Chapter 9 #3
She lifted her chin; strands of hair loosened, framing her face.
She met Somadina’s eyes.
She opened her mouth to speak, and they waited to hear an apology.
"May Ukhel kiss your corpse."
Gritting his teeth, Chukwuemeka grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet.
Azul reached back to stop the pain as he pulled at her scalp. For a moment, she feared further retribution.
The door slammed open.
"Chukwuemeka, what is the meaning of this? You dare touch a princess of the Borjigin?"
Her father released her hair, letting her body drop to the floor.
Borji's voice seemed to douse the fire in the room.
Somadina's smile didn't falter. "Brother. How kind of you to join us."
"I was wondering what was taking you so long. Imagine my surprise to find you threatening our sister." Borji stood behind her, and Azul found herself unable to look up.
"Threatening? You misunderstand me, brother.
" Somadina laughed. "I'm offering to save her.
Have you heard about the wife of Orda Naiman?
She was merely one of many, but one mistake had upset her husband so greatly he offered her to his men.
She died after forty-eight hours of excessive strain, and her body was fed to dogs.
A warlord is not a husband any woman wants.
If you care for this… sister of ours, then advise her properly. "
"So asking her to kneel to you is your way of showing care? Have you considered what would happen to Obiageli if Azul were to marry you?" Borji asked.
Is he pretending not to know? Azul tried to think despite the pain.
"You underestimate Imperial Mother's love for her daughter; she will find another way for the girl to escape her fate," Somadina countered. "The love of a mother is quite strong, something you'll never understand."
The two men stared at each other, the air between them crackling with bloodlust. Chukwuemeka looked between them, clearly uncertain whether to continue his disciplining or not.
Azul stood slowly.
Both princes turned to look at her.
Her voice, when she spoke, was polite. "Chukwuemeka, thank you for coming. I pray you remain in good health."
Her choice of words seemed to catch them unaware, for she did not spew curses.
Her father frowned, wanting to say something, but Azul was determined to have the last word.
"I hope you die," Azul continued, her smile blooming like flowers in spring. "Before I see you again." For if they ever spoke again, she would kill him.
She turned and passed Borji without looking at him. She stepped out into the corridor, and the door clicked shut behind her.
For a few seconds, she walked normally. One foot in front of the other, breathing steadily.
Then she could walk no more.
Her chest constricted as pain laced through her ribs. Her vision swam as the corridor before her tilted violently.
She pressed a hand to her chest, her nails digging into her skin as she gasped for air. It felt like something was squeezing her heart, crushing it. Like her lungs had forgotten how to draw air.
Kill him.
The thought overwhelmed her.
Go back. Kill him for his insolence, you stupid girl!
Her body lurched towards a door to the side. She felt as though she would faint out here.
No. She tried to counter.
You must kill him.
Her hand reached for the door handle.
Behind her, she heard the door open, followed by footsteps.
"Azul?"
The pain intensified. Spreading from her chest outward. Her knees buckled.
My body won't let me. The realisation hit her and tears threatened to well in her eyes.
"I can't—" she gasped, her back slamming against the wall as she tried to stay upright. "I can't—"
"Azul, what's happening?" Borji was in front of her now, hands on her shoulders, his face pale with concern.
Then I'll die. The thought was clear.
I refuse to kill my own father! I'd rather kill myself.
Her hand shot out, faster than Borji could react, and closed around the hilt of his sword.
She yanked it free from its scabbard in one smooth motion, reversed the grip, and pressed the blade to her own throat.
"Azul!" Borji's voice cracked with panic.
The edge bit into her skin. She felt the sting, the warmth of blood already welling.
Her hands shook, locked in place, unable to advance or retreat.
"Let me—" she whispered, her eyes wild. "Let me go. Please. I can't—I won't—"
Borji's face was white. His hands were raised, placating, desperate. "Put down the sword. Please. We can—there has to be another way—"
"There isn't!" The words tore from her throat. "Don't you understand? They sold me! To a warlord! And I can't even—I can't even kill the man who did it because of this body—" She choked on a sob that was half laugh, half scream. The sword pressed harder. More blood.
His eyes darted between her face and the blade.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Then he lunged.
His hand struck her wrist, forcing the blade away from her throat. His other hand came up in a sharp blow to the side of her head, and her vision exploded into stars.
Everything went black.
It hurts.
Her throat was dry as sand, her eyes were rimmed red, and her wrists and shoulders ached against the wooden frame of her bed. He had tied her arms back, and so she could only stare absentmindedly at the ceiling, watching the thin curtains sway in the breeze.
What a pathetic life.
Truly, she hated it. Why did she have to restrain herself? Why fight with her own body? The more she considered the meeting, the more she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
What exactly have I been doing?
She couldn't even pinpoint it. Whatever it was, it wasn't enough. But what more could she do? She needed people around her, and the only one she could trust was Borji, and even he was not necessarily on her side.
She could not go on like this.
The room was too quiet.
"Azul," she whispered, her own name strange on her lips. "Why are you fighting me? You know my anger is your anger. Your past is mine. Your pain I inherit. Your dreams I will salvage. So why?"
The curtains swayed leisurely.