4. Cruelty and Chaos
Cruelty and Chaos
T he escape attempt had been for naught.
The pursuing jesu were moments away from reaching the room. Would they toss her over the balcony when they caught her? If so, she’d land on the immaculately tiled floor below, probably right before the God-King. Would he still accept a sacrifice with a broken neck?
One of the jesu finally reached the doorway. He was panting, but he didn’t immediately reach for Mila. Instead, he looked over her shoulder and spoke with deep concern etched into his face.
“Princess, forgive me.”
Mila turned and registered the other occupants in the room for the first time.
The powerfully loud energy came from a striking woman, who sat atop a high-backed, golden chair.
Mila had never seen anything or anyone like her before.
She was tall and dark. Her dominating frame emphasised by the sleek black fabric that wrapped tightly around her body. It whirled in thick swaths around her long arms and legs, reaching all the way down to her wrists and ankles. Sewn into the fabric were the skins of hundreds of golden snakes, and she toyed with a tiny live one between her long, manicured fingers. Her black hair hung in thick, tight curls down around her neck, and delicate, gold feathers had been woven through small braids that hung from her temples. Her skin was as immaculate and sheer as a dark mirror, and Mila judged that she couldn’t have seen more than twenty-five summers or so. Her lips were painted with a strong, metallic blue, and two streaks of golden paint adorned her sharp cheekbones.
This must be the God-King’s daughter – Princess Jezebel – but she didn’t look like a princess. She looked like a goddess.
“Well,” Jezebel said, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow and looking Mila up and down slowly, dark eyes lingering on the thin, black horns that were still protruding a few inches above Mila’s scalp. “This afternoon is already panning out to be far more entertaining than I expected. Someone…explain.” She flittered her fingers in the air commandingly.
Beside her a tall, muscular man with cropped hair and a bare chest stood poised to attack. He did not look remotely amused. Instead, his sword was drawn and his deep brown eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene and the intruder. To the other side of the princess was a serving woman, who might as well have been invisible beside the physical and energetic pull of her mistress.
“Someone explain,” the princess said again in a low, deadly tone, as though unaccustomed to repeating herself.
Despite the heat of the room, Mila shivered.
“I…she’s a…” The unfortunate jesu behind Mila spluttered on his words, unable to believe that, of all the people in this building responsible for the demon’s escape, he somehow had the poor fortune of being the one to report it to Jezebel. “She’s a d-demon. Meant to be below with the others. My sincere, sincere apologies for the disturbance. I’ll take her with me now.”
“Wait!” The order was sharp, and the princess rose from her chair, gliding towards Mila like a panther moving through shadows.
Mila felt her body automatically freeze as the woman approached. Her nose was assaulted by the wave of perfume, dark spice with notes of vanilla on top. It was gorgeous and sultry and overwhelming but was nothing compared to the actual wearer. Even if Mila had wanted to look away from her, she couldn’t. She was too beautiful, and her energy was too dominating.
Eventually, she stood right before Mila and inspected her, her deep brown eyes scanning from bottom to top. Her lip twitched with disgust as she surveyed the dirty, olive, cotton shorts that covered Mila’s slim legs, and the cream crocheted top that hung over her small breasts. They lingered on the many golden piercings in Mila’s nose and ears but lit up when they reached her horns again. She even reached out to touch one, and when her graceful hand stroked it, Mila’s legs nearly bucked from the sharp, electric sensation that ran through her. Jezebel’s smile truly brightened at that response and her eyes gleamed. Finally, she fixated on Mila’s long, straight brown hair, and when she noted the length, her eyebrows raised again with interest.
Nothing about Mila’s appearance was unusual for a Highlander, except the length of her hair. Due to the constant humidity, Highlander women usually cut theirs short to allow any precious breeze to access their necks, but Mila hadn’t moved there until she was fourteen. She’d spent her childhood amongst the devout and hardworking plains people of Prious, and in Prious, the women wore their hair long.
Despite the pain the memories of her past life caused her, Mila had never been able to bring herself to sever that connection to her childhood. Keeping her hair long and healthy in the forest had been a mammoth effort, but the knowledge she’d cultivated of rainforest fruits and their nourishing properties had helped. Usually, she wore it tied up and out of the way, but her grass hair tie had broken on the journey here, so now it hung loose, draping down to her ankles. It had never been cut before and was shiny, healthy and rich.
“Your hair,” Jezebel said, and before Mila could open her mouth to reply, she snapped her fingers, and the guard approached. “I want it,” Jezebel said simply, cocking her head slightly to the side.
Without hesitation, the guard seized Mila’s hair, and in one swift movement of his dagger, he sliced it clean away from her head.
The immediate disappearance of the weight that had been silently present for all her life was as shocking as a bucket of ice water being thrown over her. She gasped for air, her bound hands instinctively reaching for her head.
No one in the room acknowledged her response. Instead, the maidservant hurriedly stepped forward and held a mirror up for the princess, who held Mila’s hair up in a bunch to her scalp.
