Taming the Wind Read online

  Something to screw me over again, somehow. Or something to lie to the Roshan again and try to outsmart Ashni. It was all the same.

  “Father,” Nakia said.

  “Nakia, your future husband will arrive shortly. I expect you here to greet him.”

  “Of course.” She knew the protocol. She watched her sisters go through it, and there had been a childish curiosity to it all then. Now, as contempt weighed her belly and chipped away at her spine, it felt like a sentencing. Her father had doomed her sisters, sold them as part of some grander scheme, and now her turn had arrived.

  “The servants will prepare you.”

  Nakia gritted her teeth together. “Of course.”

  He waved her away, dismissed much as he would do a slave. It was hard to deal with after being somewhere that her words, her presence carried so much weight, even when she didn’t realize it.

  Walking away, her stomach felt like it tore in half and it took all of her willpower not to throw up. Something must have shown in her demeanor, though, as a servant fell to her side to help her. She pulled away, but once she made it to her rooms, she allowed them to bathe her, listening to the servants drone on about her future husband. It wasn’t the chatter she expected, like when her sisters went through this. They didn’t speak of rumors of how handsome he was or how wealthy.

  They whispered about him, about his dark magic, and about his power. Each word sent shivers down her spine and twisted her guts into tiny, pinching knots. None of the servants said anything good to her, none of them giggled over him, and none of them spoke about how beautiful the wedding would be. She dared think some of them even pitied her as they watched her with glistening gazes. Later, when they thought she wasn’t listening, they spoke about how she was passed from one barbarian to the next and how cruel her father was to her. She agreed.

  After her bath, she was oiled and perfumed before being wrapped in her finest robes, red and yellow for her royal status. A purple sash draped around her, also to proclaim her royalty. Her hair was done, tied back with precious jewels and golden lace, and a golden headband on her forehead with a single ruby dangling between her eyebrows. None of the servants looked at her, so set in their tasks. Their motions were slow, deliberate, almost ritualized, and she had never seen this before. Is this how a lamb feels before being given to the gods?

  Nakia’s throat tightened as time ticked by, drawing her closer and closer to her doom. This frightened her more than when her father sold her to the Roshan. She had hoped for a rescue then or even plotted an escape, but all she had to do was wait. Marriage was permanent. This was forever her new life.

  The servants walked her into the banquet hall. Each step she took felt dense, dragging, like she might collapse under the heft of her robes. The sounds of a gathering in the hall cut through her like jagged blades and it took all of her willpower to remain standing, to at least look like a princess. A mass of nobles had already gathered, murmuring. Her father reclined on a couch sat atop a platform, allowing him to look down on everyone. With him was a nobleman Nakia was vaguely familiar with, but she couldn’t recall his name. Then, there was a man she didn’t recognize…probably her future husband.

  That now familiar burning sensation caught in her lungs and Nakia found it impossible to breathe. Escape! Escape! Her eyes darted around for an exit that didn’t exist. Escape where, fool? This is your life now. Her chest remained tight. A cold sweat gathered on her brow and her insides were in impossible knots.

  “Your Majesty. We present you Princess Nakia,” a servant announced.

  The men all turned to her and Nakia bowed, feeling yards of fabric flow around her, but it was like being in shackles. Her father motioned for her to join them. She nodded and moved up the platform, wishing it would swallow her whole. There was an empty lounge next to the stranger, which she assumed was for her. She settled and tried to calm her heart, but it felt like it wanted to escape her tense chest. Her throat burned with bile from her upset stomach and she found herself scanning the room for an exit yet again, even though she wouldn’t be allowed to leave. This is your life now. Accept it. But, her body rebelled against the thought, nerves itching and skin ready to peel away to get out of this mess. Why should I accept this? But, what can I do to fight it? She had no answers.

  “King Caligo, this is my daughter, Nakia. Isn’t she lovely?” Dorian asked with an oddly proud smile. It wasn’t so much that he was proud of Nakia, but proud of something he made.

