal clothing. Your power isn’t just for the optics of this world. You can make it more than skin deep.”

“Hatter, you can’t be saying I can just change my body. That would-” my voice constricted at that possibility. The type of impossible relief.

“Only when you let go of the image. Cinderella’s carriage was a pumpkin, and became a pumpkin. But for those couple hours, it was a real enough carriage to get her to her prince and home again. Try for me. See if you can channel that inner Cheshire I know you’re capable of.”

“Have you ever done this?” I was grasping at straws, his hands hot on my sides where they refused to shift.

“Once. And I don’t have your kind of power. It’s possible.”

I swallowed. I flicked the nails of my right hand, waiting for terrified jitters to find a home somewhere else. Imagination. This hadn’t occurred to me in the past couple of weeks learning to deal with this kind of power. “I can be anyone?”

“Anyone. But how about first trying to be you?” he offered.

That pulled me up short. Me? Not me. I didn’t want to be me. Not the skin me. Not the me everyone saw too quickly. Not the one that people called ma’am in the grocery store. The one that had too much sway in the hip and a binder barely hid anything up top.

I wanted to be taller. Broad shouldered. I wanted legs like iron. The ones that come from years in a gym and testosterone from an early age. I wanted a deeper voice. One that could sing between a tenor and a bass. To feel like I wasn’t forever living with a phantom member trapped in a chastity cage. I wanted to be buried in tight warmth. To hear my partner sigh in my ear. I wanted-

Fingers slid suggestively along the front of my jeans and my breath caught, fire igniting in my gut as the image didn’t break. Nerve endings I could die for. Tears warmed the edges of my eyelashes. The groan that escaped me couldn’t have been stopped if my life depended on it.

Lips found mine, this time lifting to meet me. I drifted to the feeling, crushing Hatter to me as I fell for his particular flavour of passion. I demanded. I pressed him until he tumbled, me pinning him to the bed. Thigh between his legs, I devoured him. I kept the image staunchly embedded in the forefront of my mind as he pulled off my shirt and binder to catch my breath as his hands travelled from my chest down. Finally. The sensation was right. It fit. It sparked the fire in my gut.

Somewhere in our shared fervent desire, I found myself between Hatter’s naked legs, pressed against his heat. I stalled, my mind coming down from its high momentarily, barely, to think of my partner in that moment. Dragging a harried breath, it was now or never. “If I summon lube, it’ll work right?” My voice. I could cry just from that pitch. It was perfect. It was everything I wanted.

Hatter pressed a cold metal bottle into my hand. “If summoned swords can inflict real wounds, then yes.”

“You good with where I’m at? What I’m wanting?” I peeled the seal off and tried not to fumble the bottle.

“Yes.” His answer was breathy, and in that moment, I wanted to see him, see the expression he wore. I wanted to see me, see the junction where I fit perfectly with him. But I took the sulfur light and the flash of high beams for scant glances at who we were together in that dark hotel room.

Touching myself, lube just about crumpled my will as I marvelled at the texture and need in my hand. Gods, I could finally die happy in that moment.

“Deus,” Hatter shifted, bringing back my focus. 

I flipped the tab on the bottle and tossed it toward the nightstand on the other side of the bed. “This is all new to me, Hatter. I need for you to speak up if anything, I mean it, anything doesn’t feel right.”

“I won’t break, Deus,” he reassured as he brought his legs up to hug my hips. For once, my hips were narrower, narrow enough to feel right. Finding that space between us, I pressed into tight heat with incredible slowness, savouring the gasp at my throat, the grasp around my length that felt like paradise. I could live there, die there, become nothing more than a ghost of a sensation.

He shifted, encouraging movement. I carefully tested his reaction, and mine. I wanted that moment to last forever. Trapped in heat, his chest against mine, his soft moans for my ears alone. I fell into a rhythm built solely to elicit that sound. It tingled along my limbs and I found a joy in manipulating that pitch with each varied movement.

Touching him, closing around his length adjusted that note.

Close. A numb tightness threatened to end it all so fast, and yet I wanted to find out what it would be like, to finally feel whole in that carnal manner. Tight heat was just the tip of the iceberg as I found out.

Chapel Orahamm (C) 2022-2023. All Rights Reserved.

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The Feather on My Scale: Ch 20

Outside in the courtyard, I found Ptolemy with Seth and Wash. Guards were making their way toward us. “What’s going on?” I demanded over the cacophony. Servants rushed in and out looking for fires, moving precious furnishings into safe rooms, and pulling cowering individuals out of other rooms.

“I don’t have a clue, Henu! I’ve never heard these alarms before, even on drills.” Ptolemy shouted to be heard.

“Can we get them to stop?” I asked.

“I don’t even know where to look for these ones. Security called to say they couldn’t find the breaker for it.” He flinched at the crackle of the com on his shoulder. “Speak!” He yelled at the offending machine.

Static and a muffled voice I couldn’t make out chattered at him. Ptolemy turned suddenly to the south end of the building as if to look past it. Staring at the dome panels, he bolted.

“What happened!” I called after him. I couldn’t leave Nebra in this noise. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find you somewhere quieter.”

We worked our way out of the building to be met in the exterior courtyard by our Easimal guests, all similarly confused by the egregious noise. “Sir!” Nour greeted our group. “The Sweeps Alarm! We have to get to the shore. Where are the Mariners stationed?”

I stared at him in bafflement. “Sweeps alarm? Stationed?”

“Yes, sir.” He noted my confusion. “You’ve never heard this alarm?”

I shook my head and forced us to move out of the safety of the compound toward the protected hunting grounds that bordered a private beach. Twelve guards kept pace with us, watching carefully for signs of danger from all sides. No matter the distance, I couldn’t find anywhere that the alarm was quieter. “Can we turn it off? I don’t want this stressing Nebra.” I turned to the guards, hoping at least one of them would have earplugs, but to no avail.

Nour pulled Cortex out of the group and plopped him in front of my concubine. The brunette flicked a questioning glance between all of us before Sanctus laid a hand on bare skin. Raising a questioning brow, Cortex built up a semicircular turquoise shell of fire around Nebra and me. The alarm was still annoying, but the dampened sound made it bearable. My own heart rate finally came down out of my throat. I stared at the man, impressed. “How’d you know that would work?”

“Couple of skirmishes with other groups.”

The guards panicked, drawing swords to point at Cortex.

“Stand down. He will protect my concubine. If you make to attack him, you will threaten both a diplomatic group from Easimal and declare yourself a traitor to the throne!” I was not going to tolerate both noise and knives in the same breath.

I paused, unsure if I wanted to leave Nebra to the Easimal man. Sucking in a breath, I grimaced. “Nour, as the last member of the House of Thoth, can I trust you to protect my family with your life? Protect the High Husband as the keeper of my soul and my concubines?”

The guards, having put away their swords, shifted at this sudden news. I had not taken the time to reveal the last son of the House of Thoth, what would have been the noble equivalent of Adom’s position.

“Not as House of Thoth, but just as one good human to the next,” his smile was disarming and had me wondering about him. Nour pulled his shirt off, the ibis headdress and brand marking him as the top-most ranked individual in that knot of grass save for Wash as High Husband. Swallowing my trepidation, I nodded as Nour explained to his group and they closed rank around my family.

“Your man ran towards the seashore. The Sweeper Alarms are reachable by the Mariners. They know where it is. Find out from them.” Nour pointed me down towards the Bay, a two-mile run from my private beach. I cursed.

Nour turned to Lunam and made a quick succession of demands. Lunam nodded and ran in the other direction toward the stables.

“You can ride, yes?” Nour asked.

“Of course I ride.”

“Then the cursing?”

“Ptolemy is going to break the screws in his leg again running that length on uneven terrain.”

“Can you call him back?”

“No, he took off with the one com. I didn’t have one on me after the evening ceremonies. How did you know those were the Sweeps Alarm? I’ve never heard it before.”

