On the way back from her uncles house Chantria had convinced Kijani to come to the beauty parlour with her. He grumbled, but the shop assistant set him up with some tea and a biscuits in ‘the men’s corner’. Or so the teenage assistant called it with a bit of a giggle as she explained her make-up was incredibly old and she had an important event to attend. Then the editor let the auburn haired teen pitch her mother’s wares and recommend some additional creams. She couldn’t possibly appear in front of such high class women with dry make-up, that would look horrific!

As time ticket closer to dinner the numbing shock worse away to icy anxiety. I’m so tired… The day had been long but the work never ended. Everything had to be perfect and there was always something that needed to be done before things were finally perfect. Until everything was done she didn’t feel she earned the rest or food. Though her husband was of the opposite opinion.

He vehemently insisted on stopping for lunch after picking up the jewellery, while she wanted to go to the bank and streamline her account. The bank closed early on the eighth day of the week. Which was exactly the point, Chantria made the mistake of telling him that it would take all day to streamline her accounting and it was lunchtime. They had to get her registration for the Chalet in order anyway. They could have lunch there.

Chantria could have screamed, but she bit her tongue. She wasn’t above admitting, even if only to herself, when someone else had a point, but Chantria still thought it best to give Kijani back his blade.

They struck a compromise. She would register at the Chalet and they would eat at home. It was surprisingly straight forward. Chantria handed over her new identification, meld registration and branch certificate to the white clad lady behind the timber desk. The blond woman took a lot longer than the editor thought was necessary to inspect her documents. I wonder if the canopy women already started my background check… The documents would bring a swift end to a swift end to all potential gossip… Or start another round of rumours.

So, they went home, they ate and Chantria just got her scroll out to start working when Kijani put a book on top of it. He then insisted they spend the next few hours together. He was on leave, she should be too and they were newlyweds. The problem was: he had a point.

They spent a painful two hours together in which Kijani tried to wheedle some sort of conversation out of her. They settled on books and had a walk around the garden together. She gave in to a little childish curiosity and ended up peppering him with questions about the glowing plants she saw yesterday and the colourful fish they bred in the pond. However, things turned serious very quickly.

Kijani paused their walk in the humid conservatory. “Hey Chan?”

“Yes?”

“I know you’ve been through hell, but people are expecting kids to come asap. I was thinking we could ease in?”

Her brain froze along with her gut. “What do you mean?”

“Slowly get used to more intimate touch. You’re in charge though, we can stop anytime… I figure the more restraint I can show the more you’ll trust me.”

I don’t have a choice. It wasn’t that Kijani would force her. While the soldier definitely had the potential to do it, she didn’t believe he had the capacity to do so. The pressure was coming from outside forces. Kijani was old blood, their children will also be old blood. The culling of old blood families increased the mortality rate of the city’s soldiers and weakened the city’s defences. The city needed to reverse their error and their children were the solution. As much as Divinity idealised itself as a perfectly ordered utopia, you didn’t take long to wipe away the lie. To maintain this ‘utopia’ the government brutalised those whom they thought of as a threat and Divinity had little patience for dissidence for any reason.

Chantria stared at the seedlings a moment before responding. “Yes, that’s the most peaceful way forward.”

Chantria couldn’t help flinching as Kijani laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That ain’t the point.”

~*~

They got changed for the party together, but Chantria didn’t have the nerve to show him more than her back. She wasn’t sure how much time they would have to ‘ease in’ as Kijani put it. However she understood he would keep the pressure off of her as much as he could.

She changed in to the Midnight blue dress while Kijani dressed in the traditional long black tunic with his medals pinned to his chest. Kijani’s grey pierced her Sapphire eyes through the vanity mirror as she finished adding a soft pink to her lips. “Ready?”

Chantria stood in response. Out of habit, Chantria attempted to avoided Kijani’s gaze, but he had other ideas. At first her heartrate quickened and chest tightened as fear took over, but seconds later she found the flicker of comfort that eased her fear. He’s warm… “I don’t really have a choice,” she replied looking away.

Kijani guided her eyes back to his with a soft hand on her cheek. “I’ll have to leave you to the ladies for the first hour, while I entertain the men, but I won’t leave you after that.”

She nodded and leaned in to his hand enjoying the affection she hadn’t had in years. Hope welled as she realised it might be like this for the rest of her life. In a few short years there would likely be children playing in their living room. I’m fooling myself. “I’ll manage,” she said and stepped away.

