Kolibrie

9 | in het duister

The courtyard was as empty as it was quiet at night. Unlike the Mayaware she encountered in the desert who were wide awake even in the middle of the night, the ones inside the walls took it easy.

Hesi tramped out of the bridal palace without hindrances. She busied herself for the last few weeks, learning the Mayaware maids' routines before they locked up for the evening and when they roused at dawn to prepare for another day. After the first trial, the brides attended lectures meant to teach them about the history of Iren-Washep. She slept her way through and only came alive when it was time to eat.

The lecturer, a short Mayaware who blew its fuse way too often, couldn't do anything about the misbehavior. The prince's brides should be treated with utmost honor. Even the generals and other benefactors thought that by showering the women with gems the size of their hands or by braiding their hair with sweet-smelling flowers, they would spur the brides to the side of the royals, even if it meant death. It resembled fattening up rams for the midnight feast. She was merely part of the flock sent to slaughter. Whether it was with shame or honor wouldn't make a difference if they were all food.

Well, they could choke on their rubies. She didn't have time to fool around with gossamer dresses, no matter how soft they felt against her skin. Gemstones and pearls would lose all their worth if she was found dead in the morning, and she could easily imagine that scenario even with her eyes open.

Now, under the watchful gaze of the stars and the moon's faint rays, she trudged across the wide orchards separating the stone palaces. Beyond the crumbling wall standing between Berheqt's rim and the heart of the capital, trees whose names she couldn't identify and flowers whose colors she couldn't name followed her as she blazed a trail barefoot over the soft grass coating the landscape. Columns, in their sturdy perch, flanked her vision and herded her way. As much as she hated being directed by anyone, including columns, it was nice knowing where to go and where not to go.

She ducked behind a tree when she heard metallic clanks and thudding footsteps. Mayaware, perhaps. When she dared a glimpse, true enough, two guards sauntered past the empty cobbled courtyard. The place would have bustled with activity had it been morning. Her breath hitched when the soldiers stopped and sniffed the air. Darpeh, where was her trusty deshet branch when she needed it?

Then, the soldiers stopped and slapped each other on the back. "What us do?" One said to its companion. "Human scent all over because brides!"

The other gave a hearty laugh—something she didn't know demons could do—and continued on their way. She released the breath she held back. When the patrol guards disappeared into the curb leading west, she narrowed her eyes and scrambled after them. Wherever they went should give her an idea how their security operated.

Keeping her footsteps light and her breathing even, she burst through the courtyard she only saw once during her journey. Judging from the folding tables and the colorful sheets used as awnings folded on the floor, this was a trading site. Would it involve human traders?

She came face-to-face with the huge stone palace they shouldn't go to according to the daily lectures. The warning only made her want to stomp inside. She craned her neck up the looming structure, eyes scanning the Breidye script—what the Mayaware call their broken language— chiseled in grand fashion over the walls, telling the world of their widespread victory and their right to rule the land. Tch. They got one letter wrong so now a sentence read: we farted through the sky in our glory.

Amateurs.

She shook her head. Embers crackled, and wood crunched as torches propped against the palace's walls lit the way toward the entrance. More exotic plants she was certain didn't grow in Ser-Tehra decorated the palace's front yard. As expected, no deshet branches grew in the gardens.

Statues depicting Azophis, the Mayaware King, stood in their all their menacing might, its demon form losing most of its horror after being cast in the quarry's beige shade. She swallowed against the growing lump in her throat and forced her heartbeat to peter out into a calm line. It was fine. The demons were asleep. In for a dip, and back out in a blink.

Before she lost the bravado, she put one foot in front of the other, crossing the yard towards the forbidden and, no doubt, dangerous palace. The sweet smell of honey-fruits filled her nose and made her stomach rumble. She glanced left and right for any signs of life. Upon finding no relevant clues, she ducked inside.

The light from the torches were faint, as though the darkness beyond the stone walls devoured it and never spit it back out. She rubbed her arms, forcing the hairs on it to stand down and the goosebumps to subside. There was nothing here...right? Nothing.

She spotted the first corridor peeling off the main hall from the entrance and scampered towards it. This would take a long time, and with the palace this big, she must come back until she memorized the layout. She sighed, the gust stirring dust particles in the air. Today was the first day, and she had to start somewhere and move farther. The plan couldn't wait. If she has to squeeze closer to her goal inch by inch, she would.

The stone floor's unpolished edges would have given her soles a beating by the time she got back to the bridal palace. Ash from the torches clogged the air and filled the corridor with the smell of burning wood. Where was the incense tonight, huh?

Voices rang from another corner. Breidye. She swallowed the gasp building in her throat and scrambled into the first corridor void of torches she could find. She pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle her breathing and flattened her back against the icy wall, the hard surface digging against her shoulders. What in Larqet's name? Why must they come now?

Perhaps she could ambush them when they come around the corner...but why? What would she gain by pouring her anger on a few toenails and not the head itself? The prince. She must find the prince so she could sneak in and kill it.

She peeled off the wall, but before she could step forward, muscular arms gripped her waist and her shoulders. "Don't move," a voice hissed in her ear.