“It is faint, majesty, but beautiful.”
Her companion fell silent, listening intently for the birdsong that existed only in Asima’s head. At least he was quiet. He may be handsome and kind, but the ageing ruler of Pelasia had what Asima considered to be some of the world’s most irritating habits. She would cope with them in return for the power they brought, but really she would have to do something about changing him once she was in charge.
They approached the marble octagon, moving now into the shadow cast by the palace’s high walls. The paved route would take them around the building to the door on the north side and, from there they could walk across the springy turf between the citrus trees back to the harem.
Well, she could. The God-King would be busy.
Almost there and Asima found she was holding her breath. Silently, she admonished herself and tried to relax. Appearance was all too important right now.
And it was with a happy smile and an easy pace that she and the God-King rounded the octagon and came face-to-face with the couple in the shadowed doorway. The God-King was so startled that he almost cried out for the guards, one of which would be patrolling the wall top nearby.
Asima allowed her face to slip into the practiced look of horrified disbelief at the sight of Sh’a’lah, the King’s second wife, locked in the embrace of one of the black, white and gold-clad Royal Guard.
The God-King’s face was everything that Asima had hoped. If she picked apart his expression, she could find horror, anger, betrayal, disbelief and sadness though, as she watched, the proportions of those emotions changed in a split second from heavy disbelief to extraordinary anger.
The couple, tightly held, took a second to notice the God-King. Sh’a’lah had been so involved in their kiss that she had been making strange squeaking noises. As the full knowledge of what had befallen them spread across her face, the second most powerful woman in the harem, five years older than Asima and a born princess in her own right, fell to her knees, her forehead touching the floor, abasing herself before her master.
It was impossible in that frantic moment to identify the soldier’s expression, as most of his face was hidden in shadow and they only saw a flash of his eyes and a brief blur of his skin before he turned and ran, silently, into the shadows of the orchard.
The God-King, despite his fury, ignored the soldier as he ran and, instead, turned his gaze downward to glare angrily at the woman on the floor.
“Sh’a’lah?”
The woman made whimpering noises but no identifiable words came out. She would be terrified beyond her wits’ end. The penalty for adultery among the God-King’s women was to be crushed to death. There would be no trial, no alternative, and no hope of reprieve.
A small part of Asima that was still the girl that had played jump-rope and raced around the roofs of M’Dahz with the brothers felt sorry for Sh’a’lah and the fate she now faced…
… but the part of her that mattered mentally ticked a box on a chart and shuffled names on a list.
She held her silence, maintained her look of shock and horror, and stepped back, disassociating herself from events as the God-King grasped his second wife’s wrist and hauled her to her feet, his face white with rage. Instead, she thought deeply about what she would need to do now, once the God-King had brought the guards and had the woman detained.
It had taken Asima three months to find a guard who was greedy and amoral enough to consider enticing the queen and playing the gigolo with her. It was a dangerous task and she had been paying the soldier a small fortune each week for his continued help and his silence. Of course, she had left nothing with him that could be proof of her complicity if he had spoken of her requests, but it was better that he hadn’t, for otherwise plans would not have been brought to fruition and this would never have occurred tonight.
There would be two or three days of chaos in the harem and the palace as the King raged. Sh’a’lah would be repeatedly interrogated and tortured until her nails were gone, her fingers broken, her nose slit and all manner of horrible acts perpetrated. She would be able to say no more than that the guard had wooed her and she had accepted his attentions, for that was exactly what had happened.
The gentle manoeuvring and prodding that had come from Asima would be forgotten as mere generalities in harem life. She had been careful to be as subtle as a woman could be. No… no trace would lead back to her.
The only loose end left would be the young guard who had courted her, but that was hardly a worry for Asima. During their last meeting tonight to finalise the arrangements, she had taken the opportunity to slip him a cup of wine laced with a lethal but slow-acting poison. He would first notice the cramps in an hour or so and would then be dead within minutes. She had practiced dosage and timing on a variety of animals in the gardens over the past three weeks and was satisfied that the guard would never have the opportunity to tell anyone what had happened. Of course, he wouldn’t anyway, for he would then be staring death in the face alongside Sh’a’lah, but this way was more sure.
As an additional touch, she had left the vial of poison in his room. When the body was found it would be assumed he had taken his own life after realising what he had done.
In the aftermath, a week or so from now, the order in the harem would change drastically. Far from everyone moving one place closer to the most favoured position, around a dozen of those wives above her, those who were known to be close to Sh’a’lah and would now be tarnished by her failure, would fall from favour. That would be enough, given Asima’s recent good favour and the gifts and surprises she had in store, to push her into the top few of the God-King’s chosen. Within a month she would now be taken to wife. Of that she was certain.
She allowed her thoughts to return to the present.
Guards were now rushing through the trees and across the grass to their master’s calls. Sh’a’lah sagged in his grasp, broken and hopeless. Sad in a way, as she’d always been nice to Asima and so perky and full of life. Not for long, though.
The next challenge would be to deal with the sixty-three year old favourite, Keshia.
Tonight Asima would move on to her new project.
In which Asima’s world changes once more
Asima woke to commotion and instantly settled into an evil mood. She needed her rest. It had been five days since Sh’a’lah had been executed and things had only just begun to settle down in the harem after the tremendous shake up that had resulted. Asima needed her sleep, in the name of all that was sensible. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the satin pillow over her head and pressed its smooth, cold exterior over her head, squeezing her eyes tight and willing sleep to come back in what was clearly a futile gesture.
Almost two minutes she lay there, the noise (and what noise it was) muffled by the pillow, but far from silenced. Finally, an expression of indignant anger on her face, she hauled herself out from beneath the lustrous, expensive covers and crossed the room to her robe, which she threw on furiously. Someone would pay for this, possibly even with skin and hair!
Growling like some predatory wildcat, Asima strode to the door of her room and was about to throw it open and demand silence of the chattering creatures obviously filling the corridor outside, when suddenly some sixth sense made her stop and take her hand from the latch.
That was not excited chatter or happy conversation. What was going on out in the corridor, though she could not make out the words, was evidently shocked and panicked babbling. In a moment of awareness of her vulnerability, she slipped the second additional lock shut and backed away from the door.
Why so many in the corridor outside her apartments? The answer was clear as it dropped into her thoughts. With her current high position, she had managed to acquire rooms away from most of the others and with one of the few external windows. There was no reason for other girls to be anywhere near her apartment, but the corridor outside also held two more windows that faced north, over the cliff and the walls far below and out to sea.
What had happened? Had one of the girls in despair thrown herself from the window? It had happened before and more than once from this very corridor. The fall was invariably fatal from here. Her heart in her throat, Asima rushed back through her ornate rooms, past the bed, so recently disturbed, and into her day room, where the window looked out over the sea in a breathtaking panorama. There were crimson drapes, heavily backed, to cut out the light when necessary, but Asima never bothered closing them. She slept in a different room and was not in the
