“Good girl,” Fatima snickered enthusiastically, supporting her back again on the chair. “Now, you have an idea of what this last stance may be?”
What the ninth stance may be? No amount of pondering could make Aloe come up with an answer. The best choice was to take a diplomatic answer. “Stances are diverse and multifaceted; I cannot hope to imagine what this last one must do.”
The princess rolled her eyes and sighed, “Killjoy.”
Many thoughts blossomed and withered in Aloe’s mind. The inconsistency of the sultanzade’s mood irked her to no limit. Sometimes the woman was playing the game, and other times she was playing a game.
“The name of the stance is flowing. Does that bring you any ideas?” Fatima observed her without much interest.
“Taking into account that you mentioned this ‘flowing’ stance is the most special of all, I doubt it is related to swimming.”
“Well,” she shrugged, “it could.”
“May I inquire in the meaning of ‘could’?” Aloe focused her sights on the woman, her neck hurting already from having her head turned to the side for this long.
“It could. Simple as that.”
“Are we playing twenty-one questions?” The scribe deadpanned.
“Perhaps.” The sultanzade smiled at her again.
It took Aloe a lot of willpower to not scowl at the imperial. But knowing how her family worked, she may well be into that. Deviants, all of them. She knew better than actually doing it, even if in some twisted way it could work.
“I fear I am at my wit's end,” Aloe added after a solid minute of ponderation. “Maybe something about blood?”
“Good guess,” Fatima commented neutrally as she caressed her hair.
“Was it a correct guess, though?”
“It could be.” She smiled again with that know-it-all grin.
“I fear that these lessons may have been a miscalculation on my part.” Even her manner of showing displeasure was diplomatic, putting the blame on herself instead of highlighting the defects of her partner.
“You have too much fear in your body, dear.” Fatima put her arms behind her head and stretched them. A moan left her lips as she stretched far more than the scribe would have been capable of.
The tactic employed by the imperial was obvious. Her body lay exposed, her open dress highlighting her bountiful cleavage as it heaved up and down from the exercises. A poor demonstration of sex. Something as dull as that wouldn’t work in Aloe.
And she was angry at herself because it worked.
There was no attraction nor desire, but the fact that she was looking at Fatima was defeat enough. That was how this type of games were played.
“Anyhow,” The buxom woman jumped out of her chair, her dress lagging a bit behind and letting the scribe peer at her defined and thick legs. “We have lost too much time with games this night. We will continue in the next session with the explanation of what the flowing stance actually is and maybe then practice some of the stances that interest you.”
“Thanks for your help, princess.” Aloe raised her back from the bed, not without a groan of pain. First the carrot… “But future sessions could do better with fewer games.” Then the stick.
“Oh, dear.” The sultanzade’s movements were swift and fast. Aloe didn’t have enough time to react even with acuity before she put her hand under her chin. “Then do not be so playful.”
Her intentions were as obvious as the desert sun. The scribe didn’t let herself get intimidated or excited by the woman’s touches. Not ever again.
“See you in the next lesson, teacher.” Aloe bid her goodbyes with a visage devoid of emotions.
Acuity may have failed to capture the swiftness of the warrior, but she could catch the sentiments of the maiden. And somehow, that lackluster response had excited her more than any other word she could have given her.
----------------------------------------
Not even a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast had helped Aloe come up with an answer. There weren’t many clues, only a name and two binary questions she knew a non-committal answer. That was not enough to decipher the true nature of the flowing stance.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The scribe remained in a sour mood for the rest of the morning, doing her best to come up with an answer that may not even exist. No, she wouldn’t do that… Well, maybe she would, but I didn’t get that picture from our conversation.
She passed the opportunity of a walk as the paltry demonstrations of the sultanzade had left her in the mud. Not even with speed she could already outrun my eyes… It was a terrifying notion, especially considering Fatima’s inferiority complex. A person with such thoughts wouldn’t be the most competent. I know nothing about the imperial hierarchy, but if she’s that desperate, she has to have some chance at their fight. Bottom of the barrel is out of the question, maybe more along the middle of the pack?
There were dozens of sultanzade, so being around the middle of their hierarchy spoke great heights about those at the top. This was all a supposition, of course. And yet, no matter how high up the sultanzade at the top was, Aloe knew they couldn’t even begin to compare with the monster that was her mother.
Aloe shivered and gritted her teeth.
Her jaw hurt from the gesture as she was currently donning strength, making her teeth weaker yet her jaw strength greater.
Before it was lunchtime, someone knocked on the door. Even though she wasn’t using acuity, from the knocking cadence and the fact that whoever it was knocked at all, it taught Aloe that it wasn’t Farah nor Fatima.
