The Empty Ones (Fantasy Romance)

6. Truths, legends and nightly bloodshed

"I'll be damned. The daughter of the Alsayid himself. It seems The Grand God of Everything does hate us all."

Not even beaten and bruised as she was, she seemed to be able to help herself. Later on, I would think of her often and of this rude honesty of hers, because at court people are mostly reverent and polite on the surface disguising their disdain in hollow compliments.

"No. The gods have a path laid out for all of us. They are neither good nor bad, but impartial. Sometimes, people don't understand or accept what is laid out for them but it doesn't mean there isn't a plan."

That was the theory at least. In practice, even if I was raised religious, I also struggled to accept sometimes the path laid out for me.

At the palace, I used to pray every day. Every morning and every night and on celebrations even more. I was the daughter of the Alsayid after all; I had to lead by example.

In the priory I prayed out of habit, but there were thoughts that wormed themselves inside my head. They had always been there but after my life changed I couldn't ignore them so successfully anymore.

Why had the gods made me empty? To punish me? But for what? Why had they let my father and Imelda die when I prayed desperately to help them? It was by all means difficult to understand and accept.
There was doubt in my soul but I wasn't ready to admit it openly yet either. If you showed doubt, you attracted the scorn of the gods supposedly. But I couldn't help feeling it, so that was rather hopeless.

"I bet your father didn't see it that way. It was rumored in the realm he wasn't able to have children, but apparently, he was, just that empty ones."

My expression darkened. Though she was right, this wasn't something pleasant to hear, even for the hundredth time.

"Thought so," she said smirking with a bit of malice. "Your father was not particularly smart, if you ask me, if he hid you from the world because of that."

"Well, he was disappointed. He was the most powerful mage known and I am empty. A rather disappointing offspring."

"But you ain't that ugly and not even that stupid. I bet a lot of the uptight courtiers would want to marry you only for your looks and fortune. Not right now, right now you look like a scarecrow but if you learn to walk tall, swing your hips, and do your curls like Salma, I am sure they would. My two sisters were empty too but father didn't abandon them, nor did he sell me off. He treated us all equally and made sure we had the best life we could."

At that point, I felt like smiling. There were parents out there who loved their children regardless.

"Hara, the servant that took care of me since I was a baby, told me that too. About the hair I mean, and often. And your father... I am sorry that he died."

"Yeah, me too. You said we ought to be friends now and friends are honest with each other, Weed."

"No, you just enjoy being rude, and stop calling me Weed."

"Ya' think?" she asked again smirking but this time more genuinely. "How should I call you? Zaaa-ree-taaah is awfully long and doesn't fit you."

"Then call me only Zara."

"Zara..." Mairi pronounced it slowly, as if wanting to see how it felt on the tongue. "Zara means chain in the language of the quizm," she said then.

"Chain..." I repeated to myself. I didn't know that word, but it sounded at least powerful if not anything else.

"Tell me honestly. Where would you have gone if you would have succeeded to escape? It didn't look like you thought it through very much," I continued, genuinely interested in the answer.