Thorn Boy and Other Dreams of Dark Desire (9 page)

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Authors: Storm Constantine

Tags: #angels, #fantasy, #short stories, #storm constantine

BOOK: Thorn Boy and Other Dreams of Dark Desire
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He took my
face in his hands. ‘I know how much you want to believe that,
Darien, but it would be unfair of me to say that I was that person
in the shrine.’


But you
said yourself you can’t remember what happened in
Phasmagore.’


I’d
remember that!’ he said. ‘No, we must be realistic. Our
relationship is based on earthly things, but even so it is precious
to me. This summer, you have saved my sanity a hundred times.’ He
leaned forward and kissed me.


I love
you,’ I told him, the first time I had ever uttered those words to
anyone. ‘But so does Alofel. We must be careful and use his
feelings to protect you from Menefer.’


Are you
suggesting I give in to Alofel’s need?’

I shook my
head with passion. ‘No! He would monopolise you, and then I’d have
nothing. All I meant was that it must be made clear to him you
don’t want to leave here.’

Akaten looked
troubled. ‘I will do as you think best,’ he said, although I could
tell part of him still wondered whether he should return to Mewt
and live a life of isolated grief.

The next day,
I reported to Alofel that Akaten had no desire to return home,
hardening my heart to the joy this news brought to his face.


It may
be,’ I said coolly, ‘that Menefer will have to hear this from
Akaten himself before he believes it.’ Part of me was still bruised
from hearing the Khan’s name on Akaten’s lips in the heat of
passion, and I felt he deserved at least a little
discomfort.

Alofel nodded.
‘This is true. How does Akaten feel about facing Harakhte’s
brother?’

I shrugged.
‘I’m sure he can be persuaded.’


Then
make sure he is.’

Akaten was, as
I’d anticipated, far from overjoyed by this development. When I
went to him, later that morning, and informed him what he must do,
he flung himself around the room in a panic. ‘I cannot! No! It must
not be!’

Sprawled in a
chair, I watched his confusion. ‘Alofel wants this proof from you
and so do I.’

He paused in
his wild pacing and stared at me with round eyes. ‘You profess to
love me, yet you’d force me to endure this?’


See
reason,’ I said casually. ‘It is all a game, and this is merely
another move. Think of your own survival. Alofel has granted you
his protection. There is nothing to fear.’

Akaten shook
his head. I knew what he feared most: the diluted image of
Harakhte’s face before him, etched onto the younger brother’s
features. He dreaded a resurgence of grief and shame and anguish. I
was unsure why I wanted him to go through it, but I did.


There
is nothing left for you in Mewt,’ I said. ‘Your life is here now, a
fresh, new start. You fear Alofel casting you aside? He won’t.
Eventually, he will grant you status, and perhaps a house of your
own. He will give you anything you ask for.’


And
will you share this house with me?’ He sneered. ‘I am not a fool,
Darien. We both know our place. My future here is precarious,
unless I give myself to your king. We are owned creatures, without
free will. Our affair is as ephemeral as this summer. How can it
last? And when it is ended for us, what will become of me
then?’

I was silent
for a moment. ‘You under-estimate your influence with the
king.’

He raised his
eyebrows. ‘If I speak to Menefer as you desire, then I’ll be at
Alofel’s mercy.’


You
believed yourself to be so before Menefer arrived, so what
difference will that make?’

Akaten shook
his head. ‘Darien, I think you have a cruel streak within you.’


It is
the streak which ensures survival. Learn its colour.’

His eyes
hardened. ‘Very well. But remember you instructed me.’

Akaten was
presented to Menefer in the Council Chamber. Golden morning
sunlight streamed in through the high windows, dust caught like the
ghosts of thoughts in its rays. Prudently, Alofel was not present,
but three members of the Council and myself were in attendance.

Menefer was
seated among his entourage, but stood up when Akaten came into the
room. His face - I could hardly bear to look at it. Admiration,
relief, joy.


You are
safe,’ Menefer said, as if until that moment, he had believed
Akaten had been killed or else incarcerated in some dungeon
pit.

