The Return

Khari sat at the edge of the pond, surrounded by her fellow mistresses, and closed her sightless eyes. A symphony of vibrant noises filled her ears – the cheerful chirps of birds, an occasional breeze stirring the leaves in towering trees, and the muted sound of fish swimming just below the surface. Khari breathed deeply, feeling the sun’s warmth on her skin, and a peaceful calmness settled over her.

“Did you hear?” Khari drifted closer so that she could hear the resonant whispers of the other women. The sound of running water was barely audible beneath their urgent voices. “Prince Azim is back from the war,” one of them said.

“I can’t believe it,” one mistress said. “It’s been so long.”

“I hear he’s quite the looker,” said another, her voice coy. Her eyes were aglow with gossip and possibility, “And he’s single,” she added. “Doesn’t have a single prospect on the horizon.”

One of the women spoke with a haughty air; her face illumined with pride. “I hear he’s ruthless. He was a beast on the battlefield, leading our kingdom to victory.”

“Well,” another sighed, “Even though he’s Prince Wren’s twin, I heard he’s extremely ripped from years of fighting.” She fanned herself with an elegantly gloved hand as she fantasized about seeing his taut body. Her face grew warm, and a light blush colored her cheeks. Her comment made the other women giggle, their melodious laughs mingling with the wind.

The women’s conversation abruptly ended as a low, deep voice called out from behind them, “Ladies.”

They turned to face the man all at once, each dropping their gazes to the floor in reverence. Their voices had a uniform cadence as they said, “Good morning,” in perfect synchronization.

Wren’s gaze took in the women lounging in the courtyard, their brightly colored silks and shining jewels a vivid splash of palette amongst the lush greenery. He gave them a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Good morning, my beautiful ladies,” he said, “I see you’re all enjoying the day.”

With graceful poise, Khari rose from the pond’s edge, “Good morning, Prince Wren,” she said as she performed a respectful bow.

Wren’s eyes were cold and unreadable as he glanced at her. His voice was low and flat as he spoke but still carried a note of authority. “Ladies,” he said to the five other women around him. “Give us some space,” he commanded, his gaze never leaving her.

The women bowed one last time before scurrying off into the palace, leaving Khari and Wren in the quiet of nature. Wren brushed his fingertips along her long, raven-black hair, and she shivered at his touch. He moved around her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s weird you can tell who I am just by my voice,” he said. He delicately swept the hair off her shoulder and glided his fingertips across her alabaster skin. His touch was soft and light like a feather tickling her. He leaned in, his breath caressing her ear as he whispered, “Just like I can tell it’s you by your scent.” His lips grazed the side of her neck, and he inhaled deeply. A satisfied smile touched his lips as he said, “Jasmine blossoms,” he seemed to revel in the aroma she left behind.

He circled back around to face her, a cruel smile crawling up his face. The cloying scent of her perfume was overpowered by the venom in his voice, “Even that pleasant smell can’t save the fact that you’re crippled,” he sneered, eyes drifting towards her empty silver eyes, “Didn’t I tell you to kill yourself?”

His eyes flickered down to the scarf around her neck, “Oh yeah, you tried.” He raised his arm, and his fingers slowly grazed the scarf draped around her neck. His eyes narrowed as he tugged on the fabric, quickly unraveling it from her body and revealing a large, jagged scar covering her neck. His face softened, and he tossed the scarf aside with a slight nod. “Even the Gods wouldn’t take you,” he sighed. “That was the closest I’ve ever got to getting rid of you. And you couldn’t even do that right, so now I’m stuck with a blind mistress as a favor to your father, Duke Reign. What I wouldn’t do for my subjects.” He said, exasperated as he looked at the leaves rustling in the wind. He glared at her disgusted and said, “Get out of my sight.” He punctuated his words with a sarcastic laugh, “Something you’d never have...sight,” he spun away and strode off, the echo of his macabre laughter lingering in the air.

Khari stood motionless in the garden before raising her head toward the cloudy sky, trying to blink away the tears that were gathering in her eyes. Her heart felt like a heavy stone in her chest, and she knew deep down that she was nothing more than a toy to Prince Wren. A plaything to be used and discarded at his whim. She refused to allow herself to feel pity or regret. Instead, she raised her chin high as she made her way out of the garden, her steps deliberate and purposeful. She had learned the palace grounds well, navigating easily using her senses of hearing, smell, and touch. She had memorized the layout, the smells, and the sounds of each room and hallway. Even though she was blind, she had no difficulty functioning in her role as a mistress.

As she walked down the hall, her head held high and her back straight, she could feel the disapproving glares of the other mistresses on her. She heard their whispers and sneers as she passed. Their whispered gossip bounced off the walls and echoed in her ears, cruel and heartless. But she didn’t care. She had nothing to lose. No hope for a future. She didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Steeling her jaw and focusing on her next steps, she made her way to her chambers. Once inside, she stood motionless in the center of the room, taking long, steadying breaths before roaming around her small space like a caged animal. Despite it all, she refused to give in to despair. Instead, she channeled his barbarous words into fuel to get through another day.

Tears filled her eyes, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm of despair. For the first time in her life, she felt utterly powerless. She was a gift from her father to the future king, a way of cementing an alliance between two lands. Prince Wren may have been cruel with his words, but it was nothing compared to the verbal and physical abuse she had endured at her father’s hands. Her hope was fading as the prince never failed to remind her that she was nothing more than an object. With every insult, with every degrading remark, he drove it home. She was nothing more than a tool to be used by those in power, and all she could do was brace herself for a future of loneliness, where love and true acceptance would never come her way. And so, she accepted her fate.

Wren’s words rippled through her head like a cold wave reverberating in her skull. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, and her upper lip quivered in defiance. Even the Gods wouldn’t take you, he said, but she forced a tight-lipped smile, knowing that one day he would come to understand the power she possessed.

The sound of a knuckle rapping on the door cut through the silence. She stirred from her thoughts and crossed the room, her feet making barely a sound against the wooden floor. With an absent-minded, “Yes?” she opened the door.