“I know everything, princess Fatima.”
Fatima Asina flinched as the no-name scribe spoke. There was something uncanny about the woman, many things, in fact. Not only did the aura around her feel totally different around her than a few days ago, but the was also an inherent… presence to her.
Not unlike her mother.
Something is wrong… The sultanzade recomposed, flowing vitality across her body and shifting her stance to sense from charm. That stance had proven to be useless against the scribe, somehow. People had different tolerances to the charm stance, some were resistant, and others were weak against it. Her half-sister Rani and her mother were the most resistant people she had seen, especially Rani, but that scribe wasn’t like them.
She had seen it and checked it. Not only did she notice the traces of Rani’s charm in the woman when they met, but also used it on her on every occasion she had met with her. There wasn’t the innate repulsion of charm-resistant people, and whilst suggestable, the scribe wasn’t weak either.
Malleable would be the right word.
The scribe wouldn’t bend, but it was easy enough to influence her with subtle hints. Especially during long exposure. So why hasn’t it worked? Even with her sense stance active now, she couldn’t read the woman. The lack of openings felt as if she was an expert fighter. On the battlefield of subterfuge, of course.
“E-everything?” Fatima didn’t take a breath but opted to continue talking. “Let me express my doubt, scribe.” Silence could be used to manifest strength, but in moments like this, they only represented weakness.
The scribe smiled. Even in her prone and feeble state, she was undecipherable. Has Rani trained her? Or is this because she was interested in her in the first place? Too many unknowns…
“My current… situation is not without its perks.” The petite woman spoke calmly. Her voice gained a degree of sultriness and sweetness.
Charm? No. Fatima discarded instantly. I would have felt it with the sense stance, and even if she has plenty of innate vitality, she doesn’t look like a cultivator. Mother would have killed her otherwise. Is this just plain conversational skill?
“The sultanah certainly did a number of her body, but also provided with much needed information. And it was not as if I was in the blind before.” The confidence on the disabled woman was astonishing, rendering Fatima breathless.
“Words are not enough to prove your claims. I need something more, scribe.” The sultanzade projected strength, slightly flexing her arms and puffing her chest.
“I would say otherwise, princess Fatima.” Even then, the woman didn’t falter. “I think you will change your mind if I say something.”
“And what may that something be?” The cultivator held her breath and stood upright.
“Your mother reaped me.”
Fatima backpedaled at the words and the expression of the scribe. The young woman’s face turned into a grim work, an offense to speech, the visage of a predator. Hate. Fatima Asina noticed the pouring emotion. The familiar emotion. Is… is she a sultanzade?
“H-how… what… who are you?” The words left the princess’ mouth unconsciously. Not even an instant later she already regretted it.
The scribe’s smile exacerbated. “This is not about me, is it? We were talking about the aphrodisiac.”
No, that wasn’t the question. Even if she was a bastard child of an older sultanzade, that wasn’t the subject at hand. She had lost a lot of terrain because of that slip. For better or worse, she had now to treat that woman like a sultanzade. With a helping hand of equality and another holding a poisoned dagger.
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“So you know about Nurture and reaping?” Fatima asked calmly. “Even if you were a virgin when you arrived at the palace?”
A blink was all it took for the scribe to come up with her answer. “I did not have the opportunity to reap.”
Truth. Her enhanced sense caught no wrongness in the petite woman’s body. Not a skipped heartbeat, a held breath, nor a twitch in her visage. She’s being truthful. Fatima had hoped the woman was just bluffing, but considering she knew about cultivators and somehow survived Aaliyah-al-Ydaz, that meant her standing was greater than a random scribe.
“I see…” The words of the not-so-scribe resonated with the sultanzade. I guess it’s not that weird. Mother only allows us – or rather forces us – to reap after we are fifteen. And what is she? Twenty? No, less. She’s short, but that’s not an age thing. Her skin is too smooth and her hair vibrant with age. She must be eighteen, closer to nineteen, maybe. So it’s not that farfetched for her to not indulge in reaping if she wasn’t born in the palace.
“Now,” the petite woman’s emerald eyes glinted with sharpness, “you may understand that I am a bit out of the loop with reaping. So I ask again now that all the cards are on the table, why are you so in need of my aphrodisiac?”
For a brief instant, Fatima thought that the young woman had activated her charm stance. The best way to know if someone had switched into that stance was to look for their eyes, which was casually also the best way to get enthralled. But after careful consideration – and a long analysis of vitality through her enhanced senses – the sultanzade realized yet again that it was just her imagination.
Maybe I’m too on edge, the only people that I know of that can switch in-and-out of charm stance that fast are Mother and… Fuck. Realization struck Fatima like the sole of her mother driving her head to the ground. She had experienced that more than once. Rani, of course. Did she teach her charm? Has she been using it all this time and switching out of it just so I couldn’t notice? Is this your new spy, sister? Weren’t maids enough?
Fatima sweetened her visage and let all the projection of strength vanish. If she was a hidden sultanzade or trained by one, then they were on a similar field and such tactics wouldn’t work. Not that they had worked. Not any longer.
“Aloe, was it?” The princess did her best to recall the name of the scribe. If it wasn’t because of the aphrodisiac, she would have totally forgotten it. “As you may be aware, yes, I require your aphrodisiac for my reapings,” Fatima admitted. “Its lascivious properties are already heaven-like, but there is something else I have found from your aphrodisiac.”
“Please, do tell.” Aloe refused to stand down. She wouldn’t trade that information for other information. The intention was clear, she was stating that the product was hers alone.
“As you may know, there is a limit as to how many times you can reap in a day. It is not exactly set in stone, but most cultivators can only do it once or twice a day, which is not a lot. That means it would take a whole week to drain the usable vitality of any offering.” Fatima herself was on the ‘once’ side of the spectrum, but she didn’t tell that. “Yet I have found that with your aphrodisiac, that limit becomes blurrier. Making the strict constrictions to go as far as four reapings possible per day. A significant increase of vitality.”
That amount was intoxicating. That meant that any cultivator could remove all the usable vitality of a person in three days. Three days to drain a person instead of a week, twenty-five days to collect a whole vitality deposit instead of three months.
Aloe didn’t show her expression, but Fatima noticed the glint in her eyes. She recognized the importance of the aphrodisiac.
“Princess Fatima, you may be aware that this information changes things.” She stated calmly.
“Will it?” The sultanzade tried to hide her uncertainty under the veil of a threat, but she knew that the power was in the scribe’s hands. She survived Mother. Her. The woman who almost killed her son during sparring barely a month ago. That alone put her on a level higher than most sultanzade, such a feat of strength was impressive.
“Now, I am a magnanimous person.” Fatima stopped breathing at that choice of words. No one who is at a disadvantage describes themselves as a magnanimous person. “We do not need to change our previous agreement.”
“But?” The hidden intentions were obvious.
“But I would prefer this conversation to be kept secret.” Aloe finished. “I fear that too many eyes and ears are upon us, and neither of us would like to deal with multiple sultanzade over the aphrodisiac, would we?”
“But of course.” Fatima almost found herself bowing at those words. There was something in the cadence that made her comply. The woman is definitely using charm. She managed to correct herself in the last instant and change the movement for an exaggerated nod. “Though I fear that is not the only thing you want from me, am I wrong?”
“No, you are right.” The scribe nodded with her eyes closed. “There is something else.”
“And that may be?”
“I want you to teach me Nurture.”