The Whisperer of Death

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.” The voice of grandmother Eda in her usual soft storytelling tone lulled Adrielle back into a gentler time, a time when she was a protected child. “In the beginning,” she continued, “when the world was still young and the jinn, the beings of fire and air, had only just established their kingdoms in the mountains, the Creator sculpted humans from clay and deposited them in the Valley. Centuries passed with little interaction between the two groups until one greedy human king rose to power and began hunting for magical beings rumored to live in the mountains and beyond. Beings of which, were said to grant untold power and knowledge of everlasting health. Years passed and the jinn waited to see what this king would do, but with each passing year, the human's search decimated the forest. Until the jinn king pulled out a horn, a horn given in allegiance in the time before humans were sculpted, to call upon the dragons. At the bellow of the horn, dragons arose from their slumber in faraway lands and headed the call. Together with the jinn on the backs of the very creature the humans sought, brought forth fire and war. The humans were woefully unprepared for war, especially one waged by two beings of fire, and with the greedy human king dead and the princess crowned queen a peace treaty was formed, cementing the bond of clay and fire. As a show of good faith, jinn and dragon alike, assisted in the reconstruction of the human city, which eventually grew into a sprawling metropolis. The same hands that tore apart the city took excruciating care to put it back together. Your great-grandparents were at the forefront of these projects. Two dragons chose them as their partners, and I know it in my bones Adrielle, that you will be chosen as well.”

The memory faded when the carriage violently jostled as a wheel bounced in a pothole causing Adrielle to brace herself on the wall. Her iron manacle smashed into her skin, eliciting an intake of breath. She ground her teeth together and waited out the wave of weakness as the iron drew her firepower into it. The pain in her wrist gave an excuse for the tears welling in the corner of her eyes. For just a moment she let the tears fall and the desperation claw up her insides. Before tamping down her fear, pushing it into a locked box deep in her subconscious. If it wasn’t for Nalani, her opalescence horned dragon, she would have defied her captor's every instruction. Taken every opportunity to rebel and escape even if it meant her death, because slavery, especially for the jinn was a fate worse than death. Harissa, the human impeached president, was an expert in enslaving jinn by keeping their powers subdued with iron and the promise of the sweet release of death. However, the worst dishonor a partnered jinn could do was die and leave their dragon in the clutches of Harissa. Therefore, even though Adrielle had wished for death more times than she could count these past few months, she couldn’t let herself go until she freed Nalani. Hopefully, this would truly be her last mission, and after she fulfilled her task then Nalani’s location would be granted to her brother and sister. That last detail was not lost on her even as she signed the contract, agreeing to the terms. Adrielle would either be killed at the end of the contract or subjected to a lifetime of slavery under Harissa.

She felt the carriage come to a stop, pulling her into the present. There were only a few heartbeats for her to wipe the remnants of the tears off her face and school her expression before the door was opened by the footman. Gathering her embroidered emerald skirts in one hand she placed the other in the footman's outstretched hand. When she looked up she got her first up-close look at the well-guarded Harundarian Palace. It was carved out of dark stone cutting a towering figure against the modest two-story houses surrounding. Although night had fallen hours prior every window shined bright with golden light, allowing Adrielle to see almost every detail.

She observed that although the palace was grand and extremely well kept, the building itself was old and starting to show the passage of time. The gargoyles and intricate carvings of horned serpentine dragons and native flora were, at places, worn away and chipped. Testament to the annual winter snowstorms and spring rains. It took more willpower than she would like to admit to stop inspecting every crevice, but at last, she proceeded up the stairs to the front entrance. At the door, she presented the guard with a letter from Ahlai Korva on her immediate employment as a diplomatic advisor. After a quick glance at the royal seal and signature, Adrielle was ushered into a sea-themed parlor. She had to bite back a laugh when she was escorted in, as the room was in direct contrast to the rest of the palace with its regal furnishings, presidential portraits, and finely woven tapestries. This room, however, seemed to be transported directly from a home in a small beach town. Variously sized seashells monopolized every flat surface. Even the pillows on the couches and chairs were embroidered with images of seashells. It left Adrielle wondering if the decor was Ahlai’s way to remember her hometown or just forget for a while that they were in a landlocked country.

Settling down she drank in the room, and with every detail, discovered her nerves quieted by a degree. Therefore, by the time the door opened revealing Ahlai Korva, Adrielle was completely composed. The woman, who breezed in was clothed in a blue topaz silk pantsuit, the sleeves and pant legs swishing merrily with her movements. Her skin which was dark as obsidian contrasted the outfit beautifully. At first, it seemed like she had very short hair, but as she drew closer Adrielle noted that her head was shaved and what she mistook as hair were tattoos, she half expected them to be more images of seashells, but instead were labyrinthine looping marks. Adrielle rose and curtsied low, more out of submissive respect than what rank called for. Her curtsy was waved off with a genuine smile and they both sat. Now that she was closer, she could tell that Ahlai was in her mid-fifties, but being an immortal jinn herself, Adrielle couldn’t really tell the age of humans too accurately.