“As a child, I had gone with father to the bayside and a meteorite bombardment pelleted the dome panels. A particularly large one fell close outside the sweeps and raised the water level such that the sweeps malfunctioned and the Mariners had to suit up to fix it.

“I never noticed it.”

“You wouldn’t have, sir. If you’re who I think you are, relative to my age, you were already into your first or second battle out in the mountains. You wouldn’t have been anywhere near the bay when the Sweeps Alarm last went off since I’ve been gone.”

Lunam came back with an alert, but docile enough looking horse. He told me something I couldn’t make out.

“He said this was the only one that looked safe. The rest were too nervous by the noise. Said to have its hearing checked when all is said and done to see if it’s deaf. He didn’t want you trying to get your man back and a skittish prancer bucking him into next week.”

“Tell him thank you,” I cleanly leapt onto the back of the grey gelding. The tack had been expertly assembled, to my honest surprise. Pressing in on the beast’s sides, I encouraged him to get me toward the bay.

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The Feather on My Scale: Ch 19

“Nebs?” I wobbled, feet prickly and limbs warm. It had been some time since I had been worshipped in the Water Temple. I had forgotten how much more potent they brewed their sake. I was going to do well stumbling into her chamber and finding the floor.

“In here,” her voice drifted like a soft flute on a warm summer night. I worked my way through the dim chamber to the protected patio and private hot spring. “Your ladies in waiting?” I pressed, finding her laid out on the chaise lounge in little more than a thin linen shift.

She sighed in disgust.

“Uh-oh?” I guessed.

“One of these days, I promise I will find some that I can tolerate.”

“They are there to help, Nebs. You don’t have to do everything on your own.” I eased onto the cool rattan of the chaise and trapped her between wide-spread arms on either side of her. Staring down at her stoic beauty, I was reminded of the day she had caught my heart and turned it into a finely played lute. Peaked nipples and the subtle swell of her belly tugged at fire lying in my gut.

She gave me a dismissive frown. “Says the guy who doesn’t like people fussing over him either.”

“I want to make sure you have some kind of friendships outside of just our little family, Nebs. You need someone you can vent to when we’re all driving you batty.”

“Short trip.”

I leaned into her warmth carefully, waiting for her to give me some sign she wasn’t in the mood for my randy, drunk-ass mind. Instead, she pulled me closer, waiting to loosen her grasp until I had relaxed into her hold, my head buried between the soft pillows of her breasts. Her scent of lavender and vanilla tripped across my senses, pulling away my worries. “Nebs.”

“You’re not wrong Henu, but staff talk, and I don’t trust them. I don’t want to trust them. I trust us. You don’t just blab to the kitchen staff who then blab to their family, and suddenly any number of secrets make their way to some noble willing to use it to assassinate you, or me, or our baby.” Her hand tensed for a moment with that admission.

I stilled. Letting it sink in, I mulled over our options. “There are times Ptolemy and I can’t be there, farashat saghira. I want, even more so now than any other time, that someone be here if something goes wrong. A com isn’t fast enough for a doc if you can’t reach it.”

“You do worry, Henu.”

“For you, always.” I kissed the peach fuzz on her cheek and trailed down her throat to her collarbone.

“You’re drunk.” She made it a neutral statement.

“Blame Abi. He was supposed to keep something less stout for when I would come in. I’m going to have a headache tomorrow.” I admitted. Savouring the curve of her breast, I eased down the shift to swirl tongue and teeth along the ridge of her nipple. She grimaced. I perked up at the reaction and backed off. “Not feeling it?”

“Would like to, but my boobs hurt like hell.” She pressed at the flesh with a miserable pout. I shifted her around until I was sitting against the chaise, her back tucked against my chest. Gently, I laid my hands where she had indicated and waited as she melted against me. “Can always count on you to be warm,” she purred.

“Massage?” I offered.

“With what’s pressed against my back? There’s no way this’ll just be a massage.”

“Can be, if you need that. Let’s get you comfortable first. Tried the hot spring?” I offered as I slowly lost myself in the beauty of her perfectly formed breasts.

“The books in the library discourage hot water. It says it’ll make me dizzy and that’s not good for the baby. Don’t stop.” She wiggled into a more comfortable position, which did very little to help my hard-on. Fire played along my skin in waves. “You came seeking me out when I know for certain you’d rather time with Ptolemy or even a romp with Seth. What’s wrong, kaze?”

“I can want to come to you just because,” I whispered, nipping at her earlobe as her body gave way for me, softening under my devoted attention.

“I heard of Sev, that he’s coming soon.”

I sagged at that, pulling her in tighter, hands going protectively over her slight belly. I couldn’t imagine what lay beneath, and yet the whole world sprawled out of reach, giving me glimpses of terror and joy I had no concept of how to fathom. “Command says that he has already started his march. He will be here in a week’s time.”

“Is that why you moved us to the Summer Pavilion? So that you could hold ground at the palace and distract him. You aren’t sacrificing yourself for me, Henu. Do not.”

“I would and I will, Nebs. No one hurts you. You’re the heart in this family.”

“This heart only beats because of all of you. Don’t break it trying to protect us, kaze. I know you had a hay day once, but now you’re about to be a father. Put them down where they are. You can’t let them get here.” Her grip on my arms trembled.

“Seth knows best,” I reassured.

“He got Ptolemy in on convincing you of this, didn’t he?” she huffed.

“It’s the type of opportunity that doesn’t come along often enough. This will be a moment that will go down in the scrolls.”

“And you expect me to just lay about over here with ladies in waiting feeding me peeled grapes?” She crossed her arms in frustration.

“I’m not entirely keen on seeing you slashing men to ribbons while pregnant if I must admit that much,” I admitted.

“Better than you and Ptolemy combined, and you know it,” she pouted.

“Also, not wrong. How’s that morning sickness treating you?” I dislodged the conversation.

She rolled her shoulders. “Comes and goes. It is pretty unpredictable. Morning sickness, my butt. It hits out of the blue whenever it wants without warning.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?” she bristled.

“So, first slashed artery isn’t gonna-“ I let go as she bolted out of the patio. Retching and the sound of liquid hitting liquid told me I hit my mark. I gave her time as she brushed her teeth before she came back to me, wiped out and dishevelled. Dark circles under her eyes spoke volumes of how this was treating her.

“I take your point,” she admitted before rushing back to be sick all over again.

“Please, let me bring in some folk to help, Nebs,” I called.

Coming back, a cut glass bowl filled with candied ginger in hand, she settled next to me to watch the water gurgling through the waterfall-style faucet over the hot spring. Popping a shimmering piece of the anti-nausea root between her cupid bow lips, she muttered, “Fine, find me someone. I liked Ma’at. Too bad she’s with Easimal. And can’t speak Hawrian. She seemed no-nonsense and liable not to pry.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready to trust them to that extent-“ A clatter of alarms blared through the building, deafening any hope we had of talking. I wrapped myself around Nebra, holding my hands over her ears. “Easy, easy, keep breathing. No jump in heart rate. We’ll get you out. Deep breathing, Nebs.” I encouraged her and got her moving.

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Glamour Heart

Spilling the entire contents of his backpack across the floor in front of the university founder’s statue was not his idea of the best first day ever. Not when an entire table of nymphs and sylphs were there to capture it on their phones. He groaned. It would be on every social media guru’s lips by the time he made it to the history building.

It shouldn’t matter. This was a different region. He was an international student who knew no one. It shouldn’t affect him. But it was going to. Networking. Making friends. Or at the very least finding some anime fans to enjoy talking shows with.

He quickly jammed everything back into his bag and pulled the tab off his zipper in his haste to get away from the staring eyes.

History of Southwest cryptid geography proved his suspicions right. Half the fae circle and a handful of yokai had seen his blunder in all its glory. The professor called the class to attention, but that did little to stop the side eyes and chuckles.

Thankfully it was his last class on Mondays. He made a beeline for the backside of the building where most students didn’t walk. It was a longer trek, but he wasn’t in the mood to handle his recent celebrity status. At least a new bag was going to be waiting at his dorm in a few days. That much he had successfully got done while his professor covered the new semester syllabus.

