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

Chapter Forty-Four

I swing Baqir over my head, preparing for a deliverance blow.

That's when Zahra kicks my feet out from under me, leaving me with her blade pressed into my throat, and her grinning down. Half her face a golem of stone and earth.

"If only I could disarm you like this all the time."

I grin, nodding to Ode's dagger, which I discreetly pressed towards her belly when she was gloating. "I've got tricks too, golem girl."

A figure waves at us to grab our attention. I know we've gathered a small crowd of passing servants, warriors, and villagers with our sparring in the training yards. The last person I expected was perfect Mawar. As usual, not a hair out of place. But there's some strength in that. As firm of a mask as the witch doctor's. A shield of seeming togetherness, protecting her from the acerbity of others' judgment.

"Princess Arnina, if I may?"

I nod, clasping Zahra's arm in mine to hoist myself up. I hand her Baqir, and she takes it with little flourish. "I'll have our servants clean it." She notes, gesturing to the Rahasia servants waiting patiently on the sideline. Servants who, per my fathers' orders, also double as spies.

Zahra's granting me a quiet word with Mawar. Thank the Empire.

I press my forehead to hers in gratitude. "Good sparring." I tell her.

She points downwards. Ode's dagger, it's in her hand. And this time, she's pressing it into my rib cage ever so slightly. "Until next time." She chuckles, heading out to get my weapons polished. She leaves a few of my guards to protect me, but they're too far away to listen in on my and Mawar's conversation.

Mawar looks at me, then at Zahra's retreating form, so tall she towers above everybody in the yard. "Do you care for her?" She tilts her head to the side, curious.

"Of course." I answer, taking the damp towel she offers me, scented with lemon.

"No." She shakes her head. "Do you carefor her?"

I consider this question myself. Do I care for Zahra that way? I bow my head, thinking to when I first saw her in Boaz's library. How we chatted as we filed away dusty tomes, pored over old texts long out of fashion. How she carried me from the Temple District during the riots, vowing how I'd always come first.

Thinking of all those things, how could I not care for her? It was the logical choice.

Then I think to Harto, just a young man in a garden. Away from the court, turned from a lion into a lamb, gently caring for his grandmother. Irrational to be attached this early, maybe. I wouldn't have been the first princess in the world to fall for a pretty face.

But I'll be damned if I fall for anyone yet.

"My people always come first." I reply, thinking of Ratu. My fathers. Pari. Tawil. Saban, Kura, and Sol. Dasha and Little Malala. Lufti even, patriotic as can be, still saddened at the thought of losing a single Jiwanese riot-survivor.

"That's not an answer." Mawar remarks, though it isn't accusatory. Simply accurate. "Anyways, the sultan believes you should participate in a court dance. To demonstrate your abilities to the Jiwanese court."

"Why?" The edge of my lip quirks upwards. "I was doing so well at the dinner and in the reception room. I can't imagine anyone with better manners in the whole world." When Mawar refuses to laugh, I have to clarify. "It's a joke, my sister."

She humors me with a light smile. A courtier's laugh, not reaching the eyes. "It's a slow dance, showcasing a woman's elegance and grace."

Oof. Elegance and grace. Those are two words that should never describe me.

"The sultan," she continues, "will present a dance of military capabilities. Demonstrating moves with weaponry and without."

"That," I say, "sounds much more preferable for me."

She sighs, staring patiently at the ground. "The dances have always been separated into men and women. It'd be unheard of..."

"How about this. You can dance the graceful dance for me, and I can dance with the weaponry." I tell her, handing back the towel. She sinks a little further. "That way, nobody loses."

She sighs. I'm starting to think that's her permanent state when dealing with me. "They'll be able to see our faces."

I laugh, slinging my arm gently around her. "That's what masks are for!"

***

Readers,

Arnina is a compromise queen. Like me, she believes indecision is the best decision.

-Sophia