Stupid girl. There would be a lot of work between now and children. Whenever she felt a pang of attraction her mind flashed back to her uncle tying her to the bed. She smelled the musk and felt his hands trace slime along her skin. The rope bit her wrists and her attempts to get him off of her only served to increase his arousal. When he was done it was her turn. Ayele knew her body well and he used her bodies climax to convince her she enjoyed it. Then he would untie her and leave before the rest of the house woke. Bile rose in her throat and the need to scrub her uncles touch from her skin filled her, but there wasn’t time to bathe again.

“Shall we?” Kijani asked holding out an arm for her to take.

She took his offered arm as appearances demanded and they made their way to the party.

~*~

They entered the main house through a side entrance hidden by a batch of maiden hair fern growing from a long pot above the concealed entrance. The narrow blank plaster hall was lit by gas lanterns. The sound of piano music languished in the distance at first and grew brighter the further down the hall they walked. Brightening piano music was joined by the sound of chattering voices and the occasional laughter. Finally the clinking of glasses caught up to the chattering just as they reached a plain wood door.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Chantria didn’t think about what she was about to enter until Kijani opened the door and she saw a sliver of what was behind. Normally, Chantria’s strategy for surviving a crowd involved entertaining 10 minutes of small talk then hiding in a cupboard. However, the party of colourful women and plainly dressed men in black were all here to meet her.

The editor took a step back and barely stopped herself from running out of the passage for air. This isn’t about me anymore. She had an emerging family to think about and she had to make a good impression.

“Chan? Can you look at me a second?” Kijani said.

Chantria couldn’t bring herself to look up further than the bridge of his nose. Kijani guided her face to meet his gaze and they were transported in to each other’s minds.

It wasn’t that they could know what the other was thinking when they looked in to each other’s eyes. Thoughts came as a mental image of what they felt and the meld made their internal images that much more vivid.

The pair were still in the passage, but in Chantria’s mind the door was fully open and the people were replaced by towering shadows with only sunken holes where there eyes should be. The shadow filled spectres stared silently at her and their smiles widened in to predatory grins with needle sharp teeth. Spectres moved in unison toward the door they’re grins growing ever wider as they prepared to eat her alive.

Then Kijani popped up in front of her. “fuck sake, you must be terrified,” he said and the image changed to one more closely resembling an objective reality. The shadows disappeared to be replaced by regular people. They still stared at them, but there smiles were welcoming. Yes, there were a few men and women who stood in the shadows of the gaslit room looking on with suspicion, but overall the guests seemed kind.

Chantria broke the soul gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“You got nothing to apologise for. I respect your courage. You think us soldiers aren’t scared when we face the parasites at the wall? Courage is doing it anyway,” Kijani laid a hand on the back of her head and gently pulled her against his chest. He wasn’t forceful and she could easily push him away, but the steady beat of his heart calmed hers.

A knock on the hidden door made them both jump. “You two ready?” Majour Jambulani said his voice echoing in a flat whisper meant only for them.

“Yeah, we’re just slipping in.”

Kijani grasped her hand and they entered the fray of upper class intrigue.

~*~

Chantria was taken to the ladies side of the party by his honoured mathair, while Kijani walked with his father to met the men of the crown as an equal. At first he couldn’t help the smile pulling at his lips, but his fathers sombre stare wiped that smile of his face. “What’s up?” Kijani said, stopping in front of the black drawing room door. The scent of cigars crawled through the cracks. Kijani fucking hated the stuff.

“Majour Amari, spoke to me today, he wasn’t impressed with Chantria’s bloodline.”

“What do you mean?”

“The majour questioned her legitimacy.”

That’s not like my old man. He hates rumours. “Doesn’t matter, a meld’s a meld. They just want to get the immunity back in to the forces.”

“That’s true, they’ll grit their teeth and put up with it for the immunity, but it reinforces their idea of us,” his father said.

“What idea?”

“Tainted men, it’s why I keep getting passed over for promotion and our social contributions are so high.”

Kijani gritted his teeth. In the past, members of the crown had made it a point of honour to contribute to the masses with the food they grew in their garden’s. Now, the fact food was efficiently grown in tall buildings and the payment’s they made were monetary in nature. They still donated the leftover food, but the majority of the family earnings were given to the state to atone for their tainted status. They were tainted figures within the crown, but they were respected for their immunity.

This ain’t like athair. He was strict, and abrasive, but not an arsehole. He didn’t like rumours, but the current talk was hurting the family. They needed Chantria to be successful in the crown. His father just needed some ammunition to counter the rumours. “Records were wrong. Chan got it corrected.”