  The stranger turned to her, giving her a good look at him. She had never seen anyone so sickeningly pale. He seemed like the color of spoiled milk. Shaggy brown curls fell in his face, making it hard to tell how old he was. His face was clean of hair, but there were bags under his dark eyes, like he never slept. There was something crooked about him, even as he lay on the chaise. His dark robes suited the aura surrounding him.

  “She is a beauty. Your description of her didn’t do her justice,” Caligo replied. His voice was a low whisper and seemed to slither out of his throat.

  “Then we have a deal?” Dorian asked.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have come all this way if we didn’t. We need to work together to stop this Eastern scum from spreading,” Caligo said.

  “Then why marry me at all?” Nakia found herself asking before she could stop herself. All eyes went to her, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from flinching. She managed a quiet swallow as unease crushed her chest. You just can’t help yourself. There were only so many times she could hold back. That fire in her might diminish, but it would never go all the way out. You’re already in enough trouble and you don’t know how your future husband might react to this. Don’t be reckless.

  Caligo grunted. “You didn’t mention she had such a free spirit.”

  Dorian scratched his chin. “I think she might have been corrupted from her time with the savages. Who knows what she needed to do to keep her sanity while she was there. It’s taken her some time to settle back into appropriate behavior and decorum.”

  Caligo turned to her with an unnatural stiffness and jerky manner like the bones in his neck were cogs. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he creaked. A smile twisted his mouth, like it was broken, cut at the wrong angles. She took a breath, as best she could, trying to convince herself her mind was playing tricks on her.

  “Tell us how you managed to survive those animals,” Caligo said.

  Something in his eyes made Nakia’s skin crawl. If anything almost flickered out the dim flame of her personality, it was those unending voids. He focused on her like she was an insect he could squash at any time and for the first time in her life she believed that look. She resisted the urge to fiddle with her fingers under his intense attention, but she’d show more restraint with her words now.

  “There’s not much to tell. I was there as a guest and treated as such,” she replied, truthfully with hopes Caligo would turn away. Having his full attention made every hair on her body stand on end.

  “But, what does guest mean to those people?” the nobleman she couldn’t quite remember inquired, leaning forward. His gaze wasn’t chilly, but intrigued.

  Nakia couldn’t believe she had their undivided attention. Once upon a time, this would’ve delighted her. It would’ve made her feel important, valuable. Now, all she wanted to do was retreat to her room and hide. This felt like more of a prison than even that, like she was a toy on display. Yes, she was valuable, but only because she could spin tales of demons and how these men could be great heroes when they defeated those demons. Wasn’t that what made you valuable before? She had always been important in the sense of how her father could use her. Yet it had never disgusted her more than now. Maybe because she never felt it quite so sharply, like being stabbed with shards of pottery.

  Nakia shook her head and tried to breathe easy. “I was given everything I needed and invited to all events at the palace.”

  “I think what Owen means to say is what sort of events were there
. How did they behave?” her father asked.

  Owen. That was the nobleman’s name. Why is he here? Last she recalled; her father had no love for this young upstart. He always thought Owen had more gall than sense. What changed? She glanced at Caligo and figured whatever changed had something to do with her upcoming marriage. Does this make Owen another player in this game?

  “Wild,” Nakia replied. She thought the Roshan were wild when they were allowed to let go. Ashni’s parties were decadent and lavish beyond anything she had seen at home.

  “Of course. They’re animals,” Caligo said.

  “We’ll sacrifice them to the gods like animals as well,” Dorian said.

  Caligo grabbed his golden chalice and tipped it to Dorian in agreement. Her father laughed and took a drink himself. How are they expected to beat the Roshan with only their two kingdoms? Does my father plan to have others rally with them? They didn’t rally the first time the Roshan showed up and now the West knew what the Roshan were capable of. She didn’t ask, knowing they wouldn’t answer.

  They went on to speak as if she wasn’t there. There were plans on how they’d defeat the Roshan, but nothing seemed solid. They thought the surrounding people would join in once they saw the strength of “this great alliance.” She pretended to scan the food as her father clapped Owen on the back.