“Hey, Krampus, your Glamour’s pretty good.” A large hand had him pushed up against the history building wall before he could yelp. A blonde jock with crystal blue eyes brought him up short.

“Woah! The hell, dude?” he pushed the jock to get off before patting at his skin to check his Glamour.

“You should probably keep away from Sidhe Kirk. She’s got a following a mile wide and you’re trending now as the fifth highest-“

“Do I even care to know who the hell you are?” he cut off the jock.

The blonde scoffed, a broad smile revealing gleaming white teeth. Backing off, he bowed slightly as if to doff a hat. “The only Clause on campus. Name’s Jeremy. And you’re the only Krampus, Mr.?”

“Von. Why’d you push me? Got a problem with Krampus?” Von hissed.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention since we walked out of history class. Tapped your shoulder and everything. Reason I realized you had a Glamour on. That thing’s pretty robust, but you should probably fine-tune it so you can still feel someone tap you at least. Had to push past it and kinda overdid it.”

Von glowered, brows furrowing. ” That your apology then for pushing me?”

Jeremy tried for an endearing smile. “Yes?”

Von sighed, getting the feeling Jeremy didn’t mean anything cruel in his actions. “So, you have my attention. What do you want?”

“Well, I was going to see if you were maybe datable, but I doubt that’s an option after…” Jeremy’s face fell at his realization.

“You don’t quite think through what you’re about to say until it falls out of your face, do you?” Von grumbled.

Jeremy nodded, before brightening. “That wasn’t a no?”

Von scowled. “You want a date from someone wearing a Glamour whose only quality you know of currently is being a clutz?”

Jeremy thought for a second before nodding slowly.

“Look, golden retriever energy, you said it yourself. You know what I am. Folk don’t date me.”

“Why not? Clauses’ have worked with Krampus for years. Not like I haven’t met my share at my dad’s Christmas parties.”

Von slipped a hand across his face in an effort to banish a building headache.

“Worked with. Not dated. And did you meet any of the unGlamoured?”

Jeremy dug the toe of his high tops against the sidewalk.

Von clapped a hand on the Clause’s shoulder. “Dude, there’s a reason the school lets us horror mythics wear Glamours on campus. Let’s just pretend this never happened. I’m going to go sleep.” Von made to leave. Jeremy kept up with his pace. “What are you doing?”

“Heading back to my dorm. Figured we could walk and talk on the way. That’s probably where I went wrong. We should have gotten to know each other first before I asked you out. So, my clan’s up in the New England area, but I wanted a change of scenery and now I’m down here. I’m getting my degree in International Cryptid Geography.”

Von blinked at the man. “I- that’s not. Alright. I’m out from Holland. Came here for the Southwest Lore Anthropology. We hosted a Windigo for three years and I learned a lot from them. Wanted to do more with the stories.”

“Dude! That’s epic. My folks only ever host alfr and brownies. Not sure why, other than mom’s more comfortable with speaking Swedish and German, so she tends to host from the regions.” Jeremy’s features couldn’t hold on to frustration any longer than a cup with a hole holding water.

Turning at the edge of Dorm Row, Von flicked a thumb at the first towering building. “Well, it was interesting meeting you, Jeremy. This is me.”

“Oh cool! We’re in the same dorm. We should grab breakfast tomorrow.” Jeremy’s broad smile was the epitome of clueless puppy.

“Um, yeah, maybe.” Von shifted his broken backpack to press the elevator button.

“Here, what’s your number?” Jeremy offered when they both got in.

Von pulled out his key card to check the number printed on it. “Eight? Yeah, eight.”

“Neat.”

“Neat?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re on the same floor. I wonder. Is this a freshman dorm? That would make sense.”

“Make sense for what?” Von’s voice cracked.

“Why we’re in the same building and floor.”

The bell dinged and the doors opened with a shudder.

“I doubt it. One of the other international students I met at orientation is my neighbour and he’s getting his master’s.”

Jeremy pulled out his key card to tap on the door handle at the same time Von went to tap his.

They stared at their cards for a minute. “You’re my roommate?” Von asked.

“Sweet! I hadn’t met you yet. I spent the night over at Rachel’s for the last week. Kinda rolled out of bed and showed up to class.” Jeremy opened the door to the shared communal space, ran his key card on his door and tossed his bookbag in his door.

Von dropped his own bag on the floor, contents pooling around his feet. “We’re roommates?”

The Feather on My Scale: Ch 18

Escaping the temple compound, I took Lunam’s group as a diplomatic move to the Bay summer house. We would have a view of the sun setting along the edge of the dome where the panels met the sea. Sprawling grounds along the beachfront and glade yielded horseback riding and area to hunt deer raised there for the purpose.

It would leave the temple in turmoil for a day as they made announcements that the morning and evening prayers would be held at the Water Temple rather than the Cliff Temple where my permanent residency lay. Soon, a migration of believers would turn from the five-mile walk up to the twelve-mile walk down.

As usual, the jostling sedan ride down proved nauseating. I had to wonder if it was right of me to encourage Nebra to come down to the seashore in her state. I did not particularly like the idea of leaving her up in my royal estate now that I knew someone had set up an ambush. Adom had not been around when we returned from the tea house. I had made quick decisions with minimal staff to have our things packed and sent after us.

A crowd gathered through the streets of the capital city as the royal sedans paraded along the main avenue. Kids had run ahead, announcing the descent of the Pharaoh. Shouting and cheering were always reassuring. It was when crowds were quiet that I had to pay attention.

A rock hit the side of my sedan and my heart shot up into my throat. Hot ash. Fire. Crushed masonry. Old copper and rot. Clouds of smoke and commanding officers screaming at men begging for their lives.

“Pharaoh? Pharaoh? Henu?”

I’m not sure how long I was stuck in flashbacks. I came to my senses, my head being forced to my knees. Wretched saliva had swamped my mouth with a promise in my twisting stomach. I dragged in a ragged breath, the red lacquered floorboards coming into focus. I pushed back at the hand to find Ptolemy perched on the edge of the sedan, watching me steadily.

“Damn it,” I muttered, ducking his blue eyes.

“A couple of protestors. Security caught one and has taken him to be questioned for threatening you. Are you hurt?”

I shook my head. “I’m alright. These litters give me motion sickness.”

Ptolemy eyed me warily. He could hear the unspoken lie as much as I could. “It’s in the past, Sukar. Bury it in the past and lose the headstone.”

The hinge to his leg squeaked as he pushed off the sedan and offered me a hand to get out. I couldn’t bury it.

Stepping from the sedan, Ptolemy placed my hand in Wash’s as per protocol and took up his role as one of several bodyguards escorting both the diplomatic party and my consorts into the summer palace.

Wide sweeping red lacquered beams and shogi screens framed sparkling views of the gently lapping waves and the beach edge. Thin-legged birds strode through the shore reeds, hunting frogs and small fish. I gave Wash an enamouring smile, determined to put the flashback away.

“Let us adjourn for the afternoon. Dinner will be held in the great hall. I must prepare for appearances in the Water Temple before. Forgive me.” I turned to Lunam as Nour translated for me. Nebra and Seth left off to the west wing of the summer palace where they would have access to the private pools that were not offered to the diplomatic parties. Ptolemy hadn’t let me out of his sight yet.

A servant collected Lunam and his group to usher them toward the north wing where rooms were quickly being dusted out and prepared for unannounced visitors. They had brought a minimum of gear through the catacombs, none to fit a dinner party. As leaders of Easemil, I was still suspect at their refinement. Even the poorest of the nobles would have had better quality fabrics. Would an alliance be of any profit to Hawria?

I turned, Wash’s hand in mine, Ptolemy following a footstep behind as I headed toward my rooms where I would change and prepare for surprising the Water Temple. A runner would have been sent ahead of the sedans, or rumors spread in town that would already have the head lecturn there preparing for us. “Ptolemy?”

“My Pharaoh?”

