Open Waters
The ship glides effortlessly through the crystal-clear waters of the Emerald Coast, its sails catching the gentle breeze and propelling it forward. Khimi takes a moment to collect himself, sitting on the edge of his cabin’s built-in bed. Behind him, Lumi lies sprawled out on his side, naked and snoring softly. The warm sun streams through a beautifully painted window, casting vibrant colors across Lumi’s small form, painting him in soft hues. As the boy stirs, Khimi gently pulls the sheet over his bare body before rising to his feet, stretching his stiff muscles. It had been a few sleepless nights for both of them.
He quickly buttons up his crisp linen shirt and ties the sash snugly around his waist before making his way through the narrow hallway leading to the deck. Despite being surrounded by endless blue waters, the sounds of countless seagulls can be heard overhead, their shrill caws filling the air. Khimi steps out onto the deck and makes his way to the bow of the ship, surprised by the lack of crew members present. Leaning against the railing with his elbows, he gazes out at the vast expanse of sea in front of him.
A playful porpoise swims alongside the ship, occasionally leaping out of the water as if trying to catch Khimi’s attention. The sight fills him with a quiet warmth, reminding him of Lumi’s carefree nature. Turning his gaze upward, he basks in the golden rays of sunlight filtering through the scattered, fluffy clouds drifting across the pristine blue sky.
But even in this idyllic setting, Khimi cannot escape the doubts and insecurities that plague him. As he straightens his back and grips onto the railing tightly, his hands tremble with fear and uncertainty. He has always struggled with feeling like an outsider, never quite fitting in or feeling truly content. And now, with someone who loves him and makes him happy, he can’t help but wonder if it’s all just an illusion. The doubts flood his mind—is Lumi just using him? What do people really think of Ziad’s curious son? What must people think of his unconventional tastes and desires? He tries to push these thoughts away, seeking solace in the crashing waves below. But even while he tells himself that Lumi loves him, doubts linger and gnaw at his mind. Who cares what others think? Khimi growls to himself, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Yet deep down, he is unable to shake off the unease and insecurity that had burrowed into his heart. People can think what they will of me…
Ennui’s sharp voice rips through the silence like a razor, her signature sarcasm lacing each word. “Thinking about jumping, are we?” She saunters over with a cold laughter, her hair falling into her eyes, but she doesn’t bother to brush it away. “It’s been a while since you’ve worn that expression,” she taunts, tilting her head to the side as she studies him. “You’re more useful to me being alive, so I’d ask that you don’t make me swim.”
Khimi’s shoulders sag in defeat at the sound of her voice. “Ennui… how long have you been there?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“Long enough,” Ennui responds, her tone unapologetic. “I saw you looking pained, like you wanted to squeeze your melon off.”
Khimi lets out a deep sigh and turns back towards the railing, his gaze scanning over the vast gulf ahead. “Ennui, I know we often joke and tease each other, but I would greatly value your honest opinion on something,” he says quietly.
Ennui steps closer to him, leaning against the railing and sweeping her hair out of her eyes with a dramatic flourish. “Khimi, you know I’ll always be honest with you,” she responds, meeting his gaze with a determined look. “If there’s anything I can do to ease your mind… I’ll try my best.”
With a roll of his neck, Khimi continues. “If Ziad is in the Golden Isles, I plan on telling him about Lumi,” he reveals, his words trailing off, struggling to find the right way to phrase it.
“And what of it?” Ennui prompts, raising an expectant eyebrow.
“I don’t know if I should—”
“Of course you should,” Ennui interrupts firmly. “Khimi, I may not be the wisest person around, and I know I tend to contradict myself quite often, but even I can see how much happier you’ve become since Lumi came into your life. And trust me, your retainers have noticed it too. You smile more, you laugh… Khimi, you don’t laugh.”
Khimi bows his head, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. “He does,” he admits softly. “Rashid even said that Lumi is good for me, but then he also mentioned that maybe he’s too immature. I’ve been struggling with whether or not to—”
“Whatever you’ve decided,” Ennui interrupts, her face contorting with anger. “It better be that you’re staying with Lumi,” she grits her teeth. “I am not one to advocate for others, but he loves you… more than I ever thought it was possible for someone to love. It’s painful to watch him look at you… disgusting even.”
Khimi’s expression softens, unable to hide his happiness. “Yeah, I guess… I do get that feeling from him as well. I admit, Ennui, that I find myself lost when I watch him.”
“See? Disgusting,” Ennui remarks, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Now, what’s the issue?”
Khimi falls silent again, his eyes returning to the deep blue below them. “What do people think of me, Ennui? Give me an honest answer.”
Ennui smirks in response. “What do you want me to tell you?” she asks casually.
“The truth.”
“Very well,” Ennui replies, “I’ve heard people speak of you and your paramour. Though none within your own employ have raised a question about it. Typically, these words are heard in taverns and on the streets. When the conversation is solely about you, people seem to hold you in high regard.”
“And when the conversation is about Lumi and I together?” Khimi presses, his brow furrowing with worry.
Ennui smirks again. “Well,” she begins, pursing her lips. “People have different takes on the situation, though most seem to think your fondness for Lumi is derived from some fetish for beastkin. I’ve heard… in a tavern that you have a penchant for boys. While most don’t seem to have any thoughts. I’ve heard a few beastkin speak highly of your relationship, praying that it’ll work out well for you both.”
Khimi lets out a frustrated groan. “Of course people would think the worst of us.”
“Screw them!” Ennui’s tone turns fierce as she slams her fist against the railing. “The only opinions that matter are from the people who truly care about you. Who cares if the public or Ziad disapproves? It’s not like he can do anything about it.”
“Oh really?” Khimi mutters, pulling his bangs down to cover his eyes.
“Quit sulking. So what if daddy hates you?” Ennui scoffs. “What’s he going to do? Disown his only heir?”
“Easy for you to—”
“Do you seek your father’s approval so badly,” Ennui begins, interrupting Khimi. She pushes herself against him on the rails. “So badly! That you’d be willing to throw away the only thing that I’ve known to make you happy?”
“No, I never meant—”
“Then stop worrying about it,” Ennui interrupts with a laugh. “You’re better than this, Khimi. Just accept that Lumi brings you joy and move on. And if Papa Ziad decides to cut you off… then move on. You and Lumi can leave together and start your own merchant company. You’re smart and capable, you’ll make something of yourselves.”
“I never thought I’d hear such support from you,” Khimi admits, flicking his hair out of his face. “But I’m constantly haunted by these fears that what I’m doing is wrong. That I’m bringing shame upon my family.”
“Ziad isn’t worth putting that much thought into,” Ennui replies, testing the tips of her horns before pulling her cowl up over her head. “I’ll never get why you desert dwellers are so obsessed with the godsdamned sun.”
Khimi glances at Ennui, noting her flush expression. He contemplates if it is the sear from the sun or if she is blushing. “I’ll try to remind myself not to value Ziad’s opinion so much. If Lumi and I were to leave… what would you do?”
Ennui blinks slowly as she turns to him, a smirk playing on her lips. “Do you think I’d have trouble finding work in the Desert Cities?” She lets out a loud laugh. “There isn’t a merchant prince who wouldn’t want someone dead.”
“Back to your old ways, then?” Khimi teases.
Ennui rolls her eyes. “If you two leave, that may be my only option. Who knows, maybe another merchant prince will want you dead,” she says with a wicked grin.
“I have no intention of leaving my station. Though, I’ve been thinking of traveling with Lumi once we return to Rhaz. It is, as you said, running the Cerulean Star is my birthright, and I have no intention of giving that up,” Khimi says, ignoring her comment.
Ennui taps her fingers against the railing thoughtfully. “Who will you leave in charge during your absence?”
