The Girl Who Would Be Sultan

Chapter 3: A Lesson Of The Flesh

For the next two days, they did not talk about what had transpired inside her father's chambers. In fact, they hardly talked at all. Kallisto spent her mornings in lessons with her father, and her afternoons in the arena with her brother, under Alastars watchful eye and tutelage. He had been joined by his father, General Zhaas, so the usual tone of joking and playful banter during training was not there.
At night, Alastar posted himself outside her room, his bottle clutched tightly in his hand, sipping at it just enough to dull the pain.

The priestess wasted no time in scheduling her first lesson of the flesh.
As the midday sun painted itself across the sky, the bodyguard followed his charge reluctantly through the doors and into the temple of Cerys. With every step, the guilt and dread hammered itself into his heart. Desdemona had been dead for months, but this still felt like treachery.
His lungs burned and he did his best to steady his breath.
A set of shrine attendants greeted them and Alastar was told to follow one, and that the princess would join him shortly.

He was led to a grandiose bedchamber, one that could belong to no other than the high priestess herself. Pinks golds and oranges flooded the chamber in forks of silk canopies and expensive rugs. No less than a hundred black candles illuminated the room with even more dazzling sunrise hues.
The servant motioned for him to take a seat in one of the beautifully ornate chairs by the large canopied bed, and after he did, the veiled woman poured him a glass of Sweetwater before departing, leaving him alone with his anxiety.
Moments passed, and he reached for his flask, downing what was left of its already light contents before chasing the bitter taste from his breath with long gulps of his recently gained temple refreshment.

The doors opened and in walked the priestess. Behind her came Kallisto, and at her sight, the bodyguard nearly fell out of his seat. If it weren't for her kind but mischievous amber eyes, Alastar may not have recognized her.
Gone were her loose, comfortable cotton robes in muted colors, or her royal training uniform that was always at least two sizes two big; instead his childhood friend stood before him wearing little more than a bedlah, the top and bottom were made of blood-red, trimmed in gold silken rope, with her abdomen exposed, much like her shoulders, and most of her chest. Her golden brown skin gleamed in the candlelight, as did the ornate and heavily bejeweled accessories she wore. His eyes followed the trail of sparkling gold that hung right down to her clavicle. With his gaze already there, he took in the swell and size of her voluptuous breasts, the narrow of her waist, and the curve of her shapely hips which were on full display in the equally adorned, salvars pants she wore. Her hair draped loosely around her face, black and as radiant as night, so long it skimmed the small of her back.
He hadn’t seen her without her braids since she was 8.
Alastar felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
In front of him stood a woman where, minutes ago, a half – grown girl had stood.

Kallisto felt her breath hitch. This was the first time he had looked at her, like actually looked at her with a full presence, since his wife had died. The pain he wore like a glove, the grim expression, the constant distant look in his eyes… in that moment it was all gone.

When did this happen?
It took everything in him not to shout at her to go put back on her regular clothes. Go back and bring out the real Kallisto, the smart, kind girl who was a dear and staunch friend, not this scantily clad temptress.
His blood raced, he was almost angry at her.
“You may close your mouth, soldier.”
The priestess spoke with a gleam in her eye, snapping Alastar out of his shock.
“My apologies, this…" He motioned to her outfit. “Is just quite…” He paused for a moment, trying to find the best word.
“...a lot.”

“Ah, my original problem with it was simply the opposite." She joked, smiling behind the veil that exposed only her eyes, easing the tension, but shyly crossing her arms across her exposed stomach.
"But you get used to it."
She said, forcing her arms to her side and her back-up straight before the priestess could chastise her with words at this point that she knew verbatim.