Posts tagged “fiction

Her Champion: Chapter 17

Posted on 09/07/2013

metropolis

Tamar tugged the hem of her peplum blouse over slim-fit dark jeans and wrinkled her nose at her sandaled feet before she started the climb up to Dylan’s room. She told herself to snap out of this haze she’d found herself in all through the day, tamping down the echoes of Neecy’s pointed words reminding her that she didn’t deserve being with Dylan.

Somehow, Bekah managed to pull her in front of the mirror, coaxing her to see the woman she’d become; a very different person from two years ago. This reflection was a young woman who worked arduously to get here and darn it, she deserved a shot at happiness too.

Tamar smiled, reminding herself to give her spunky cousin a long embrace once she returned home. Rolling her shoulders to shrug off the anxiety that threatened to creep in, Tamar stood directly in front of Dylan’s door and with only a moment’s hesitation, she lifted a fist to rap on the door.

“I got it!” Crystal shouted quickly, dashing toward the door with a fork in hand before Dylan could come out. She swung the door open to get her first look at the woman that made Dylan smile at the mere mention of her name. She blinked violently, a wide grin slowly forming as she took in the petite woman before her.

She was not the leggy, airhead blonde Crystal had been praying against but she wasn’t quite what she expected either.  She brought her gaze up to those sharp blue eyes. “You’re Tamar. Crystal,” she said offering her empty hand.

Tamar smiled up at Dylan’s younger sister, taking in the girl’s kind green eyes and hair a little lighter than Dylan’s curled slightly over her shoulders. The girl was lithe and tall with perfect tanned skin, like her brother, but her features were feminine and softer. She looked like the kind of girl Tamar would’ve been jealous of in high school.

She reached out her hand and took the girl’s long-fingered hand in hers. Warm and inviting like her brother’s. Tamar decided then that she liked Crystal already. “Nice to meet you, Crystal.” She released the girl’s hand and extended the small covered dish in her hand. “I brought some dessert… It’s a fruit salad.”

Crystal flashed a smile and took the dish from Tamar without hesitation, stepping back into the room to allow her in. “Perfect. Now I won’t have to hear him complain about how he’s watching his diet and can’t have cake. Come on in. Dill will be out in a sec and the food’s almost ready.”

Tamar nodded, following Crystal into the room. “Dill?” she muttered softly, letting the nickname roll of her tongue. Her eyes took in the room before returning it to Crystal. “I mentioned to Dylan that you did a great job on his room. Heard he’s on tight reins to keep it that way.” Surprisingly, she felt at ease talking with this girl that she’d just met. It was probably the kind openness in her eyes that compelled Tamar to relax like she had with Dylan.

She laughed and set the fruit salad down to check on the chicken. “Thank you. Very tight reins. Never give him too much room to play. Don’t tell him but I brought some more things to add. This place looked like a jail cell when he first moved in.”

“Ah, I see… Will definitely keep that in mind,” Tamar bantered with ease, leaning against the counter. “My lips are sealed, although you might not want to make it too comfortable or he’ll never leave.” She smiled up at Crystal. “It might be too much like a home away from home.”

A shutter fell over Crystal’s eyes for the briefest of moments before she smiled in return. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. I rarely see him now as it is.” She carefully forked the chicken in the pan and turned each piece over before brushing more teriyaki sauce over them.

Tamar caught the brief look on her face and had a strange inkling that she’d said something out of line. Holding back a wince for her quick tongue, Tamar peered down at the chicken. “That looks delicious. Can I help with anything?”

“If you could find a pot around here I can boil noodles in, that would be great.”

“Neither of you is supposed to be cooking,” Dylan said entering the kitchenette area. “I’ve been thinking ‘bout this all day long. Never felt a feeling quite this strong.” He sang as he slipped an arm around Tamar’s waist.  The second he cut the last note he dropped a deep but brief kiss on her lips. “Hey, pretty girl,” he greeted softly.

The protest died in her throat as he swooped in and took her mouth in the kind of kiss she’d dreamt about that morning. She almost sank into his arms but remembered that his sister was an unwilling audience and drew back. Her cheeks were tingling as she gazed up at him. “Hey…” she said softly, eyes tracing his face. So much for keeping it cool in front of the sister. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him again.

Crystal dropped her fork, the metal clattering against the counter. She couldn’t do anything but stare, her jaw slack with disbelief as her brother crooned to Tamar as if he did it daily. “I am so telling Mom.”

Dylan chuckled, knowing immediately what it was that had drawn such a response from her.  He drew Tamar into his side. “Pick your jaw up, peanut. She won’t believe you.”

Tamar nudged at Dylan, moving away to stand by Crystal. “Don’t be a distraction, Sinatra. Show me the pot so I can boil some noodles.” She gave him a warm smile from where she stood.

Dylan glared at Crystal suspiciously. “What did you do and what did you say before I came in here?”

“Nothing. It’s hardly my fault if she prefers my company over yours, Sinatra.” She spun around to retrieve the fork, fluffing her hair as she did. She couldn’t contain her smile. Clearly Dylan’s singing was something Tamar was used to from the nickname. She’d have to corner him before he dropped her off.