“Rashid was my hope, but it seems he may be amiss after we return to Rhaz. Perhaps I can ask some older members to take up the mantle in my absence. There are others, but I’d need to ask them to move to Rhaz from Sidi.”
“I volunteer!” Ennui exclaims, slapping Khimi on the shoulder. “You don’t even have to ask.”
Khimi raises an eyebrow skeptically. “I’d sooner burn down the estate myself.”
“Hey now! I am completely capable of managing day-to-day operations,” Ennui protests.
“No,” Khimi laughs, shaking his head while nearly buckling over from his laughter. “We’d come back and Rhaz would be reduced to rubble.”
Ennui rolls her eyes. “Ye of little faith!”
“I do trust you, Ennui. That’s why I want you to keep an eye on the estate while we’re away. You know Rhaz better than anyone else and I know you’ll look out for my best interests,” Khimi says sincerely, turning towards her with gratitude in his eyes.
Ennui purses her lips angrily. “You’re not going to ask me to go on this little trip with you and Lumi?”
“Are you upset?”
Ennui rolls her eyes again. “Not in the least. If I have to hear you two humping again, I think—”
“We have a long journey back from the Golden Isles yet, Ennui. And many more adventures still,” Khimi interrupts with a bit of laughter.
“Bloody bastard.”
The two sit in quiet contemplation, their silence only broken by the occasional caw of the seagulls overhead. After a while, men from the crew make their way onto the deck, breaking the tranquility.
Ennui suddenly turns to Khimi and begins reminiscing, “Remember when you were a mercenary? We were hired to eliminate that group of deserters in the village south of Gomorrah.”
“I remember,” Khimi responds, his eyes taking on a far-off look as he recalls the events. “The area was nothing but waist high grass. Dasht, they called it, the open plains. By the time we arrived, you had already taken care of all the bandits.”
“Apparently, I let one live,” she says, averting her gaze from Khimi. “I saw their captain. On the night I told you about Omar in the stables. I recall his name… I even collected the bounty, though there was no head to turn in,” she says. “Jahan…”
“And?”
“I killed him,” Ennui confesses, averting her gaze from Khimi. “In a tavern… left his body and all.”
“What about it?” Khimi inquires.
“I just wanted to share,” Ennui mumbles. “It always bothered me that Jahan somehow escaped. I left him with a nasty scar, but I was too proud to pursue him further.”
Khimi closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath, the sea breeze washes over them. “When we got to the village, I was amazed by what you had done. You managed to take down a whole group by yourself. How many were there? Twelve? Fourteen?”
“I think it was closer to twelve,” Ennui replies under her breath.
“And now that you’ve finally killed Jahan… do you feel any happier?” Khimi asks, studying her expression closely.
Ennui lets out a heavy sigh, resting her cheek on her arms while she leans against the railing. “He was annoying me. If only he had the sense not to speak to me… I probably would have forgotten about Jahan altogether.”
“How long did it take you to realize the man you killed was Jahan?” Khimi asks quietly.
“It wasn’t until almost a month later,” Ennui replies with a shrug. “As I was packing my things to move into the estate, I found a letter from our contractor, Cecil. You remember him?”
“Of course,” Khimi says, his tone laced with recollection. “An interesting man, if I recall. He had a fondness for Dolman wine and younger women.”
Ennui’s expression darkens, she continues, “I killed him too.”
Khimi’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “You killed a contractor?”
“Cecil Rao was a despicable man,” Ennui states plainly. “But that wasn’t why he died.”
“Then why?” Khimi presses.
“He annoyed me.” Ennui’s voice is devoid of any emotion.
“I see… there has to be more to it.”
“Certainly,” Ennui agrees, her gaze still focused on the waves below. “Maybe one day I’ll explain it all.”
Khimi leans over the rail, following Ennui’s gaze into the water. “Why are you confessing to these things… ?”
Ennui pauses before answering, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “Because… it feels good?” she says, more like a question than a statement.
Khimi exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I thought it was something else,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and relief.
“If you think I would willingly turn myself in for… my actions, then you’re well mistaken,” Ennui scowls, her tone defensive.
“I thought you may have been telling me you were leaving us,” Khimi whispers, his expression turning serious.
“Oh.” Ennui blinks, feigning mild surprise. “No, I was just in a mood.”
“I’d always wondered why Cecil went quiet. Glad to know I can forget about him.” He leans in slightly, his voice carrying a conspiratorial lilt. “You were right, though, he was a troublesome bastard. Jahan, on the other hand? A murderer at heart. You did the world a favor.”
Ennui lets out a slow, wry chuckle, stretching her arms lazily. “I like to think I keep the scales balanced every now and then.”
Khimi grins, raising an eyebrow. “Like the real Saint of Balance?” His voice is light, teasing.
“Just so,” Ennui purrs, flashing a sharp-toothed smirk. “Call me Ennui the Judge.”
Khimi chuckles, swirling his drink. “A terrifying thought.”
Ennui tilts her head, her eyes gleaming. “As well it should be.”
Khimi grins before they turn their attention back towards the blue water. The porpoise following along the vessel no longer jumps playfully beside. Khimi places his hand on Ennui’s shoulder in an effort to comfort. She quickly shrugs it off, giving him a knowing glare. She’s never been one for affection. They remain in silence, each unsure of what to say to one another.
“Anyway,” Ennui finally breaks the quiet, leaning her back against the smooth wooden rails and stretching out her stiffened muscles. “I’ll tell you one more time. Whatever was plaguing you before, forget about it. It’s not worth worrying over,” she says firmly, pushing away from the rail and turning to face Khimi. As she walks backwards across the deck, her carefree demeanor returns. “Just forget it!” Her words hang in the air as she tosses her hands it the air. “Let it go, Khimi!”
Khimi nods and Ennui turns back towards the cabins. I’ll try my best to forget them. He turns back to the waters, wondering where their journey might begin. Perhaps we should go to the temple and seek the guidance of Saint Nina… certainly she may know something of souls. The vessel’s navigator carefully approaches the contemplative Khimi. He presses his fingers beneath his turban, straightening the cloth over his forehead.
Sair, the ship’s navigator, had been one of the men Rashid entrusted to ensure Khimi’s safe passage to Betset. Most of Khimi’s travels as a mercenary had been over land, through caravans and sprawling dunes. Though he was no stranger to life aboard a ship and understood its workings, he had never captained one himself.
“My lord,” Sair stammers, approaching Khimi with unease. His hands fidget with the edges of his linen sleeves, his expression tight with apprehension. “We seem to be arriving ahead of schedule.”
Khimi’s gaze flicks toward him, brows knitting together. “Arx Mari?” He scowls.
Sair hesitates before nodding. “It was requested that our vessel arrive in Arx Mari before heading to Palma. I hope you understand.” He offers a short, stiff bow, though the gesture does little to mask his nervous energy.
Khimi tilts his head. “Who gave you that order?” he demands before he grabs the navigator’s shoulder.
Sair swallows hard. “Rashid.”
Khimi’s scowl deepens. “Rashid?” His voice is sharp, clipped with anger.
The navigator shifts uncomfortably. “Rashid himself, my lord,” he admits. “He asked me not to tell you… but my loyalty lies with the Cerulean Star.”
A muscle twitches in Khimi’s jaw as he digests the information. “I see. Thank you, Sair. I appreciate your honesty.”
Sair fidgets with the sleeves of his linen shirt, looking nervous and guilty. “I must apologize for my behavior earlier… I was out of line. I lost my composure before we arrived in Betset.”
Khimi waves off the sentiment with a forced smile, one that he knows doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Understandable. The attack caught us all off guard. Not everyone is built to withstand a sahuagin raid.” He studies the navigator for a moment before adding, “But it seems Lumi managed to help in some way.”
