6. Chapter Six Bahira
Chapter Six: Bahira
T he low murmur of voices intensifies the closer I get to the throne room. The early morning sun is barely peeking through the thick canopy of trees, just enough to trickle in and dot the shiny black stone floors with little globes of golden light. It is a public forum day, a day where anyone can come and voice their concerns with my father, King Sadryn Daxel. Most of the time it is simple things, like a neighborly dispute over sheep or cows grazing on someone else’s property. Sometimes merchants will come and say they need more materials to set up their stands in different parts of the kingdom.
My father believes in always putting the people of the kingdom first. “ What is the loss of the price of wood to us when it will mean so much to the one who needs it—when it will support their family for years to come?” he had said. And he is right; those requests are easy ones for him and the council to approve because they better everyone overall. The harder ones come from those who don’t understand why their magic is failing. While few and far between, the complacency of living in a peaceful kingdom is enough to nullify most concerns. And we are a peaceful kingdom. A part of me wonders if that knowledge gives us a false sense of security. Hell, it’s why Nox left four years ago—he had the same thought.
Outside, I can hear the chirping of the various birds through the open windows as I round the final corner and walk through the guarded double doors to the throne room. On the dais, my parents sit on their thrones made of twisted ancient banya trees, spelled vines and flowers woven throughout and in permanent bloom. An orderly line forms at the base of the dais and leads out through a second set of double doors on the other side of the room. My father signals the first mage to approach, and he climbs the stairs of the dais, stopping directly before my parents. I know there are a few council members who scoff at the fact that my parents allow the common public to approach so closely, who believe they should instead keep that pretend barrier up between royals and non-royals. It is idiotic to me. The people know who their king and queen are.
My father smiles warmly when he spots me before his attention shifts back to the young man speaking in front of him. I take my place leaning against a white stone wall, the picture hanging behind me a painting of one of the Mage Kingdom’s past rulers. It depicts the queen of Void Magic standing on the dais in this room and looking out at the mages dancing. The Autumnal Ball transforms this space into a sea of oranges, reds, golds, and greens. Yet it is the queen who steals the attention of the audience, shining as if she is the sun.
“Bored enough to attend today, Bahira?” Daje asks under his breath, coming to stand next to me.
I smirk as I look him over, his light blue shirt and gray training shorts stained with grass and dirt. “Too lazy to bathe before walking into the palace?” I counter with a raised brow.
“I just finished sparring. I was coming to see if you wanted to have lunch together, before I remembered it was public forum day.”
“Hmm, worked up an appetite getting your ass kicked?” I tease quietly, looking pointedly at his soil-marked clothing.
Daje snorts, the sound louder than he intended and drawing the attention of a few people, including my mother. He mouths sorry to her, stepping closer to the wall as if he can be absorbed into it. Her responding smile is mischievous as she shakes her head in pretend disapproval, flicking her curly brown hair—twin to mine—over her shoulder and turning back to the mage in front of her.
“I didn’t get my ass totally kicked,” Daje whispers as he leans in closer. “I managed to get Arin in the balls, not once, but twice.”
This time it’s me who lets out a totally inappropriate laugh that I try, and fail, to turn into a cough. The room falls silent, the stares of the other mages heavy on me as I pinch my lips together. When my father clears his throat and they all look back to the dais, I elbow Daje in his side. He chuckles quietly before turning and facing the thrones. A woman who looks to be in her third decade of life is talking, her hands gesturing wildly in front of her. I take note of her haggard appearance, her clothes rumpled and her hair gathered messily on her head.
“—he’s been missing for three days. It isn’t like him to just disappear like this,” she cries, wiping her cheek.
My mother leans forward in her throne, holding the woman’s hand between her own. “We will send out some men to look for him. Perhaps he was injured and is just in need of assistance.” Though my mother is doing her best to sound convincing, I can see her worry etched in the way the corners of her mouth tense. The woman doesn’t look reassured, but she nods her head all the same and thanks my parents before leaving the room, wiping her tears as she goes.
“That was odd,” Daje comments.
I nod. There are wild animals in the less populated parts of the kingdom that could definitely take down a mage: panthers, mountain lions, bears—any number of them could attack, rare as it would be. There’s even a chance he could have walked too close to the beach and got lured in by a siren’s song. Again, it’s rare but not out of the realm of possibility, I suppose.