“Have a servant sent with funds to talk to Abi.”

“Yes, My Pharaoh,” Ptolemy stepped away to hunt down a servant.

“What happened?” Wash whispered as we made our way down the hallway.

I cleared my throat, having lost myself in thought. “Happened?”

“You feel strange, Pharaoh. Prickly. Like static,” he tried to explain. I raised an eyebrow at the explanation. All I felt was the pulling where our hands met. That ever-present buzz of fulfilment and promised satisfaction that pattered along the connection.

“It’s different.”

I let him into my rooms. His chamber was being quickly assembled in the connecting room. The servant girls were muttering quietly between themselves. It provided a homely feel to me.

“Different how?” I eased into a deep couch and pulled Wash to straddle me. He momentarily baulked, a glance going towards the other rooms, before accommodating. I laid my head against his sternum, his chest smooth against my cheek. Breathing in his warmth, his scent of patchouli and myrrh, I centred my mind. The scrolling to-do list in my mind was riddled with flashbacks refusing to let up. Wrapping my arms across his backside, I pulled him in close and relaxed beneath the weight, the reassuring drag of air in his lungs.

“There. That. It’s changing.” His fingers found the tense spot at the back of my neck beneath my curls.

I grunted, still not sure what he was talking about.

“You’re finally relaxing. I know this feel.” He was keeping his voice low so the servants wouldn’t hear him.

Pulling my eyes up to find him, I rested my chin on his sternum. “Still not sure what you’re talking about, Wash.”

“You were upset by something. Your power felt funny. Anything I can do?” Alexandrite eyes burned bright in the late afternoon light.

“You’re doing it. Thank you. Just some memories. Ptolemy’s right. I need to bury them. It’s been long enough. Anyways, Angel, we probably need to get dressed for the temple. I ditched Adom. Right now, Ptolemy has a few of his men investigating who set up the assassins in the garden. Are you ready to conduct a ceremony without the fanged eel around?”

“Fanged eel?” he cocked his head.

“Nickname for Adom.”

“Oh. Oh! I like that,” the amused smile snapped me out of my melancholy. He sucked in his breath, his jovial amusement turning to a shade of need similar to mine in that moment. He rested his forehead against mine. “You are fascinating, Ember.”

I swallowed. His skin was warm, inviting, but I had things I needed to be doing other than him. I persisted anyway. Tasting him was dreaming in cream and honey, sipping on the moon’s saucer, getting drunk on starfire. His tender nickname for me settled in my chest where I could treasure it.

“Gods, I want you.”

“That much is obvious.” He rubbed against me and my will was a strand of silk’s width from breaking.

“But ceremony calls. How it calls. It never ends.”

“You do have to let go then if ceremony calls so.”

I pulled him in closer. Growling a protest, I nipped at his chest. “Don’t want to.”

Wash laughed at my protest before being cut short in surprise. “Alright, My Pharaoh, let’s release me and I will get ready, because if I stay here much longer, at least one of us is going to be functionally useless until we resolve things.”

I huffed and released him, less than willingly.

He bent to place a light kiss on the tip of my nose. A playful smile splashed across his lips. I closed my eyes to ignore it for my own safety. “You are beautiful, Angel.”

“And you are an addiction. Now. I’ve had servants dressing me, though I am capable of it myself. Seeing as we left in such a hurry, will I have a personal attendant that I need to go hunting down? Do you need one?” He eased away from my grasping fingers and headed to his chamber. The servants greeted him with a startled chirp. They quickly let themselves through my chamber, through the antechamber and out.

“You could always do it?” I smirked at the glare he threw at me over his shoulder.

“Tell me how that will be a good idea.”

“Well-“

“That still gets us to the temple in time.”

“Um.”

He nodded as he gained the upper hand. I liked him like this, that he was feeling safe enough with me to finally tease. I leaned back into the couch pillows to admire him in the shared space. Slight, his frame could have come from the fairy stories in my archives. His wings swept low to the floor like a pastel cape, giving length to his aesthetic. The splash of white across his face and curls contrasted with the green almost purple eyes beneath heavy lashes. He gathered his vestments and tossed them on the chair in a position turned toward my sitting area. Cocking an eyebrow, I gave him an encouraging smile. He knew exactly what he was doing and I was going to have difficulties being presentable for the rest of the evening at this rate.

Stripped to his fundoshi, I was enjoying the show when a tap at the antechamber door smothered our moment. “Yes?” I called.

The door squeaked open and closed shut carefully. My amorous warmth cooled with curiosity. Wash grabbed his clothes and dashed behind the dressing screen in the far corner.

Ptolemy emerged around the corner, relief washing across his features. He leaned down, brushing a greeting kiss across my lips. “The servant said Abi will anticipate our presence and has sent the funding to the staff to obtain food and new candles for tonight’s ceremony. Baako will set a ferret in our little warren and we should have ourselves a bit of rabbit by the end of the night.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, tension easing out of my shoulders further. “Good. I haven’t seen that level of hostility in a couple of years. Do you suspect-?”

“Adom’s a prejudiced snotcloth, but he’s no idiot enough to set up an ambush like this in the royal teahouse. He knows he would be the first suspected. No. If you and I held a bet, I would say it was a noble pissed at Adom for you marrying Wash.”

At that, a squeak from the other room reminded Ptolemy where the High Husband was. He stalked off in that direction. Another squeak told me he’d caught Wash. “Little Dove,” came the endearing whisper, “you don’t get to have this blame, so stop taking it off other’s plates. Alright?” Another squeak matched the last demand. Ptolemy returned smugly while Wash followed suit a little slower and more flustered.

“Not sure kissing helps that, Ptol!” Wash called after him.

“I don’t know, helps me plenty,” Ptol laughed before flopping on the armchair to my right.

“Both of you are terrible. I’m going to go sleep in Seth’s bed tonight if this keeps up,” Wash tried to threaten.

I raised an eyebrow at Ptolemy, who returned the look before we both howled our guts out at that. Wash frowned at our impersonations of braying jackasses. “What?”

I bit my lip, shaking my head.

He levelled a glare that I should have taken as serious, but the images in my head were not going to keep me from fighting the bubbling giggle at the back of my chest. “There something I should know?”

“Nebra would probably be your safe bet,” Ptolemy offered.

“I don’t want to disturb her sleep,” he quickly protested.

“Seth won’t let you have sleep,” I offered.

Wash folded his arms across his chest.

I shrugged. “Ain’t my no never mind if Seth still wants to have his ways with you and you oblige him, just figured you’d want that heads up beforehand.”

Wash regarded both of us before returning my shrug. “Maybe I’d learn some more ways of cornering you.”

Ptolemy burst out with another fit of laughter while I dissolved into the teasing warmth lying there between us.

Drawing a breath, Wash drew us from our amusement. “Sadly, for the moment, I really should get you dressed before we start running out of time. Or would you rather I call in a servant?”

“I hate servants dressing me. I can do it myself. Just straighten me out. The mirror in here is warped diagonally, and I haven’t had the desire to have it replaced.”

“As long as you don’t pounce me.” Wash walked forward to offer me a hand up from my deep cushions.

Ptolemy reached for him, grabbing him about the hips and pulling him back to sit on his lap. “Never said anything about me.”

“You lion! Alright. Alright. Let go so we can all get this over with and come back to fix our other pressing issues,” Wash bartered, pressing for freedom. Ptolemy let go without too much of a fight.

Somehow in all the teasing, we did actually get me dressed and to the Water Temple with enough time to see to provisions having honey involved for Wash’s ‘miracles.’

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The Feather on My Scale: Ch 17

The gilded building sat shadowed beneath a canopy of ginkgo and weeping willow along the edge of a man-made pond. A rock garden bordered its opposite side in a mimic of the koi pond.  On the porch extending off the pond, Seth and Nebra had seen to the preparation of trays of finger foods and were enjoying the coolness of the water.  Lunam mumbled something to Nour as we approached.

“They are your partners like Ptolemy and Wash are, Henu?” Nour nodded to Seth and Nebra. 