Sair brushes off his shoulders awkwardly. “H-he was more helpful than I care to admit. It was like he could predict the winds before they happened… the boy sat there next to me and told me which direction they would blow.”
Khimi raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?” he asks, scanning Sair up and down, searching for any hint of deception. “Was Lumi speaking to someone?”
“No, my lord. He simply sat and meditated, occasionally issuing instructions to the crew. It was quite peculiar, he claimed that the gods were guiding him,” Sair explains, scratching his cheek nervously.
“Interesting,” Khimi murmurs, deep in thought. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Sair. Say nothing of this conversation. And for now, please continue Rashid’s instructions.”
Sair bows once again. “Of course, my lord. I will leave you to your thoughts.”
As Sair steps away, Khimi turns back to face the bow of the ship, a troubled expression crossing his features.
Rashid’s Promise
Under the cover of darkness, Khimi finally makes his way below deck. The day’s decisions weighs heavily on him as he contemplates what to say to his oldest friend and advisor. Turning the ship towards Arx Mari had brought forth a myriad of questions for Khimi, each one causing him to second-guess their course of action. The ancient fortress is notorious for housing dangerous prisoners, and it was concerning that Rashid would send them there without just cause. A small part of Khimi silently hoped that Ziad had been captured as a prisoner.
Carefully gripping the large metal ring, Khimi pulls open the heavy latch with a sharp tug before descending the ladder into the hold. The gentle swaying of hammocks greets him as he navigates through the rows of sleeping crewmates. Dimly lit lanterns swing from thick hempen ropes, casting a soft glow throughout the space. The grumbling and snoring of men fill the air, accompanied by the occasional creaking of wood and creaking ropes.
Approaching Rashid’s room, Khimi notices a flickering light from beneath the closed door. With a slight push, the door squeaks open to reveal Rashid sitting at a small desk, furiously scribbling away with his quill on a piece of parchment.
Khimi closes the door behind him. “Rashid,” he begins, crossing the room. He sits on a thin mattress over a built-in wooden bed. “Why Arx Mari?” he questions with a glance at his advisor.
The candlelight casts dramatic shadows across Rashid’s face as he pauses in his writing. He replies without looking up, “Ziad has made Arx Mari his home.”
“As in… he’s imprisoned, right?” Khimi asks, an almost hopeful tone in his voice. He leans against the wooden wall behind him. “Right, Rashid?”
Rashid scoffs. “We wish,” he replies before his quill continues to scribble thoughtfully. “I think it’s best we deal with Ziad before enjoying ourselves in the Isles. If it pleases you.”
“I would have liked to know these things beforehand,” Khimi replies, brushing his hair from his eyes. “How did I not hear about Ziad taking over Arx Mari?” he grumbles, his fingers twisting at his dark hair.
Rashid sighs. “It was simple. Transactional. He purchased the fortress from the Lorians who occupied it. Though, I have my suspicions about his true intentions.”
“If you have any insight into his motivations, then perhaps it’s best you share them with me,” Khimi demands, pulling at his hair in frustration.
Rashid remains still, his expression unreadable as he absorbs Khimi’s words. His quill falls from his hand and he slowly turns in his chair to face him. Pushing back the strands of gray hair that have fallen into his eyes, Rashid reveals flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. It is clear that he has been drinking heavily. Khimi takes note of the empty bottles of rum scattered about the small room.
“You’ve been drinking,” Khimi states plainly.
Rashid nods. “And what of it?”
“It seems as though something is troubling you.”
“Troubling… I suppose,” Rashid replies with a quick shrug.
“What has you so agitated?” Khimi demands, sitting up straighter. “This isn’t like you,” he adds calmly, tapping his knuckle against the wooden frame of the bed.
Rashid lowers his gaze and fiddles with the laces of his tan linen shirt. “It feels like we are approaching the final hour, Khimi.”
“Are you truly that anxious about seeing Ziad again?” Khimi asks, raising an eyebrow to hide his own fears.
Rashid steals a glance at Khimi. “It has been a long time, my friend,” he begins. “Remember that your father is a ruthless man. As he has aged, he has only grown quicker to anger. I have been keeping close watch on his movements in the Golden Isles.”
“Surely Ziad hasn’t made that much progress since arriving there?” Khimi questions, his face turning grim as he starts to reconsider their voyage. “Perhaps we should sail for Sidi instead?”
“No, Khimi. We must see this through,” Rashid says and reaches for another bottle hidden under the desk.
Khimi groans and flops onto the thin pillows. “I must admit,” he says, rolling onto his back. “I am starting to feel a sense of excitement at the thought of putting this business behind us. I am tired of feeling sick every time Ziad’s name is mentioned.”
Rashid’s voice booms with enthusiasm. “Perfect! Then let us put this business behind us. We will speak our minds to Ziad and leave the Golden Isles in our wake.”
Khimi studies Rashid as he brings the colorful bottle to his lips. Rashid drinks deeply, savoring the taste before holding the bottle out to Khimi. As Khimi takes a swig of the rum, Rashid wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his linen shirt.
“It’s never come up before, but I reckon y’ve never been to the Golden Isles, eh?” Rashid asks, gazing longingly at the bottle while Khimi takes another sip.
“I haven’t ventured much further north than the Temple of Life,” Khimi replies quietly. “But one day, I’d love to visit Loria. I’ve heard such wonderful stories about it.”
Rashid grunts in response, leaning back against the desk. “Buncha stuck up lords and ladies there. The Emperor, Julius Crassi… they say he descends from a goddess, but everyone knows it’s a load of bullshit. It’s a place best avoided if given the chance.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “Now, Rigo is a different story altogether. And if you’re heading to the far reaches, you should definitely visit Halluin or Wiltz.”
“You sound more traveled than I recall, old friend,” Khimi replies. His eyes focus on the light of the candle, listening to Rashid’s drone on.
“Well, it’s been years since I got to travel properly. Since Aleyna asked me to be y’re guardian and all. But, fore ya were born, I had traveled much of Loria. I was seekin’ my place’ I suppose ya could say. I had grown tired of the military and felt a lack of house and home. Anyhow, I took up with the Sun Temple in Loria for a bit. Pompous lot they are. I’ve never seen a group of acolytes or clerics who were more afraid of a little work. The Sanctum of Balance, the Sepulcher of Rites, and the Bastion of Knowledge have much more—”
“Rashid,” Khimi interrupts with a laugh. “Why didn’t you just tell me about Arx Mari?” he asks pointedly, cutting off his advisor.
Rashid pulls at his earlobe nervously, avoiding Khimi’s gaze. “I wanted to wait until we were closer. But after we finish our business there, we can head to the Greater Cay and sell our wares.”
Khimi reclines on his back, taking another swig from his bottle. “Once we leave Arx Mari, things should be smooth sailing then.”
Rashid lets out a hearty laugh at this statement. “I suppose that all depends on how our meeting with Ziad goes.”
Khimi sits in contemplative silence, the last of the rum gliding down his throat as he stares into nothingness, while Rashid turns back to his letter. The older man’s familiar cadence fills the room, and Khimi, lost in thought about his conversation with Lumi, slowly turns on his side to face Rashid. A question, heavy with both hope and trepidation, forms in his mind: Should I ask Rashid his thoughts? After all, if I ever found myself taking a wife… Rashid was meant to be the one to officiate the union.
Summoning his resolve, Khimi pushes himself upright, supporting his weight on a bent elbow. “Rashid,” he begins, his voice cutting through the steady hum of the older man’s droning, “when you get back to Rhaz… I’d like you to be the one to officiate Lumi and my union.”
Rashid slowly turns in his chair, blinking in surprised delight as his cheeks flush a deep crimson. “Did ya ask the aslan to marry?” he teases, his tone filled with both mirth and astonishment.