“I just wanted to begin with saying that I am so grateful your contact reached out to me.” Ahlai began meanwhile Adrielle mused about which contact Harissa had pulled the strings for to get her this interview. “Your expertise will be appreciated, especially since you are fluent in thirteen different languages and the President will need someone to accompany him on his travels to translate.”

“I thank you for your warm welcome, but you stated that I will be translating on the President’s travels, but what will my duties be whilst residing here in the palace?”

“Mainly translating documents for the president,” internally she cringed. Translating documents, especially the legal kind, would take countless hours poring over reference texts and dictionaries, might as well chain her to her desk now she thought numbly. “Along with private lessons in preparation for foreign travels and upcoming meetings.” A glimmer of hope shone, this opportunity would grant her the ability to gather the intel she needed to complete her mission.

Adrielle smiled warmly, “That sounds perfectly reasonable.”

“Fantastic! Now I know written samples were submitted with your application…” she trailed off trying to find the correct words.

“There is no need to parse words with me. I totally understand your reluctance to trust that I am truly fluent in so many languages, and any oral or written test I will happily take.”

“Then I will set up the meetings. Give me a moment to call them in.”

The individuals who followed Ahlai back into the room a quarter-hour later were not what Adrielle was expecting. She expected wrinkled old scholars, or anyone in academia, but she was pleasantly surprised to find the group were young house staff of various ethnic backgrounds. Three maids were trilingual engaging her in friendly banter about local folklore and origin stories. The head gardener was bilingual and had a wealth of knowledge in art history that would make anyone itch to visit a gallery, reinspecting the art pieces he spoke of. Two trilingual valets and three bilingual guards had a heated debate about politics. Then about the cotton shortage and the subsequent rising prices of clothing. Every conversation was brief but engaging leaving her energized and hoarse.

“I know it's been a long night for you, and the hour is quite late, but I was hoping that we could have one more meeting before we discuss your immediate employment. I totally understand if you would like to postpone this meeting till the morning.” Even as Ahlai said this she looked as energized as Adrielle felt. Returning the smile, she replied.

“Not to worry, I am perfectly willing to partake in another meeting.”

“Wonderful, I will call him in and ask the maids for a tea service.”

The tea service arrived before Ahlai and the person whom she was to have her meeting. Adrielle was pouring out her tea, raspberry leaf, by the smell of it and adding honey when she heard two voices coming to the door. As they drew nearer, she could determine what they were saying.

“I swear to all that is divine, Ahlai, that if you have drug me from my chambers at this hour to meet another rich daughter intended to be my bride or... Please don’t tell me I’m here to look at another dreadful embroidered pillow some diplomat’s child just did.” Adrielle snapped her mouth shut and muffled the little burst of laughter in a sleeve. Taking a closer inspection of the pillows, she noted that although all of them were impeccably done. There were slight variations in the stitch technique that indicated different hands instead of a single designer.

“No, you smart-ass, as you said I drug you out of your chambers to meet what I hope will be your new diplomatic advisor.”

“Why do I get the impression that this is decidedly worse?” he said drily.

“Rovan, you will behave yourself” Ahlai chastised.

Rovan? I’m going to meet the president now? Adrielle panicked, in vain she glanced around for a looking glass and in the process nearly sloshed the contents of her teacup onto her dress. That would have made for one hell of a first impression, she thought wryly. Oh hello, I’m supposed to be your new diplomatic advisor. The picture of sophistication and class, to instruct you on language and cultural matters. Don’t mind that I have a tea stain on my dress by just mentioning you were entering the room.

As the door opened, she was mopping up the spillage on her saucer with a cloth napkin when Ahlai and Rovan entered. She only caught a glimpse of him before she rose and curtsied bowing her head respectfully. But what she did see of him left her underwhelmed. He wore a simple white tunic and cinnamon-colored suede pants, over it a navy silken robe. On the surface, Adrielle and Rovan would appear alike through their matching rich brown skin tone, inherited from their jinn parentage, and black hair. Yet, while his short hair shone in the light, her black hair was dull, as a result of the heavy dye in order to cover up her naturally fiery red hair. For some reason, she expected a man that wore the title of president to look more grandiose, but that may have been precisely what gained the loyalty of the people in his candidacy. With his average height and looks, he appeared more like your neighbor than the head of the country. Since this wasn’t her native country and until recently, she wasn’t entirely interested in foreign politics. Her interests lay more in the cultural aspect therefore she wasn’t well versed in his campaign for the presidency. Although logically, after the scandal and ensuing impeachment of Harissa, Rovan’s average looks, and mixed background made him a perfect peacemaker to quell the wrath of the jinn against the injustices committed under her tyranny.

“So, this is her,” Rovan said after crossing the room and flopping unceremoniously on the couch opposite her.

So. This. Is. Her? Adrielle looked up sharply coming out of her extended curtsy; barely able to conceal her shock and the eye twitch coming on. A low moan come from Ahlai’s direction as the older woman seated herself in a chair next to Rovan’s couch. Never had Adrielle been treated with such blatant disregard on so little basis. Sure, she had made plenty of enemies in her lifetime and a few had been horrifically cruel, but at least they all had valid reasons. Even Harissa, clever and wicked as she was, had high regard for her abilities, which was also why she had been captured.

