Chapter 22 Azahara #2
“Zhal...” There was a stunned look on her face. Her eyes were trained on Kaed and Illyan, both wearing similar expressions.
“Do you accept my body and blade to use as you see fit?” Zhal returned to her knee, the blade mere inches from Azahara.
“I don’t understand. Why?” There was genuine disbelief in her voice.
“This world is ruled by pigs.” Zhal spoke, her head lifting to stare into her eyes.
Men… mortal men… and gods... “Our women are treated like cattle. Gods are prayed to without a single act to help. Men rule this realm as though it is their playground.” She paused momentarily.
The strength in her gaze would make the weak cower, and men tuck and run.
Thankfully, Azahara was neither of those things.
“A great war is coming, and you will be its turning tide.”
Azahara stared at her. “I am no warrior. I am no queen. I am no goddess to worship...” The last one lingered on her tongue longer than she wanted it to. “I am merely—”
Zhal’s eyes circled. “You are something. Beyond the flesh of a human. The line has shifted, and it’s because of you that it has.”
The Fated Line. She remembered Death’s words clearly, as though they were speaking to her at that very moment.
A stillness filled the room and the air grew thicker, making it hard for Azahara to breathe.
Her heart pounded against her chest. How could this be happening?
I just want to break this curse. Live a mundane life with Kaed.
Get the news to the king and be done with it.
Yet, something told her that even if she denied Zhal now, her life would be anything but ordinary.
Zhal did not waver. She allowed Azahara time to think.
Glancing back at her books, Azahara swiftly made her way towards them. Her fingers danced rapidly over the spines, searching for the one she sought, and soon, she retrieved it. Flipping through the pages hurriedly, she arrived at the desired page and returned to Zhal.
“You’ll forgive my ignorance,” Azahara said, her voice steady despite the curiosity in Zhal’s expression. “I’ve never had a Vaeragi swear themselves to me before.”
“Azahara...” Kaed’s voice sounded a warning.
She looked at him, her eyes soft as they met his. “Any way I can keep you protected, I will do it.”
While caution was evident on Kaed’s face, he refrained from outright telling her not to do it. Instead, he offered a nod, silently conveying his support. And that nod was all the encouragement she needed.
Turning back to Zhal, who was waiting expectantly, Azahara spoke.
“Zhal Utlzl Kakzox.” Her pronunciation was relatively spot-on, surprising even Zhal.
“I, Azahara Rhay...” She paused, concerned about using her full name.
“Starfall, take you to be my Mihan. With this title, you will serve me in life and death.” She peeked one last time at her book and then closed it.
“Accept my blood.” She glided her thumb along the outstretched blade, feeling the sharp edge neatly slice through her skin, instantly drawing blood.
A footstep approached her but abruptly halted.
She didn’t shift her gaze toward Kaed. “As my gift to you.”
She brought her thumb to Zhal, pressing it to her forehead and drawing a line down her chin. Traditionally, she would have said only that, but that was not how she wanted it to be. As Mihan, Zhal would live and breathe for her Ounr. Azahara would not own Zhal.
For that reason, she added her own piece. “I will not only be your Onur, but your friend. I will protect you as my family, as you will protect mine. We are equals. From today until life escapes us both.”
Azahara stepped back and brought herself down to a knee, bowing before Zhal. “Upon my final death, you shall choose to separate from the bonds that tie us, or fulfill your traditions.”
Zhal and Azahara lifted their heads simultaneously.
The look on the Vaeragi’s face was stoic but broke slightly as she spoke.
“You respect our traditions while also doing the same for me. I should not be surprised, but I am.” Zhal glanced between Illyan and Kaed, who were watching her expectantly.
“I will try to accept your ways. I will fight for you and your family.”
That would be good enough for Azahara. Zhal swiped the blade through her shirt and placed it into the sheath.
They stood, and Kaed was at Azahara’s side in mere seconds.
“Guess we will have to get along.” Azahara heard Illyan say to Zhal.
“No,” Zhal said flatly.
Kaed took Azahara’s hand and placed a napkin against her bleeding thumb, his silent support filling her with a sense of pride as he leaned against her.
“Too bad, I’m great company,” Illyan quipped, breaking the moment. “Now help me fix this table. You ruined it. Her mother gave it to her.”
“I thought Fae couldn’t lie,” Zhal remarked, walking to the door and stepping outside.
“Hey, get back in here right now. You will fix what you broke! Sentimental or not!” Illyan ran out after Zhal, their voices creating a distant background noise.
“I have this feeling,” Kaed said, lifting her chin, “that you are going to have more people wanting to follow you soon.”
Azahara chuckled softly. “I don’t know why anyone would follow me.” She leaned into his touch, one of his strong hands gently gripping her chin while the other wrapped around her back, pulling her close.
“It’s because, despite how dark you think you make the world”—he leaned in towards her, their lips mere inches from one another—“you are its light. Drawing others to protect, serve, and ensure you remain illuminated for eternity.”
Their lips met, and in that moment, everything else faded away. She couldn’t predict the future, but it felt like the beginning of a new chapter, one she hoped would have a happy ending.