Khimi’s reply is soft, laden with sincerity. “I didn’t exactly ask him to marry me—I asked him to spend his life with me.” He meets Rashid’s gaze, noting his expression shifting.
“When are ya gonna tell me?” Rashid howls, pushing himself from his chair with a sudden burst of energy. He clambers over to the wooden bed, positioning himself beside Khimi. “Of course I’d be honored to wed ya,” he declares, his voice thick with both pride and playful urgency. “So… what did he say?”
“He seemed happy… I was happy,” Khimi begins, unsure of what to say. He holds his hand over his chest. “I felt my heart beating through my chest,” he admits quickly. He pauses, then polishes off the bottle.
“Worried… ?” Rashid asks, slapping Khimi on the shoulder.
Rum splatters over Khimi’s chest. “Yeah! Worried that he was going to think it was too sudden,” he says, coughing.
Rashid laughs. “I doubt ya have anything to worry about on that front. He’s always lookin’ at ya. Though…”
“Though?”
“Though, I have heard some Dolman tribes don’t believe in weddings or unions… they take several partners at once,” Rashid offers, narrowing his eyes at Khimi menacingly. “Are ya prepared to share y’r bed?”
Khimi’s brow furrows at Rashid. “Don’t even make those sorts of jokes!” Khimi spits, wiping the rum from his shirt with Rashid’s pillow.
“No, no, it’s true. Many of them don’t take partner’s. But I’m certain with the number of years Lumi spent at the temple, he understands that commitment,” Rashid says playfully.
Khimi looks up at Rashid, noting his aging advisor’s years. “I don’t think I could share him,” he says, then pauses. Dabbing the pillow, he cleans the rest of the rum from his shirt. “When you see my mother. After you depart from Arx Mari… will you tell her that she can come?”
“Y’re not planning to go to Sidi with me? Khimi, Sidi holds a very special meaning to y’r family… I believe that if ya ever are to wed, then it should be there,” he says in an apologetic tone.
Khimi sits up against the wall. “I’ll talk to Lumi about it, but I don’t think location is something he would even be concerned about. Though I think Rhaz holds something special for both of us.”
“He does seem like he’d be happy anywhere as long as y’re around ‘em. Maybe married life will tame the little whelp!” Rashid says, laughing loudly.
Khimi shakes his head at Rashid’s laughter. “I don’t think anyone will be able to tame him,” he grimaces with a knowing look at Rashid, “trust. I have tried my best.”
“Oi, we’ve all heard y’r attempts to tame the boy! The moans and curses are loud enough to be heard across the entire Emerald Coast!”
“It’s not my fault that he’s so loud…” Khimi mutters, then sits up from the bed, placing the mostly empty bottle on the planks. “So, then, it’s a promise?” he asks and turns to Rashid.
“I promise, on my oath as a paladin of Balance, Khimi. I’ll officiate y’r union,” he says, his hand placed over his heart.
“Then I suppose… that’s it then.”
“Wait,” Rashid says, holding out his hand.
“What is—”
Khimi’s words are interrupted by Rashid’s tight embrace. Rashid holds Khimi against him, swaying his body from side to side. Khimi returns Rashid’s embrace with equal fervor, and closes his eyes with soft sniffles in his ears. Warm wet tears fall over Khimi’s shirt, the elderly man unable to control his emotions.
“Rashid… I thought you said Lumi was the emotional one,” Khimi teases, squeezing him tightly.
“Khimi—”
“I promise… it’s okay. I care about him. More than I’ve cared about anything.”
Rashid pushes Khimi back at arms length, looking him up and down. “I’d never thought I’d see the day ya found a wife!” he says happily.
“Well… he’s not my wife but—”
“Same difference.”
“Completely different,” Khimi says, his lips straightening into a thin line.
Rashid chortles. “Fine then, husband… though I’ve heard ‘em called y’r paramour as of late!”
Khimi sighs. “He’s actually introduced himself as my paramour once. I believe it was Ennui who provoked him into using that term… now it’s stuck.”
“He’s bold, I’ll give ‘em that at least,” Rashid says, wiping a stray tear from his face.
“And what did you mean, never thought I’d get married?!” Khimi asks with an angry scowl.
“Well,” Rashid begins, nervously tousling his own hair. “Ya just didn’t seem like the marriage type… if ya catch my meaning.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t worry about it then!” Rashid says with a laugh.
Khimi glares at Rashid through narrowed eyes, wondering the meaning behind his words. Didn’t seem like the marriage type? He looks about the tiny room, drumming his fingers over the wooden desk, then glances down at the letter, noting the correspondence. Aleyna? He instinctively reaches for the parchment. Rashid moves quicker, slamming his hand over the page, obstructing Khimi’s view.
“What are you writing to Aleyna about?” Khimi asks. The candlelight flickers over his face, and he grips the edge of the paper.
Rashid pulls the letter from Khimi’s grip. “It was nothing but humble greetings and prayers that she is doing well,” he chuckles nervously.
“Do you plan to continue reporting to her?” he asks.
Rashid offers Khimi a knowing grin in response. “I suppose, old habits are hard to break. We’ve been writing each other for over a decade now, Khimi.”
“Well then, when you send that letter, make sure to mention my intentions,” Khimi says with a hint more severity in his tone. “Tell her it would mean a lot if she could be there.” He carefully gauges Rashid’s expression. “No more spying, Rashid,” he continues firmly. “Just speak your mind from now on. I know my mother means well.”
“If that is y’r wish,” Rashid replies softly. “I was only writing to her about Betset. We’ve become friends through our correspondence, mostly discussing y’r well-being. But lately we have also talked about Lumi.”
Khimi runs his fingers across his eyebrows, pinching the bridge. “Just tell her that… I appreciate her. That I hope she is well. And that I would be pleased if she were happy for me.”
“I’m certain Aleyna will be quite fond of the little lion,” Rashid replies, his expression softening. “I’ll rewrite this then,” he says, folding the thick paper into smaller bits.
An uncomfortable, awkwardness fills the tiny cabin. Khimi shifts his weight from one foot to the other. There has been so much that Rashid seems to hide from him lately that he feels unnerved.
Placing a comforting hand on Rashid’s shoulder, Khimi speaks gently. “I will always appreciate everything you have done for me. I’m sorry that we do not always see eye to eye.”
“I’m sorry that we haven’t either,” Rashid mutters, “but, y’re a man full-grown now, Khimi. Ya won’t have me around with you forever. Ya can make y’r own decisions.”
Khimi scoffs lightly, a soft laugh escaping him. “You speak as though I am an ancient beast. I am not that old.”
“You’re old enough,” Rashid laughs, shaking his head in mock annoyance. “Some will joke y’re robbing the cradle when ya wed,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“Stop!” Khimi laughs. “Ennui has already told me what others have said.”
Rashid shakes his head. “She is right, we’ve already heard it said plenty enough.”
Khimi groans, “That’s great. I guess the Zeybek reputation will take a beating.”
“Eh,” Rashid shrugs. “It isn’t his age that most people seem to consider, it’s the fact that demi-humans[1] don’t tend to marry outside their own.”
“Lumi isn’t one to follow traditions, it seems,” Khimi replies. He looks at the wooden door, a reluctant smile creeps onto his face as he speaks. “He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
Rashid returns the smile and pulls Khimi into a warm embrace. “There you go, smiling again!”
Feeling a surge of excitement and nervousness in his gut, Khimi can’t help but confess, “He’s been the only thing on my mind since we set sail.”
Rashid claps a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad for that.” His eyes narrow in curiosity. “Speaking of, is he awake yet?”
Khimi averts his gaze, a rare flush creeping up his cheeks. “He didn’t sleep last night,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “But I imagine he’ll need a bit more rest.”
