Chapter 4 #3
Servants passed, speaking in hushed tones when they saw her. Eventually the meeting ended, so the wives and concubines poured out, their eyes sliding over Azul with either glee or indifference. They pretended to whisper but spoke loud enough for her to hear.
"The village girl who thought herself above her station."
"Maybe after her skin has burned terribly, she will understand her title means nothing."
Azul kept her spine straight and her eyes forward. Let their words wash over her like rain.
Whoever spoke, she wrote their names in her heart.
Whoever sneered, their expressions were seared into her memory.
Where's Borji?
He hadn't passed by her. Or did he avoid her by making his presence scarce? She thought it was best, rather than watch her look so weak in front of all these people. Besides, she was sure he had better things to do than watch her lose so awfully.
When Somadina finally left his grandmother’s receiving room, he spoke cordially to his guards; he almost passed her, as though ignoring her existence altogether. But he stopped just a few steps behind.
"You have one chance to save yourself a sorry fate if you know what's good for you," was all he said.
The sun climbed higher.
Her knees began to ache, then burn. The hunger that she'd pushed aside clawed at her stomach with renewed viciousness. Her vision swam at the edges, black spots dancing in the white-hot glare.
Three hours passed.
Nkiru swayed beside her. Azul wanted to tell her to leave, but it was too late for that; they were both already punished. So she said nothing, just shifted slightly to block some of the sun from the girl's face.
Four hours.
Her clothes were soaked in sweat. Her wrist throbbed where she'd gripped the brush for two nights straight. Her shoulders screamed for her to relax and let them rest. The world tilted and swayed around her; she had to shake her head incessantly to remain awake.
She heard a thud beside her; Nkiru had fallen. Footsteps came to carry the girl away, but Azul worried if she looked back, she too would lose courage and faint.
She was so thirsty.
Had she ever knelt like this before? She tried to remember.
She had, once, as a child. She tried to remember then how she survived such a harsh punishment.
If her memories served her right, then the very next day she fell ill with a fierce fever, and the only one who had been at her bedside was Kamsi.
The girl was too small then to do anything but cry and cry.
Her sobs were loud, each one splitting her head in half with a terrible headache.
But the girl did what she could, grabbing Azul’s herbs in an attempt to make a concoction for her, but she failed.
Azul remembered the pitiful look on her sister's face and couldn’t help but smile.
She had survived this once before; then there was no need to worry.
Five hours.
Azul blinked, trying to focus, but the ground seemed to be rising up to meet her.
No.
She would not fall.
She would not give them that satisfaction.
She bit down harshly on her tongue, tasting iron. The pain sharpened her focus.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Six hours.
A servant approached, one she didn't recognise. "The Dowager says your time is complete. You may rise."
Azul tried to stand.
Her legs wouldn't obey.
She pressed her palms against the burning stone and pushed herself up. Her knees buckled, but she caught herself and tried again.
This time, she made it to her feet.
The world swayed violently. She locked her knees and forced her body to remain upright.
One step at a time.
No matter the words spat at her or the rumours that circulated about her, she knew she was not wrong; she knew this was unjust.
She kept walking.
The bridges passed beneath her feet, though she couldn't quite remember crossing them. The pavilions blurred together. Her vision had narrowed to a tunnel—she could see the path ahead and nothing else.
It was meaningless, all those hours writing; they had set trap after trap, and even after avoiding each one, she still ended up on the losing end.
Power—she needed power, even just to survive this accursed place.
The shrine appeared before her, its weathered stone familiar, almost welcoming.
A figure stood in the entrance.
Borji.
He stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "You—"
Azul's legs finally gave out.
She felt herself falling, felt the ground rushing up—
Strong arms caught her.
"You did well, Kihaana," Borji said softly, carrying her.
The word registered dimly through the fog in her mind.
"Is it..." Her tongue felt thick. "Is it over?"
"Yes." His voice was oddly gentle. "You've endured well. They cannot pursue this matter again lest they wish to appear petty in the eyes of others. The matter is settled."
Azul closed her eyes.
She should've felt humiliated; that's what they wanted, wasn't it?
The last thing she remembered was the distant awareness that she was still alive.
Since they insisted she was in the wrong, then she would prove to them just how terribly wrong she—Azul—could be.