I stalled at that assessment well before we reached the building. “How did you know that?”

“Lunam.” He thumbed to his boss.  “Anywhere private where he won’t be watched by palace staff? He says you have eight more guards within this grove alone.” He eyed the trees within the courtyard of my palace grounds. My inner sanctum. I would think it sacred ground to not be trodden on by servants of the palace, but it would not surprise me if there were those hidden within the shadows, persistently watching my comings and goings.

“Join me in the teahouse. There is a room with no windows that can function as somewhere private.” I motioned the group through the door.  Lunam raised an eyebrow at the structure. “Unless there’s someone in there?” I hedged at his hesitation.

“There is one man lying in wait beneath the floorboards of the entrance. A sharp knife, and poison. Is he yours or after you, Henu?” Nour tapped Lunam on the shoulder. The black-haired man nodded to a spot and sidestepped a series of boards. A thin flash of silver dashed between a slip in the floor. 

“Not mine.” I stepped back from the knife as Ptolemy pulled Wash and motioned Nebra and Seth from the deck.

“Shall we dispose of them, sir?” Nour asked, an elated grin barely submerged beneath a contemptuous frown.

“Be my guest. Anyone in here other than my family is not here at my bidding.” I motioned to the trees and the buildings. I was curious about this small group that supposedly had done away with twenty troops upon entering the dome.

“Cortex?” Lunam motioned the brown-haired man and Sanctus to my family. Tempestatis was directed to the far side of the pond. Maria Mater was sent to the west edge.   “Borrow power, please?” the ex-soldier held out a hand to me, a soft expression contrasting my expectations of him.

Skittering resonance bounced beneath my skin as I let the man take my hand. He pulled my back to his chest, his hand going to my throat. “Hold, king,” he whispered, twisting, a knife flashing across our path. He swung wide, releasing me as he caught a palace priest, the man disintegrating into a pile of grey ash. Cortex had a massive blue-green shield of fire circling my husbands and wife, Sanctus’s fingers light along the man’s jaw. Lunam pulled the knife from the turf in his circuit, grasped onto my fingers, turned me again, and flicked the blade to the tree line. A grunt and thud. A priest fell from a branch to land on the lawn.

A loud thooming pop had me swallowing as heat hurtled past me. The world swirled as I was pushed under Lunam and he covered my head, a brilliant blue orb rippling over us. He kept a tirade of commands going between his people as fireballs and firey twisters erupted around the koi pond. My next glance from the grass at my hands was for Ptolemy. He had Nebra and Seth huddled beneath his stature. Wash stood over them, Sanctus’s hand at his lower back, directing a series of panthers to chase priests from the branches. His jackals herded them toward Nour and Maria Mater.

“Healthy, king?” Lunam asked, his black eyes pulling me from the chaos. Fangs morphed his lips. Re take me, the man terrified me.  I nodded mutely, looking around at the devastation. Multiple bodies bled out on the field.  A pair of ash piles accumulated near us.

Sanctus approached as Lunam pulled me to my feet. Ptolemy put himself between us as Lunam tugged Sanctus under his arm.

“Are they gone?” I placed my trust in the man.

“Thirty behind flat.” Lunam nodded to the three-story wall that circled my private sanctuary.

“They are meant to be there,” I reassured.  Nour approached us, as did the rest of the group. “If this isn’t Adom’s work, I would be surprised. What should we do with the bodies? I wouldn’t summon the Temple priests and alert Adom of a failed plot. Not yet.” I motioned to the corpses.  Nour translated.  Lunam shrugged and proceeded to wipe all evidence of their existence from the lawn.

Returning to the teahouse, a shiver ran down his arms as he got within range of us. “Room?” he motioned his question.

“This way,” I went to invite the group in. Cortex and Nour slipped between him and me, blocking me from the building.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ptolemy demanded. 

“Henu’s safety,” Nour warned, as Maria Mater and Sanctus ducked Lunam into the structure. 

“He just has to eat,” Wash protested, confused. Nebra and Seth joined us at the deck.

“You would watch his Repercussion?” Nour mused under his breath before calling out a question to the empty door frame. Maria Mater gave an indifferent reply. Nour chuckled. “Might be good to have the extra hands. No screaming, Pharaoh.”

Inside, we found Sanctus in Lunam’s embrace, the ex-soldier’s hood drawn up to block off his face and his actions. His shoulders tensed at our approach, a warning growl crawled along the floorboard. Ptolemy haulted our progress, wary.

“He’s a bit protective of Sanctus,” Nour cautioned, approaching Lunam slowly. The man stilled, raising his head from his husband’s shoulder. Nour rolled the sleeve on his button up and held it to Lunam.

Vampire. I took a step back as fangs sank into Nour’s wrist. Fingers buried into my hand. Wash had turned a palled corpse color. “Different kind of Consumptionist,” I whispered to him.

“Ma’at drinks water. Cortex swept a corner of the room. Nour stacks coins. I helped a few people escape into the catacombs, but I’ve never gotten to see others like me come down. Ma’at’s a Consumptionist. The others are performers. I thought my Consumption was pricey,” he whispered, his thumb rubbing back and forth along my hand.

“Sorry, I am gross.” Lunam swiped a tongue over Nour’s wrist to stem the flow.

“You’re not done for that many burns, boss,” Nour muttered, rolling his sleeve down. Lunam turned to regard me with suspicion, his black eyes having reduced in intensity. He eyed his men before turning to me and nodding to Nour. 

“This would be why he asked for privacy, so as not to scare the people in the temple who might stumble upon us,” Ptolemy suggested.

“What is going on, Henu?” Seth asked, slipping behind Ptolemy’s stature.

“The coming of Easimal. They are here seeking an alliance,” I explained quickly.

“He’s not done yet, is he?” Nebra asked Nour, nodding at Lunam who had already taken another meal from Maria Mater and Cortex.

“It would be, for the number he just decimated, the amount of an entire body he would need. He does not press to take more than the minimum so as not to affect us while here, but…” Nour supplied. “Would there be any servants that you do trust?”

“I don’t mind helping?” Wash offered quietly at my elbow.

“You would trust him?” I asked.

“I would see that he does not mummify all of us,” he hedged.

“The offer is appreciated, but he says he would not take advantage of his host.” Nour’s feature’s darkened at his relay. Nour turned back to snap something under his breath before turning back to me and wrinkling his nose. “He doesn’t want to in front of your chosen.” He turned back again and they squabbled for a moment.

“It is not like we haven’t already seen what has happened.” Nebra approached our group. Lunam backed further into the deeper shadows of the room.

“He would like to not cause the one carrying a child more distress than necessary.” Nour bowed as the other three put themselves between Lunam and us.

“Child?” Ptolemy’s eyes bulged.

“Nebra?” Seth turned to her, placing a hand on her stomach in question.

“I only just found out yesterday, I thought. I wanted to wait until I could guarantee it,” Nebra protested the surprise.

“You’re pregnant?” I asked, suddenly a touch light headed.

She ducked her head at the question, nodding. Ptolemy, Seth, and I pressed in on her all at once in a hug. “Oof, wait, let me breath!” She protested.

We loosened up. “Sorry. I- that’s, I didn’t expect it to ever happen. You’re okay, right? You need to sit down. Here, there are pillows.” Ptolemy dragged her to a nest of cushions and pressed her down.

“I’m fine, Ptolemy, really! I have to be twelve, thirteen weeks along. I’ve made it this far already; you don’t have to worry.” She went to stand back up.

“No. No. I’m going to be a dad. Seth! Seth! Dad. Henu. Wash! I have to – I don’t know. What do I do? Henu, what do I do?” Ptolemy turned to me in excited terror.

“Calm down. That’s what you do. Wait, how did he know she was pregnant and the rest of us didn’t?” The realization caught me by surprise as I turned back to our emissaries.

“Another smell different.” Lunam tapped the side of his nose. I turned a confused glance to Nour in hopes of an explanation. The blond asked for clarification. Lunam pointed to Ptolemy.