Rashid eyes him with barely concealed amusement, arms crossed over his chest. “Right,” he drawls. “Ya’d best bring him something to eat… other than salted meat.”
Khimi sighs dramatically. “Unfortunately, that’s all we have on board. And our cook isn’t exactly skilled, just the other day, he nearly set the ship on fire.”
Rashid snorts, shaking his head as they approach a sturdy wooden door. Without warning, he slings an arm around Khimi’s shoulder. “Come on then, let me show ya how to make a proper salted pork stew.”
“How difficult can it be?” Khimi playfully challenges.
“You would be surprised,” Rashid responds. “And when you are married and settled down, perhaps you can surprise Lumi with some delicious salted pork stew.”
Khimi rolls his eyes, exasperated but unable to suppress the genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Ah yes, the true delicacy of the Desert Cities.” They both share a laugh before the door swings closed behind them.
[1] Demi-Human: A slang term used for beastkin, usually derogatory.
Arx Mari
The small vessel cuts through the gentle waves, arriving south of Arx Mari nearly a full day ahead of schedule. The fair winds, once a blessing, now feel like a cruel trick, bringing Khimi face to face with his destination far sooner than he’d hoped.
Sair, perplexed by the journey’s speed, wrings his hands as he approaches. “Apologies, my lord,” he mutters. “I miscalculated the winds.”
Khimi barely hears him. He stands at the bow, hands gripping the railing as the island looms into view. His stomach knots at the sight of it. Arx Mari, once a mighty prison, now nothing more than a glorified palace in the heart of the island, rises from the landscape, its imposing walls bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Even from this distance, the fortress exudes an undeniable presence, a shadow of power and history that refuses to fade.
The small harbor on the western side of the island stretches before them, its piers bustling with activity. High above, banners ripple in the sea breeze, the deep blue field and golden eight-pointed star casting long shadows against the stone walls of the citadel. The emblem of the Cerulean Star Mercantile, a brand synonymous with the Zeybek name. A bitterness settles in Khimi’s chest. So, Arx Mari belongs to the Cerulean Star now. His fingers tighten against the rail. To what end, Ziad? What purpose does this fortress serve you? Lumi stands beside him, pointing over the rails at the massive vessels anchored outside the harbor. Harbinger. The galleon looms over the water, its black-lacquered timbers gleaming like an oil slick beneath the midday sun. It had been commissioned in his youth, one of Ziad’s private vessels, a project Khimi had once marveled at as a boy, standing at his father’s side, watching it come to life plank by plank. Now, the sight of it sends ice through his veins. Drifting beside it, just as formidable, is Apathy. The sister ships, ominous, dark, stand as sentinels of Ziad’s power, their towering masts a silent warning. Khimi’s stomach churns as their small cog drifts closer to the harbor. The towering shadows of the galleons stretch across the waves, swallowing the light.
Oblivious to his dread, Lumi grins as he studies the ships, eyes wide with wonder. “They’re enormous,” he breathes, looking between them.
Khimi exhales slowly, his fingers loosening from the rail. Yes, he thinks grimly, watching the tide carry them forward. They are.
He places a comforting hand on Lumi’s back, though he’s not sure if he’s trying to comfort Lumi or himself. “Yes,” he mutters under his breath.
He keeps his eyes trailed on the stories of stone walls built around the harbor. I wonder if we should have moored outside the harbor. He takes notice of the large holes in the stone during their passage. Chains, massive steel chains built to keep vessels in or out of the docks.
As he turns to watch smaller cogs being unloaded into the citadel. His attention is drawn back to the towering stone walls surrounding the harbor as Ennui approaches from behind. “Does this island have a name or is it all just referred to as Arx Mari?” she asks, gesturing to the island, citadel, and harbor.
Lumi looks back. “Khimi said it’s all just known as Arx Mari…and they used to hold dangerous prisoners,” he adds with an impish smirk.
“That so?” Ennui asks, narrowing her eyes at Khimi.
“But there shouldn’t be any prisoners here now,” Rashid chimes in from behind Ennui. “I can’t imagine Loria giving up their political prisoners or most violent criminals.”
Lumi glances back at Rashid, “If they’re criminals and murderers…wouldn’t they just kill them?”
Khimi chokes at Lumi’s words.
“It’s not always that easy, Lumi,” Ennui says in an effort to explain. “Sometimes, in places like Loria. Nobility or blood can… lessen your culpability, or even in some instances free you from a crime.”
“Huh? That sounds dumb,” Lumi says with a baffled expression before turning back to the harbor. “That’s not fair at all.”
Rashid sighs. “Lumi, listen. Y’re gonna need to know this. In some societies, some people are seen as being worth more than others and thus can get away with things others could not. In Loria… this is very common. A poor criminal will be executed. A wealthy noble, on the other hand… will come here.”
“So these are just criminals, then? Thieves and conmen?” Lumi asks without turning back. “Wealthy criminals?”
“Not necessarily,” Ennui says, shaking her head. “You see, sometimes… people like myself are imprisoned. Usually in the hopes of being broken or reformed to serve the empire’s needs. Assassins, murderers, mercenaries, even the occasional mage gone rotten.”
Lumi leans back against the rails. “Y’sol told me that Loria was once a beautiful place… but it changed… maybe this is what she means. It sounds awful,” he pouts, then puffs his cheeks and looks down at the dark water.
“Who told you what now?” Ennui says, furrowing her brow.
Lumi tilts his head, a look of realization dawning on his face. “It’s nothing… don’t worry about it.”
“Lumi,” Khimi says, placing his hand on Lumi’s head. “Do you want to stay on the ship?” he asks, his fingers brushing through his hair before he recoils suddenly. I shouldn’t touch him here.
Ennui and Rashid cast curious glances at Khimi. Khimi looks back at the two of them with a grim expression.
“Eh? Why?” Lumi asks, looking up at Khimi. “I’m sick of being on the ship,” he grumbles and grasps Khimi’s hand, placing it back on top of his head.
Ennui cracks what Khimi can only argue is a smile. “If it pleases you, Lord Zeybek… I will keep an eye on the little lion,” she says, taking Lumi’s arm.
“Fine,” Khimi replies coldly.
Khimi fidgets with the golden thread on his sleeve while he watches Ennui adjust Lumi’s white half shirt. She pulls the cloth down his midsection, covering more of Lumi’s tanned skin. When did they become so close? Lumi tightens the blue waist sash wrapped around his white sarouel. He looks up to Khimi with a wide grin, his tail whisks excitedly behind him.
“Khimi!” Lumi begins. “It’ll be alright!” he exclaims, embracing him abruptly.
Khimi leaves his hands to his side, Lumi snuggling against him. “I just feel… I feel—”
“I’ll watch him,” Ennui interrupts. “It’s fine. You and Rashid handle your business,” she says sternly, with a knowing look at Khimi.
Rashid clears his throat. “I don’t mean to sound… obtuse. But, I think that Lumi should meet Ziad,” he begins. “It stands to reason that if Khimi offers his intentions, that Ziad would like to meet him.”
“I disagree,” Ennui growls, cracking her knuckles. “Ziad doesn’t need to approve of Lumi. He won’t approve of Lumi. I know men like him, they’re all the same. Bloated egos.”
Khimi runs his fingers through his hair, pulling at his short locks in contemplation. “I’m with Ennui, Rashid. No matter what, he is going to be angry. If he meets Lumi, then I fear the situation may get out of hand…”
Lumi shrugs and beams up at Khimi. “I don’t mind either way… but I am sure someone will tell him I am here. He may be angry if I don’t meet him,” he says, looking back over the railing.
The vessel slowly draws its approach to the piers, sailors call down to the dockhands. Massive ropes are tossed down to the men along the dock and within moments, the ship, its sails furled, finds itself stilled. Rashid looks uncomfortably up at the massive stone citadel.
