8.2
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She straightened the hem of her jade robe, and took a glance at herself in the vanity before she'd leave to meet the King, she'd need to apologise to him once again, to make herself seem approachable, less of a threat. She didn't want the King to start thinking of her reason to stay at court, after everything Yazia already did to get away from it. At least she cleaned up well, but no more tears could spill.

I will be strong, baba.

Yazia closed her eyes and released a deep breath. Shadows surrounded her, coating her in a warm blanket as the veil unfolded down on her again. Within moments she was back to posing as a mortal. She just hoped that the King didn't see the veil vanish before, making him aware of her true self.

She'd have to be more careful next time.

Yazia then lifted up her garment, and attached one of her blades to her thigh through some fabric tucked under her robe. Just a precautionary measure, in case she needed it.

After the poisoning, she'd hoped her attacker would be nervous to stay away, like they'd seen a ghost risen from the dead. She hoped they wouldn't come in between the King and her--or she'd have to kill them.

Blade of the jambiya in place, she let her robe fall over it. With one last breath, Yazia walked toward the door to her room and disappeared down the hallway, not bothering to close the door behind.

Once Yazia reached in front of the King's chamber, she rapped her knuckles at his door. She swallowed, anxiety piquing every nerve inside her body. But unlike last time, she'd keep control of it. Yazia didn't need to wait long, as though the King had been awaiting her. He opened the door, and they locked eyes for a moment.

Yazia noticed his shemagh first. He hadn't worn one previously, but the chiffon cloth wrapped around his head and tied a simple knot at the back accentuated his facial features. Her eyes trailed from the purple bruise forming on his head, to his blue stare and his neatly trimmed beard, then drifting to the long thobe that he wore. The kandora garment was an obsidian black just like everything else, including his leather gloves.

"I almost expected you'd try to run away again." The King half joked.

Yazia swallowed. Yesterday she did want to run away, but today that was not a choice. "I came to apologise," she said. "I am sorry once again for the events of the last days, and its disruption in your court. If you'd like for me to leave, then I will have myself packed and gone by morning."

That was a partial lie. Yazia could only actually leave when she completed the task she'd signed up for, and got it over with--when this man in front of her was dead.

The King arched a thick brow, his burly physique resting against the door frame. "Yalla, let's take a walk."

Yazia bowed her head in slight agitation that he didn't answer her. She wondered why he'd wish to walk with her now of all times, her of all people at court. It was a fact that she was most probably his least favourite person right now. Yazia thought that he would not enjoy her company after she had assaulted him with one of his candles last night.

But she obliged, and let him lead the way, following down the pristine halls of the palace. The swirl of his familiar loamy cologne wafted through the air. She found herself being guided into the royal gardens, remembering what it looked like in the moonlight just a few nights back as she crossed under the archway again.

Now that it was day, the garden was much different--Yazia could see the intricate designs emblazoned on the white archway, reminding her of lace.
To her left was the bench she and Prince Aeneas had sat at during the night of the ball, also engraved with the same designs that covered the palace and its architecture, with a matching bench on the far right. Set in the middle, a circular marble fountain rested, the water flowing from it, like the argument between cold porcelain and the warm water only hot due to the patronising heat of the sun blazing above the desert.

For a few moments, Yazia was awestruck by the elaborate details wherever she glanced; there was nothing like this where she took refuge in for the past nine years.

It almost made her experience here enjoyable.

"How do you like it?" The King inquired, shattering her thoughts. He was watching her, again.

"It's beautiful, I must say I am impressed by whomever designed such a luxurious palace. You are lucky to call it yours, Your Majesty." Yazia made an attempt to panegyrize him, but it was short lived--it sounded unnatural to her.

She chose not to hold back, and made a curtsy, ensuring not to lift her robe too much. Modesty was a requirement in Abingor, and if the King was going to give her his heart, then she'd need to do the most to make him love her. Just like that night at the ball, before it all went wrong.

One more fuck up and you might as well be dead.

"So, have you thought about your decision?" he asked as they walked down the aisle of the grounds, guided by shrubbery and trees.

Her brows furrowed in puzzlement, and grasped onto the loose sleeve of her abaya as she continued walking through the garden. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it has been an eventful few days. Could you remind me of the proposal that you were making and expecting a response for?"

The King slipped his hands in the folds of his black robe and followed close behind. "About doing me the honour of joining me at my court these next coming months, Lady Malya."

Oh that. Of course he hasn't forgotten about what I did to make him notice me.

Then she remembered the number of ladies who had waited to make acquaintance with the King at the ballroom. "What about the rest of those ladies? Do they not attain the same interest you seem to have for me, Your Highness?"

"Well..." The King paused in hesitation, and Yazia fought hard to fight back the smirk that tried to escape her calm composure, having caught him off guard. "None are as bold nor honest as you have been, My Lady. I admit, I am a little bit fond of you," he finished.

The sudden ringing of clashing steel echoed in the air, and at the familiar sound, Yazia turned in its direction. There, she acknowledged a practice taking place, young men forming a pit around the fight commencing on the sand. Ladies watched from afar, probably to barter money on who the better player was, or to carelessly point hands at who their next lover would be.

But Yazia knew none of those mortals could best the craft of swordsmanship. Humans had no mercy, even when it came to their own kind, and only would they use a blade for foul intentions.

"Lady Malya?"

"Yes?" She replied, her eyes not diverting from the fight. She itched to wield a sword again, but knew that it would not be possible without giving too much of herself away. She was supposed to be just a mere lady, who wouldn't even harm a beetle. Her eyes gazed over the crowd for Aeneas.

Where is he, anyway?

"Your answer, what is it?"

"Forgive me again My King, but is this an order or a request?" The words sounded familiar on her tongue. Because they were, she remembered when she last said them at the ball.

He chuckled, and she turned her head to see the pearly whites of his teeth breaking his own composure. "Trust that only you would ask such daring questions, Malya. We have become quite the duo, but it is your choice and yours alone, a simple request."

The first time she'd asked him such a question, her thirst for vengeance formed deep within, with a lust for blood. But now Yazia also wanted something else; she wanted answers.

"Then I accept," she said, and then added, "but I will only stay as long as I have the means to."

I will leave only when I am done.

Now, the King had stepped closer, just inches beside her, his gaze on the pit of fools thrusting their swords through the dusty air at various invisible enemies.

"You may stay as long as you'd like, but now that I have you here, would you perhaps also like to join my side for the tournament these men you see are training for? I know you take a liking to a good blade."

"Khalas, why did you give them back?" She was talking about the blades. It hadn't surprised Yazia that he did, but she was curious about his intentions. The King gently reached a hand to lift her chin, but Yazia flinched and drew back without a second thought, staring into the unflinching cold pools of fire in his eyes.

"You need them more if you plan to survive in this court, Lady Malya." His words were an echo chamber to her thoughts. But she let him turn to leave the way they'd come before she could ask what he'd meant. The words that she was supposed to say sizzled away from her tongue as she came out soundless.

It seemed that the blood sovereign knew so much more than he was leading on. Had she fallen into a trap?

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