“I’m the father? I’m the father!” Ptolemy grew excited all over again.

“Of course you’re the father, Ptol! Who else would it be?” I jostled him. “Go sit down, you fluttery bird, and bask for a moment.”

Nour cocked his head at the interchange.

“I can’t have kids. Old war wound. And Wash hasn’t been with us long enough at this point. Not unless Nebra nabbed him from the Southern temple some time before we met him?” I teased her.

“The logic stands.” Nebra waved for my help while Ptolemy bent over to press his ear to her stomach.

Ptolemy rolled in his excitement. All at once he was standing, treading past me and through Lunam’s guards to take his hand with a jubilant smile, ignoring the protests on both sides. “Have it. All of it if you need. You’ve made me the happiest man alive right now!”

Nour translated, flicking glances between myself and Lunam. “He’s his own man. It’s his offering.” I shrugged.

“If it is fine?” Lunam searched each of the individuals in the room. His eyes met mine and for the first time since meeting him in the hall, I finally found his soul. Scared. Scarred. Desperate for acceptance. He turned to Ptolemy, finding what he needed in my expression, I guess. “Arm?” He tapped my consort on the wrist.

“If that’s how this works?” Ptolemy let Lunam take possession of it, positioning himself such that Nebra wouldn’t see him eat. “Oh, that’s weird. Henu, you’ve got to feel this. Goes completely numb up to the elbow.”

“You have an odd concept of what should be terrifying?” Nour noted.

“Eh, have your leg blown off. That’ll usually fix your perspective right quick. Wish I had this numbing thing for when that happened way back.” Ptolemy rolled his shoulders.

“It is something Lunam can supply as a small trade?” Nour suggested after another flurry of quick dialogue between Ma’at and Sanctus this time.

“He can supply it?” I asked. “How much?”

“A pair of anaesthetic vials a day and a quarter of a coagulant. We sometimes have a surplus and could trade on them?” Nour dipped his toes into the odd aspect of dealing in bodily fluids while Lunam took his time. Cortex tapped him on the shoulder before Ptolemy could turn too unstable.

His excitement worn off, Ptolemy wobbled back to Nebra’s nest and sank down next to her. Pulling her onto his lap, he wrapped around her in quiet happiness. “I’m so proud of you, Nebs. Really.”

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The Feather on My Scale: Ch 16

“He is Apophis descended upon us, My Lord!” Adom protested adamantly.

The blond muttered quietly to the black-haired man next to him who was watching the lectern priest. The black-haired man shook his head and asked a question, motioning with his head my way. The blond motioned appeasingly to Adom and myself. Ptolemy shifted closer to my shoulder, staring the two down. The red-haired man next to the one Adom was proclaiming to be Apophis flinched at the blond’s tone and shrank back a little.

“You think they’re dangerous, m’Lord?” Ptolemy whispered in my ear.

“I believe Adom is making them dangerous,” I returned.

“Who are you?” Ptolemy demanded of the congregation littering our throne room.

“Infidels,” Adom sneered too close in my ear.

“Yes. We’ve got that, Adom. Please, for once in your milk-paste life, shut up and let the adults do their job before I call forth Anubis to gather you,” I returned the hiss with my own. He paled at the reprimand. Wash clinked his was-sceptre, dismissing the man from the dais.

“Thank you for seeing us, Pharaoh Ramses,” the blond man greeted pleasantly when the chaos surrounding me had died down. 

I snapped my focus back to him. “His Eminence joined with Re almost a decade and a half ago.”

The man’s face sank in confusion and disappointment. “I am so sorry, sire.” He bowed, his hand hovering over his heart in uncertainty. Adom moved forward in anger. Wash stalled him, descending the dais to place his hook across the Lectern’s path. The blond man glanced back to the man with the tattooed number on his cheek and exchanged a couple quiet words and a shake of his head.

“You do not serve me. I am neither your king nor pharaoh. Do not address me as such.” I motioned the title away.

“What is an appropriate title by which you would have us call you?” The blond man bowed carefully at the hip. He had been raised in Hawria. His actions were measured and stiff, a sign of high breeding.

“I am Henu, son of Ramses,” I answered before Adom could put his foot in his mouth again. Next time he did, I’d make him choke on it.

“Henu, sir, forgive me that I would make such an ungracious mistake. I come to you as herald.” He swallowed, his eyes sweeping the tiled floor as he drew his hand to indicate the three men and the woman at his side.

“You would dare suggest there be any being higher than the embodiment of His Holiness!” Adom screeched, pushing past Wash. A humanoid female jackal rose from the floor in front of him, bearing a pair of knives. The priest shrieked, backing up a pace from the apparition. “Anput! Please,” he begged the apparition. The woman pursued him, her eyes fixated on him. The knives in her hands flicked in and out of sight as she spun them. Adom turned and ran as she chased him to the door of the throne room leading to the main temple. The woman evaporated at the door.

Wash returned to the dais, a gleam of sweat at his temple. His fingers shook. I snapped for a servant and demanded a small bottle of honey be brought to me immediately. He stood out of reach for me to be able to draw his fingers into mine unnoticed. Frowning, I turned to the black-haired man with the tattoo. “Say again?” I asked him to repeat his broken question.

“Man is Ustor?” the man nodded to Wash, concern creasing his lips thin.

“Ustor?” I was unfamiliar with the term.

The black-haired man turned to his translator and asked another question as the redhead slipped fingers to the herald’s hand. I rose at the motion, fascinated to see someone repeat what I did with Wash. Ptolemy stilled me with a hand on my shoulder. The woman and the brown-haired man closed rank around the redhead at my suddenness, not the black-haired man like I would have assumed by the way he was deferred to.  The guards flicked concerned glances amongst themselves, spears coming down around the room.

“Hold!” I demanded, silencing my men. They looked to me, none too thrilled as I eased out of Ptolemy’s grasp and descended the dais about the same time my servant returned with a cut glass bottle of warmed honey on a tray. I took the bottle and motioned for the guards to leave us. They hesitated before a ripple of water rose around the group in the centre of the throne room and myself, rushing out towards the guards. Crocodiles fell and rose through the water and the floor. They gasped, racing from the room to follow Adom.

With witnesses gone that I cared about, I handed the bottle to Wash as he sank to the ground, laying his staff across his lap. He guzzled the fluid as he studied the tiles in the ceiling.

“He is Ustor.” The black-haired man reiterated.

“What is Ustor?” I asked before Ptolemy put himself in front of me as bodyguard. “Ptol, please. Let’s try for civil.”

“I do not trust them, sir.” He raised his lips in disgust but stepped aside.

“Tempestatis?” the black-haired man asked the blond.

“Your priest, he is Mubkharatan?” the blond man, Tempestatis asked.

“How are you so fluent in Hawrian?” I demanded, his cadence chewing at me in its stoic familiarity. The blond turned to the redhead at his side and the black-haired man, mumbling again. The redhead let go of his hand. The black-haired man asked something harshly before stepping aside to give the man room. The blond nodded and pulled the grey scarf from around his neck, a bright white scar flashing. Fingering the buttons on his shirt, he sighed with frustration. He turned his back to me and shrugged the garment off. A massive ibis headdress in black, teal, and red stared back at me, stretch marks and age fading the pattern. 

Not possible. My heart beat harder in my chest.

“The House of Thoth died out with the death of the heir sixteen years ago!” Wash protested from the ground.

The blond man turned back to me, the sign of Horus branded above his heart. “The son of Thoth destroyed his own house as a Mubkharatan.” The man put a hand over the sign of Horus and bowed once more. “I am Nour Abubakar, rightful heir to the House of Thoth, Keeper of the Library of Alexander, servant to the House of Re.”

“Nour Abubakar? They call you another name, Tempestatis? You are now of Easimal?” I pressed through the shock of discovering the House of Thoth had not fallen. The Key to the Library had been found. Surely the documents of the Subgalaxia transfer had been preserved.