“I heard it was built by a witch,” Rashid says under his breath, breaking their lengthy quiet. He squints his eyes at the large circular window looming high above the harbor.
Ennui rolls her eyes. “I bet the emir is up there right now. Like a king in his castle.”
Khimi tugs on the blue sleeve, the golden threads rip from the blue fabric. He tightens the yellow silk waist sash and looks up with the others. It certainly looks like a witch could have built it.
“Rashid.”
“Yes, Khimi?”
“My blade, please,” Khimi requests, extending his hand.
With a graceful gesture, Rashid presents Khimi with the curved shamshir. The rare blade, gifted to him by Ziad during his childhood, glints in the dim light. Its razor-sharp edge, crafted from Sidian steel, has not tasted blood since its last encounter with Ziad. For Khimi, the blade is more of an ornamental piece than a weapon; he has made a vow to never unsheathe it.
The sun hangs high in the noon sky, yet no rays pierce through the heavy clouds. A thick fog rolls in from the sea as they disembark from the small cog. Rashid and Khimi step onto the pier, closely followed by Lumi and Ennui. An elderly man with a tawny beard stands at the end of the dock, impatiently rolling back and forth on his heels. He eyes Rashid and Khimi up and down before removing his leather skullcap and silently motioning for them to follow him. With hands buried deep in his oiled leather coat pockets, he leads them towards the citadel. Rashid and Khimi exchange knowing looks before trailing behind him. Meanwhile, Ennui and Lumi remain at the bottom of the gangplank conversing with Sair, casting worried glances at their comrades.
They make their way through the small harbor, the old man moves briskly ahead without uttering a single word. Dozens of smaller wooden buildings line the water’s edge, their windows filled with crates and barrels of mysterious goods. Khimi steals another glance upwards at the formidable citadel looming above them as they walk over dark, uneven cobblestones. The path winds beneath the structure in a low archway, lined with stacked wooden boxes and barely lit by flickering torches. They venture deeper into the heart of the citadel, the light from behind them soon fades away, and Khimi produces a small orb of flame to light their way. The shadows seem to grow darker and more ominous while they continue forward.
The tawny-haired man looks back. “Useful trick,” he mutters in a vexed tone.
Khimi remains silent while they continue down the dank passageway. The man stops before a gated entry. Behind the metal bars, a lengthy set of spiral stairs rise upward. The man jangles a set of keys in his hand, he deftly procures a heavy looking brass key.
“Might we have y’r name?” Rashid asks. He pulls the blue cloak marked with the eight pointed star over his shoulder. “I’ll tell Ziad how helpful ya were.”
“I don’t need you to put in a good word on my behalf,” the man replies coldly. “Emir Ziad is aware of my loyalty,” he adds in a mumble.
The heavy wooden gate creaks open with a groan, the man leading them into the grand interior of Arx Mari. The air is cool and faintly scented with incense as Khimi and Rashid step inside. They ascend the massive spiral staircase, their footsteps muffled by the thick, luxurious rugs that adorn each step, their intricate designs in rich, earth-toned hues. As they reach the first floor of Arx Mari, beautifully hand-woven rugs run along the staircase to the second floor. Tapestries hang along the wall, woad blue, adorned with the same eight-pointed star that symbolizes his family’s legacy. Gold thread weaves through the edges, catching the light as it stretches across the fabric, an ostentatious display of wealth.
Ziad’s indulgence knows no limits, Khimi thinks, his jaw tightening as the grandeur of the citadel threatens to overwhelm him.
As they continue upward, Khimi’s thoughts are interrupted by the quiet sound of footsteps. An elven woman, her dark hair cascading in soft waves, passes them, cradling a swaddled child in her arms. The babe stirs as she moves, but she doesn’t meet their gaze. The elderly man nods respectfully to her as she glides past, her face serene. Khimi’s pulse quickens. He watches the woman disappear into the hallway above, but his gaze lingers on the child in her arms. His heart skips, a pang of something unspoken twisting in his chest.
“Does Ziad keep retainers here?” Khimi asks, his voice tinged with suspicion. He clenches his fist at his side, suddenly filled with a strange unease. “Whose child is that?”
Rashid places a hand on Khimi’s shoulder. “It’s likely the child of a guest of the house, I am sure,” he says, trying to comfort Khimi.
“Emir Ziad allows trade partners to stay in the citadel on occasion,” the man replies plainly. He offers a cold shrug before he continues through the citadel.
Khimi allows a sigh of relief. “The woman looked as if she was from the Desert Cities, where does she hail from?”
“A small village,” the man spits out.
Rashid remains quiet, his cheeks growing red. “A small village is it?” he questions after a moment.
“Right,” the man replies.
“Is there something that interests you, Rashid?” Khimi asks, his eyebrows raised as he turns to study his advisor’s expression.
Rashid grimaces. “Nothing. Just thinkin’,” he confesses.
The grand chamber of the second floor opens before them, a vast, open space supported by towering columns that stretch into the high ceiling. Light filters through the room, casting its cool glow through the immense stained-glass windows. Brilliant blues, greens, and golds mingle in the intricate depictions of sailing vessels on the Emerald Coast. The artistry is impeccable, each ship appearing to move with the flow of the sea, frozen in time. As they step forward, the figures about the room pause, eyes drawn to Khimi and Rashid. The weight of their gaze is palpable, but the elderly man presses onward, guiding them beneath the stained-glass windows and toward the archway that opens to the balcony. The man pauses, motioning once more for them to continue ahead.
As they step onto the balcony, the atmosphere shifts. The courtyard below is quiet. The dark sky looms overhead, thick clouds pressing in like a blanket, muting the light. At the center of the courtyard stands a towering oak tree, its ancient branches reaching skyward, casting long, stretching shadows across the cobbled walkways and benches beneath. Khimi leans against the cool stone railing, the edge of the balcony offering a sweeping view of the manicured gardens below. Memories of his youth flood his mind, when he used to help Ziad tend to the courtyard in Sidi. The familiar scents of blooming mums fill his nostrils, bringing a wave of nostalgia and longing for simpler times. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, savoring a moment of peace. But the tranquility is short-lived. The sound of approaching footsteps snaps him back to the present. The peace he had felt slips away as quickly as it came. With a deep exhale, he straightens his posture, his resolve hardening. He turns towards Ziad, the man who has haunted his thoughts for so long, ready to face the inevitable.
As Ziad approaches, Khimi can’t help but notice the subtle changes in his appearance. His once copper skin had taken on a lighter hue, and strands of gray now thread through his jet black hair. The sharp lines of his jaw and features had softened with age, giving him a dignified air. However, there is a weariness that hangs beneath his eyes, hinting at the heft of his responsibilities. Dressed in an emerald kaftan that drapes down to just above his ankles, Ziad exudes an aura of authority and importance. The fabric shimmers with threads of gold woven throughout, adding a touch of ceremony. Hateful thoughts swirl through Khimi’s mind as he begins to bow in greeting.
Khimi inhales through his teeth, the sound almost a hiss. “Ziad–”
His words die on his tongue as Ziad engulfs him in a warm embrace. The scent of sandalwood and musk fills Khimi’s nostrils, bringing back memories of home. It has been too long since he felt this familiar sensation. The sudden rush of emotions is overwhelming, like being caught in a whirlwind of nostalgia. He forces the tears wanting to form away with his sheer stubborn will.
His jaw clenches and forces himself to think back on the dark clouds that haunted his childhood. You’re still the same man you always were, he tells himself.
Ziad pulls tighter against him, drawing him deeper into his embrace. “It has been too long, son.”
Khimi can barely find his voice to respond. “Father…” His breath hitches. Clearing his throat, he finally manages to speak, “It has been a-a while.”
