“I will not take an Asuri as a mate,” Prince Balthazar said, his broad shoulders straightening as he stared defiantly down at his father. Lord Sultan Sami had called him for an audience in his office, and Balthazar knew the moment he got the summons that it would not be pleasant. His father usually found him in his private quarters or in the royal gardens when he wanted to speak. He only ever summoned him the his office for official business.
His father was seated behind a low wooden desk, scattered with stacked papers of decrees and petitions and other things that involved ruling the kingdom. The entire room was made over in shining white marble, with carved out windows that ran all along the top to let the sunlight filter in. On the other side of his father's desk were two thick silk cushions. Balthazar had declined to sit, preferring to stand.
“You do not have a say in the matter,” Sami said, calmly rising from his own thick cushion to square off against his first born son, and the crown prince of his kingdom.
“The Asuri are not fit for mating,” the young prince scoffed, brushing a strand of his dark hair behind a pointed ear. His father was an intimidating man when he was giving an order, but Balthazar was not one to be easily intimidated, not even by his father.
“The Devasi and the Asuri have been allies for millennia, Balthazar,” Sami said, fighting the urge to sigh. He was tired and the thought of another fight with Balthazar made him grow weary.
“A useless alliance,” Balthazar argued, his chiseled jaw tensing. “We need not pander to their desires.”
“We cannot afford to risk a war with Asur,” Sami said, his voice rising as he tried to talk some sense into his son. A son that looked so much like him. He had inherited the noble charcoal eyes and stark black hair of the royal family. He had also inherited his grandfather's stubbornness.
“So you bow to his will?” Balthazar spat, his words dripping from his lips like acid as he barred his fanged teeth. It was an insult and provocation but Balthazar didn't care. He would never mate with an Asuri. They were cowards in his book, always skulking about in the shadows and hiding.
“I bow to necessity,” Sami growled, his eyes hardening, “Something you must learn to do if you are going to rule this kingdom when I'm gone.”
“She is blue,” Balthazar said, his voice lowering a bit. In spite of his recent rebellious behavior, he knew when he had pushed his Lord Sultan too far.
“Then you will learn to like that,” Sami countered, his voice softening a bit.
“I will not mate her,” Balthazar said his voice low as he turned to leave. A fierce growl ripped through the room, stopping the young prince in his tracks.
“I may be your father, boy,” Sami growled out between gritted teeth, “but disobey me as your Lord Sultan and I will not be lenient. You will mate her, and you will do it before the next new moon.”
Lord Sami let out a heavy sigh as his son left the room without another word. He had grown more and more disobedient as of late. Sami could sense the desire for power growing in his son’s heart, and it churned his stomach with worry. He had learned firsthand the sacrifices that had to be made for the kind of power his son desired.
“My Lord,” Darius interrupted the Lord Sultan’s thoughts as he entered the office with a deep bow. He was the Divan of the kingdom and he was Sami's right hand man. He made sure that the decrees made by the Lord Sultan were carried out. He was the enforcer of the Royal Family's will throughout the kingdom. The short, balding man settled himself cross-legged on a cushion opposite Sami, pulling out a number of scrolls from the bag he always carried at his hip. He began to unravel the first one, an official edict that needed final approval before being sent out to the entire kingdom.
“Darius,” Sami said. He had a faraway look in his charcoal eyes, and though he was still young, the stress and worry of his Lordship were taking a heavy toll on him. The Devasi had always been a powerful kingdom, put in recent generations that power had begun to slip. And all their enemies were beginning to sense it.
“My Lord?” Darius asked, brows raised.
“Prince Balthazar is to mate the Asuri Princess,” he said, standing from his cushion. “Send word to Lord Krishna immediately. I am retiring for the evening. We will deal with those in the morning.”
Darius quickly stood from his cushion and bowed to his Lord Sultan as he made his way out of the room.
Banakim’s heart banged anxiously against his ribcage as he considered his next move. A breeze rippled across the expanse of empty earth that lay before the Devasi Royal Palace, softly rattling the branches of the trees dotted sparsely around the palace walls. Tiny bumps erupted on Banakim’s pale blue skin as the wind softly kissed it. He clutched his ratted cloak tighter to his massive form as he hunched over, waiting for the right moment to move.
