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ROKA
Roka had to speak the words, desperately say the words, because there she was before him. And he had forgotten her, when he thought he never could.
Roka had been king in the afterlife—Torlarah—where he preferred to remain in his human-like form. He would venture up to the surface, usually to find maidens to take as lovers. Their bodies felt different, more fragile, and he liked that—because their existence was not immortal.
After growing tired of visiting women in Verolc, he decided to make way to Narwey, the territory directly adjacent to it. The first village he spotted appeared to be full of life, with fragrant spice markets, blossoming trees, crowded cobblestone streets, and a colorful variety of traveling caravans. All around him the humans laughed and drank, clapping their hands as the women danced provocatively, while the air filled with intoxicating music.
Roka breathed in the heavy scent of pine trees and edged closer to the crowd. One of the dancers watched him with flirtation as she clacked her metal finger cymbals together. But his gaze did not linger there, and would not drift back, after it had shifted to the young woman hidden in the corner on the tambourine. A light brown complexion made up her skin, her hair falling in thick dark waves down her back, and her eyes were the richest of hazels.
The woman clapped her instrument, then rattled it with pursed lips, as though she loved playing but loathed being there. In that instant, he knew she was the one he would bed that night.
As the show ended, he sauntered toward the woman in what he considered to be her corner. But another woman placed a hand to his chest, preventing him from moving. His eyes caught the dark brown irises of the dancer from earlier. He could not deny she was beautiful, with a curvy physique, and the swells of her endowed breasts and belly on display.
“You were watching me earlier,” she said, leaning closer.
“Sorry, I need to talk to someone else.” Roka brushed past the dancer to catch up to the woman in the corner, who was walking away.
He rushed forward and grabbed her arm. “Excuse me, what is your name?”
The woman’s eyes snapped to where his hand was and lifted her gaze to his. “You best remove your hand from my arm before I cut it off,” she said, ripping her arm from his grasp and turning to leave.
“You would do best if you don’t attempt to woo Kezia.” The dancer came up beside him. “My sister won’t give the pleasure you’re searching for.” She arched her back, making her breasts push out farther.
It would have been so easy for him to have taken the dancer as a lover for the night, then leave to find someone else. But instead, he said, “Perhaps I will try tomorrow.”
“If it doesn’t work out, which I know it won’t, you can search me out. I’m Maryska.”
Roka didn’t look at anyone else, only kept his gaze locked on Kezia as he continued, “It took well over a day for you to have a full sentence with me. And by being in your company, I discovered I enjoyed something I had never had with the other women.
“I then discovered that you and Maryska were witches, and I admit I did lie at first by fabricating that I was a warlock of sorts so we could conjure things together. I remember the one spell you couldn’t get quite right and, when you finally did with my help, I kissed you, only to receive a slap on the cheek in return.
“But that slap led to more new things. Eventually, I asked you to marry me and leave your home to come to my kingdom in Torlarah. When I told you what the missing piece was, that you would have to end your life, I received another slap in the face.
“Somehow, our love grew, and finally, miraculously, you chose me. But what I did not know, Kezia, was that your sister had grown envious. I do not know the entire story but when you appeared to me that night, the night I was to bring you home, it was in fact Maryska. She had conjured up a way to change her appearance to look exactly like you.
“In Torlarah after being married, I told you—Maryska—all my secrets. I wanted you to know everything. A few nights later after I made love to Maryska, she snatched my crown, leaving me to my natural meerkat form and taking all my essence. Then she revealed herself as Maryska.
“She then threw me into the Divine Valley, which she soon transformed into the Bone Valley. In skeletal form, the people tried to revolt and that was when Maryska broke everyone into pieces and hid me in the garden.”
Roka’s tale came to an end, and an eerie silence fell on the group. Neither Anton nor Nahli backed away—they only pushed closer to him in camaraderie. But in that moment, that didn’t matter, because he watched with hollow bones and a broken ghost of a heart as Kezia turned to him, her gaze darkening.