“Come in,” Aloe spoke after putting a few pillows on her back to raise her body.
“Excuse me,” A young voice greeted the scribe as the maid opened the door. The scribe recognized her, she had been the maid on the gazebo that night when she gifted Fatima the first Grace’s Exaltation’s diluted nectar bottle. “My mistress has summoned you.”
“Where?” The bedridden woman raised her brows. The statement was too sudden to deserve courtesy.
“To her chambers.” The maid stated neutrally. The delicate and unmoving expression of the girl was at the same level as those of the palace of Sadina, though her outfit was as revealing and indecent as the rest of the maids in Asina.
“And I suppose she will not accept a ‘no’ for an answer, right?”
“My mistress told me that she wanted to continue with ‘last night’s activities’.”
If those words had come from another person who wasn’t Fatima, Aloe wouldn’t have even pondered her answer; but coming from Fatima’s lips, the play was obvious. She wanted everyone to think that she was whoring herself to her. Whether it was a power play or a tactic to manifest that silence around their lessons as part of the agreement, Aloe couldn’t tell. Most likely both.
At another point in her life, Aloe would have declined. It was clear that, yes, they would continue their lessons and nothing else would happen; yet her pride was at stake. A pride that had been devalued more than the coin of a country that had lost a war and gone bankrupt.
“I would require my entourage to displace myself,” I informed the maid.
“But of course,” She bowed. “I will look for them at once.”
Once the maid left the room, Aloe sighed. “Good grief,” she locked her eyes on the ceiling. “What a woman, making myself move to her when I am bedridden.”
She kept her words politically acceptable as she didn’t know who may be listening. With a groan and a crack of the neck, the scribe shifted her internal infusion to toughness. Even after a few outings, she didn’t feel comfortable in the palanquin.
Without much fanfare, the soldiers arrived and deposited her on the contraption. Their expressions were stern, but it was the sternness of discipline instead of anger. Sure, they were likely annoyed by the interruption, especially this close to lunch break, but they knew better than to raise their voices.
Everyone knew to do better in this palace.
Whilst Aloe didn’t make her way out of her room much, the maids didn’t pay attention to her in the main palace. The same couldn’t be said once her entourage reached the sultanzade’s palace. She could feel the gazes of the maids, the nobles, the soldiers, and the passing sultanzade. All gazes upon her. Looking. Judging.
The scribe closed her eyes and steadied her breath, which was becoming erratic.
They can’t see me if I can’t see them. They can’t see me if I can’t see them. Aloe repeated the mantra in the confines of her mind as her ears solely focused on the steady cadence of the soldier’s march. It didn’t take long for the palanquin to come to a halt, followed by the knock of a wooden surface.
“Mistress, I have brought the scribe.” The maid announced.
“Let her in.” Fatima’s sweet voice caressed the prone woman’s ears.
Aloe finally opened her eyes to see the maid opening the door and the soldiers carrying her into the sultanzade’s chambers. And what a chamber it was. Fatima’s chambers were the size of whole commoner houses, making Aloe’s chambers in both palaces look pathetic. There were many words to describe the resting place of the sultanzade. Vain, for it was needlessly decorated. Spacious, for its ceiling was higher than a second floor. But one word stood above all in Aloe’s mind.
Normal.
Yes, it was decorated with riches impossible to most people. Yes, it was big. Yes, she didn’t fail to notice the many beds, pillows, and tea tables that made the place look like a brothel. But at the same time, nothing unthinkable or strange was present. A lot of open windows let light filter in. It was by all means a normal room. And that didn’t fit well with the scribe.
“Leave her here,” Fatima pointed somewhere, but Aloe didn’t manage to catch where from her elevated position, “and make your way out.”
What she saw was the soldiers nodding and depositing her palanquin down. They didn’t even waste a breath before leaving the room.
“You too, Nasira.” The sultanzade pointed at the maid, and though the scribe couldn’t see it, she managed to hear the rustle of her clothing, indicating a bow. The click of her heels and the soft closing of the door highlighted the fact that they were now alone. “Did you ponder on what the flowing stance may be?”
“I did,” Aloe nodded from her limited position, though the palanquin granted her more incline than her bed. “Alas, I am afraid I came to no answer.”
“Not an issue. ‘Twas but a game.” Fatima smiled, blazingly admitting she just wanted to toy with her. “I will reveal to you what the flowing stance is.”
The princess’ words weighed down on the scribe, containing an astonishing gravitas.
“Do not react like that, it is nothing that amazing.” The sultanzade dismissed with a giggle, yet her mannerism indicated otherwise. “The flowing stance, for lack of better words, allows your vitality to flow free from the body.”
And that changed everything.
Aloe whimpered.