The whole set, and room stank of smoke and Kijani had given up sitting and stood like a bodyguard next to the wide open window. His athair was shooting him glares and subtly gesturing for him to join the other men on the leather sofa. Kijani ignored him. The hell I’m breathing all that shit in. He was already thinking about his next set, and he wasn’t gonna reach his goal with poison in his lungs.

The men of the canopy sat around the large glass coffee table and leaned back against the back of the sofa. The brown leather denting as they made themselves comfortable in their black uniform of loose cotton. All men were clean-shaven and wore expressions that told of varying levels of boredom and disdain. Though, much like Kijani in relation to his father, the other men let Lord Awad take the lead in conversation. It was his approval they needed to remain and move up in the social hierarchy.

“Master Abara?” Lord Awad said, staring at Kijani. Awad smiled pleasantly on the surface, yet Kijani sensed the shark beneath the mask.

Kijani’s father was Lord Abara in the context of this room. He, as the eldest son, and recently married, was addressed as Master Abara. As such he was not to speak unless spoken to directly. This event was an introduction and the beginning of his apprenticeship as heir to the Abara household. “Yes sir?”

The portly man took a pleasure filled draw of his cigar and breathed the smoke directly in his direction. “How was your first night with your new wife?”

This jealous fucker. “We’ve taken the time to get to know each other,” he replied, taking a leaf out of Chan’s book and kept his reply in cryptic code that can be interpreted in a multitude if ways.

“Is she bleeding already?”

Kijani gritted his teeth but kept a pleasant smile. “Chantria wouldn’t like me to say.” Mind your own damn business old man.

“Understandable, women can be a little touchy about these things. I remember my first night with my wife,” the old man gave a contented sigh at the memory.

His athair smiled. “It’s a memory we all treasure, and we thank the great Ash the blessings that came from this union. My son will have strong and quick-witted children given his lovely wife’s proclivities. How are your efforts for children coming Lord Awad? Have you considered adoption? It would be a kindness.”

His fathers tone was perfectly pleasant, but the Lord stiffened despite his hollow smile. “We have, but my wife is not too old yet.”

Bullshit. Kijani thought, but restrained his tongue. He didn’t understand what the big deal about adoption was in the crown. Sure, it’s nice to have biological kids, but a baby adopted and raised in the crown would be as good a son or daughter as one born in. It’s the values that counted. An adopted child would be theirs in the eyes of the Ash and the eyes of society. He was robbing himself.

“I wish you both the best of luck. May we discuss the taxes? My son is married and children are on the horizon.”

Lord Awad took a long draw on his cigar and with narrowed green eyes. “We will look at reducing the payments as your son is now married in the name of good order. As for further discounts in that region; we will need to wait until the souls bear fruit.”

His athairs smile never faded. “Yes, I’m looking forward to seeing what my son and new daughter will yield. I did notice that our payments were unusually high compared to the rest of the canopy, however. Perhaps it could be looked in to in the name of good order?”

The men paused and stared at Lord Awad, it was an open secret that his family paid more in tax as repentance for their existence, but taboo to discuss. The situation was different now though, the army was thinning because the underground cleansing diminished the army’s immunity, and they needed more kids from his tree.

There was a lot of pressure on Kijani and his brothers to find a wife, both socially and politically. At first, he found the gatherings boring and tedious. He used to take a book and read through the event once he was done looking at the girls on offer. As time went on the canopy wallowed in their scorn and increase their payments as punishment for their apparent lack of co-operation. The older he got the more frustrated he became at his lack of progression in the ranks. He stopped bringing the books and concentrated on finding a wife. If one of them found their woman, it would bring a swift end to his family’s hardships.

Though his athair was taking a risk speaking so frankly in front of the pillars of power that represented the crown to the public. The point that this delay in marriage and children was not their fault was so subtly and well made by his father that there was room for requests.

“Master Abara, does your lovely wife have sisters?” Lord Awad asked, barely looking in his direction.

Kijani paused. My brothers will kill me if they don’t get the first look. “She has two younger sisters.”

Lord Awad nodded and picked up his short glass of brandy from the oak coffee table. “If what your saying is true and your son’s bride is of such impeccable stock, we will reduce the payments after the marriage ceremony. We will reduce them to regular levels once Master Abara’s union bears fruit and your other two sons are married. I will then take it on trust that your family intends to do their duty to our great city.”