“It appears it is as they say!” Ziad says, holding Khimi back at arm’s length. “You’ve really sprouted! Became a full man in your own right.”
Khimi blinks slowly in confusion. “Yes… the years have been kind to you as well, father.”
“Glad you think so! Now, come indulge me. Ahh, Rashid, you’ve managed to make the journey as well,” Ziad says, his eyes narrowing at his old friend.
“Ziad,” Rashid starts, the name carrying a certain edge. He offers a bow. “It has been many years. You seem to be in good spirits.”
Ziad places an arm over Khimi’s shoulder, leading him into a large chamber along the balcony. “Why would I not? It is the first time I’ve seen my son in years,” he says with a glance back at Rashid. “And the Isles have been kind.”
“We’re not staying,” Khimi says abruptly, snapping back to his senses.
“Not even for the night?” Ziad pouts. “Come, let’s get you fed… we have much to discuss.”
Rashid follows close behind, always within earshot but carefully keeping his distance. “We have a lot of business to attend to in the Isles,” he says, his voice measured, careful. “Surely, you understand.”
“Of course, of course,” Ziad replies, a fleck of anger in his tone.
“Father—Ziad,” Khimi begins, his voice soft but firm as he adjusts his stance. “We just came to pay our respects to you before continuing onward. It would be… rude to come to the Isles without—” His words trail off, an awkward pause hanging in the space between them.
“Right,” Ziad interrupts, his fingers drumming impatiently against Khimi’s shoulder. The faintest flicker of anger passes through his eyes, quickly masked by the veneer of civility. “I understand. At least join me for dinner,” he suggests, his tone cool, but Khimi can sense the unspoken demand beneath it.
Khimi glances back at Rashid, whose silent nod affirms the decision. “Very well, Ziad,” Khimi agrees, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of unease. “We do plan to arrive at the Greater Cay tomorrow evening.”
Ziad nods, satisfied, and turns, leading the way through a series of archways, each one grander than the last. The northern wing looms ahead, a dark corridor stretching before them The archway opens into a dining room. Though vast, it feels oppressively quiet. A large, dark wooden table dominates the center, its oiled surface gleaming dimly in the low light from a single hearth. The room is otherwise shrouded in shadows, the faint warmth from the fire casting dancing shadows along the walls. The heavy Rhazian rug beneath the table adds a sense of quiet grandeur, the silken threads shimmering faintly. Wooden chairs, upholstered in lush Sidian silk, are arranged in meticulous rows. Ziad makes his way to the head of the table as he gestures for Khimi and Rashid to take their seats on either side of him. Khimi follows suit, his movements stiff as he lowers himself into the chair. Rashid settles beside him, though something about him seems uneasy.
Ziad places his fingers beneath his chin, a practiced gesture of contemplation. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks at Khimi, his tone flat, almost disinterested. “So, what brings you to the Golden Isles?” The question is casual, but Khimi feels as though Ziad already knows the answer.
Khimi exhales slowly, feeling the pressure of his father’s gaze. “Ziad, I know you’ve kept your eye on me through the years,” he confesses.
“What do you expect?” Ziad responds in kind. “I like to keep an eye on all of my assets.”
“Khimi deserves his freedom,” Rashid says, raising his voice.
Ziad sucks his teeth, his expression becomes seething. “I was talking to my son,” he says, tapping his palm on the table. “Your time for conversation will come.”
“He means well—”
“Certainly,” Ziad interrupts, keeping his eyes on Rashid. “Perhaps we should speak of pleasantries over dinner. We can at least be civil while we eat… or no?”
“Right then,” Khimi starts, “what was your reason for this? For Arx Mari?”
Ziad closes his eyes, releasing an audible sigh. “It had recently been acquired by Sidian nobility from the Lorians. They didn’t realize what they had acquired or the amount of attention Arx Mari required to maintain. I was all too willing to take it off their hands… .”
Khimi gives a smug grin. “I’m certain you’ve already found a way to profit from this venture?”
“I wouldn’t have offered to take this… stone tomb had I not figured out a way to make it worth my time,” Ziad says.
“And the prisoners—”
“Let us enjoy our meal,” Ziad says, a slight irritation creeping back into his tone.
Though Rashid remains quiet, Khimi can hear the squeeze of his hand clenched to the pommel of his dagger beneath the table. Ziad calls through the hall for a servant and within a moment, an array of small plates are delivered before them. Salted pork, sliced into thin sheets. Dried apricots and figs, toasted almonds, sliced peaches, peppered sausages, and a variety of rich cheeses. Ziad and Khimi steer conversation away from heavier topics. While the tension between the three men is easily readable, they manage to maintain a level of peace between them.
The air grows heavier as a bottle of Sidian red is brought to the table, its rich, deep hue gleaming in the low light of the room. A soft clink echoes through the space as three gilded goblets are placed before them, their gold rims catching the firelight. The woman, her ivory complexion almost glowing in contrast to the dim room, pours the wine. Her meek grin flits briefly toward Khimi as she fills each goblet, the rich aroma of the wine filling the space between the three men. He brings the goblet to his nose. The familiar scent of his homeland’s fermented grapes brings back somewhat fond memories of Sidi. It is unmistakably Sidian red, the same wine that had once marked the end of his days when he still lived home with his mother. He traces the rim of the goblet with his finger, memories flooding him in waves.
The first sip he had ever taken of this wine, back when he was younger, lingers in his mind. Aleyna had offered him a drink after Ziad had left the estate. He can almost see her now, sitting across from him, offering him the bottle as if she no longer wished to be alone in her cups. At the time, the act had felt so simple, so comforting. Over time, that gesture had become a nightly ritual. At the end of each day, they would share a bottle, the silence between them comforting. When he had left the estate all those years ago, those quiet moments with Aleyna had become something he cherished, something he thought about often as he journeyed.
Once their plates are empty, Ziad clears his throat. “Now that we’ve had our fill,” he begins, “I believe we can speak candidly now. So, what brings you here, Khimi?” he asks, his hands tucked against his stomach.
Nervousness leaves him the moment he looks into his father’s piercing eyes. “I’m aware that you’ve kept spies in the Desert Cities, so I know, I know you are aware of what I am planning to say.”
“I know of your demi-human lover,” Ziad whispers calmly. Scratching his bearded chin, he continues, “I was told Aleyna sent suitor after suitor. Yet, you denied each one.”
Khimi sighs and hangs his head. “Lumi… means a lot to me, and I plan to wed him.”
“You’re aware that no heir will come of this? The Desert Cities, nay, all of Talmus will look down on you, on our family,” Ziad claims. He rests his hands in his lap. “Khimi, you know I can’t approve of this union. There are hundreds of suitors—”
“I-I wasn’t seeking your approval!” Khimi exclaims, gripping the table.
“Khimi’s happiness should account for something!” Rashid pipes up insistently.
Ziad sighs, his knuckles audibly cracking beneath the table. “I cannot allow you to shame our family. The Zeybek name is synonymous with honor and dignity!”
“Honor and dignity… ? If I cannot even choose my partner… what is the purpose of all of this? I don’t want any of it then!” Khimi replies, his palms smashing on the wooden table.
Ziad tilts his head back. “Son, don’t test me on this. You have a duty to your family and you must complete it. I’m not telling you that you cannot keep him around, if, that is what you want.”
“Are ya truly fine with the aslan being around?” Rashid asks, his voice shaking.
Ziad turns his gaze to Rashid. Glowering, he says, “As fine as one can be with my son shaming my family,” he pauses. “Rashid, you’ve become quite the contrarian in your old age. Perhaps it’s best if you step outside.”
“There is no shame in it!” Khimi murmurs angrily.
