We face weeks of anxious waiting. Days broken up by trips to the garden with Harto, tea with Nenek Wulan, the training yards with Zahra, trips to the kampungs, or surrounding villages, and an endless array of boring court life. No matter how beautiful the dances or what new, admittedly delicious, food dish they come up with, I can't bring myself to forget.
War.
War.
War.
The noise pulses incessantly. In my heart. A drumbeat signaling the oncoming of war. Of the burning of that garden. Of the forced removal of the elderly and children. Of training yards turning to military hospitals or barracks. Of villages being destroyed. Of court life ending entirely and being replaced by news of naval fleets or magical intervention.
"All will be well." Harto reaches over the feasting table to squeeze my hand in his, mistaking my nightmarish anxiety for mere discomfort. He smiles slightly, accentuating the handprint scar, the piercing eyes. "You'll see."
Zahra pretends not to notice the gesture, even as she stands watch over my shoulder.
I'm picking at nasi goreng andkrupuk, or rice slathered in oil and egg, and a bit of fish-flavored biscuits, when the messenger enters the hall. He's sweating, all but shaking from running so fast from the docks.
"Well?" Harto releases my hand as he stands, and Zahra relaxes, even as I tense up at the sight of the messenger's face. I try to see into his mind, if there's any note of his hiding good news. Of michief behind the smile.
Nothing.
I pray that my first instinct is wrong.
The messenger bows, face still grim and contorted. "The second guess at the witch doctor's name has failed, oh great Sultan Raharjo of Jiwa." He prostrates himself before the throne. Harto waves him away, and the guards drag the poor man to his feet.
"Arnina, with me." He whispers, as discontent brews amongst the courtiers. "To the garden." With that, he turns away. I nod for Zahra to stay where she is, briefly flashing her my dagger, hidden at my belt.
I can take care of myself. The gesture says.
But the worry evident in her eyes says otherwise.
***
Readers,
Zahra: I don't ship it.
Harto: I do.
Arnina: Ugh. Love triangles. Throw in the witch doctor-who-shall-not-be-named, and you have a square.
Sophia (ME): Squares can be fun.
-Sophia
YOU ARE READING
A Princess for the Witch Doctor (Legends of Rahasia Book 3)
FantasyRUMPELSTILTSKIN RETELLING. "I challenge you to find my name, princess. Three tries." Light flickers beneath the recesses of his mask, the wooden fangs and shadowed eyes. "Think you can beat me?" *** A witch doctor, user of dark magic, terrorizes a...