His father blinked. An otherwise unnoticeable display of surprise, but the 30 second count it took him to answer were the only clues to his stoic fathers feelings Kijani needed. “That’s interesting… Who is her father?”

His late father in law’s name triggered a memory of the musty Misal. The marbled walls held depictions of the great ash and the personification of its fruits. At the head of the room behind the priest’s podium there was a brass plaque with a list of honoured men and women. You earned your name on that plaque for great service to the city. “Her fathers Chike Keita. He was given the title of General after he died. The man’s on the honours list in the mess hall,” I’ll have to look in to my father in law some more.

His athair’s grin was slow and sly. “Could I see the notary?”

“Chan’s got it. She seen this coming a league away.”

“good, shall we then?” his athair said and, without waiting for a response, opened the dark wood door.

Kijani knew enough to the role of the silent bystander as his father stepped forward. “Good morning gentlemen. May I introduce my son, Kijani, to our ranks?”

An older man stepped forward. He wore the same black uniform as all the other men, but the gold medals pinned to his chest depicting a scroll marked him as the head archivist. His green eyes were bright despite his white hair and wrinkled skin. If memory served him, and Kijani’s memory rarely failed, the man’s name was Chiumbe Awad head of records and one of the most powerful men in the crown. His reputation was above reproach, but his wife was unable to give him children. It was a scandal for a man of such high ranking not to have children and more than a few wondered what was wrong.

Chiumbe held out a hand for him to shake. “Welcome and congratulation’s lad, it must feel incredible to finally find a worthy wife.”

Kijani internally gritted his teeth and took the offered hand. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for your kind words Lord Awad. I was sorry to hear about your impending loss from within the archive,” His father said gesturing toward the plush chairs by the open window. Thank fuck. I don’t know how these snobs can smoke that shit.

The head archivist raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I’m very sorry Lord Awad. My son and daughter in law were at the registry this morning to have their branching certificates updated. It seemed there was a mix up somewhere along the line. Her uncles name was mixed up with that of her father in the records.”

The old man’s face paled with every word. “I see… I’m very sorry for this error.”

“My dear daughter in law fixed the problem. It is sad, but just that these errors are a capital crime. Any break in the order of things could cause chaos.”

“Yes, that is very true,” Lord Awad said slowly.

“Anyway, we are here to celebrate my son’s upcoming wedding. We were very proud to welcome Chantria to the family. My son tells me her father’s name is on the honours list at the Misal. There is clearly a problem somewhere, especially since records didn’t alert us to the fact her sisters never attended a gathering.”

~*~

Chantria was led to the canopy table at the back of the room. She kept her head forward despite her pounding heart and the heat of a hundred eyes upon her skin. Though the editor saw the ladies welcoming smiles she noted the fine jewellery and silks which they wore like armour.

The editor took her mother in laws lead and bowed before the ladies.

“Ladies, may I introduce Chantria Keita-Abara to our ranks?” her mother in law said.

“Welcome, darling! I’m lady Imam,” an older lady said brightly.

Shocked at the enthusiasm in the greeting Chantria looked up at the gently smiling woman. Her deep chocolate eyes were incredibly kind. “Thank you,” Chantria said stunned.

“I’ve heard some wonderful things about you from the maiden’s in the Chalet. A triple majour and a father with his name on the honour’s list. Though I was disheartened to hear about the error made in your records.”

A static shock of gasps zipped through the room

“Error?” a lady dressed in deep pink and greying blond hair squeaked.

“Yes Lady Awad. It seem’s one of the archivists mixed up her uncles name with that of her father.”

Uncomfortable with the topic Chantria reached for the pot of tea. “Would anyone like some tea?”

“Yes please, darling. Best wash away this topic. It’s for the men to resolve. I was just speaking to Lady Zadzisai. We wanted to get your thoughts on the canopy curriculum?”

“Yes, Lady Zadzisai invited me over for tea to discuss this next week,” Chantria said.

That one sentence turned Lady Imam’s attention to the silver haired Lady Zadzisai.

The ladies ears pricked up as they listened intently to the polite negotiation between the two crown ladies arranging a new time they could both meet with her. This shift in attention allowed Chantria to fill cups. However, one pair of eyes stared at her uncertainly. She was a darker skinned lady with curly coils dressed in a deep red wrap dress. Recognition hit her like a flood of relief. It was Hadiza. Her old school friend.

Chantria briefly thought of beconing her over, but returned to filling cups. She probably won’t remember me.

In the time it took her to fill another cup her friend had crossed the room and embraced her in a tearful hug.