C. Bryant - Broken

Octavion gently wrapped Kira in a sheet and lifted her into his arms. She seemed lighter than he remembered and much warmer. Tiny rivulets of sweat formed on her forehead and drenched her hair.

Ussay stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. “I am ready.”

Octavion nodded to Rowin. A few seconds later they stood in a poorly lit hallway, so long it lay in shadows in both directions. Several sconces hung on the walls, but only a few were lit. Tall wooden doors lined both sides, while benches and tables filled the space between them. Tapestries adorned the walls and long rugs softened the white marble floor.

With the wave of a hand, Rowin caused the door in front of them to open. A Jayde , Octavion thought as an eerie glow flowed out into the hall. The sterile scent of freshly laundered linens wafted around them. Rowin ushered them into the large space where, not candles or torches, but glowing white stones perched atop rod iron stands. Some jutted out from the walls while others stood on the floor in various shapes, sizes and heights. The stones themselves seemed somewhat uniform in size-no bigger than a large egg-but were clustered in groups depending on the size of the disk at the top of the stand.

Dark drapes hung over several windows along the far wall. In the middle of the room, a small bed rose up from the ground like an altar-long and thin, resting on an ornate pedestal, making it about waist high. A thin mattress lay on top with a white cloth draped over it.

Behind the bed, in a straight line, stood five women, all wearing dark gray dresses and stark white aprons. Even their hair looked similar, dark and pulled up in a bun. They stared straight ahead and didn't move, not even to blink.

Rowin stepped further into the room and motioned for Octavion to lay Kira on the bed. “She will be well taken care of while you are away. Your maid may wait over there.” He pointed to a small bench near the oversized fireplace. No fire burned within its dark cavernous walls, but several of the glowing stones lay around its base.

Ussay quickly moved to her position, dropping the small satchel she'd packed at her feet. Her dark brown eyes scanned the room. Not many servants could boast about seeing any part of Panthera and she was in the castle. Knowing her childhood curiosity well, Octavion guessed she was both frightened for her life and about to jump out of her skin with excitement. If the situation weren't so serious, he might have teased her about it.

Instead, he stepped to the bed. His heart ached when he looked down at the fragile girl he held. He thought of the times he'd held her close, safe in his arms. It nearly tore him in two to see her like this-broken and at the mercy of strangers to save her life. She made no sound when he laid her limp body on the bed.

Octavion brushed a strand of hair back from her damp forehead and leaned in to softly kiss her feverish lips. “You are safe, Kira. You are going to be all right.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. If only he believed his own words. There was no way to know for sure if she’d survive, even with Pantherian magic. He leaned closer and whispered, “I love you. Be strong. Do not give up.” He straightened the hem of her gown and positioned her hands at her sides. He took a few steps back.

Rowin simply nodded and the five maids seemed to magically come to life. One unlaced Kira’s gown while another poured a green liquid into a wash basin and sponged her face and hair. The other three scattered to various locations around the room and retrieved clean linens, various herbs and a basketful of more glowing rocks, these casting an amber glow.

“We should leave them to their work,” Rowin said, pointing toward the door.

Octavion turned to Ussay. “You will stay with her.”

“Of course. I will not leave her side for even a moment.” She turned her attention back to the women. As hard as it was to trust Rowin’s people, he had to believe Kira’s needs would be met and pray to the gods her life would be spared.

Four hours later, Octavion had been thoroughly cleansed by seven beautiful women wearing nothing but flimsy gowns. Every curve of their bodies shone through the sheer fabric as they swayed one way or the other in front of one of the many candles in the room. The gowns barely reached mid-thigh and Octavion felt certain they wore nothing underneath. They cleansed every inch of his body from head to toe, which humiliated him beyond belief. These young women were either harlots who hoped to seduce him or virgins who didn't know better than to tempt a man with such promiscuous behavior.

By the time they brought out the vessels filled with sweet smelling oils to rub onto his skin, he'd had enough. He protested vehemently, but was told if he wanted to see King Ramla, it was necessary. For the remainder of his torture, he closed his eyes and tried to think about how all this would be worth it if Ramla agreed to his request.

After he'd been completely slathered, rubbed raw and clothed in plain white trousers and oversized tunic, he was told to wait. He could either stay awake or sleep, but he had to remain on a stone bench in the main hall, flanked by two armed Royals. Sleep was impossible, not because it would be uncomfortable, but because all he could think about was Kira. He'd enquired several times, but was told her needs were being met and that he should remain there or he'd have to go through the cleansing process again.

So he sat.

And waited.

Octavion wondered if all this was some kind of test. Perhaps they expected him to give into the temptations while bathing, or get tired of waiting and decide Kira's life wasn't worth the trouble and discomfort. All kinds of thoughts scurried around in his head, including a list of possible demands from King Ramla. The list was short. What could a king who has everything want in return for a little magic?

It wasn't until the room filled with early morning sunlight and the castle was abuzz with servants scrambling to their work, that someone finally came to retrieve Octavion. By then his backside was numb from sitting on the stone bench and his feet tingled alive when he stood to follow the manservant.

A few moments later, they entered a magnificent garden, the likes of which Octavion had never seen-ornate shrubs sculpted into strange creatures, flowers with blooms larger than a stew pot and stone statuaries that towered over them.

In the middle of a small courtyard stood King Ramla. To Octavion's surprise, he wore a simple outfit, one you might find a commoner wearing-brown twill pants, a dark blue tunic and leather sandals. No jewels or precious metals adorned his clothes or hung around his neck, only a simple silver band around the middle finger on his right hand.

But what shocked Octavion the most, was that the mighty King Ramla-a man feared by everyone-played ball with a young boy. Not in the traditional sense, but by magic, making the ball whirl around in the air with a flick of their wrists. The boy ran up to the king and tried to hold the ball in the air with so much concentration a pained expression twisted his face. The ball fell to the ground and rolled under a bush shaped like a lion. Ramla laughed from deep inside his gut, then patted the boy on the head.

“Run along, now. We shall finish your lesson later. I have business to attend to.” Ramla gently patted the boy's back. The boy turned, gave the man a hug and scurried under the bush to get the ball.

Octavion straightened to his full stature, finally gaining the king's attention. When their eyes met, Octavion bowed deeply and lowered his eyes. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Excellency.” His heart hammered against the inside of his chest and he was sure Ramla could hear it. There were a few moments of awkward silence before Octavion straightened again, meeting the king's eyes.