  “It’s good you managed to bring us together,” Dorian said to Owen. “How’d you know King Caligo?”

  Owen shook his head. “I am not well acquainted with the good king.”

  “He’s heard of my reputation, I’m sure,” Caligo said.

  “I did and I knew you lacked an heir. Why not have a child with fine Phyllidan stock?” Owen motioned to Nakia with an oyster shell in his hand. Her father had gone all out, bringing in seafood for this feast. He wanted to show their wealth, how they could afford such finery when the sea was days away. Of course, in reality, they couldn’t afford this at all. Most of their valuables went to the Roshan to keep Ashni at bay for a little while longer.

  Caligo glanced at Nakia, who wanted to shrink into the couch. He leaned over and touched her, completely breaking decorum in front of her father, who said nothing. He ran a callused finger across her hand, and she felt like she was touched by death. Cold and clammy. A complete contrast to when Ashni made it seem like fire danced through her veins.

  Nakia pulled away on instinct and didn’t care how rude it might seem. Caligo’s eyes shot to her. Something malevolent shimmered in his dark gaze. She glanced at her father, and found him silent and frowning. Apparently, his betrayal of the Roshan, continuing a war instead of paying tribute like he agreed, was more important than a man taking liberties with his daughter. A servant rushed in.

  “King Dorian, I come with a missive from Queen Ashni,” the servant reported, bowing at the foot of the royal platform.

  Nakia’s heart jumped in her throat. Ashni has contacted my father? Part of her dared hope it was to get her back, but she doubted she was that important. Why should I be precious to Ashni? Another small voice whispered back, because she told you that you were precious to her. Nakia wanted to believe those words were the truth. Ashni’s word was truth.

  Dorian turned to the servant. “Give it here.” He snatched the scroll from the servant and broke the Roshan royal seal. His eyes scanned the document, but he didn’t share what was in it. He started laughing.

  “What does it say? Did the bitch realize she can’t win, no matter how many dirty curs she has with her?” Caligo inquired.

  “She’s offering an alliance. She wants Nakia, but it seems like she wants to marry Nakia, saying this alliance would join our nations. How backwards are these people?” Dorian cackled as he summarized the note.

  Nakia could hardly breathe and it wasn’t because she felt a crushing weight on her. Her mind spun with possibility while her heart filled with raw joy. She meant more than something to Ashni. Ashni wants to marry me? It was possible in the Roshan Empire. Am I so important to her she’d embarrass herself in this way? Surely Ashni knew Dorian would never agree to an alliance, would never think Nakia could marry a woman.

  “We’ll be doing the world a favor when we get rid of them.” Caligo smirked at Nakia. “I’ll give you that miserable woman’s head for even mentioning you in such a distasteful letter.” He grabbed her hand and held on tight. The contact was more than enough to halt her thoughts of Ashni. A swell of dread flooded her. She would’ve vomited, if she had eaten anything lately. Is this a test from the gods?

  If it was a test, she wasn’t sure she’d pass. But, then again, if it was and she failed, she wasn’t worthy of Ashni, the daughter of a god. She had to be worthy of someone who was a demigod, who clearly saw her as worthwhile and enough. She had to be strong. The fire inside of her, the fire that first drew Ashni to her, grew a little bigger.

  Chapter Three

  NAKIA EXCUSED HERSELF FROM the feast, unable to take her father and future husband any longer. They only wanted to discuss how they’d bring ruin to the Roshan and what they’d do to Ashni when they had her. Their fantasies scared her more than the Roshan’s Bloody Orchard.

  “Forgive us for conversing about such things in your presence, Princess,” Caligo said, standing to see her off.

  Nakia waved his words off. “It’s fine. It’s not my place to interrupt.” Of course, it was their place to know what was polite conversation to have in front of women. It didn’t seem to matter to them. She didn’t seem to matter to them. But, so what? You matter to Ashni.