Akaten’s face
was pinched, although his frown could not eclipse his natural
beauty. He nodded. ‘Yes.’


We have
all been concerned for you.’ Menefer went towards him and Akaten
took a step back.


I have
been treated very well, with every consideration.’

Menefer’s face
began to cloud, as if he intuited what was to come. In a quiet
voice, he said, ‘I mean to take you home.’

Akaten lifted
his head. His eyes were dry, his voice surprisingly firm. ‘I
cannot, Lord Menefer, return with you.’

Menefer’s
people all began to mutter and stir upon their seats. Menefer
silenced them with a raised hand. ‘You can,’ he said, ‘if you ask
for it. King Alofel told me this himself. It is why we are here
now.’

Akaten shook
his head. ‘I cannot.’


What
have they done to you?’ Menefer demanded. ‘What threats have been
made?’

It was the
turn of my people now, to stir uncomfortably.


None,’
Akaten said, ‘but I will not go back with you.’


Why?’
Implications filled that simple, softly-spoken word.


My life
is here now,’ Akaten said. ‘Harakhte is dead. There is nothing for
me to return to.’


Your
people,’ Menefer said quietly, treacherously. ‘You have a
responsibility.’


No-one
has the right to ask anything of me. I was devoted to Harakhte, you
know that, but he is no more.’

Menefer
shook his head in disbelief. ‘Are you saying that you
want
to stay here?’


Yes.’

Menefer
laughed, incredulous. ‘Then you are not the person I believed you
to be! Has the wealth of Cos seduced you, or its murdering
king?’

Perhaps only I
could see how Menefer’s words were wounding Akaten. He did not
flinch or stumble over his words, but his pain seemed like a
visible aura to me. ‘Alofel has been kind to me. I wish to forget
the past. I will remain here.’

There was
silence for a moment, a terrible silence. Then Menefer released a
string of insults. ‘You are a whore! Unworthy of honour! In Mewt,
your name shall be erased from all Harakhte’s monuments, where once
they waited for your blessing! I am only relieved my brother cannot
witness your treachery!’ With these words, he spat in Akaten’s face
and stalked from the room, his entourage hurrying behind him.

Akaten stood
in a ray of sunlight, his head bowed. He looked shrunken, ill. For
a moment, a shadow passed across my mind. Then I went to him, put
my arms around him, and he allowed me to lead him from the
room.

After this,
relations with the Mewts cooled considerably, and only two days
later, they rode away from Tarnax, leaving Alofel’s government in a
state of consternation. They feared trouble would follow the Mewts’
departure, and more than one councillor confided to me that perhaps
it would have been better if Menefer had been granted his wish. I
tried to allay their anxieties, and reminded them that Akaten was
indeed a spoil of war and that to relinquish him would perhaps have
had worse consequences than keeping him at Tarnax. Mewt must know
its position; a conquered country. It could not stamp its foot,
make demands, and expect to have them granted.

Alofel
appeared unconcerned, his steady eyes daring anyone to comment on
the wisdom of his actions. I am quite sure a lot was murmured
behind his back.

Queen Mallory
did not shrink from making her sentiments known. I found out very
quickly what she had to say about the situation. There were
accusations that Akaten was a spy of Menefer’s, that the
performance in the Council Chamber had been a premeditated act,
designed to lull Alofel’s suspicions. Menefer might once have felt
resentful of Harakhte, and coveted the throne, but now that he had
it, had rediscovered his patriotism, and even now plotted to evict
our army from his country. Akaten knew this and had resolved to
remain in Tarnax in order to gather information. I even heard one
rumour that Akaten would kill Alofel in his sleep, given the
chance.

Perhaps
Mallory was astute about Menefer, but I gave no credence to her
claims that Akaten was part of any plot. I knew that what irked her
more than anything was the fact that Alofel had true affection to
give to Akaten. I, and the other concubines, were tolerated because
Mallory thought we meant little more to Alofel than his favourite
dogs. We were an unavoidable nuisance. But, as I had, Mallory
sensed that Akaten could be something more. We all knew that
Harakhte had granted Akaten status above the queen of Mewt.
Mallory, no doubt, feared the same happening here. In her eyes, she
already had to make too many concessions to whores and catamites.
She had allies in her smear campaign, for there were still many who
would have liked to see Akaten shipped back to Mewt.