Tamar bit back a laugh as Crystal teased her brother mercilessly. He even looked adorable when he was slightly annoyed.

“Brat,” he muttered playfully before opening one of the cabinets to pull out a pot. “How’s school going? I didn’t see your last progress report.”

Crystal looked to Tamar behind Dylan’s back and rolled her eyes playfully. “Five A’s, one B. We had a big game right before the calculus test and it threw me off a little. I know, I know. It’ll be an A by the time report cards come out.”

Tamar raised her brows inquisitively as she pulled the pot from Dylan’s hands. “What sport do you play, Crystal?” She could guess either volleyball or basketball from Crystal’s lithe, tall build.

“Volleyball in the fall and basketball in the winter. I tried to manage soccer too but the schedules are too similar now so I gave it up last year. Do you play sports?”

Tamar’s smile waned slightly and she shook her head. “Nah… No sports.” She placed the pot under the faucet. “You’re a very busy senior. No room for senioritis huh?” she turned off the tap as the water topped over the brim.

Crystal arched a brow curiously. No sports? And yet Dylan was more than halfway in love if Tonio’s words and his actions were any indication. Interesting. “Incredibly busy. Even if I wasn’t, Bossy over here wouldn’t let me get lazy.”

Dylan just laughed. It would’ve been easy to point out he was the one footing the bill for all of her extracurriculars but she didn’t mean her teasing and he never wanted her to feel bad. “Bossy gets results.”

“By the way, I have a date for prom.” The words rushed out of Crystal’s mouth and she launched immediately into her next sentence. “Tamar, there’s some chow mein up in that right cabinet if you could grab it.”

Tamar bit back another laugh as she peeked over her shoulder for Dylan’s response to Crystal’s quick announcement. She could tell that these two were more than just siblings; there was a protective paternal side revealed so plainly in Dylan, endearing him more to her heart. She stood on her tiptoes, stretching a hand to reach for the noodles package and waited for Dylan’s response.

<<Chapter 16 || Chapter 18>>

SSP 1: Farah

Posted on 06/07/2013

farah

Farah snuck a peek over her father’s head at the deep groove on the stone ceiling, cubit feet high from the ground. She twisted her mouth and immediately caught her father’s eye. He raised one thick dark brow at her in question. Farah lowered her head to the etched tablet on her lap, biting back a smile.

“Daughter…” Zanahpi said in a calm but invoking tone that had Farah lifting her head to look at him.

“Hmm, yes Papa?”

He tilted his head to study her intently, causing the seventeen-year-old to shift uncomfortably under his probing gaze. “What fills your mind besides the prayers?”

Her cheeks warmed visibly and Farah bit the inside of her cheeks, her eyes still on her father’s amber gaze that normally warmed her heart but now arrested her with cold authority. She didn’t blame him for being impatient with her. This was the fourth time today he’d caught her daydreaming. “Papa… I must ask you something from my mind.” She leaned forward when he rolled his honey-colored eyes and grabbed his wrist before he scooted away from the table.

“What is it now?” his lips were taut with annoyance. “You have not listened to any of my instructions or insights and now you want me to listen to your thoughts?”

Farah squeezed her father’s hand and gave him a smile. “Papa, please. Just answer me this and I will swear to pay close attention.” She made sure her warm yet pleading gaze was steady on her father’s and within moments, the coldness fell from his eyes.

Zanahpi heaved a sigh and nodded. “Fine. What is this question?”

Farah raised one hand, pointing toward the ceiling. “Why are those grooves in the ceiling? I have seen it in Khatereh’s home as well…” she slowed down as her father stiffened visibly across from her.

His jaw tightened, his gaze flitting over her head to the archway that hid the grooves from his view. Then he quickly removed his hand from hers and his lips pursed, the coldness returning in his gaze. “The grooves in the ceiling have nothing to do with you.” He tapped the stone tablet. “This however is a preceding matter if you intend to join the temple in four seasons,” he finished in a clipped tone and pushed up onto his feet. “Leave the other matters alone and concentrate on your studies. A priest’s daughter must make her father proud and I expect it from you, Farah.”

Slack-jawed, Farah stared after her father who now spun on his heels and marched out of the courtyard, his long linen vest embroidered with gold trim flapping in his wake. Once he disappeared around the stone pillar, she closed her mouth. Then she snuck another look up, frowning at the shadowed gaps in the ceiling. Clucking her tongue at her own foolishness, Farah lowered her head and focused on memorizing the tablet of prayers for her upcoming debut as one of the charges of Khatereh, the high priestess’ of the grand temple in Susa. Papa was right, she didn’t have time to worry about the holes in the roof. It wasn’t any of her concern or problem.

A fortnight later, Farah stared up in disabling dismay at the ceiling where two large bronze rings now covered the gaps. Treaty rings, Amuna said in a trembling voice as she gathered her cotton veil about her shoulders before glancing worriedly at the open archway to the courtyard. When Farah moved around her to enter the courtyard and see what the raucous was, Amuna, her nursemaid, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the door. “Lady Farah, please!” she said urgently, gripping Farah’s arm tightly that the girl cringed openly. The fear in Amuna’s gray eyes stilled Farah in her steps. “Just stay with me and be quiet, I beg you.”

