Liyah's breath hitched in her throat. The sandy desert stretched for miles and miles, without end. She looked at the two in front of her with an exasperated expression etched on her face, "Tell me this gets easier."
Rayan smirked, "Careful, habibti...
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Chapter 16 | The Second Prophecy a rose of black ink runs down the nape of her neck
THE WOMAN PLACED A HAND on her hunched back as she surveyed the golden ingredients on her tray. She then dipped the thin, onyx-colored paintbrush into the glittering liquid. As she swirled the bristles of the the brush in the resplendent, golden paint, Liyah reached for a comb and swept her front waves away.
Her hand was a cold touch as she worked across Liyah's face with the golden paint. She softly pressed the tip of the brush onto the girl's under-eye area, before she trailed across her nose.The woman leveled Liyah's head and the young girl held her breath, careful not to move a stitch as the handmaiden painted the heavenly bodies on her face. Once she had completed her work and was certain that Liyah embodied the bright, glowing Fifth Star of the night sky, she spun the younger girl around.
Liyah gaped at the constellation of golden stars that dusted her cheekbones. The more she stared at the celestial design, the more enchanted she was by the ethnic decoration. The handmaiden merely chuckled and lifted the girl's chin so that the mid-afternoon rays of the sun could shine on Liyah's face.
Liyah eyelids fluttered as she basked in the glory of the afternoon sun. She had grown to hate the heat of the desert, but these rays were strangely comforting to her. The sunlight trickled it's way up her arm, revealing the true orange pigments of her henna. She remained in state of the blissful oblivion for a moment– throwing away all the thoughts surrounding evil sorcerers and crimson jewels.
She was finally at peace.
When the handmaiden repeatedly began circling Liyah, the girl peeled open an eye, "Is everything alright?"
The woman sighed deeply and raised her hands up for the girl to inspect. Her wrinkled fingers and shriveled palms, like the skin of a granadilla, were tainted with smudges of the dark henna and streaks of paint, "It seems as though I cannot tie your dress without staining it with these deeply rich pigments ."
Liyah rolled her shoulders back and forth, attempting to lift the material of her sleeves. When the soft, beige fabric began to slip from her shoulders, her handmaiden gasped. The woman quickly discouraged the girl from moving her wet, auburn-tattooed arms and instead pointed to the entrance of the tent, "Wait a moment, I wil–"
And just like that, Rayan stepped into the tent, but immediately widened his eyes when he realized that Farrah was not present in the room, "Oh, Forgive me, I–"
The girl panicked. She awkwardly spun around in her tracks and hid her flushed cheeks from the boy. She hugged her arms in an awkward position, careful not the mess the swirls and dots of henna, "Farrah's in the next tent," Liyah chewed the inside of her cheeks as she carefully watched his shadow from the entrance of their tent. The boy stood frozen at the door, not sure if he should retreat or–
The older woman clicked her tongue and Rayan's head snapped to hers. She deadpanned, "If you are going to stand there, the least you could you is help."
"Help?" His thick eyebrow creased together and the older woman motioned to the girl. Rayan's eyes raked down the length of the off-white colored dress that she had been clad into. Her soft, chestnut waves concealed most of her tanned skin from his view, but the long fringes of material, that hung freely, informed him that the dress had yet to be laced.
The woman shot the boy a look when he remained dumbfounded next to the thick fabric of the tent. Dusting her hands, she excused herself, "I will return shortly, princess."
Before the hunched, older woman could exit the tent, she gave Rayan a small scoot towards the girl's direction. The woman was frail, with the strength of a feather, yet Rayan felt as if she had hurled his entire body towards Liyah with the force of a thousand and one men. He quickly turned around to protest, but the woman slipped away.
Across the suddenly claustrophobic room, Liyah chewed on her lip, not moving until she was sure that Rayan had left the tent. She heard the muffled sound of footsteps against the sand at the entrance before the room was enveloped in a deafening silence. The girl relaxed, assuming that Rayan had departed from the tent.
She was sure tha–
The girl gasped. Liyah felt the air being sucked out of her, a soft, warm touch penetrated through the thin material of the garment. Heat spread to her cheeks as his hands worked to loop the lace through the small, metal ring of the dress. She felt a sharp jolt course through her body when his finger brushed against her her back. She shut her eyes, hoping that he could not feel the trail of goosebumps he left on her skin.
When he reached the middle, he swept her soft waves of hair across her shoulder. Rayan was about to continue with the upper laces when something caught his attention. The boy froze. He lifted the strands of her hair a bit higher, until it was completely exposed to him. Along the nape of her neck, tattooed onto her caramel skin, were words.
Words in black ink.
Suddenly, he felt his heart racing at an ungodly velocity. The cacophonous thumps echoed loudly as leaned closer to her to make sure that he was not imagining what he saw. His thumb subconsciously grazed over the words. The friction of his callous thumb across her tattoo made him jump. He felt his head becoming lighter, utterly dazed by the handwritten calligraphy on her neck.
He never saw her tattoo before.
But he knew what it meant.
Soraya's voice rang in his head as he gaped at the sentence trailing down her neck. The flowers never lie, Rayan. She told the boy almost a decade prior to his encounter in with the American girl in front of him.
The flowers, Rayan.
His hand was trembling, but he couldn't find the strength to remove it from her neck. She found herself breathing heavily as he asked her the question with a ghost of a whisper leaving his lips, "What does that say, Liyah?"
She let out a shaky breath, "A rose is a rose is a rose."
A rose of black ink runs down the nape of her neck.
And suddenly, Rayan felt his head spinning.
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extracts|desert reigns
The sentence "Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose." was written by Gertrude Stein (American poet) as part of the 1913 poem "Sacred Emily".
"A rose is a rose is a rose" is among her most famous quotations, often interpreted as meaning [1] "things are what they are"