A man walks up next, his black hair perfectly pulled back into a low ponytail. His clothes are nicely pressed, no wrinkles or dishevelment like the woman before him. He bows in front of my parents before beginning to speak.
Daje nudges me in the arm. “Come on, let’s go get some food.”
I start to follow him out of the room when I hear the tail end of the man’s sentence to my parents. “—near the border. I want to know what you can do to help there? Loss of magic is worsening more quickly than here in the capital.” I stop in my tracks, turning to look over at the mage. My father’s face is a careful mask of consideration.
“I understand your unease, and as you are surely aware, this is an issue beyond what even a king can fix.” My mother nods next to him, looking sympathetic. “Though, our princess has been working on finding a solution.” My father’s eyes flick to mine as he gives me a soft smile.
A knot of emotion works its way up my throat at him publicly acknowledging my work. It’s quickly shoved back down by the look on the man’s face as his eyes roam over me dismissively. “Yes, yet it would appear she has been unsuccessful. Perhaps one with magic might want to be tasked with taking over?”
Subtle. I return his slight scowl with a sarcastically sweet smile of my own.
“You think it is a good decision to question the intelligence of your princess in front of her parents, sir?” My head snaps to Daje as he folds his arms over his chest.
“Of course not,” the man replies smoothly, “but why not bring in more minds? Why not let someone else try?”
“I have offered everything at our kingdom’s disposal to anyone who is willing to help. There have been few who have taken up the offer,” my father chides. His voice is even, but there is no mistaking the undercurrent of power that radiates from him.
“Let’s go,” Daje rumbles under his breath as his fingers close around my elbow.
A spark of irritation flares through me at the touch, at his assumption that leaving is what I want to do, but I bite it down. I don’t hear the man’s response as we walk through the doors and I remove my elbow from his grasp. We silently move to the kitchen to request lunch, my long green skirt swishing with my determined steps. My flats tap on the stone with each movement as I fight to cool the anger slowly boiling up.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his hands clasped behind his back, spine straight as he walks next to me. No, he is partially ahead of me. Like he is trying to place himself in front of me to protect me from some invisible enemy—something he’s done our whole lives. I know it comes from a place of fondness, of friendship— Fuck. I recognize there is more there too, but I push that knowledge out of my mind.
“Of course,” I answer, purposely lengthening my stride so I’m back to walking in line with him. “You, of all people, know that I am not bothered by the words of others regarding my lack of magic.”
“You don’t seem like you’re not bothered,” he counters, looking down at me from the corners of his eyes.
“Oh I’m bothered, but not by what that man said.” The swinging wooden door to the kitchen comes into view and I stop, placing a hand on Daje’s forearm. “We aren’t children anymore, Daje,” I start, sharper than I intend. Blowing out a breath, I remove my hand from his arm. “I don’t need you to step in for me.”
“Call it a force of habit then,” he says, taking a small step towards me. “It’s like second nature for me now.”
“But it shouldn’t be,” I counter, staring at him before shaking my head. “I don’t need you to save me, not like that.” It’s something I’ve told him before, that the need for him to step in and protect me from all manner of things he views as threats isn’t what I need anymore, that I don’t want that from him.
“But if I want to?” he asks, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Daje, it only helps you in those moments. It makes me appear weak. Please, do not step in like that again,” I warn, my voice low.
“I doubt anything could make you appear weak, Bahira.”
Sometimes I feel like I’m talking in circles with him. Can he not see that despite the facade I put up, despite the healthy dose of bravado, there’s still a part of me that feels small and insignificant when someone points out how I’m different? That it hurts more when he steps in than it does when strangers speak poorly of me, because he is supposed to know me.
“Enough talk, let’s eat,” he gestures towards the door.
Even though I’d definitely like to continue this conversation, to truly get him to see what I’m trying to say, I don’t want to fight with him. So I nod my head and join him for lunch. We let the kitchen know our orders and then head to a small dining area outside on the lowest level balcony. Just enough sunlight bathes the table and chairs that they are warm when we sit. I let out a sigh as I tilt my head back and close my eyes—just letting myself soak in the sun’s heat.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asks.
