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

Chapter Eighty-Seven

When General Ibrahim returns and finds me, he falls to his knees with his head bowed. This time, there's only a slight glimmer of hesitation before he does so. He's still reluctant, of course, but he's learning. 

Respect. It's all I ask for.

Arno is scrubbing absentmindedly at a smudge of dirt on the wall, trying to look everywhere but at his subservient father. Ratu sharpens one of her kitchen knives, the edge looking more like a shard of glass as it gets thinner and thinner. You'd probably feel its lethal bite before you ever saw it, it's so thin. 

As invisible as the Queen of Thieves herself.

"Report." I sigh, blowing a stray curl from my face, revealing the grimmer scars. 

One of my ghūls hangs a little closer than the rest to the General. I'm surprised to see it even leans its ugly head on his shoulder. Since when did these things become dogs? The General even strokes it gently on its shoulder like he would a hunting hound. "The Northern Queen called the marriage off at once. She won't pose a threat to us this night."

Kane, curious, drifts towards my shoulder. The General winces to see us glaring down at his kneeling figure. "And," Kane points airily to the man. "What lie did you tell?"

General Ibrahim blushes beneath his gray-black beard. "...that...the Emperor...marry...was."

I can't make out a word of his mumbling. I step forwards, narrowing my eyes. "Speak up. Even godly hearing can't make sense out of total, gibbering nonsense."

He looks up with an embarrassed grin. "I told her that the Emperor she was pledged to marry wasn't Elio. It was me."

Oh, I nearly feel sorry for the poor Northern Queen. She probably heard the tales that the Rahasian Emperor was so handsome that the sun fell in love with him because he was so perfect. What a shock that must have been, to see a man old enough to be her father.

Yes, nearly sorry for her.

Nearly.

I laugh and Kane chuckles next to me. Arno and Ratu look up with curiosity, faint smiles alighting on both their faces.

I lift the General to his feet. His doglike ghūl trots to lie down between his ankles.

"You did a good job." I swivel away from him, picking bits of dead plant matter and crusted-over blood from my hair. Ratu helpfully hands me a washcloth to get the worst of it off. "Now, all we have to do is find a way to sneak into Elio's coronation and take down that troublesome Elder god."The General grits his teeth. It must hurt, serving the wrong god.

But, then again, so does decapitation. He probably has the better of the two deals.

"We need to go in disguise." Ratu rolls her eyes, going back to take a seat and sharpening her blade with a yawn. "But that much was obvious."

Arno raises an eyebrow at her. "Haven't you broken into plenty of places before? You should be the one coming up with disguises."

Ratu sighs. "Yes. But it's been a while since I've robbed any larger treasuries, much less on the scale of a heavily-guarded palace." She points the blade at him. "Last thing I stole was my four gold pieces from your pocket when you were asleep."

Arno trips over his words in anger. "What?"

Ratu sticks her tongue out between her teeth teasingly. "Oh, nothing."

Kane faces the outside window, staring up blankly at the stars. Without turning to face any of us, he remarks, "people from all over the world will come to see the Rahasian Emperor's coronation. Lords. Ladies. Foreign monarchs."

I catch onto his meaning after a moment. "And Northern Queens." 

 General Ibrahim is feeding strips of dried beef to his pet ghūl. "Pity she's gone. Back to the frozen, diamond-studded, blonde-haired-populated mountain she came from."

Kane and I face each other, grinning. 

Ratu and Arno look at each other uncertainly, nervous at seeing how excited the Blind God and his Champion are.

"Remember when you first came to me, Kane, you wore a disguise?" I pretend to pick at my nails, a cruel smile spreading on both our faces. "You looked like Astera the Beautiful, Aster the Strong, and that madman priest."

Kane lets his hands draw circles around my face, memorizing my features with his touch, molding me like clay. "Yes. I see it now. I always knew you were a queen, love." 

Magic courses through me, coursing like blood through my veins, pooling at my stolen eye like a well holding back turgid waters.

I hold up my Diviner's mirror, see how a new, magically-provided face stares back at me.A pale-faced stranger. Ice-blue eyes. Blonde hair falling down half of my milky-skinned neck. I bite back a horrific scream.

"Dear gods, I look like a corpse." I put my hands against the strange circlet above my brow, the heavy strands, like hay, falling to the small of my back. "And this dress, it fits so strangely. I feel as though I can't breathe. Is this a torture device?"

General Ibrahim pipes up at that one. "I believe I've seen this style at court functions. It's called a corsair, Lady Ode."

Arno chuckles, and then goes straight-faced when I cast him a new, ice-blue stare. "I believe it's actually called a corset, father."

General Ibrahim shrugs and goes back to feeding his pet.

Kane turns around after he's finished stuffing me into the Northern Queen's horrible, agonizing dress with diamond baubles and pinching, heeled slippers that would make anyone break under threat of their torture. I look at the Northern Queen's borrowed face, horrified by what I'm seeing in the Diviner's mirror. When I speak, breathe, or even exhale... I sound like her.

"Don't laugh at me!" I squeak, my voice sounding like a bird's.

Arno stops laughing when Kane turns around to him. 

"Alright, it's your turn, mortal warrior. The Northern Queen needs her ridiculous courtiers."

Arno tries and fails to hide behind a chair. "No, please! We'll pretend I'm part of the foreign soldier exchange program or something."

Ratu rolls her eyes. "Hey, bloon, stupid, there's no such thing as a foreign soldier exchange program."

Arno yelps when Kane grabs onto his wrist. To my great delight, Arno's starting to sprout an unnatural head of shoulder-length, white-blonde hair. "Yes, but does Elio know that?" 

I go to hide some weapons beneath this billowing skirt. I'll give one thing for these ridiculous fashions. They've got so much cloth that I could hide a veritable arsenal under here. As I struggle, General Ibrahim takes me in, his eyes a mix of shame and awe. "You look just like her." And then he bows his head respectfully when he asks,"Tu loquerisne Latine?" Do you speak Latin?

I grin with frosty-white teeth. "Perfecte." Perfectly.

My father tutored me before...

Before he broke.

Now, I'll break Elio in revenge.

I smile, starting to get accustomed to the foreignness of my borrowed body. 

The Emperor won't suspect a thing.

***

Champions,

Sorry for semi-late posting. I had to write the chapter. (I'm behind from travel). Also, this Wattpad formatting is really bad lately. I tried logging out, then back in again. I'll see what's up with the copy-paste problems.

Best

Sophia