A Princess for the Witch Doctor (Legends of Rahasia Book 3)

Chapter Twenty-One

Pari's leaning close to Tawil, his golden-streaked curls mingling against Tawil's ochre skin. Pari's flush with a sort of giddiness you only see in adolescents, whispering and holding a vial aloft.

"I swear, Tawil, this potion works."

I pause a few strides from the squat, arched gates of the ugly, clay-colored prisons. Potions, what in the gods' names are they discussing? Drugs?

Feeling particularly clandestine, I duck behind one of the scratched-up pillars. Someone's etched a countdown of sorts into the wall. Probably counting down either days to freedom, or execution if you're feeling less optimistic. The Rahasian prisons still attempt to be flamboyant, as architecture in this Empire usually is, but it still smells like piss even if you carve roses into the wall and wards against evil.

Tawil licks his lips, no longer a nobleman or a confident party boy. His eyes are rimmed in red, skin chapped. "You know I'm trying to quit."

Pari sighs, the half-Idriolan coaxing the vial further. "Yes, and with this, you should finally be able to quit your alcoholic addiction."

"The healers are getting worried. I might..." Tawil swallows, bobbing nervously, "I might not be there for my kid if I keep it up. But Pari, the things I saw in Raja. Damn, even the things we saw before then. The golems raiding villages. The shallow graves of all those other patrolmen on our squad."

Drinking habit? I mean, I knew Tawil had a drinking problem, but I never thought it reached that far.And, as for what Tawil referenced with the patrolmen dying, it never occurred to me that their lashing out at me might be for reasons other than my being a princess. It never occurred to me, believing foolishly that I'd never fall in combat, that they might be afraid for their lives. Maybe Cato did something else when he gave you his gift. Maybe he made you so bullheaded you didn't even fear death.

Inhuman. They made me inhuman.

I never realized just how much suffering goes into the life of a mere soldier. That they'd be struck with such horrible nightmares from the monsters we've seen. That they'd be driven to liquor's arms, just like Tawil.

Maybe they didn't lash out at me in anger. Maybe they did it out of fear.

"I know you're worried," Pari soothes. Tawil falls into Pari's arms, sobbing. "I'm scared too. You never know which sunset will be your last. But you have to fight to see the sunrise, okay? For your daughter."

I turn back, deciding against ruining such a perfect moment. When they turn away, I head for the prison exits.

"Princess!" That's Pari's lilting Idriolan accent. "Did you want to see the Jiwanese sorcerer today?" His voice is too cheery, dripping with suspicion. "Or did you want to hear more of our conversation?"

Tawil rubs his eyes, staring down at his boots to hide his face, swollen from tears.

I cough, make my way awkwardly to the gate. "Erm, yes." I nod, all traces of awkwardness leaving my face as I remember my mission. "I believe I found the Dukun's real name." I look to Tawil, who turns anxiously to me. His eyes are guarded again, appearing miserably apathetic. "This nightmare ends now."

Tawil and Pari look to each other, then shrug, bowing just the slightest as I pass them.

I feel their eyes on my back as I enter the shadows near the witch doctor's cage. But that feeling, the prickling on the back of my neck, it leaves as the cool dark embraces me.

A voice, silky. An echoing chamber, mostly inside my head.

"Hello, Putri..." A laugh like smoke, something you can't grasp. Ethereal. Intangible. "Care to play the game?"

***

Readers,

Sh*t gets real.

-Sophia