“Heading back to my workshop,” I answer, bringing my head forward again. “I need to check some things—” My voice halts at the look on his face. “What?”
“Your workshop again ?” he mutters, a near-annoyed flair to his voice.
My eyes narrow as I cock my head to the side. “Yes, it’s where I like to get work done, as you may recall.”
“It’s just that I thought after yesterday maybe you’d want a break.” His voice falters, but he keeps his gaze steady on me. His eyes catch in the light, gleaming like sapphires.
“What are you talking about?” I question, genuinely puzzled by his response.
“I could tell by the look on your face yesterday that the experiment didn’t go as planned,” he says carefully, slowly. Like he’s bracing for a fight.
Good.
“Which is all the more reason I need to go back today, to prepare for my next one,” I snap. My frustration rises as I draw my brows together. “What is it you’re really trying to say?”
“You’re not happy doing them anymore,” he replies, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table in front of us. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“I don’t want to take a break,” I fire back. “You say you don’t see me as happy, but then are you really looking? Doing these experiments, trying to find a solution to this problem that doesn’t just affect me, that is what makes me happy.”
“No,” he counters, the word dragged out by his deep voice, “it’s what makes you obsessed. I can tell the difference in you after one of your experiments fails. Do you truly believe it isn’t obvious to anyone paying attention the way you beat yourself up over it?”
I scoff, but there’s an annoying truth to his words. I never realized he had been watching me so closely. I hadn’t thought he’d have this observation ready to attack me with as soon as he needed it. It makes me feel cornered, and like a trapped wild animal, I lash out.
“At least I am trying to do something useful , Daje. Can you say the same?” I forcefully push my chair back and stand, stepping back from the table. “Some of us may be content to play the roles given to us by our fathers, but I would rather work towards something that would actually make a difference in people’s lives,” I seethe, unfairly reminding Daje how his father created an advisor position just for him.
My chest tightens at the look on his face. He may have hurt my feelings with his blunt words, but I purposely sliced at him with a sharpened tongue. Neither of us speaks for a moment before I turn and leave, walking around the porch, down the stairs, and onto one of the many stone paths that lead away from the palace. My hands tighten into fists at my side, each word spoken between us on repeat in my head. I walk and walk, not really paying attention to where I’m going, until the pathway opens up into Galdr’s central shopping square. The sheer number of people here makes crossing the wide road tedious, but I finally make it to one of the many taverns.
The bar is built into an albero tree, with two windows and a swinging door on the front. Pushing through, I let my eyes adjust to the slightly darker space. Spelled flames in small orbs hang every other foot in a zigzag pattern on the ceiling. Patrons fill every table and chair spread throughout the establishment, loud music from a small band vibrating the tree bark walls. It smells of incense and sweat and like mead has been spilled on every surface in this place. Yet like a moth drawn to the small flames above me, I make my bad day worse by heading to the bar and taking a seat next to a man that I absolutely loathe .
“Hello, Bahira,” he purrs the moment he realizes I’m next to him. “Interesting seeing you here. Last time I checked, it wasn’t a library.”
I don’t bother hiding my annoyance or the eye roll that comes with it. “Gosston, interesting to see you look relatively clean today,” I counter, ordering a drink from the bartender. “I didn’t realize you knew what bathing was.” My eyes take in his appearance, his stark flowing white tunic and black trousers. Curly black hair falls to his shoulders, the strands untamed except for where he has them tucked behind his ear.
He snorts, not hiding his irritation with me either. We sit in silence, both drinking our pints of mead, though I go through mine much faster. When I’ve ordered the fourth one, Gosston speaks again.
“Tough day?” he inquires, sounding alarmingly sincere.
“You could say that.” I turn to look at him. Under the light of the spelled flames, his lighter olive complexion takes on a yellow hue, making the purple circles under his eyes stand out more drastically.
“What about you?” I ask because I’m already three drinks in and clearly not thinking well.
“You could say that,” he repeats with a small tilt of his lips. He signals the bartender over, and before I know it he’s handing me a shot of some kind of liquor. “Here’s to bad days,” he salutes, clinking his glass to mine and downing his shot. I do the same, and we each turn back to our meads.
I wake up the next morning to the sound of Gosston snoring and the pounding headache of deep regret.