Chapter 18
A za sat in what looked to be a vast field stretching endlessly into the distance.
When she glanced around, she saw straw figures with red targets painted across them.
Swords, bows, and arrows lay scattered across the ground.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the landscape.
It might have been beautiful, but then she saw the blood.
Blood clung to the tips of the grass blades, growing thicker and brighter the farther her gaze traveled.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to wake herself, but she couldn’t seem to wake.
So, she stood up and walked over to the bleeding grass.
At the end of the blood trail, she saw a lump she couldn’t quite make out, so she stepped closer, avoiding stepping in the blood-stained grass.
As she drew closer, it resolved into a body, curled in on itself. She bent down to get a closer look and reached out to touch them, but the body stirred, and she instinctively backed up.
The figure struggled to push himself up. Eventually, they were able to sit on their knees and straighten themselves up, lifting their head and looking Aza in the eyes.
The eyes staring back at her were familiar.
They were the boy’s, the one she had seen before.
The one who had cried about wanting to go home to his mother, the one who had been beaten brutally for being different.
Now, however, his face held only faint bruises, and the swelling was no longer there like the first time she had seen him.
He had the soft face of a young boy, bright blue eyes, and a sweet smile.
“Alaric?” Aza whispered.
“Miss?” Alaric questioned, caught in confusion, “Where are we?”
Aza didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know where they were. They were in her own nightmare… right? But Aza had never had a nightmare or vision about the same person more than once. They were always figures of her mind that were made up to haunt and torment her.
Was her mind deteriorating? Breaking? Would these horrible nightmares and visions truly become an endless loop?
Not knowing what else to do or say, Aza answered softly, “I don’t know.”
“I don’t know how I ended up here. I was just wandering around trying to find my way back, but I couldn’t. So I just laid down, hoping I’d wake up and it all had been a nightmare.”
Aza knew how that felt. She wanted to comfort this poor boy, but would it mean anything if he wasn’t real? If he was just something her mind conjured?
“Why don’t we lie down? The sun is setting. Maybe we’ll fall asleep and wake up from our nightmares.” Aza suggested.
“Okay, miss.”
Aza watched him struggle to lie down, clearly still in pain from what he had described the other night, but she knew she couldn’t help him, so she just softly encouraged him.
He was finally able to lie down on his side.
Aza curled beside him, and they lay facing one another, staring into each other’s eyes.
She saw pain and fear in his eyes and wondered if her own looked the same.
Although her pain and fear were different from his, she still wondered how much her mind took a toll on her body.
“Goodnight, miss. Thank you for staying with me.” Alaric said before he placed his hand closer to hers and closed his eyes.
“Goodnight, Alaric,” Aza whispered, closed her eyes, and placed her hand on his.
Aza didn’t know when she had fallen asleep.
The last thing she remembered was writing down everything she’d learned about the King and his empire, as well as what she still wanted to do here and how to do it.
But as she awoke, the lingering memory of Alaric ran through her mind.
She actually quite liked Alaric, a figment of her imagination or not.
She’d take him over her other visions any day.
However, she didn’t know how much more she could take from this in general.
She was at least thankful this one wasn’t as terrifying as the others.
Later, as she finished getting ready, Jahar knocked and entered her room, announcing the King would like to spend some time with her again.
Aza stood in her near-sheer nightgown, listening to Jahar talk.
She could see his throat bob as he finished speaking, and his eyes started to wander.
Aza could tell that he had been trying extra hard lately to save face, and lately, he seemed to be failing.
She figured that maybe it was due to their little heart-to-heart the day of the bandit attacks, regardless of the reason, though she did quite enjoy seeing Jahar get as frazzled as she did on the regular.
“Help me pick out a dress, will you?” Aza asked sweetly.
“Princess, I…” Jahar stuttered as Aza walked closer to him.
“Oh, please. Just this one time? It’s just a dress.” Aza’s voice dipped, soft and coaxing.
“Fine,” Jahar grumbles.
Aza takes hold of his hand and pulls him toward her bedroom, opening her wardrobe. She starts filing through the dresses. There are many different colors and styles to choose from. Jahar stops her hand on a deep red one. He raises his eyebrow, nodding his head at it.
“Do you want him—and every other man I pass today—to drool over me? Not to sound conceited in any way, but do you see how tight this one is and how deep this neckline dips? This isn’t a dress for wandering the city.” Aza teases flirtatiously.
Jahar all but growled low in his throat.
“I’d be happy to try it on for you, though.” Aza purrs.
“Princess,” Jahar warns.
“Let’s pick another dress then,” she said, continuing to flip through dresses.
This time, he stops her hand at a light blue dress.
It is very pretty and a lot plainer and more appropriate.
The dress has half-sleeves made of thin fabric.
This dress is very loose, and rather than cinching at her waist, it flares out underneath the breast design.
There’s tulle that decorates the underside of the skirt.
“I will leave you to get changed,” Jahar announces and exits the room.
Aza finishes getting ready and meets Jahar outside, who is standing next to Bennu. She announces that she is ready. Bennu stays behind, while Jahar takes her to see the King once more.
The King waited at the front of the castle.
He’s wearing a large green cloak with fur stitched on the top, and a massive gold crown sits atop his head.
Aza wondered if he owned more than one crown, because this one sure doesn’t look like the one he normally wears.
That would be about right. He had villages struggling beyond belief, but he is dazzling himself and his favorite cities in gold rather than helping them.
Aza has to remind herself to remain neutral as long as she can, so she can gather as much information as possible.
She wonders whether her father will listen to what she has to say or whether he will be interested in doing anything with all this information. Nevertheless, she has to try.
“Good morning, Princess,” King Abasi said in a booming voice.
“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Aza greets, plastering a smile on her face.
“Join me for breakfast?”
“Why, yes, of course.” Aza purrs.
Aza followed King Abasi to his private dining chambers.
As they entered, Aza told Jahar to wait outside.
Jahar opens his mouth to resist, but Aza gives him a firm look that tells him to back down and trust her.
She shut the doors behind them, and Abasi looks far too pleased to be alone with Aza.
She gets an unsettling feeling but pushes it down.
“I’ve had the servants make us a delicacy for this morning.”
On the plates, Aza saw an array of meats, along with fluffy eggs and a mix of bright fruit drizzled with a sticky, powdery substance.
In the cups next to it, it appeared to be a red juice, but the smell led her to believe there was some kind of alcohol mixed in.
She made a note to be cautious of how much she drinks of the substance.
Aza sits down quickly and doesn’t have to pretend much when beginning to salivate over the delicious-looking food. But a nagging question pushes to the forefront of her mind, distracting her.
“Where do all the ingredients for this wonderful meal come from? Everything looks sublime.” Aza tries to act innocently interested, which the King seems to buy.
“There are many cities on the outer edges of my lands that are responsible for raising and butchering our livestock for meals. I also have specific villages that solely grow crops for meals and feasts, so that we may have the best.” He gloats.
Aza had to hold back the snarky remarks that pop into her head. She was sure these villages that raise and grow all these meats and crops do not actually get to keep what they sow, or, if they do, it is astonishingly inadequate, or may simply be leftovers that do not meet proper standards.
“How often do you have feasts?” Aza asked, making herself moan slightly while biting into her food, doing her best to sell her interest.
“Whenever I see fit. I could have a feast for you at every meal. After all, royalty deserves the best.”
“That is quite a lot of food. It is very impressive how you keep up with it, and that it tastes this amazing. What are some of these spices?” Aza asked.
“Ah, I’m afraid I do not have all the specifics on how the food is made. That is for my servants to know and provide.” The King says in a tone that exudes arrogance.