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

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Dressed in Jiwanese outerwear, a tight sash tied round my middle, a flowing kebaya of bright yellow and imported Okami hairpins, I enter my fathers' throne room.

The Rahasian fashions seem so distant now, a mere memory. The courtiers keeping their respectful distance, not a whisper or a giggle at my name, not a name that brings so much power with it. The Scholars of highest rank, Uncle Boaz now leading talks amongst them. The endless procession of advisors and those seeking the Empire's asylum. Amongst the eager, Jiwanese-exile faces, I recognize someone who looks eerily similar to Mawar, cradling a young baby in her arms.

Mawar's sister. I look away quickly, swallowing, my throat tight against the newly feminine attire I'm wearing. Perfect for a blushing bride. Or maybe just a shadow of guilt.

I bow as I approach the throne, the seams of my cloth stretching tightly over the muscle in my shoulders and thighs. Oh, how I miss my armor. I whimper as Ode's dagger shifts against my stomach, the only place the sash would give to hide it.

"Rumor has it you'll be married." Baba Elio begins, wearing the elaborate gold crown of the emperor, dressed in glittering sun-tinged gold. "Is rumor wrong?"

I bow deeper, if only to avoid the disappointment in his gaze. The fear of loss in Papa Ryu's. The fear of abandonment in Elio's. "Rumor's not wrong this time, baba." I whisper, trying to get the words past my throat. The words damning me to spend most my days with a man I'm not even sure I wholly love. "I'm betrothed to Sultan Raharjo."

Ratu, Queen of Thieves and grandmotherly leader of the Jiwanese exiles, steps forwards. The woman I thought was Mawar's sister stands beside her. "Have you found the witch doctor's name?"

I match her shrewd gaze evenly, struggling not to flinch against the weight of wisdom in her eyes. "Harto... pardon me, Sultan Raharjo made it clear that someone would be executed if I failed to find the witch doctor's name." I look to Papa Ryu, who's covering his ochre lips with a slender hand, his eyes welling over with tears. "We came to a compromise of marriage instead of an execution, to unite our two peoples."

Papa Ryu's hand drops to his side, and he wails, "but you're facing a different kind of death now instead. Arni, how could you reduce yourself to a bargaining chip?" I flinch at his words, my heart breaking as he burrows his head into Baba Elio's strong shoulder. The Emperor slings his arm around his sobbing husband's shoulders to calm him.

I hold my head high, my words carrying throughout the entirety of the room. "A good leader doesn't just win wars, they never get into them. Isn't that right, Emperor Elio?"

Baba Elio examines me, his gaze unfaltering.

"Yes," he muses, "but a ruler is still human, after all. And their advice is flawed." He holds his hands up high. "I'd suppose you're asking for my blessing?" I nod, and he continues onwards. "Then I will bless you if you say a prayer to the gods for some more accurate advice."

"Done." I reply, stubborn as can be.

"Good," and with a twinkle in his eye, my father damns me. "Then pray to Ode Ngayoh, the goddess of death, for her guidance." He declares. "If you're up to the challenge, that is."

***

Readers,

Yes, Elio just did that.

Best

Sophia