Farah shook her head mutely, shaken by Amuna’s open trepidation. It wasn’t like the seasoned woman to fear anything, having served their family even before Farah was born. Amuna had served Farah’s late mother and grandmother before Farah’s father brought her into his home once he was married to her charge. Amuna, a weathered woman, terrified of whatever stood on the other side of the door worried Farah and she loosened her resolve to calm the woman’s anxiety. Until she remembered her father and shook her head.

“No!” She forcefully nudged Amuna’s arm, releasing herself from the woman’s grip and stumbled out onto the courtyard.

The sight before her made her skid on her heels, almost bringing her to her knees. There before her was Zanahpi, one of the most respected high priests in Susa, kneeling! Even her father’s guards and the servants knelt at his heels before a group of people before them. Fury rising within her at the sight, Farah snapped her eyes to the person who would cause her father’s shameful humility and her eyes widened at the leering black eyes in front of her. She could feel her very being shrivel up inside her body at the unwavering gaze of the decorated soldier before her. Farah felt her shoulders bow forward as if to hide herself from his open staring but forced herself to keep her glare focused on him. How dare he cause her father to prostrate himself in his priest garments?

As if the man could hear her raging thoughts, his full mouth curled up in a sneering smirk. Farah flinched as his teeth glinted from the exposed moonlight beams reflecting on his shining armor. It was like a ravenous beast who had found his prey. She shivered involuntarily when his black eyes skimmed over her. How she wished she’d worn her outer coat like Amuna had begged her to earlier in the evening. She knew where his eyes lingered and shifted her body from his view, only lowering her gaze then.

“Zanahpi, I believe I have made my decision…” the man finally spoke, his deep and hoarse voice sending chills trickling down her spine. Farah dared not look at him even though his familiar tone with the revered priest bristled her nerves.

“Anything, Lord Azahar. My family and I are indebted to you.”

Farah’s brow furrowed when the man dared to chuckle darkly in response to her father’s whimpering tone. Indebted for what?

“Good. I knew you would be this way, Zanahpi. I did well to make a treaty with you, it seems.”

Farah’s eyes jerked up and caught the mocking black eyes staring back at her. She moved her gaze to her father’s rigid, bowed back before lifting it to the bronze rings bolstered precariously in the gaps. Treaty rings… Her father had made a peace treaty with this evil man? Why?

Then she heard the measured, heavy footsteps echoing on the polished stone floor and lowered her eyes. Farah inhaled sharply when she realized that the armed general, Azahar, was now approaching her. She felt her entire body shrink inwardly as his black eyes roamed without propriety over her body and bit her tongue to hold back a cry. For some reason, she had a feeling her father would not approve.

But she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her lips when he reached down swiftly and grabbed her wrist, pulling at her. Farah squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to pull away. She could hear the shuffling of urgent footsteps approaching her, followed by the sharp and clear sound of swords unsheathing. The man’s hand tightened around her wrist, jerking her up and against the cold armor of his body. Farah wanted to vomit, wanted to faint. The room was spinning even with her eyes closed.

“Zanahpi,” the man said sternly, his voice echoing in the courtyard. “Call off your guards or my men will kill every member of your household. You aim to break our treaty?”

Farah felt the tears well up in her eyes but clenched her jaw tightly. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing what his presence was doing to her.

His grip didn’t loosen but only pulled her closer to him. Farah felt her knees give way under her and he sighed in annoyance, pressing her further against him. When she couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping her lips, she heard the chuckle drifting over her face.

“Please…please, Lord—not my Farah, please,” Zanahpi pleaded, groveling before the general. “She is sanctified for the temple. Please, not her.”

“It’s her or the treaty is over. My men are especially bloodthirsty and I will not hesitate to let them calm their fever.”

Farah could hear her father’s haggard breathing, could almost see his whole body shrivel up like hers was. He would have to pick between her and the rest of the family. From the way he looked at her, this bloodthirsty villain could end up killing everyone, including her father and still take her with him. Farah felt her shoulders sag in defeat. There was no use struggling now.

Zanahpi’s lips trembled as the armed general hoisted Farah, his precious and only daughter, over his shoulders and strode past the helpless guards to his side of the courtyard. Tears blurred his view of Farah’s face and he blinked rapidly, watching as the general continued walking and the soldiers followed closely behind, blocking his view of his daughter.

Groaning aloud, Zanahpi stumbled to his feet to go after them when his linen hem caught between his legs and tripped the priest. He staggered to the floor and his guards hurried to help him when suddenly the scraping of metal against stone sounded above. Aghast and full of debilitating dismay, Zanahpi watched helplessly as one of the treaty rings unlatched from the groove in the ceiling and crashed to the stone floor. He couldn’t even flinch as he realized that it was his ring that had fallen… Azahar had won, and he’d lost everything.