The princess tucked her braid to the side, studying her reflection for a moment before shrugging. “Upon further consideration…I don’t think it’s quite the right shade for me.”
In three quick steps, she strode to the small gold brazier that quietly burned in the corner and abruptly tossed the heavy cut-off hair into it.
It was consumed by the flames in all of two seconds, the balcony swiftly filling with the acrid scent of burning hair.
Mila stared dumbly at the brazier, and then at the woman, in disbelief, trying to fight down her outrage and make sense of what had just occurred .
Princess Jezebel stared back with barely masked delight, waiting for the response, the reaction, a flinch…anything she could latch onto in order to extend this fun game she’d just begun. The malicious energy pulsed from her with renewed intensity, and Mila suddenly recognised the danger the princess truly presented. Despite the fact she was probably minutes away from being sacrificed, the immediate threat to her life was suddenly this woman who stood directly in front of her.
And yet.
She could not bring herself to drag her eyes to the ground in submission. If Jezebel was going to kill her here and now, she wouldn’t cower. She was suddenly overwhelmed with fury and frustration that she’d spent her entire life hiding and cowering. If this was to be her last stand, she might as well stand strong.
So, she stared back at Jezebel, unyielding in her gaze, and felt the woman’s excited energy rise in response, as though she were relishing in the novelty of coming across someone who was not yet quite broken.
Those perfect lips curled into a cool smile. “You are interesting. What’s your power?”
The question took Mila by surprise. She wasn’t expecting this silent battle of wills to turn into a conversation. She’d been expecting death.
“I can sense energy,” she said tersely.
“What do you mean energy?” Jezebel demanded.
“Emotions, intentions, state of being… Whatever is the driving force of living things in my vicinity.”
“Is that so? And what is my energy?” she said with a leer.
In that moment, Jezebel reminded Mila of a bored rainforest monkey she’d once seen. One that had pushed a rival’s vulnerable babe off a branch for the sake of its own entertainment .
Mila considered her answer for a second and then answered truthfully.
“Cruelty and chaos.”
Jezebel said nothing for a long few minutes, taken aback by the candid answer and the courage of the giver. Mila continued to hold her gaze, still unable to look away, although she became dimly aware of the sound of footsteps and more people coming up the stairs. Another guard, two jesu, and even the High Priest Abbott now appeared in the doorway.
“Seize her,” the High Priest ordered, his tone panicked.
The jesu moved towards Mila.
“Stop!” Jezebel ordered curtly, and when the jesu did not immediately halt, she whirled on them in fury, stomping her foot like a petulant child. “Did you not hear my command?” she bellowed.
The movement towards Mila stopped, but Mila sensed an air of uncertainty to their obedience. Who was truly in charge here?
“Princess?” The High Priest looked faintly annoyed, but he was not about to disobey the daughter of his God-King on the very afternoon they were holding a sacrament to appease his wrath.
“Unbind her hands.” The princess pointed to Mila. “This one is now mine. I will take her as my new pet.”
Mila baulked silently at her words.
The High Priest was less restrained. “Highness…” He struggled for a moment to try to articulate his complaint whilst remaining respectful. “She is an intended sacrifice, a demon. If you take her, we’ll be one short for this season.”
Jezebel seemed to consider this, then she turned towards Mila. “What do you think, demon? Should you be sacrificed today? Or do you think you and your power can sufficiently entertain me for a few months until the next Sacrament? ”
Mila did not know how to respond, but Jezebel seemed to be expecting her to speak. Eventually, she simply said, “I wish to live.”
“Excellent.” Jezebel clapped her hands delightedly, a childlike energy seizing her. “Abbott, tell my father that I’ve taken one for myself. He can’t have this one yet. I’ve got plans for her, and I intend to extract every last sliver of entertainment from her this spring.” She suddenly giggled. "How quaint. A spring pet".
“Princess Jezebel… Forgive me, but… I – ”
Mila was amazed that he seemed still prepared to argue with her. So did the princess.
“Am I not half Divine?” She interrupted him with a stony, warning glare, her energy shifting from childish excitement to murderous intensity in an instant. “Do you not worship my family line? Obey me.”
Jezebel’s personal guard also chose that moment to step forward, his presence shadowing Jezebel’s back and reinforcing her command. The High Priest glanced at him and then took a deep breath to steady himself in what was clearly a humbling and difficult effort. Finally, he seemed able to remember his place. He sucked his lips tightly into his mouth as if to stop them opening of their own accord, then nodded to one of the jesu, who strode forward and roughly unlocked the cuffs on Mila’s wrists.
Jezebel did not spare anyone else on the balcony a second glance. She seized Mila’s arm and dug her long nails into it, pulling her along as they left the room and descended the stairs.
“This is going to be fun,” she said with confidence as they strode swiftly out of the cathedral, followed closely by the huge guard and the handmaid.
Mila was far less certain.