The king
himself stepped in to end the intrigue. He summoned the entire
court, not to the Council Chamber, but to the Hall of Judging,
where decisions over the gravest matters of state were made. Here
Alofel made a statement. He said that any accusations made against
Akaten, were in effect made against the Crown, since Alofel himself
had decreed Akaten would remain in Tarnax. Speaking plainly, he
stated that if any more ill-founded rumours came to his ears, he
would discover the identity of the perpetrator and punish them
severely, whoever they were. This was a public humiliation for
Mallory, because everyone was aware towards whom the threats were
directed. Mallory and Alofel had never been in dispute before. I
knew that he respected her and was often lenient in his treatment
of his spirited consort, but this time she had underestimated his
feelings and had gone too far. I knew that Akaten had made a
dangerous enemy, but was confident that Alofel’s love would shield
him.

I had
protected Akaten from the malicious gossip as best I could,
although after Menefer’s departure, he seemed in such a daze, he
was incapable of noticing any hostile nuances around him. He had
become introverted, troubled. I understood the trauma he’d been
through, but trusted I could heal his troubled spirits. He did not
seem to harbour any ill-feeling towards me for my part in his
trials, and I took this at face value. His beauty, however, became
haunted. Occasionally, he would start at nothing, and stare at
empty corners of the room. Sometimes, I awoke in the dead of night
to find him pacing up and down beside our bed, mumbling in Mewtish
under his breath. He always responded to my voice and came silently
to my side, curling up against me, but we no longer seem to
communicate in the way we had. He would not articulate his fears,
no matter how I cajoled him. Occasionally, he would refuse to eat
for days at a time, and became feverish, but again, he obeyed my
injunctions without argument, and sipped the herbal concoctions I
procured for him from the palace apothecary. During this time, my
lust for him became inflamed, and I forced myself upon him at every
opportunity. Wearily, he submitted himself to my demands, a passive
lover whose eyes were clouded. I realise now I was stupid, and did
not heed the signs. I should have pressed him to speak to me,
forced him to voice his anger, for it was there. All the time.
Unspoken.

Alofel
commented a couple of times on Akaten’s apparent preoccupation, and
seemed to hold me personally responsible for his episodes of
vagueness and delirium. Patiently, I shouldered these criticisms
with many apologies, continuing to dose Akaten with potent elixirs
and smother him with affection. It seemed, eventually, to work.
Never again did I hear Harakhte’s name upon his lips.

The summer
cracked and dried the land, heading towards a change of season. As
the nights cooled slightly, Akaten seemed to settle down. His
behaviour became less eccentric, his smile rested easier on his
face. Although the country of Mewt might have dropped off the face
of the earth, for all mention he made of it, we did begin to
converse freely once more. About nothing, really.

One night, he
initiated our love-making himself, and I was filled with relief.
Alofel stopped complaining, and once more took delight in Akaten’s
daily company. Akaten himself seemed to derive more pleasure from
his conversations with the king. He would return from the royal
apartments with a spring in his step and try to tell me about what
they discussed. I had no interest at all in their conversations,
and responded only in mono-syllables. Sometimes, I caught Akaten
regarding me wryly as I snapped some dismissive remark at him, but
I was stupid enough to pay it no heed. Queen Mallory’s waspish
comments about Akaten lost their sting. Nobody believed now that he
was a threat to national security. He was no longer referred to as
the Khan’s boy, or even ‘the Mewt’.

Akaten
generally returned from the royal chambers several hours before I
could expect the king’s summons, but as time went on, and the
colours of the garden changed to brazen gold, the time between our
visits to Alofel grew less and less, until one evening I found
myself passing Akaten on the stairs outside Alofel’s rooms. I
paused, a little surprised. ‘It must have been a long conversation
today.’


Not as
long as yours will be, surely!’ he answered, rather
coldly.

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