The Ashetero Mountains stood tall and imposing in the distance beyond the massive Royal Palace complex. It was those mountains that served as the nearly impassable border between Banakim’s homeland of Asur and the kingdom of Devas. Banakim had braved the tumultuous trek through those mountains, facing wild creatures, extreme cold, and a weeklong hike that had left him nearly drained. There were times he thought he wouldn't make it, but against all odds he had.
Banakim had always thought of himself as a good person, but he had weaknesses. Gambling was a big one. He had racked up massive debts, which wasn’t all together unusual. Only this time, his creditors were demanding payment immediately. If he couldn’t pay, his family would have to pay with their lives. What he was about to do was going to make him very wealthy. The wind stilled and a deafening silence fell upon the region. It was time for him to move.
Banakim brought the hood of his cloak over his hairless head and gathered what strength he had left. Every race had their own abilities. The Asuri were masters of stealth, capable of remaining practically invisible, but the Devasi had an incredible sense of smell, among their other physical abilities. Banakim knew that even a trace of his scent would be caught on the breeze if the wind picked up again, and any Devasi within nose shot would hone in on it and catch him before he had time to escape.
Banakim focused all his efforts on hiding his scent as he made his way into the Devasi Royal Palace. The scrolled designs of his ancestry that covered his blue skin burned golden hot as he used his ability to cloak his presence.
Pulling a small crumpled piece of parchment from a pocket within his cloak Banakim unfolded it, and studied the black markings for a moment. He tucked the paper back into his cloak once again certain of where he needed to go next. His abilities were strained to a breaking point, and he was struggling to keep his scent and presence masked. He would need to move quickly.
Banakim crept silently into the main foyer of the palace and the sight that greeted his eyes rooting him to the spot. His concentration wavered. Gold and rare white marble glistened everywhere he looked. Vaulted marble columns dotted the expansive corridor, holding up an intricately carved wooden roof. Large rectangular plates of solid gold hung throughout the room, each one sparkled with a hammered design of the Devas royal history, softly reflecting the dancing glow of the many candles that lit the area.
The decadence of a single gilded candleholder could have fed Banakim’s family for a year. The outrage of injustice churned in Banakim’s gut. It wasn’t fair that the Devasi lived in such luxury while his people starved to death in squalor. They were supposed to be allies, but the Devasi had long since turned their backs on his people. The thought only helped to spur Banakim on, convincing him that he was doing the right thing.
He snuck quietly through the palace, going undetected thanks to his Asuri ability of stealth. When he came to the gilded doors that hid his family’s safety, and his fortune, he paused. A servant slept quietly beside the door. Banakim reached out to open the heavy double doors and a creak echoed through the halls of the Royal Palace. The servant’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up. His head swiveled around him as he took in his surroundings. Banakim
froze, struggling to keep his presence hidden. His breath stuck in his throat, and droplets of sweat began to bead on his forehead. The servant shifted positions, yawned lazily, and settled back to sleep.
Banakim pushed the door all the way open and slipped past into the bedchamber. A feather stuffed mattress occupied the middle of the room, and the Lord Sultan slept peacefully wrapped in the fine white silk that dressed the bed. Banakim inched closer, his padded sandals landing noiselessly on the hard marble floor. Banakim drew his dagger from the folds of his cloak.
Standing over the unconscious man, he had a moment of hesitation. This was wrong. He knew that. All his attempts to justify this in his mind suddenly fell short. He had to save his family, and this was the only way. Even though he didn't like what he had to do, it had to be done. For the sake of his family.
Banakim would have only one chance, and he would have to be very precise. If he did not deliver a fatal blow, the Devasi Sultan would recover and make quick work of Banakim. An injury to most parts of the body would merely slow a Devasi down. A wound to the throat would be fatal in seconds. He pressed the sharpened tip of his blade into the soft flesh of the Lord Sultan's exposed neck and ran it across, leaving a thick red trail in its wake.
Sami’s eyes popped open. Blood spewed from the gash in his neck, pooling on the bed underneath him and staining the white sheets a deep crimson. His mouth flapped opened, trying to form words, but none would come. He croaked out an undignified gurgle that Banakim was sure would stay burned in his memory forever, and finally lay still on the blood soaked bed.
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