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.’

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

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