“Khimi,” Ziad grumbles. “While you may think nothing of it, you weaken our house with this nonsense. Do you have any idea what the other merchant princes will think?”
“If this is what you think—”
“Do not heed him, Khimi,” Rashid interrupts. “He has no control over ya, or y’r decisions.”
Ziad grins, seemingly holding back laughter. “I have no say in my son’s future?”
“I-I’ve only ever thought of what you and Aleyna wanted,” Khimi says, pushing himself from his seat. His breath is shaky as he tries to calm himself. “You have no idea how long those thoughts, the pressure of being the last heir, needing to reproduce, being this ideal son—have haunted my mind. I don’t want any of it.”
“Are you renouncing yourself as the heir?” Ziad sneers, his face a mask of cold, hard stone. His eyes glint with malice and his lips curl into a sneer. “You—”
“Ya have no right to force Khimi from his inheritance!” Rashid roars, slamming his balled fist on the table in a show of defiance. His voice trembles with anger and his eyes blaze with fury.
Ziad snorts derisively. “If you don’t plan to bring children into this world, our line will die. There will be no more to the Zeybek name, except for the pathetic offshoots of our lineage. Those who cling so desperately to our name for their power. Is this what you want? You want one of Harod’s spawn to claim our legacy?” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest in smug satisfaction. “That is what will happen!”
“Of course it’s not,” Khimi replies, his voice tinged with sadness and frustration. He shakes his head in dismay at the situation. “I returned to our family out of the love I feel for—”
“Liar,” Ziad snorts, he fingers the tip of his pointed beard. “You came back because your mother forced you. You have no love for us,” he says scornfully, pushing himself from the table with an air of disgust. “No love for generations of merchants and lords who have given their lives in service to the Cerulean Star.”
Khimi growls low in his throat, suppressing the overwhelming urge to lash out at his father. “You have no idea how much I’ve given for this family!” he seethes through gritted teeth.
Rashid stands abruptly, placing a comforting hand on Khimi’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should leave, Khimi,” he interjects calmly.
“Not until I’ve said my piece,” Khimi replies tersely, refusing to back down from Ziad’s taunts.
“Speak your mind? You already have,” Ziad laughs cruelly. “I don’t believe I need to hear another word.” His eyes flicker with disdain as he turns back to the empty plates in front of them.
Khimi lets out a heavy sigh, feeling defeated and saddened. “I came here as a courtesy to you. I am going to wed Lumi. He wanted to meet you, but I thought this would be—”
“I have no intention of meeting him,” Ziad interrupts with a growl, cutting off Khimi’s words before he can even finish.
Khimi remains silent, his rage boiling within him. “You’ll never meet him. I won’t let you,” he vows, fists clenching at his sides.
“As I said, I have no intention of seeing him. It’s best if you take your pet and return to the Desert Cities,” Ziad declares dismissively.
“Khimi, please return to the ship,” Rashid insists suddenly.
Ziad sighs. “It is a pity to see things go this way, Khimi.” His eyes do not meet Khimi’s as he picks over the remnants.
“I am sorry as well,” Khimi replies quietly, turning his back on Ziad and heading towards the door. “Are you coming, Rashid?”
Rashid remains silent, his cheeks glowing scarlet. “I’ll be there in a moment. I have private words to share with Emir Zeybek,” he mumbles apologetically.
“I’m sure my son can stay and hear,” Ziad insists with a sly curve to his lips. He gestures to the chairs around the table. “Don’t you want to hear what your advisor has to say to your old man?”
Rashid looks at Khimi, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “Go to the ship, boy,” he demands.
“I’ll hear whatever you have to say,” Khimi whispers hurriedly, feeling torn between respecting Rashid’s wishes and wanting to stand up for himself.
Rashid grumbles angrily. “I won’t ask ya again, Khimi. Go to the ship!” he exclaims with finality.
Khimi gives Rashid a scowl but holds his head high. “Very well, but you will tell me what this is about.”
Ziad calls out to Khimi as he is leaving, “Despite our differences… you’ll always be my son.”
Khimi does not reply, a knot forming in his gut at the hollow words. Within the short time he has been back in his father’s presence, he has already contemplated murdering the man. An unquenchable anger fills him every time he thinks of Ziad and all the pain and suffering he has caused. For so long, Khimi had hoped that maybe his memories of his father were exaggerated or distorted by his own childish fears and insecurities. But now, faced with the truth once again, he knows that the anger and fear he had felt before were justified. Ziad is just as selfish and loathsome as he had remembered… perhaps even more so.
“I’ll see you out,” the elderly man says.
Khimi sets foot onto the stone stairs, motioning for the man to lead ahead. “Carry on,” he mutters with an exasperated sigh.
“Your friends were already seen back to your vessel,” he grumbles, procuring the ring of keys. “They wandered quite a distance,” he says, turning back to Khimi and bearing his teeth.
Khimi casts a suspicious glare. “They are all well, I take it?”
“Very much so. They are confined to your vessel. Wandering hands and eyes aren’t kind,” the man says.
Khimi remains silent, his mind muddled with the hours of conversation. He thinks of hidden meanings behind his father’s words. He wonders if Rashid’s anger is for his own benefit, or if there is more to the heat behind his words. Feelings of frustration and anxiety take hold of him. I need to see Lumi. The elderly man opens the gate at the bottom of the stairs.
“I can make it from here,” Khimi says, turning back to the elderly man.
“As you wish,” the man grumbles with a mock bow.
Khimi walks in silence through the dark hallway. He contemplates turning back, telling his father he wishes to leave the family. But instead he presses on, staring ahead at the bit of light piercing through at the end of the lengthy hallway. The sound of his footfalls against the stone floor echo over the cobbles. In an attempt to clear his thoughts, he slaps his cheek once he draws near the end of the tunnel.
The vessel comes into view once he leaves the tunnel, light from the large braziers illuminates the small docks. A thick and heavy fog rolls through the area, lightly obscuring his vision. Through the fog the view of an approaching figure draws his eye, he places his hand on the hilt of his dagger in preparation. The sight of Lumi running across the wooden pier brings a sense of relief and hope. He relaxes the grip on his weapon. Lumi’s bare feet trample over the wooden planks, a massive grin on his face.
“Khimi!” Lumi calls out happily, rushing towards him.
Khimi chuckles, allowing himself to forget the dark thoughts clouding his mind. “Lumi,” he says, almost a whisper.
Khimi’s arms accept Lumi, whose body slams into him. Lumi’s arms coil behind him, clinging to him. Khimi cannot help but melt in Lumi’s embrace. He lowers his head against Lumi’s ears, brushing his lips through Lumi’s hair.
“We got kicked out,” Lumi laughs, pulling back slightly to look up at Khimi with a cheeky grin.
Khimi lets out a tired sigh. “You’ll have to tell me all about it on the ship. I’m drained.”
Lumi doesn’t seem to notice Khimi’s exhaustion, too excited about something else. “Only if you tell me how things went with Ziad,” he says with a curious tilt of his head.
“I’d rather not,” Khimi replies. He lets out an exaggerated groan as Lumi pulls him along the dock. “It was worse than I was hoping.”
Lumi glances back at Khimi, exclaiming cheerfully, “It’s fine, we’ll be out of this place and home before long!”
“I’ll be happy to put a league between us and Arx Mari,” Khimi replies. His eyelids already heavy with exhaustion. “A hundred leagues.”
“How long until we reach the Greater Cay?” Lumi asks eagerly as they step onto the ship.
Khimi pauses for a moment, mentally calculating the distance. “About a day or so,” he replies, his voice softer. “With decent winds, we’ll be there in the morning.”
“I can’t wait,” Lumi says and pulls himself against Khimi, wriggling wantingly.
“Maybe we’ll get some time alone.”
“We better.”
“We’ll make time.”