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Did this self-important man believe he’d threatened her?
Araine scowled and closed her eyes, whispering, “I already wish to die.”
How could he possibly know why she’d been sent here? She didn’t know why.
Incredulity tinged his retort. “Be logical! No one wishes to die.”
“Well, I’ve no wish to live.” Let him decipher the difference. Who was this overbearing young man? He knew nothing of her...of Grumps.
Her painful throat constricted, and fresh tears slid from beneath her eyelids. Infinite, why is this man so determined to annoy me when I’m obviously grieving? She heard movement then felt him lift a lock of her hair and tweak it lightly—tickling her, irritating her. Hauteur personified he said, “I command you to live.”
Command? What an arrogant snot! Araine wished she had the strength to laugh at him. She opened her eyes and glared instead, rasping, “You’re no god!”
A corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a sneer, and he tossed Araine’s lock of hair toward her face. “So I’ve been told.” He studied her, clearly displeased. “Somehow it’s apt that a rebuke is among the first words I hear from my prophet.”
Prophet? Was he crack-pated as well as snobby?
He continued. “Is this how you’ll be, Prophet? Forever quarreling with my every word?”
She closed her eyes, almost too exhausted to mutter, “I am not a prophet.”
A masculine huff told her that he’d heard and disagreed. “Then why are you here instead of ToronSea as you told my physician? And why were you brought here in such a startling manner?”
“I...don’t know.” Infinite? She appealed to His waiting, almost tangible presence. Silence answered.
The snobbish man stood amid an offended sweep of rich fabric. “I’ll trust that your plea of ignorance is the truth. But prophet or not, you are my slave. Therefore, slave, during your month of mourning, I order you to beg your Creator for enlightenment. When you learn the answer, you will send word to me. Immediately.”
Slave? Araine snapped open her eyes, lifting her voice as much as possible to match her temper. “Who are you?”
He smiled down at her, appallingly beautiful, his dark eyes gleaming yet icy, his teeth perfect and white. “I am your king. If you doubt me, ask your meddlesome Creator.” His gold-edged robes hissing, he swept toward the door. Just before leaving, he paused to look back at her. “Later we will discuss those illegal writings you’ve brought with you...Prophet!”
If she weren’t already reclining on a pallet, she would surely have fainted. He was a king? He’d claimed her Books of the Infinite. And he believed she was his prophet? His slave?
“Oh, Infinite!”
***
DEEPENING RED SUNLIGHT flooded the royal garden, and slanting rays added their challenges to Nik’s perceptions during archery practice. Finished sending his fistful of arrows speeding one after another toward the array of dummies and painted targets, he stepped back to watch the king.
Bel-Tygeon’s progress during the past year amazed Nik. No regal god-king posturing interfered with their archery lessons; Bel-Tygeon drove himself with relentless, methodical ferocity. He’d even practiced during Nik’s time of disfavor. Sure-footed and predator-eyed, he shot arrow after arrow from the fistful in his grasp, gaining solid hits on the distant array of eyes and hearts depicted on their targets. Finished he stepped back, revealing the slightest hint of a pleased smile—and an unspoken taunt against Nikaros. Best that!
Nik grinned and shook his head. All the king required was more practice and speed. “Next you’ll be shooting down my arrows mid-flight, Sire.”
The king’s eyebrows lifted as he considered the possibility. Nik expected him to attack the idea that very instant. But Bel-Tygeon lowered his bow, handed it to another waiting slave, and then waved off the slave, motioning him to take Nik’s weapons as well.
After the slave departed Bel-Tygeon looked around and said, “Her arrival was fortuitous and a welcome intervention against Siyrsun’s latest schemes.”
Her. Nik’s thoughts strayed to the half-dead girl he’d scooped up from the throne room’s floor. Let her survive...! He’d be forever grateful to her. “Yes. Thank you, Sire. But her arrival provided only a delay.”
“One of many delays,” Bel-Tygeon agreed. “For now.” His tone and his level gaze silently informed Nikaros that he expected General Siyrsun to ultimately claim Nik’s life as forfeit for the failed ransom. “The ways of my court are beyond understanding. I am considered above mortal traditions, yet bound by them—and by a thousand mortal legalities. It amazes me that my own father survived as long as he did.”
Informed earlier by the history-loving Ebatenai, Nikaros knew of the bloody rebellion and its reprisal, aided by General Siyrsun’s family, that had brought Bel-Tygeon to power as Belaal’s god-king. He nodded. “May your enemies remain ever-confounded.”
“Will this young woman become my enemy?” Bel-Tygeon demanded, catching Nik off guard. “Question your Infinite. I first decided that she is His prophet and ought to be executed while she’s still weak. Yet when I spoke to her, I easily perceived her reactions. And if she’s so easily comprehended, then she might be easily controlled.” He half-smiled. “She pleads ignorance of her role here, and I believe she tells the truth for now. Therefore ask your Infinite about her intended role...and yours.”
As if he could know the Infinite’s will so easily! However, the girl’s sudden appearance did replicate Ela of Parne’s unexpected materialization. Might she eventually become the Infinite’s prophet to Belaal? Nik bowed. “As you command.”
Bel-Tygeon waved his hand in dismissal, adding, “Guard yourself every instant, or the lord-general will take your life. And hers.”
“Yes, Sire.” Unease made Nik frown. He recognized his own peril in Sulaanc. But could the lord-general’s hatred of the Infinite reach behind the high walls of the Women’s Palace to kill the unfortunate girl? As he bowed then departed, Nikaros muttered beneath his breath, “Lord of All, what must I do? What must she do? Give me insight, I beg You!”