“I am known as Tempestatis amongst my people due to my Catalyst.” He held a hand out for a gentle twister of flame to rise from his palm, the redhead touching his bare back.

“And the others?” I asked, flicking a glance to the rest watching Nour for direction.

“Co-leaders, Maria Mater and Nigrae Lunam of Easimal, Nigrae Sanctus, and Detractisque Corticibus. We come in order to seek an alliance with Hawria in the protection of the Mubkharatan,” he explained. “It is good to see one cared for so close to the royal head. Times must be changing if it is so.”

The brown-haired man slipped a metal box into Nour’s fingers as the man sank to the floor across from Wash and dumped out a stack of metal circles. The others closed rank around him as he carefully sorted the stacks over and over in a pattern.

“Hawria not first language. Difficult. I am sorry,” Lunam apologized.

“You are of Malak?” I asked, motioning to my cheek in mimic of where his tattoo was intersected by a deep scar.

“No longer. Memory Hades Purge?” he asked.  I shook my head at the term.

“Do you remember The Roar of Sekhmet?” Nour asked from the ground as he continued counting the tokens.  It had been quite a few years since that fateful day in Malak. I nodded, turning back to Lunam. Nour spoke for the man. “Lunam is Sekhmet.”

I turned to the black-haired man in horror. The man who had wiped out almost fifty thousand people in one day stood in my throne room trying to formulate my language and appearing abashed for doing so poorly. The man asked after the titles Nour was using. Nour replaced the coins back into his box and rose, handing the box back to Corticibus who shoved it into a thick canvas bag. Ptolemy drew his sword at the name, pushing me behind him. Wash looked up at me in confused terror before scuttling from his spot on the floor, the bottle dropping with a clank.

Lunam chuckled at Nour’s explanation of the name.  The redhead, Sanctus shared the humour. I studied them and their ease. Wash slipped his fingers into mine and reached a hand out to draw up the blue-green depths of the bay of Nile around us, fish swimming over our heads. Lunam stared around at the space in enthralled fascination. Not the reaction I was expecting. I had hoped for terror. The superstitious of the palace were easily swayed with Wash’s power. His fingers tightened in my hand as he worked crocodiles into the convincing illusion. The man knew no fear. He approached one of the creatures, running his fingers through it, breaking up part of the image into swirling eddies.

“Catalyst pretty. Consumptionist. You are healthy to perform large picture?” he asked before saying something to Nour.

“He says that your priest has a beautiful Catalyst and is honoured to be shown such a large feat. He wishes to know if it is taxing for your man to do this. He is also Consumptionist and does not wish to put him under too heavy of a burden with his Repercussion for such a performance.” Nour pulled his shirt back on and buttoned it.

“Why is this not terrifying?” Wash whispered, flicking a glance between me and the group on the floor.  I shook my head unsure.

Sanctus whispered something in Lunam’s ear before approaching. Wash pushed back against my side and Lunam wasn’t thrilled with Sanctus getting close, studying his movement.  The redhead was about the same height as Wash, if slimmer in the face, his fingers delicate as he reached out, a couple words dripping from his lips. I caught his name Sanctus, but the rest was lost on me. Wash glanced up to me in question. I shrugged, just as unsure as him as to what to make of it. His fingers slipped from mine and he stepped forward, shaking the man’s hand. “My name is-,” he went to introduce himself before pulling his hand away, startled. He turned to look at me, swallowing. “You told me you had no family, sir.”

“None alive that I am aware of.” I nodded.

“He feels like you.” He drew his hands to his chest, staring at the hand Sanctus had dropped to his side.

“You are a Providentia, Henu?” Nour asked me under a whisper as the group closed the gap with us. Ptolemy sheathed his sword, leaving his grip on the handle.

“I don’t know that word.” I shook my head.

“You are an energy source for Mubkharatan,” he explained hurriedly, flicking an eye to the door where the temple guard had disappeared. There were others like me?

“This man is like me?” I pointed at Sanctus.

“Find.” Lunam put his hand out to shake mine. I studied it warily before taking it.  That electrifying desire that burned in my chest everytime Wash touched me lit like an inferno at Lunam’s lightness. He let go after a polite once up and down. “Yes, Providentia, same.” Interest knotted his brows in thought.

“Your brother can do this too?” I pointed to Sanctus.

Nour snorted. “They aren’t brothers.”

“Shared name.”

“They’re married, Henu. It is typical within Imperium and Angelus to share a common name through family and marriage in a similar fashion to the Nobel Houses,” he told me.

“Wait, I thought he was married to the woman. Ma’at or something like that? You called them a shared leader. She would be the Nobel of the House that he married into if he is ex-Malak military,” I asked, having already forgotten her name.

“No, they are not married,” he emphasized, his people asking questions under the fast interchange.

“Co-leaders, but not married? Concubine? Seems like an odd arrangement for government positioning.” I looked at the woman, clearly older than the rest of the group by at least ten years.

Lunam snarled at the word and I had to step back. Fangs. His eyes, I could have sworn they were green. They were focused pitch black orbs and the temperature in the room was rising. He shifted to put himself protectively in front of the woman. Sanctus moved back, slipping his fingers into Lunam’s hand. A long tirade slurred against sharp teeth. He was military by the tone he issued. 

“I’m not sure I understand?” I glanced between Lunam and Nour. Ptolemy put himself in front of me as Corticibus made to push Lunam behind him.

“She is independent from him as he her. They do not share a bed. He thinks you’ve called her a whore. That would be my fault in teaching him our language. Give me a minute,” Nour explained over the tirade.

Lunam calmed under Nour’s explanation, confusion flitting across his face as he and Corticibus exchanged words until they all came to a conclusion. The woman asked a couple of questions before waving away the answers. Lunam nodded and turned back to me. “I am sorry. I do not speak Hawria good. Imperium is second language. I am started from Engill, Malak you say. Soldier.” He tapped his cheek to indicate the number and barcode.

“Why the fangs?” Ptolemy demanded, his thumb rubbing against the hilt of his blade.

“It’s secondary to the Catalyst, my Lord. Like mine,” Wash cut in. I raised an eyebrow at his explanation. “Most Mubkharatan have something, a spare organ, appendage, something. Um…” he turned to the group to look at them all, shifting his robes to let them see the translucent green wings between his shoulder blades.  The brown-haired man and the woman exchanged a glance while Nour translated what Wash was saying. The brown-haired man lifted his hands to show massive calluses that ran under every crease. The woman pulled back her sleeves to reveal a series of iridescent scales on her underarms. “Those! Yes. They’re different for each person. Usually relates to either how they perform their Catalyst or resolve their Repercussion.”

“And his?” I nodded at Lunam.

“His Repercussion. He’s a Consumptionist,” Nour provided cryptically.

Sanctus mumbled something to Lunam. Corticibus hedged against the comment, rolling up his sleeve. Lunam shook his head, flicking across Wash, Ptolemy and myself with a displeased grimace.

Nour regarded him with a questioning eyebrow before sighing in frustration. “You can either deal with talking to him with the fangs for the next couple hours or else we need somewhere a bit more private than this room. We would rather not terrify your people if they are already scared of mirages.”

“Ptolemy? Send word for Nebra and Seth to see to the teahouse, privately. Don’t need Adom overhearing something through the intercom,” I directed, retaining possession of Wash’s trembling fingers.

“You would trust them in the compound?” Ptolemy whispered uncertainly.

“We will see,” I responded.

“Sir.” He bowed and left to hunt down Seth and Nebra.

“He will be fine to wait for a few minutes?” I asked, eyeing Lunam. Wash tended to start falling apart quickly without a solution on hand almost immediately after one of his mirages.

“He has done no more than get a little heated under the collar. He will tolerate his Repercussion.”

“How is he able to last so long without fixing it?” Wash asked with open curiosity.

“Stubbornness and desperation. He has spent years learning,” Nour explained.

“He is a Consumptionist. Is there not a ready solution I could have a servant provide?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. Ptolemy returned to the throne room and motioned for us to follow.

