Deception

The corridors of the palace were filled with the hushed whispers of the royal court. Scientists scribbled notes as they studied Khari. They took samples of her hair and skin, running tests for days on end to try and explain her mysterious ability. But still, nothing made sense. The kingdom’s people held their breath in anticipation, eager to know if Khari was indeed the Atea she claimed to be. Finally, after days of rigorous investigation, the scientists released their conclusion. Khari was an Atea, gifted with a powerful connection to the moon’s light that enabled her to see. She had become part of a very exclusive club. Only two Ateas had been recorded in the annals of history, and she was now the first female Atea ever known.

It was the last day of recording, as Khari’s thoughts had been spinning all day, and she longed for the sweet relief of being able to sleep. She finally returned to her room and collapsed onto the bed, feeling her body melt into the mattress as stress dissolved away. But her peaceful moment was disrupted by a gentle tapping at the door. The sound started softly but grew louder with every passing second, causing Khari to groan in agony as a dull headache began to form. She reluctantly pushed herself off the bed with a sigh and stumbled towards the door.

As she stepped toward the door, the footsteps sounded light and different from the ones she was used to. She placed her hand on the knob, hesitated, and then slowly cracked open the door. A figure stepped into her room without a word, and a gust of ginger-fused wood scent filled the air. She quickly recognized who it was, and her heart raced. “Azim? Is that you? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond as he closed the distance between them, his eyes smoldering with longing. He brushed his warm lips against hers, kissing her with fervor. Khari’s body tensed up initially, but then she sunk into the kiss, her head spinning as he deepened it. She pressed her palms against him, feeling the familiar warmth of his body until her fingers reached around the back of his neck and met a foreign feeling—short hair. She pulled away from him in shock and stammered, “...Wren?”

He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow; his lips curled into a sly smirk. “What gave it away?” he asked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

He stepped closer, his fingers lightly brushing her face as he leaned in. His lips barely grazed hers when she firmly placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back; her face contorted in anger. “You tricked me,” she accused, her voice sharp.

Wren shuffled forward, his face a mixture of earnestness and desperation. “I said I wasn’t going to give up, and I meant it.”

Khari stepped back from him, her eyes darkening with anger. “I can’t believe you’d think you could win me over like this,” she said, her voice tight. “You can’t win me by deception,” Khari said.

He took a step back and looked at her, his eyes searching her face as if he feared she’d already given him the answer. His voice was quiet, but his words were pointed. “Is it true? Did you sleep with my brother?” The question seemed to hang between them as he waited for her response.

“W-What?” Khari stumbled over her words as the suddenness of his inquiry caught her off guard. She felt her face flush, and her hands trembled as she tried to remain composed. She couldn’t believe he was talking so candidly, and she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Who said that?” she managed to ask.

“Azim said that the lingerie was perfect,” Wren answered, his voice tinged with jealously. He imagined his brother’s hands caressing her curves and the warmth of her body against his as envy coursed through him.

Khari folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. “Nothing like that happened. He was just trying to get a rise out of you,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning down in a frown.

Wren furrowed his brow and narrowed his gaze, studying her. He shifted his weight, tensing his jaw. “And it worked,” he said, bitterness coating his words. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “I was angry all night, and I guess all that fury boiled over, leading me to make this poor decision.”

Azim’s heavy hand filled the doorknob, and with a gentle twist, he opened Khari’s bedroom door. The light from the hallway spilled in as he shook his head and muttered, “It was a poor decision.”

Wren crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. He let out an overly dramatic sigh and said, “And here we have the White Knight, ready to sweep the damsel off her feet, like always,” his voice was heavy with contempt and indignation.

A soft, barely audible chuckle escaped Khari’s lips. She asked the question slowly, her voice so gentle it was nearly a whisper. “He is...isn’t he?” she asked in deep memory. “Azim was the first person to make me feel important, like someone who mattered. To feel something other than loneliness. It was such a stark contrast to how I felt around you,” she said plainly.

Wren’s gaze dropped to the floor, his expression a mixture of sorrow and guilt. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, unable to look at Khari. He knew she was right. He had taken her for granted too many times, taking what he wanted and disregarding her feelings. His throat felt thick as he tried to speak, his voice tinged with desperation. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m sorry. How many times must I apologize before you forgive me?” His voice was a little too loud in the small room, and the heat rose in his cheeks. He was starting to feel upset that his constant apologies seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

Khari’s eyes widened in surprise as he yelled, his sneer of contempt clearly visible. His sympathy from earlier had completely faded, replaced with a wave of venomous anger. “There’s the real Wren I remember,” she said, her voice heavy with disappointment. “Was it all just an act to make me feel sorry for you?” she asked, her words shaking with a vast range of emotion.

“No, of course not. I just…” Wren stepped forward, about to reach for her hand when Azim’s grip came out of nowhere, tight and unyielding. Wren tried to pull his arm away, but Azim’s strength was far too powerful. Wren’s arrogance returned as Azim finally released his arm and stepped back. With an air of superiority, he spoke to Khari, “You will not be able to deny me for long. After all, you already address me by my first name. It will be no time at all before you’re calling me your King and husband,” he said as he gave her a knowing look before walking out of the room.

Azim watched through narrowed eyes as Wren exited, his hands deep in his pockets and a smug grin on his face. He turned to Khari, who stood in stunned silence. Her eyes were glistening, and her deep red lipstick smudged. Azim gently reached forward and wiped away the smeared lipstick with his thumb, the touch of his skin soft against her cheek. His deep brown eyes searched hers intently as he quietly asked, “How could you let him deceive you?”

“I-I don’t know,” Khari spoke slowly, stammering between words. “I admit. His walk was oddly silent, but he smelled like you,” she finally muttered. “I’m guessing your men told you he was here.”

“They alert me whenever he comes here,” he said, his face clouding with worry. “And from now on, you’ll know it’s me when I do this,” his eyes twinkled as he reached out and lightly ran his index finger from the base of her wrist to the tip of her middle finger. “You should be able to recognize me by touch, smell, and sound now.”

Her mouth broke into a bright smile as surprise and delight bubbled through her. She was touched he cared enough about her to incorporate all of her senses into identifying him. “Okay,” she said softly, feeling the warmth in her chest of gratefulness for this small moment between them.

He reached up and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. Gently, he lifted her chin and brushed his thumb across her lips before leaning into a lingering kiss. As he pulled away, his warm breath skimmed her face, and he whispered in her ear, “I want my lips upon yours to be the last and only thing you remember.”

She furrowed her brow as she saw the same destructive pattern in him that she had seen in his brother. She paused momentarily, taking a deep breath to compose her words before speaking directly to him. “You and your brother are very possessive.”

“I am,” he said, his voice gentle but compelling, “but,” his brown eyes locked onto her beautiful silver eyes before he lowered himself to one knee, bending his proud frame to an expression of his deepest emotion. He placed her hands upon his cheeks. Her breath suddenly froze in her throat as the magnitude of the situation dawned upon her. No other figure but the King warranted such a gesture from the prince. No one who was of lower station was deserving of such respect. She gasped as he started to speak again, his voice echoing with passion, “I want to be yours too.”