3. From the Illymium Codex

The two moons of Ardelym, La Gune, the mother moon, and her tiny daughter, Jeune, half-hidden behind her, rule the night sky. They witness the shadowed thoughts of the Ardelymians and coldly observe secret deeds performed only under the cover of night.

Chapter Four - Mothers and Daughters

Tylla blew a kiss. Carmelle caught it in her hand, and with a wistful gaze at her secret lover, she slipped into the narrow hall to resume her work in the servants' wing.

With quick, light steps, Tylla climbed the marble staircase to her room within the royal palace. She opened the door on her bedchamber, which faced the central garden. She'd rather have a view of the sea, but this chamber located deep within the palace's inner structure kept the princess guarded on all sides.

The royal family's main serving woman, Moranna Nazeer, was already there, laying out Tylla's clothes for the evening's festivities. The stout, middle-aged woman curtsied as Tylla entered, but the princess discerned disapproval in the tight line of her mouth and her tired blue eyes.

She knows about Carmelle and me.

Tylla held back her thick braid of black hair to allow Moranna to undo the buttons of her gown. She's known about it from the beginning.

The silk dress fluttered to the floor, and Tylla stepped out of it, nude.

Moranna scooped it up and said, "Your bath is ready, milady."

"Thank you. That is all," Tylla said and crossed to the bathing room where a steaming tub awaited her. Tylla dipped her toes in first to check the temperature, then slid her slender body into the warm water perfumed with Mynimium's finest essences.

"Ah," she mewed, enjoying the short respite from duty.

She picked up a sponge and ran it sensuously across her dark skin. Eyes closed, she imagined it was Carmelle’s fingers gently massaging her flesh, exploring the sensitive points in her young body that would make her explode with euphoria and forget for a moment the bars of her luxurious cage.

* * *

Moranna placed the soiled gown under her arm, bowed, and left the room, closing the solid mahogany door behind her. She moved as quickly as her plump, middle-aged legs would take her through the main hallway. A high painted ceiling, supported by a marble colonnade, depicted the history of Davadas rule, beginning with Corellas Davadas slaying the Nazeer King and taking his faithless queen to his bed. Moranna, who had passed that same ceiling over twenty years of service within the king’s palace, knew that beneath that layer of paint was an ancient, jeweled mosaic depicting the former grandeur of Nazeer rule. Many times throughout the day, she wanted to peel off the paint with her nails and exclaim, “See here! We Nazeers are Ardelym’s rightful rulers! And someday, it will be ours once again.”

When she reached the lower-ceilinged hallway, dimly lit by burning fire pots, she veered off, lifted her heavy skirt, and wearily climbed the stairs to her chamber in the servants' wing. Panting hard as she opened the door, she found her daughter posing in her festival gown before the only glass in the room. The gilt-framed oval had been a gift from Hyperia. It was small and lacking in ornamentation to reinforce a servant's modesty and station.

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"What are you doing, Carmelle?" Moranna snapped, out of breath.

"Getting ready for the festival. What's it look like?" The bratty tone slipped through Carmelle’s lips before she could stop it.

Moranna moved quickly for her size, grabbing Carmelle by the shoulder with one strong hand and landing a solid slap on her daughter's face with the other. "Who are you to put on airs?"

Carmelle was at once a frightened child cowering at her mother's feet. "Please," she begged, her trembling hands raised to ward off more blows.

"You think sharing the princess' bed makes you special?"

Carmelle could only weep as her mother's nails dug into her flesh.

"Not even a bed, but rubbing on each other outdoors like two beasts! Do you think I don't know what you do? How she uses you for her pleasure only to discard you when she marries."

"Mother, it's not like that," Carmelle whimpered.

Moranna brought her fist up again to strike but thought better of it and released her daughter. Moaning in pain, Carmelle curled into a deflated ball of hurt and wept into the rough, hemp carpet.

Moranna stepped away to calm herself and uncurled her clenched fingers. "This thing," she emphasized the word with disgust, "between you and the princess ends today. You will clean yourself up, make yourself presentable, but never forget you are a servant in this household. I will not have you shame yourself before our people. The Nazeers are superior to these Davadas in every way."

Carmelle panted, "You'd be killed if anyone heard you say that, Mother."

"And who will tell them? You?" Laughing bitterly, Moranna picked up Tylla's gown that she had dropped and tossed it on top of her weeping daughter. "Your princess soiled her gown. Wash it like a good slave and keep your mouth shut."

Carmelle grasped the silk dress to her chest and breathed out a shuddered breath. "We're not slaves, Mother."

With an exhausted, unsteadied gait, Moranna crossed the room toward her bedchamber. "Tell that to Nargos Nazeer. He and his men have already arrived. You will see them all tonight. They are your people. Hopefully,” she gazed at her daughter with disgust, “one of them will choose you for a wife."

"No!" Carmelle moaned.

"If not," Moranna added with grim finality, "I'll hand you over to the Wols."

* * *

When the bathwater had cooled, Tylla stepped out of the deep marble tub. She was surprised and disappointed to find Queen Hyperia holding open her robe for her and not Carmelle.

"Thank you, Mother," Tylla said, submitting to Hyperia rubbing the moisture from her damp flesh.

"Where is ?"

"Carmelle is needed to prepare the hall for the festival."

Tylla nodded with a practiced subterfuge. She wondered if the queen knew about her and Carmelle. If so, she didn’t let on.

Hyperia smiled, her violet eyes sparkling, brushing back the thick black hair from Tylla's shoulders. "I am so proud of you, my beauty. When you are presented to the people from the Four Corners tonight, I want you to shine. Here." She opened a gilded wood box that she had laid on the bed and pulled out a glittering silver belt.

Tylla gasped.

"I had hoped you'd be pleased,” Hyperia said. “This is from the Illymium treasury, one of the few things I was able to save from our homeland."

The belt caught the light from the flaming sconces and shimmered like a prism.

"It's incredible," Tylla said. "But shouldn't it go to Starlex? She is, after all, the Illymium Princess, next to you, of course."

Hyperia's face twitched and hardened. "I gave up that title when I married your father. I am Davadas now. But you are half Illymium, my darling, and are entitled to as much, if not more, from our ancient home."

Tylla nodded and smiled sweetly. She did not tell her mother that she found the belt ostentatious, silly even. She kept those thoughts to herself as she succumbed to Hyperia's pampering, stiffening only slightly when Hyperia had slipped the gown over her head and brought up the inevitable subject of her future husband.

"Mother, must we speak of that now with all the excitement going on?"

Hyperia nodded and said, "Your father and I are still undecided. Perhaps Illym will give us a sign before the festival is over."

Sighing, Hyperia walked out to the balcony. The sun was a line of red fire on the horizon, and the two moons had taken their place in the indigo sky. The smaller moon kept her blue face hidden shyly behind the large mother moon, so large and bright the distant Kadaar mountaintops shimmered in its glow.

Hyperia allowed the warm night breeze to trickle over her body, picking up the hem of her gown and fanning it around her bare legs. Pressing her palms over her belly, she closed her eyes and whispered only to herself, "Illym will show us the way."