A Priestess for the Blind God (Legends of Rahasia Book 1)

Chapter Fifty-Five

Of course, the Rahasian Advisor is a demon. The world's gone mad!

The room itself is the typical, garish splendor that these Rahasians like to employ. In Jiwa, the palaces of the sultan are built in splendid colors, squat to withstand the worst of the hurricanes and floods, painted in long-lasting swathes of golden-brown. The Jiwa royals aim to be humble beneath the eyes of the holy. However, in Rahasia, it seems the palace builders want to challenge the Divine. The roof is domed, golden beads dripping from the ceiling like rain. The floor beneath is a mosaic of Cato's smiling face. Every piece of furniture is covered in silk-stuffed cushions, every piece of clothing is made of sheer gauze to show off the aesthetics of the human figure. In Jiwa, the man who challenges the gods is a fool. In Rahasia, it's an honor.

Finally, standing at the edge of Ryu's bed is a statue of the god they call the Beloved One, draped in red silk with pomegranate paint dripping down their beautiful lips. The statue is made of some formidable metal, reheated repeatedly to keep it strong, the base so heavy that lengths of twine had to be tied to the wall to keep it from falling. What an ego with these people.

She walks over to Ryu, waves her hand in front of his face. His breathing is shallow, his eyes trembling beneath his eyelids, all the suggestions of a horrid nightmare. Of illness.

Should I get someone?

Ratu scowls as soon as she thinks this.

Idiot. You've gotten soft since you ruled the streets as a thief. Don't ever feel remorse. Remorse is for the weak. And you're not weak.

She turns around, rifling through the mysterious vials on the opposite table. She brings each one to her nose. Most are perfumes, some are kohl. And then a giant bowl of a murky brown substance. She picks it up, runs the earthy, grainy fluid between her fingers. She brings it back to the advisor, see the mud streaks caking his shoulders, covering up awful brands the size of coins. Who could've made these? What sort of person would do this to somebody?

More importantly, what kind of power do you need to levitate over a bed?

Hot breath against the back of her neck.

A melodious voice, humming the Rahasian anthem behind her.

A single fingernail dragging down her spine, toying with her.

When she turns around, there's a beautiful figure standing there, long locks of dark hair tumbling down their shoulders, gold bangles clanking along their arms. "Hello, dear," they tilts their head, speaking without moving their lips, "I am Aziz, the Beloved god of Rahasia." They chuckle, the sound haunting, filled with longing, "not that you believe in me."

"You're some kind of demon, aren't you?" Ratu shakes her head, pulling out the knife tucked into her waistband, stolen from the palace kitchens. "What have you done to the Emperor's advisor?"

Aziz smiles, their lips sealed and berry-red. "Gave him a better dream than his reality. But he was useful to me. He had the Emperor's heart. You..." Aziz pouts, their eyes glancing slowly over her frame, "you have no big part to play in Elio's tragedy. You're just a thief. I can kill you with impunity."

But the former criminal knows better than to freeze up with fear. She's gotten out of worse situations before, at least, hopefully. "You'll have to catch me first, Beloved One."

Ratu throws the knife, but it arcs over Aziz's shoulders. Aziz laughs again, their lips are now closer to the color of blood. "Missed me, dear. Start praying to your deity to save you."

Now it's Ratu's turn to smile. "You can place your trust in Allah, but some things you have to change for yourself, dearie. And I did just that." She points behind the Beloved's shoulder, and the god, curiously arrogant, turns around to check.

Her knife glides in the air, slicing perfectly at one of the ropes of twine holding Aziz's metallic statue in place. The entire statue totters, threatening to destroy them. Luckily, the statue's craftsman made the thing so heavy and gilded it in so many precious metals that even this monster struggles with it. And while Aziz struggles with keeping its weight from crushing them, Ratu takes that opportunity to bolt for the door.

As she turns the door handle, ready to lock this demon and their spawn in behind her, she can't help but deliver one last parting shot.

"I'm not just some thief. I'm the Queen of Thieves," she sticks her tongue out at the beautiful, angry god. "and you're just a fool."

The door slams as Aziz gives out a howl so horrible the walls shake.

But Ratu isn't listening. She's running, fast as her legs can carry her.

You don't tempt fate twice.

***

Champions,

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Sophia