“If you want a dried husk for a servant,” Nour whispered under his breath.

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The Feather on My Scale: Ch 15

I rubbed at my temple and sighed. Temple and noble guards both stood inside and outside of my office chamber, hands on hilts. I stared at the pile of papers in front of me that needed my full focus, but no, I had to wait for Adom and Khufern to show up and explain exactly why the royal compound was under guard at that instant.

The morning ceremonies had come to an end more than two hours prior and I was well into my third cup of tea, but it wasn’t going to be strong enough for whatever the blundering fools were scared of this time. “Probably their own shadows,” I muttered as I tossed my reed down and pushed the papers away from me.

A thicker-set man, maybe a head shorter than me in stature, waved down the guards long enough to be let into my chamber. He bowed low. “My Pharaoh.”

“Seer of the Pharaoh’s Personage.” I greeted.

“I am sorry to tell you, My Pharaoh, I bear terrifying news.”

My mind immediately went to the dome panels. Cracks had happened before. Air quality plummeted in the zones where that happened. Light would filter through the cracks and burn away whatever plant life rested below. Whole acreages of agriculture and forest were lost to wildfires. Worse would be the loss of the panels along Nile Bay. The curtain sweeps kept the tides from swamping the land and provided generative power along the coastline and up to portions of the royal palace. I rose at the thought. Tens of thousands would need to be evacuated immediately in either direction, further into the land or out toward the coasts.

“I am sorry to cause My Pharoah concern, but truly, it is unprecedented. Men of Easimal have come!”

Easimal? Easimal! Not possible. I paused. “Call the High Husband,” I commanded. The man blinked at the order in confusion before ducking a quick nod and dashing out of the room.

Before he was able to return in time, Adom came clomping through, his robes in disorder. Strained terror warped his features, eyes wide. “Pharaoh, there’s-“

“Men of Easimal. Yes, I’m aware. Take a seat.” I pointed him to one of the two chairs in front of my desk while I waited for Khufern to return.

He did not do what I instructed, instead taking to pacing and muttering about how this would lead to the ruin of the biodomes. Riots, the collapse of civility in its entirety. There was no shutting him up when he did this.

Three pairs of footsteps echoed down the hall and into my chamber. I relaxed at the sound. Ptolemy towered over both Khufern and Wash, protectively keeping the two apart with his frame.

The three ducked a bow upon entering. Adom twisted with a sneer toward Wash, readying to lash out.

“High Husband, Ptolemy.” I greeted the two before Adom could start.

“My Pharoah?” Both replied.

“High Husband. A question, if you would be good enough to answer.”

Wash raised an eyebrow and bowed once more, keeping to formalities with so many present. “Yes, My Pharoah.”

“You’ve helped Mubkharatan enter Easimal, yes?”

His colour left him at the question and a shake took over his fingers as he tried to formulate a reply. Ptolemy flicked a glance between us, hand resting carefully on the pommel of his sword. “I took you as High Husband knowing you were sent to Last Rights for doing so, High Husband. It was truth determined by the courts. Did you help Mubkharatan enter Easimal?”

Wash stuttered, nodding, his voice barely above a whisper, “Y-yes, My Pharaoh.”

“Did you ever meet anyone from Easimal?” I pressed. I would ask later how exactly he had gotten them between the biodomes. Going outside was guaranteed suicide. There was one catwalk that led out to what had been an old docking station where both Malak and our dome met within Easimal. It however was heavily guarded between both our sides and as only used in special circumstances to deposit criminal Mubkaratan into the biodome.

The man before me was vibrating like a leaf. I flicked a finger toward Adom before he could come forward and pounce on Wash. Ptolemy took the cue, clapped a hand on Adom’s shoulder and told him, “Here, let’s you and me take a walk to look at the security of the royal palace. Tell me what you know.”

Dragging in a breath, I motioned for Khufern toward the four seats and coffee table on the other side of the room. Wash glanced at the displacement and the guards who were regarding him with confused looks.

“I did. Once, My Pharoah. A man. He did not speak our language. But he did wait for our groups and took the Mubkaratan.” He was hedging. I wasn’t going to push too much.

“Do you speak any Easimal at all, Wash?” I pressed.

“No. Never. It was never taught at my temple, even if we were closer to the dome wall on that side than others.”

I deflated at that news.

“Khufern. Where are the men of Easimal being held? I am to assume they have been captured and brought here?”

“Not captured, My Pharaoh. They are Mubkharatan and powerful. One speaks like us, like nobility. He requested a meeting with you. We lost a platoon of twenty to them before a commander let them speak. He’s come saying that they wish an alliance.” His squeaky voice was doing nothing for the growing headache.

“Easimal is seeking council with us for an alliance?” I wanted to make sure I heard that correctly. “For what reason?”

“I don’t know, My Pharoah. We have them waiting in a villa down at the Bay. What should we do with them? We don’t have the kind of manpower to deal with their powers!” He buried his head in his hands, breaking with decorum. “Oh, what is going to become of us? This is why we kill Mubkharatan when they are discovered. Devious, cruel, dangerous creatures of Set!”

I flicked a glance to Wash who ducked at the curse.

“I will see Easimal in the royal court. Bring them to my throne room. See that Ptolemy is there. I will take the High Husband with me there. I want guards at every entrance point they are brought through. Keep their carriages covered. I do not need the people panicking in the streets and I would rather they not have more information on us than strictly necessary. If they are not here in fact as allies, it would do the dome no good to let them run rampant.”

“My Pharaoh, it will be as you said.” Khufern bowed low and left, the guards following him out at his command.

Wash still stood trembling in front of my desk. He watched the empty doorway, eyes glassy.

“You’re not in trouble, Wash,” I tried.

He turned to me and nodded, mute. That did nothing to stop the shaking. I stood up and walked around the desk, folding my long sleeves around his shoulders. Pulling him into my chest, I tucked his curls under my chin. His trembling intensified. “I’m not mad. Shh, sh, Wash. You’re okay.”

He hiccupped into my chest, fingers clinging to my sides like he was fighting to keep from drowning. “What is it, angel?” I pressed. He couldn’t come out of it, having gone mute on me. I scooped him up and took him back to the chair behind my desk. Settling his wings more comfortably, I rocked and waited. I had moments of mutism that could occur when bad storms trembled the biodome panels loud enough to sound like bombs. I had to wonder, never having seen Wash have an attack before, if it would be short or long-lived with him. I slipped my arms under his wings. “Easy, easy, Wash. I’m going to squeeze really hard while you breathe out slowly, alright?” I encouraged him to take a deep breath. It took a moment for him to register before nodded, still refusing to meet my gaze. He took a breath and released as I squeezed slowly, waiting until he went pliant in my arms and rested his head on my shoulder. The shaking finally stopped and I released the bear hug slowly. He lay in my hold for a time.

“Flashback?” I finally pressed.

He nodded, curls making a slick sound against my silk robes.

“I’m sorry about that. Really sorry to trigger it in front of so many people,” I apologized quietly.

“How’d you know?” His voice was small and threatened tears.

“Been there. Helped Ptolemy out of it a few times. Had him help me out of them on bad days. War leaves behind more scars than just what you can see.” I offered.

“Cells aren’t exactly great.”

“I can’t imagine they are. You aren’t there now. I’m sorry. It probably sounded like you were about to end up in one again with me just summoning you out of the blue to ask.”

He swallowed hard. “It-It did.”

“I won’t be throwing you into a cell for helping people. Now. I do need to head to the throne room. I would like for you to join me if you are able. I would value your input. Maybe these are people you helped, or some who know of who you helped. It will be better for us to have a smoother meeting if it turns out to be so.”

Wash fidgeted, flicking the edge of his thumbnails against each other in thought. “I can’t see how anyone would come back. I don’t know why they would. Seer of the Pharaoh’s Personage said just as much. They kill us when they find us.”

“Let us find out then who is brave enough to come to such a place that seems to need saving from itself.”

Chapel Orahamm (C) 2022-2023. All Rights Reserved.

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