Camilla stepped unseen among the courtiers. Under fluted columns and arching, sky-painted ceilings, full threescore revelers and more danced and laughed within the Palace of Yaralet. Zithers, flutes, and drum played a rolling, hypnotic tune while dancing girls, nude but for scarves clung to round hips and bangles on wrist and breast, who writhed and whirled bone lessly. Slaves oiled and shaven bore silver platters full of sweetmeats, or ewers of thick ruby wine among the guests: silken-draped ministers and barons, chiseled knights with hard arms in sleeveless tunics, and noble ladies in gossamer gowns that hinted wickedness half-concealed.
Camilla studied the panorama, of bodies strutting amid the candles and blazes, figures flitting among the shadows, pairs twisting on each other, and those seeking solace among the hall's nooks or benighted spaces, where the portico opened unto the palace gardens. She watched their stirrings away from the light, from the broad banquet tables
Story of a Salem witchJessalyn Radisson gets just what she wants when the townsfolk burn her at the stake."Jessalyn Radisson, under the laws of the Commonwealth of Salem Massachusetts, on this day of our Lord in 1692, I find you guilty of witchery, witchcraft, wizardly, sorcery, and conjuring," said the Honorable Judge Robert Hall. "Do you have anything to say for yourself before I pass sentence."Even though he mindlessly asked her if she had anything to say before he sentenced her to die, he wasn't paying her any attention. Too busy looking through the papers he had before him, he seemed ready to ignore whatever she had to say."I'm not guilty of witchery, witchcraft, wizardly, sorcery, and conjuring. If I'm guilty of anything, I'm guilty of being a redheaded woman. If I'm guilty of anything, I'm guilty of being beautiful and sexy and all those bitches are the real witches," she said looking at and pointing to the wives and the girlfriends of the men
Camilla’s memoriesMorning broke with a thin red gash of light along the crests of the mountaintops. Owls finally dared to close their eyes, and bats cautiously folded their wings. The night horrors and prowling beasts of the forest abandoned their hunts to drag bloodied carcasses back to their lairs. In the west, a handful of lingering stars still shone.Krimeya and I sat atop her cottage roof, tense and watchful. The hood of her crimson cloak obscured her sleek black tresses while framing her ashen features. She held a whittled staff of red-stained wood in both hands, in the manner that a gladiator might wield a spear."I expect they will begin their march shortly," she said softly, "Have you given thought to how you wish to proceed?""I won't flee," I whispered, quiet, but firm, "They'll allow me to return to them as their daughter or..."Krimeya gave me a pitying look."They won't. You know that deep down. They will find us here, a
Camilla’s Memories"I was weak before," I said sadly, "I didn't really understand how weak I was,""Nonsense, Little Wife," Kas still never used my name, joking endlessly that I was her 'Little Bride' or 'Little Wife' - and every time she did, it became a little truer. "A girl who takes her destiny into her own hands is always strong. Whether she succeeds or not." It was impossible not to swoon in the wake of Krimeya's wisdom.After a busy day buried in spell books and practising calligraphy while Krimeya was out in the forest, I was excited to show her my next intended endeavour."I want to make one of these," I said, holding the heavy book open at the right pages to show her, "I think it's a little advanced for me to manage on my own though,""A scryglass? Whatever for?""To watch over my mother and sisters," Though I tried not to dwell upon my old life, I missed them deeply. Krimeya scoffed."The women who wanted you to spend
Camilla’s POVFor several seconds, it was entirely dark. I felt absent. Bodiless. Adrift.Then with a sickening lurch I hit the blistering sand. The grit scalded my bare skin and I squealed in pain. I tried to climb to my feet, but was so winded that I just lay panting on the burning ground. The very air was hot to breathe. Coughing, I propped myself up on my hands and knees, pushed my hair from my face and looked out into the vista.It was a hellscape.An endless panorama of blue sand - so blue that it was difficult to discern from the sky. The swollen sun was white like molten glass. Small cerulean fires shuddered across the sand dunes, arching then receding in waves. I couldn't understand what their fuel was. The only landmarks were jagged rocks that jutted in painful intervals from the acrid land. There were no trees or plants of any kind. But for the quaver of the wind: it was forebodingly quiet.I spat
The landscape here was a little more hospitable than the desert, but there could be no denying that this was still the Kingdom of Azure. The flat, dry, dusty blue plain had little to offer the eye, but for the crater of an empty lake and odd clusters of gnarled indigo trees. I reached out with my senses to look for nearby life... but found only a family of small thirsty lizards basking completely camouflaged against the stones. I despaired for them, living in the horror of such an unnatural seeming setting. I turned my gaze back to the garden, my eyes greedy for any colour that was not that unbroken blue.I leant over the balcony, looking up and down to try and get a sense of what sort of building it was -- but the effort was fruitless, the overhang of the balcony prevented me from seeing the walls below, while what seemed to be another balcony directly above obscured the line of sight looking up.I sighed as I ventured back into the cool of the indoors; at least if th
Camilla’s POVEven though I had been back to the earthly realm for some time still I was again back to hell by some kind of magnetic pull and I could not fathom for the life of me why.I had not known that it was possible to hate a place.A person, an idea, a chore; certainly. But a place? My whole life's experiences had been made up of sturdy grey cottages in scenes of pastoral farmland, dewy meadows, meandering burns and dense pine forest. A hot sunny day was a rare happening, and it meant only the race to bring the harvest and laundry in before the storms that followed.What I would have given for a goddamn storm!The days in Azure were tiresomely long, dry and impossibly hot. I often felt faintly sick. I could not adjust to any aspect of the castle.All the foods tasted like horseradish and ginger - yet stronger -- and scalded my mouth no matter how long I let them to
Camilla’s POVThe introduction to the King was a perplexing but wholly necessary engagement. It required a low bow, a simpering tone and the wearing of a ceremonial gold chain about my waist that marked me out as an incubus's property. In principle, I objected to all of these things, but Maya's advice was prescriptive."If you do not allow Lazuren to introduce you in this way, then the King will consider you available to... fulfil his own needs."And while I had idly considered the prospect of indulging myself with one of the many incubus soldiers that lived in the castle barracks, the hurt that I knew this might inflict upon Lazuren had always prevented me from entertaining the idea for too long. A tryst with his father was altogether out of the question. (Although, if I had had any ideas of this sort, they would surely have evaporated upon meeting him!)The feast to welcome the King had already begun as Maya and I followed Lazuren to the banquet h
That night I slept on that indulgently soft bed, beneath those fresh silk sheets. Muted light from the fires out on the desert sands patterned the curtain and sparkled in the stained glass. My body could not have wished for greater comfort, but my mind was restless.Our need is shared. We are inevitable.The Prince's words swam through my head.I saw the strange logic. If I was trapped here for all time, then it wouldn't matter how many years or decades or centuries I denied myself the taste of him; there would come a night when I would offer myself to him eventually.So why resist at all, if it was inescapable?I drifted, indecisive, between wakefulness and sleep. I rested my eyelids.I dreamt of Krimeya. Scarlet with anguish as she discovered our home empty but for salt and smoke. Her hypocritical, heartbroken, howl cracking like a whip through the centre of my chest.I lay awake terrified that she might come looking for me,