Myshka

Chapter 13: Ritual

By the time Myshka came out of Vrajabali's house, with Myrrha in tow, Rahara had frantically come searching for her.

"Princess Princess! Come quick! The last ritual is left." She told her taking hold of her hand and pulling her towards the camp. The camp was almost packed up she saw. The Prince' soldiers were thorough if nothing else.

"What's the last ritual? " She asked even as she ran behind her.

"You'll know soon enough. Come on. Hurry now! " Rahara refused to give a clue. Myshka pulled Myrrha with her, as she struggled to keep pace with them. She briefly wondered if Vrakat would come, if her plan would work, if Vrakat was even alive. No, don't go there. She told herself again and again.

Vrakat couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. He was her last hope.

They reached the camp just as Prince Emtilov came out of the tent with their bedsheets in hand. Bedsheets, whatever for? Should wondered.

His eyes scanned the crowd till they rested on her. Silently he asked, rather commanded her towards him. She perfectly understood him but refused to budge. He narrowed his eyes and then walked towards her. The crowd parted for him till he reached her. Typical arrogant behaviour!

The Prince bent down to her level because he was quite a bit taller than her.

"It's good that you're here. I didn't want you to miss the last ritual." He said softly, anger lacing his voice. "You will not challenge me any further. Remember? "

Myshka defiantly looked at him, then looked away with a derisive snort. The Prince pulled her face back to look at him, then quite deliberately placed a bruising kiss on her lips. His hand snaked around her waist and the other held her head in place as she struggled to pull away. The more she struggled, the harsher his kiss got. Finally after a few intense minutes, which she didn't enjoy at all, he released her abruptly. So abruptly that she fell to the ground. Myrrha helped her up again.

Myshka gave him a scathing look reminding herself that she couldn't kill him.

The Prince gave a wicked smirk and turned to their audience.

"And that is how you conquer the enemy!" He said out loud. Immediately there were cheers, whistles and whooping sounds heard from the soldiers.

The Prince held up the bedsheets which were blood stained to the crowd.

"This is how you conquer the enemy!"

The cheers were louder this time. The crowd went into a frenzy. Myshka watched with disgust unable to do anything. She felt Myrrha behind her quietly taking hold of her hand.

"Heard the screams last night?" He asked proudly. The whole crowd was in a uproar. Apparently everyone had heard her scream. Myshka was mortified, she knew what they were thinking.

"That is how you conquer the enemy!" He shouted with glee. Then he held up the bedsheets and roared out loud, like a lion, Myshka thought. His strength and power rolled off him in waves. Despite herself she couldn't help but admire him. Just a little. Very very little of course. He sure could get a crowd going, could command people. The bedsheet was passed around to the people who held it reverently before passing it on.

Myshka heard the soumd of drums, the sound of some other foreign instruments that produced an awful lot of sound. The crowd parted so that a circular ground was cleared in the middle. The beats of the drum changed and the women started singing some melodious song with it.

The atmosphere changed very subtly, going from triumphant and loud to mysteriously romantic. Myshka was trying to make out what was happening when suddenly the Prince jumped infront of her. Her heart beat in tune with the drums at his close proximity. To her utter surprise he bent down infront of her and opened his arms. She looked down at him in utter confusion till she was pushed from the back and fell right into his arms.