For the canopy, that was generous. So, he swallowed the protest that was bubbling beneath his icy façade and put on a smile. “My apologies for interrupting, gentlemen, but I promised my wife I would be back with her in an hour. She’s a little nervous.” The last Kijani added in a tone of polite apology. For the benefit of his family, he could play part of the model heir to the Abara household.

“Well, we can’t force your son to break his word to his new wife, Lord Abara? I am looking forward to meeting her. Such accomplished women are rare these days,” Lord Awad said.

His father gave him a glancing glare before returning Lord Awad’s smile. “Of course. I’m sure we all understand my son’s need to be with his wife, but my Lady Nobule hate’s cigars.”

Kijani took a deep breath of fresh air. “Then, by your leave, I will join my wife.” I got mission ‘Knock up your wife asap’ and Chantria has to trust me for that. Breaking my first promise won’t be a good look.

Kijani held his breath against the smoke on the way out the door. His athair could handle the rest.

~*~

Chantria sighed. Hadiza was a great help to the ladies in getting to know her. Her friend kept her partially distracted with a plate of coconut cookies and tea while the canopy ladies timed their questions between sips of tea. By the end of her third cup she had a full diary of social engagements for the month which included literary lessons for the children.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

All the attention kept her body on high alert for the majority of the ensuing conversation. A flicker of light or movement on the peripheral of her vision would startle her heartrate in to quickening its beat against her ribcage. One whisper of possible aggression forced her muscle to tense. Each sound and movement was so magnified she felt as if her body lay on a torture rack being pulled in different direction.

Chantria drank the last of her tea. “excuse me a moment ladies,” Chantria stood and made her way to the bathroom. The ‘ladies room’ was hidden behind a red curtain as was tradition. The white tiled room was quiet but for a dripping tap tapping against the stone washbasin that extended along the length of the room. She closed her eyes and used the beat of the dripping water to time her breathing to a deep calming wave.

Unsure how much time ticked by with her back against the door trying to breath away the tension between her shoulders. Chantria felt her body drain of energy with each breath as her body dimmed her senses to normal levels. Sluggishly, she slipped her little green diary out of her satchel and stared at the pages of social engagements the ladies of the crown and canopy had deigned to offer and which she didn’t have a choice but to accept. She was aware that a good impression was imperative for the future of her family. This good first impression was then something that had to be maintained, but her reputation could implode at any time with a single misstep and that of her family with it. Staring down at the pages she foresaw doom at every interaction and froze along with time.

A knock on the door jolted her out of her trance and she stared up at the black clock above. She’d been in the bathroom for 20 minutes staring at the pages of her diary. Dissociative seizures were a good sign she needed to see one of her colleagues. Her professor used to call this: ‘Psychologist inception’. A psychologist went to a psychologist in a never ending cycle of mental health necessity.

Chantria chuckled and put away her diary. I’ll see about organising that tomorrow morning.

“Hey Chan? You ok? The ladies said you’d been in there a while,” Kijani’s said through the door.

Chantria reluctantly walked out of the little pocket of peace that was the bathroom and back in to the war zone that was the main foyer. “I’m fine,” it was a necessary lie. She couldn’t have him thrown off his stride worrying about her during their introductions. It was too important.

Kijani raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but didn’t say a further word on the subject. “I hear you met an old friend?”

“Yes, Hadiza. I haven’t seen her in years,” Chantria said with a smile.

“Why?” Kijani asked laying a hand on the small of her back and propelling her toward the main table where the canopy ladies sat.

“My uncle wouldn’t allow it.”

Kijani’s face fell. “I see. Are you gonna be busy then?”

“Not for another two weeks. It seems uncouth for me to be managing social engagements during what is supposed to be our honeymoon.”

“Good. We need the time, ” Kijani said.

Kijani’s grin put her stomach off the canape’s the black clad servers were just bringing out. Crackers, cheese, cold cuts of meat and fish filled the tray’s the servers placed on the pristine tables. The party was, apparently, nearly at an end. This was a short gathering in the grand scheme of things, merely an introduction for the married couple before they isolated themselves for the traditional two weeks after their meld and before the marriage ceremony.

It would not be unexpected that she be with child by the time the marriage ceremony rolled around. It would, in fact, be the ideal scenario. The process of conception was what loaded the scream in her throat. However, she had enough self-control not to pull the trigger. Instead she claimed that elusive breath.

“How did your meeting go?” Chantria asked, changing the subject so fast it could easily induce conversational whiplash.