  “I’ll have servants see you to your rooms,” her father said.

  She objected, but it meant nothing. Servants were to come with her, but she wasn’t going to her rooms first. She needed to clear her head and make sense of what was going on. Ashni wanted to marry her. Her father thought it was a joke, but was willing to marry her to this stranger from the north. She needed advice. For however long she had been home, she felt like surrendering, like it was all over, but clearly it wasn’t. Ashni still wanted her. Ashni wanted her enough to propose marriage.

  Nakia wanted to consult the gods as best she could. There weren’t temples in the palace like in Khenshu, but halls and tunnels led to temples outside. There were plenty of altars she could’ve gone to, but she needed something more personal. She needed the god to be there, not just listening to her. She wished to consult the only god she thought would help her—Felicio, the god of happiness and luck.

  The luck was usually on the part of the person praying to him. He wasn’t an easy god to grab the attention of, hence why there was so much unhappiness and misery in the world. She’d give all her worldly possessions for a simple sign from the god to let her know there was some respite coming soon.

  “Highness, we’re supposed to return to your rooms,” a servant said, breaking her from her thoughts.

  “I will. I’d like to pray first. We’re about to go through life changing events. I’d like the gods’ blessings.”

  The servant bowed and was silent from there on, even though Nakia had never gone to a temple on her own before. The walk took long minutes, but Nakia soon got to the end of the corridor, which opened up to the veranda of the temple. There was the expected bustle of people going in and out of the large marble building. Some moved about with bottles of wine or oil or even tiny goats on leashes, and all of those aromas mixed with smoke and fire inside the temple. How do I get offerings? Scanning the temple, eyes roaming by thick, grooved columns, she noticed a booth by the wall. It reminded her of the marketplace in Khenshu, so she took a chance and went to it.

  “Offerings for the gods?” The seller motioned to his wares—fruits, jars of oil, nuts, berries, milk, and wine. There were even sheep and goats in a nearby pen.

  “Whatever this’ll get me.” Nakia pulled a golden pin from her hair and placed it on a scale in front of him.

  He nodded. “You could get a goat with this.” He motioned to the full-sized goat.

  She laughed, not expecting that. Surely a large
sacrifice would get the god’s attention, right? The fact that Felicio granted her happiness in Khenshu should mean something as well. He was already aware of her. She should at least thank him for those months in Khenshu, for the time she finally knew what it meant to be content, and then ask for guidance here. How can I regain the blessing the god saw fit to give me?

  “I’ll take a goat,” Nakia said. I’d like to sacrifice a bull, but that takes too much ceremony and space.

  “You can pick. A priest will come to properly slaughter the animal for you.”

  Nakia nodded and picked an all black goat with mighty horns and amused golden eyes. For a reason she couldn’t place, it reminded her of Ashni and seemed appropriate as a gift for the god. A priest wearing a golden cloth draped over his long, white tunic, came for the beast. He led Nakia away to a room that gave her a good view of the statue of Felicio, but also some privacy. She halted her servants at the entrance, not wanting them to glimpse her prayers. The priest tied the goat to an intricately carved post before moving to a table by the wall.

  “Write your prayers here.” The priest motioned to strips of papers.

  Nakia nodded and picked up a reed to begin her prayers. What do I want to say? A thanks was priority, for giving her happiness in what could’ve been a miserable situation and for blessing her with kindness in Khenshu rather than the harshness and cruelty she expected.

  Beyond that, she entreated a sign for her happiness to continue. Should I fight? Should I obey my father, as the gods often preached was the right thing to do? She couldn’t sit back and do nothing, though. Not anymore. Not when Ashni tried to regain her, not when there was a fire inside of her. It was the first thing Ashni noticed about her.

  Ashni noticed something worthwhile in me. She should remember that. Her father didn’t have anything to do with it, didn’t want anything to do with it. So why should he have control of me? Her life was her life. She’d encourage you to do this, to take control, to do what you could. Ashni loved her fire. She wouldn’t let it go out.