Elven Legacy

Chapter 34

Zemisha

She hadn't seen Neros yet.

You'd think, with the whole hiring high-end mercenaries and demon horses to kidnap me and bring me here in record-breaking time, he'd be a little more impatient.

But she'd been at the Azuria Palace for hours now, and the young emperor, her half-brother, had yet to show his face in her doorway.

The servants – or slaves; Zemisha constantly had to remind herself that she was really back in Azuria where, yes, slavery was still a thing – had guided her to a second floor guest suite on the seaward wing of the palace. With its white marble floor tiles, tasteful tapestries of gods and past emperors, ornate arching windows, and soaring ceiling meeting a latticed skylight through which she could see the stars. It was lovely and reminded her, with conflicted feelings, of her childhood bedroom.

Earlier, she'd enjoyed a lavish bath before lathering her skin and hair in her favorites, Shea butter and almond oil. After she'd slipped in an ivory silk night gown with gold trimming, the same slaves from before had laden the window-side brass table with a platter of grilled seafood, spicy pasta, and for dessert oranges, peaches, and plums. White Elzendel wine to drink – her favorite in the empire. If this wasn't a coincidence and Neros had actually remembered, then a part of Zemisha was reluctantly impressed.

The slaves were all women in their teens or twenties, uniformed in short magenta dresses. Along with dinner, they also brought her a shallow ornate bowl filled with luxuriously fragrant yellow ylang-ylang flowers, which they set on the nightstand beside the veiled canopy bed. One of the women, perhaps the oldest of the team, had then advised Zemisha to eat and rest, before informing her that tomorrow there would be a grand feast and dance in her honor.

How wonderful.

Zemisha bit back a sigh and thanked them for everything; it wasn't their fault that their emperor was utterly insane.

Once alone, Zemisha picked at her food, hunger struggling with the knots of apprehension in her stomach. From her westward window, she watched the sun setting over the palace gardens and sinking down into the Dryanic Ocean's horizon, which nearly brought tears to her eyes. She hadn't realized, until now, how she'd missed the vibrant colors of it all so very much.

The evening proved warm and clear, waning crescent moon visible long before the sun ended its daily course. And as evening turned into night, the sky over the dark blue waves transformed into blazing, fiery strips that made her long for easel, canvas and paint.

Now, as the quiet blanket of night covered both city and ocean, Zemisha sat on the marble windowsill with her blown crystal wine glass. Her freshly washed hair spilled over her shoulder, drying slowly in the refreshing breeze.

Occasionally a shiver ran through her, but it was so warm and pleasant compared to the current Felleran weather. She didn't mind at all, and kept the window open to enjoy the rich garden scents, and to hear the cawing of parakeets as they capered about in the almond trees and magnolias just below her. The flapping of several Azurian flags, posted at obnoxious intervals throughout the gardens, also disturbed the silence. A pair of slaves hurried about, lighting the delicate shaded lanterns that lined the main footpaths.

Zemisha felt a surge of envy as she gazed down at the occasional walker. Mainly beautiful women in their beguiling dresses – perhaps they were part of Neros' ever-increasing harem of wives.

If Zemisha had to pick one thing that she missed the most about this city, it would be the Palace Gardens. No hesitation.

She used to spend so much time down there. Lovely spots to study, write, read or draw abounded. Whether it be the well-crafted, dark wood benches that ran along the paths, the fenced fruit orchards, the ornamental herb gardens, or the cloistered walkways with trellis top and vines flowering in reds and pinks.