***
KNEELING IN HER TINY, quiet, newly-allotted chamber, her movements aching and slow, Araine lifted one of the scrolls while eyeing the others. None were tied as she’d always fastened them. Obviously each one had been opened and perused. Had the king done this? Most likely—the rude creature. Really she was too tired and in too much pain to summon true anger. But the impulse surprised her. Clearly, despite her grandfather’s death, she still cherished these scrolls and the precious words living within.
She untied the random scroll, and her heart leapt when the verses met her gaze, glowing with their inner fire.
...Take hold of My words with all your being; keep My commands, and you will live....
“Dear Infinite.” Tears misted her vision, and she blinked them back. These words were from the same verses she’d read on the day she’d first found the scrolls. Shaken by the memory Araine retrieved another scroll, opened it, and read within a glance, I cried out to the Infinite and He saved me—He is above all. There are no other gods beside Him.
True. And too painfully close to her situation. Was this a coincidence? Lowering the scroll she rested a hand over her eyes. Infinite? Why am I here, and isolated? If only—
Whispers from the doorway dispelled her prayer. A visitor? Araine looked up, curious. She’d met none of the other ladies here except the doctor, Cythea, and the Lady Dasarai.
A beautiful gem-decked young woman with dark flowing hair and sparkling brown eyes entered the room, her gauzy golden veils flowing around her. She stared at Araine. “Ah, I see the rumors are true; our strange newcomer did almost die. Your eyes are so horrible! Blood-red!”
Araine grimaced. Did this rude, intrusive lady think she’d just offered sympathy? And why, despite the veritable treasure-trove of jewelry, was she only half-dressed? Araine studied her visitor’s attire—the tight foundation garments showing beneath sheer robes, her bare midriff, and the snug-hipped gilded saffron skirt that flared in showy gossamer ripples about her ankles.
The lovely intruder smiled at Araine’s searching look and knelt. “You might as well be Siphran. Your expression is so prudish, just like Siphra’s queen and prophet.”
Caught by her words Araine managed, “Siphra’s queen and prophet?”
“Yes. Oh, you haven’t heard? Belaal was cursed with their presence last year. Against their wills, mind you, but the queen was insulting, a hostile recluse. And her Parnian prophet destroyed the throne room floor and my dear king’s own temple.” Her expression turning distant, and disturbed, the young woman explained. “She restored the throne room, but then she entered my beloved lord-king’s temple on his naming day, screaming at him like a shrew.” The young woman waved a hand. “My lord-king’s statue fell to the ground, and the entire temple lifted away in a cloud of dust. Even the jewels within the temple vanished like dust in a whirlwind.”
Impossible. An entire temple vanished? No, it couldn’t happen.
Araine’s denial met with a not-quite-amused affirmation from her Creator, accompanied by an inward glimpse of the vanishing temple, sifting upward into nothingness. Araine withdrew into the vision-fragment, then caught her breath. Belaal’s handsome king stood within her vision, staring upward, shock and unutterable fury marring his glorious features.
Infinite? I beg You...why?
Because Bel-Tygeon worships himself and will punish all who do not worship him alone.
She heard an unspoken “unless” following those words. Most unsettling. Was she supposed to somehow stop the king from punishing those who didn’t worship him? Infinite, why does he—
“Excuse me!” Her lovely visitor interrupted. She snapped her fingers as if Araine was an errant child or pet. “I was speaking to you.”
Giving the uninvited woman her reluctant attention, Araine sighed. “Please forgive me. I’m in mourning. And I was speaking to my Creator.”
“Oh?” The woman compressed her full lips and flung a scornful glance at the high, timbered ceiling. “Just what we need in this palace—another lunatic! I’ve suffered enough snubs from the Infinite’s prophet. It would have been a mercy for us if you’d died immediately.”
Of all the...! Such rudeness! Before Araine could demand an explanation, the young woman departed, shoving past the eunuch-guard who’d leaned inside, apparently listening. The guard relaxed against the outer doorframe.
Araine set aside the scrolls, approached the still-open door, and begged, “Please don’t allow anyone else inside. She was hostile. I can’t endure another such visit so soon.”
The guard shrugged, his puffy face bland and unconcerned. Light-voiced, he said, “Visitors are not my problem. I’m to prevent you from leaving this room.”
“Do you mean that others can enter and taunt me as they please, and you’ll do nothing?”
“No, Lady.” He smiled. “Indeed, I saw no one, and I heard nothing.”
What a schemer of a guard! Hoarse with pain and fury, Araine asked, “Did she pay you?”
The guard dropped his smile, leaned past Araine, and closed the door. For an instant she stared at the polished wood, listening for his treacherous presence outside.
Infinite, I’m no safer here than I was in ToronSea! Why did You bring me here?
Are you My servant?
A shiver swept over her like a chilling spray of water. She’d already experienced near-death in being His follower—and He’d saved her. But Grumps was dead, and she’d lost her family, Iris, forever. If she agreed then she’d probably suffer further torments. She...couldn’t.
Araine sat down heavily, trembling, covering her face again, leaving Her Creator’s question unanswered.
***
NIKAROS JOLTED AWAKE and stared up into the darkness, his heart thudding as if he’d been running in his sleep. Infinite! Peering around the drab communal hall, he saw the other young men—all slaves, and most eunuchs—still asleep on their pallets, many snoring, all at peace.
He’d had a dream—a sickening dream, not yet existent, granting him privileges he’d never sought. A role he wouldn’t accept. Not while Araine of ToronSea lived. Had something happened to her?
Nik forced himself to draw a calming breath. No reason to panic. Yet. But had a month of zealous prayer led to his permanent enslavement in Belaal? No. It was all wrong! He belonged with his family, his own people in the distant mountains.
Infinite, what has happened?