Gagargi Prataslav smiles, a self-satisfied smirk, visible for a moment only then gone so fast that I’m not sure I saw right. A thought occurs to me.
Perhaps it’s not Celestia who is behind the insurgence. Gagargi Prataslav has already won the heart of the people. With my sister by his side, he will have no trouble gaining the support of the nobles. Dizzy, I seek support from the man I thought I loved.
For a long time I had known that the time of my kind was coming to an end. Now I know this will happen very, very soon indeed.
Chapter 5: Celestia
It is the eve of the winter solstice. The tiny, cobwebbed windows bar the way in for the Moon’s light. The ceiling is low, the thick roof beams deeply grained. I lie on a bed, next to a man who smells of incense and musk, feral. Furs and sheets shelter us from the cold, but neither are white. I am not sure where I am or why I am here. I am sure of only two things.
In mere hours, when the clock strikes twelve, I will claim my place as the Crescent Empress. And mere moments ago, I let a man touch me for the very first time. And that…
I rise to lean on my elbows, away from the body that presses against mine. A thousand rules bind a Daughter of the Moon, a thousand ceremonies await her. By doing what I have done, I have skipped one of the most important ones. “The ceremony…”
“Ah, Celestia.” His voice is but a quiet growl, a thunder rolling in the distance. “Do you not remember? There is no need for one. No need to announce your lover to the court, for your mother to witness the consummation, for the gathered gagargis and nobles to watch me examine the stains on the sheets and preach prophesies that may or may not come true. In your empire, there is no need for such useless, ancient antics.”
My empire. Yes, I am the oldest, and it is mine by birthright. Mother, may she live a long life in her exile-to-come, under her guidance the empire has expanded, but at a terrible price. In the coming revolution, hers will not be the winning side. Mine will be.
“What the Crescent Empire needs is the empress and her sacred gagargis working together for the better of their people. There cannot be a more blessed union than ours.”
But for a moment, I struggle to even remember his name. He speaks as if I know him. Which must be true, for it isn’t in my nature to lose my virtue to a complete stranger.
“Come closer.” The bed creaks as he shifts to sit with his back against the headboard. He draws a sheet with him, either to keep him warm or to shelter me from seeing that which has already been inside me. “Lay your head on my lap.”
I roll over to accommodate to this, for it would be silly indeed of me to refuse this request that is so innocent in the light of what we have just done. It is then that I see his pale, bearded face. My eyes lock with the gaze so dark and intense that I can’t believe that I ever forgot his name.
“You need not worry.” Gagargi Prataslav smiles at me, and it is as if he knew every thought that has ever crossed my mind. He brushes a lock of hair behind my left ear. He caresses my cheeks with his long, bony fingers.
Though unfathomable sadness buds in the pit of my stomach, I refuse to cry. An empress never cries. For a ruler’s best weapon is her mind, a machinery that must keep on working even in the most dire of circumstances. Though I am not made of metal, tears may dull the cogs and wheels. I swallow the lump swelling in my throat, and think and analyze.
“You wanted it,” the gagargi says, drawing a circle on my forehead. His skin is rough against mine, that of an artisan who works with metal. I try to remember what his touch felt like earlier.
Lovers do intimate things together. But I can’t remember any that I may or may not have done with the gagargi. When I was with him—this man I must obviously be in love with, though I don’t feel it now—was I passionate? Did I desire his attention? Or did I merely lie limp and unresisting? Awful, awful questions to ask oneself. Why am I thinking of such? I am the oldest Daughter of the Moon. I may choose my lovers as I wish. Why would I be with a man I didn’t want?
“You were good.” His words, so soft but heavy still, carry the weight of truth. “You liked it a lot.”
These statements… I stare back at him. His gaze is fully focused on me. His pupils dilate, and the whites of his eyes gleam. No one else has ever looked at me as he has, as if they saw straight into my soul…
I feel it then. I wanted it. I was good. What we shared was good. The lump in my throat dissolves. I am in control of myself again.
He opens his arms, and it is an invitation to an embrace. I crawl up, and rest my head against his chest that rises and falls with his steady breaths. His skin, covered with thick black hair, radiates the warmth I need. He isn’t muscular like a soldier, but wiry akin to a man who takes no pleasure in eating. With no sheet to cover me, I am similarly exposed to his scrutiny. It does frighten me to be like this.
“Celestia…” He draws another circle on my forehead. This calms me more than any words ever could. “You are very important to me.”
And as if he had pushed thick clouds aside, everything becomes so clear to me. What came to pass wasn’t an accident, a misjudged moment of lust. I have been drawn to this man, the great Gagargi Prataslav, for almost a year now. He was the first to listen to my concerns when I realized that the empire teeters on the edge of change. He spoke only facts when others beautified them. He agreed that drastic measures might need to be taken. And it was he who… Or was it me? It doesn’t matter which one of us first mentioned the possibility of a coup.
I snuggle against him, and as I shift, a sticky rivulet coils around the inside of my thigh. I am torn in mind and body alike. This pain is but one of the many prices to be paid. Yet for some reason, I am more ashamed of this than the fact that I am about to depose my own mother.
“There is nothing to feel ashamed of.” The gagargi wraps his arms around me. I brush his oiled braid aside and bury my cheek against his chest. How did I bear to harbor such horrid thoughts earlier? He has always been a frugal man, who never gave in to the pleasures that would have been available plenty in the court. He placed the best of our people above himself, something Mother failed to do. “Yours is the empire. Our children will rule it in peace. For that is what you want, isn’t it?”
And… yes, that is what I want. Peace and prosperity for the Crescent Empire. This great man, Gagargi Prataslav, he wouldn’t have tricked me into anything. For he always promised to wait for me, for the day I am ready.
On the eve of the coup, I have to be ready.
We are in his laboratory now, both dressed up; though, without a servant to help me, not all of my gown’s buttons are fastened. The long, narrow room has neither a fireplace nor a coal brazier, for he prefers low temperatures when working with souls. The draft finds its way onto my shoulder blades. Lingering in the doorway, I adjust my shawl. Better to hide my state of undress than risk causing rumors or catching cold.
“Do come in. Close the door.” Gagargi Prataslav sits at the back of the room, on a three-legged stool before a massive desk littered with soul beads and the instruments of his art. His braided head is bent down in concentration, and he murmurs incantations under his breath. He is holding something white on his lap, and that something is big and alive.
A part of me wants to see where his relentless pursuit of knowledge has led him this time around. Another part of me already knows, and this calls forth shivers that ripple down the whole length of my body. This room is also in the cellar, and dust clings to the row of tiny windows above the desk. My father can’t see us here either. I push the door closed behind me and enter the gagargi’s den… I shake my head sharply, for this drowsiness that ever accompanies me these days has tangled my thoughts once more.