“I didn’t say much. Met the head archivist. He said the sooner we have children, the better.”

“I see…”

“We’ll work it out Chan. Do you have the notary of error on you?”

Chantria nodded.

“Good. Lord Awad wants to see it.”

“Lord Awad?” Chantria asked picking a drink off the serving tray.

“He’s the head archivist.”

She paused with the drink halfway to her lips, and decided against taking a sip. With a polite nod to the ladies playing cards nearby they continued their walk to the canopy table, “Lady Awad expressed some concern when the error was mentioned in conversation,” Chantria said.

“Yeah, cause he could be executed for the error. It depends on who made the error and if the person who made the error was still an apprentice.”

“I didn’t think it would be someone that high ranking.”

“It doesn’t matter who the fuck it was, this city depends on good records and organisation. One mistake threatens that. Actually, pretend you don’t have the notary with you. I want six copies and a judge to verify them before I hand anything over.”

Chantria was seconds from replying when Hadiza came rushing over. “Chantria, where were you?” her old friend whispered, “I had to start distracting them with tales of your mischief!”

“What mischief?” Chantria replied with a cheeky smile.

“Exactly! It was terribly difficult to think of anything!”

they were spotted by the Lady Zadzisai. “Ah, Mistress Keita-Abara, you were gone for rather a long time. We were getting rather worried,” the older lady said brightly.

“I’m sorry, I checked my aether scroll while I was in the bathroom and noticed a couple of urgent aether mails,” Chantria said

“Yes, do tell us more. You work as an editor with three majours? Your business must be quite profitable.”

“I don’t manage my own accounts. The taxes are too complicated for me to manage. We can talk about it another time though. I think the men will be joining us soon,” Chantria replied.

“What? You outsourced something? It must be complicated then!” Hadiza said, clearly hinting at her general need to be on top of everything to make sure it’s done correctly.

“Chantria and I were discussing reducing her hours and increasing how much she charges. Her time will become much more valuable once children arrive,” Kijani supplied.

“Naturally! I quite agree.” Lady Zadzisai said.

The banging open of doors announced the men’s march in to the hall. Most joined their wives, but Majour Abara and a portly man marched directly toward them. Chantria only gave the men a cursory look as they approached. She noted the high bearing of the older gentleman and the majours thin lips. He didn’t seem pleased, but she couldn’t tell where or at home his anger was directed as he joined them.

Nobuhle came rushing over with another pot of tea. “Gentlemen! I thought you would be longer, my apologies, the coffee hasn’t been served yet.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Lady Jambulani, we adjourned early. I was informed of an urgent incident at the archive’s. It seems there was an error with your new daughter’s birth certificates?”

“Oh? This is news to me?” Nobhule said giving Chantria a sideways glance.

The older gentleman followed Nobuhle’s gaze. “Is this your new daughter?”

Kijani stepped forward, partially shielding her. “This is my wife, Chantria Keita-Abara.”

The old man looked at her the same way Ayele did before he ordered her to bed. Ice ran down her spine as she fought the memories of last week. In a desperate bid to feel safe she reached for Kijani’s hand and leaned in to his muscular body. Chantria briefly looked up at Kijani’s sparkling eyes, but when he turned to face the Lord they hardened to quickly for her to decipher the meaning behind his expression.

“You are very lucky Master Abara, she is lovely. My dear, Majour Abara said you had a notary of error? May I see it?” the Lord said

“I’m sorry my Lord, I don’t have it with me. It didn’t seem appropriate to bring such an important document to a party,” Chantria replied smoothly.

“If memory serves, your home isn’t too far away from the main house, could you not go and get it?”

“I’m sorry, my Lord, I’m not entirely sure where I put it and I wouldn’t like to keep you waiting while there is an emergency.”

When faced with someone like Lord Awad, Chantria liked to keep everything short and sweet so as not to give them any wiggle room. However, this small act of defiance sent a ripple through the room and Chantria surmised it was not normal to refuse the old Lord.

Lord Awad glared at her, but turned his attention to his wife. Lady Awad was already rushing over, her skirts billowing slightly in her hurry and her eyes wide with fright. The demeanour of pair left Chantria wondering whether the lack of children in the Awad household was really a product of fate or if it was a deliberate decision. Though abortion was illegal in the city, there were ways to prevent a pregnancy from taking root. It was the women, after all, who had control over who was born.