Ahlai hissed, “What did I just tell you about behaving?” Rovan rolled his eyes but sat up and met Adrielle’s stony glare head-on. Ahlai continued in a louder tone addressing him formally, “This is Lady Savita Indov, who I hope will be your new diplomatic advisor.” The name hit Adrielle in the stomach like a physical punch, another reminder that she was only a pawn in Harissa's game.

“I wasn’t aware I had one before, remind me again why I need her?”

Before Ahlai was able to continue Adrielle answered in what she hoped was a sweet tone, “So then it was your intention to not learn the Poltarre’s national dance properly and call the prince’s wife, Calida, a sheep?”

Rovan’s carefree expression turned stormy in the span of a second, “My dancing skills are fine, and the misunderstanding was sorted out,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“Was that ‘misunderstanding’ sorted out before or after the screaming match between you and the prince which almost turned violent? Hmm-” as Ahlai drummed her fingers against her lips looking up in feigned contemplation. “I must be misinformed then of the ballroom scandal everyone was talking about for a fortnight.” She turned an innocent smile on him, “But my source was her lady’s maid who witnessed the whole thing firsthand, and had to fetch Calida, her anti-anxiety pills.” Leaning in conspiratorially, she half-whispered, “Her lady’s maid, Eneza, was teaching me Poltarrian at the time, and it was all the household could talk about after the event.” She had no idea why the words only meant to provoke him kept falling from her lips. Nalani’s life depended on her employment in the palace, but Rovan needed a reality check, one she was only too happy to supply. “Maybe when you talk with the Denovarian’s first lady she will ‘misunderstand’ and instead of hearing her being called lovely she will hear you calling her a cow.” Rovan looked like he was on the verge to erupt. Eyes slitting she said a single word, “Moo.”

Just as she’d expected he reacted, leaping across the coffee table separating his couch from hers, aiming to tackle and throttle her. All the while, Adrielle watched his movements staying perfectly still reflecting that for someone part jinn, he had the slowness of a human. At the last second, she moved to the side snapping her hand up and catching his forearm in a vise grip, rising, and turning in one graceful move she pinned him to the couch where she was just seated his face smooshed against the pillows, one arm twisted behind his back the other bracing on the couch cushion. He struggled against her grip, and she dug her knee into his back pulling the long hairpin from her elegant updo, her hair slowly sliding down her back.

Adrielle pressed the tip of the pin to his throat while saying in a low menacing voice, “You forget Mr. President that I am full jinn and therefore stronger and faster than you, and I could end your life right here and now without even breaking a sweat. Luckily for you, I don’t want to spend tomorrow scrubbing your blood out of my dress,” she lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, “blood is so difficult to wash out of silk, I highly do not recommend it.” Then she straightened and released him, backing away towards the door. The look he pinned on her was murderous but after a few breaths, his look turned inquisitive. A small part of her wondered what he was thinking about at that moment and wished she could ask, but she squashed that part like a beetle under the heel of her boot. Suddenly she felt the late hour and how exhausted she really was now that the adrenaline from the night was wearing off, all she wanted to do was crawl back into her carriage and have it take her away.

Bobbing a quick curtsy she said, “Thank you for your time. I’ll show myself out.” Adrielle was halfway to the door when Rovan’s cool voice made her stop up short.

“I did not dismiss you.”

Now her eye really did twitch and she turned on him with an astonished glare, “Begging your pardon, but as I am not under your employ or under arrest it is my right to leave the palace without being detained if I wish to leave, which I do.”

“And if I offered you a position in my employ?”

“Why?”

He laughed wryly, “Aren’t you the one that is supposed to be convincing me of your skills?”

“I have demonstrated quite aptly that I am an ideal candidate, but I am second-guessing my tolerance level for an employer, one I will have to spend time with daily, who pushes my patience to the limit.”

“And I’m not even trying.” He smiled at her, the horrid man.

“Is this a joke to you?”

“No, not in the least. I find your candor and verbal sparing noteworthy, ever since I came into this position people are constantly vying for my approval. Yet, from the moment I met you, you state what’s on your mind without any thought of flattery. Meanwhile, I may loathe the idea of needing you as my advisor, I concede that you would be useful.” Rovan looked at her openly, clearly waiting for a response, but for a few moments, Adrielle was speechless.

“Was that speech supposed to compliment me? I find that it was barely veiled insults, as you stated that you may loathe the idea of needing me as an advisor, how else am I supposed to take that but as a clear dismissal?”

“Right after I said that you would be useful.”

“Yes, but if you already hate the idea of having me now, just imagine a few weeks from now when I am nagging you to memorize long lists of cultural do’s and don'ts?”

“Why don’t we wait and cross that bridge when we come to it?” Adrielle threw up her hands in exasperation, if there was one thing that bothered her more than incompetence it was procrastination. “Okay, okay” Rovan looked to Ahlai for a moment and then returned to looking at her, “I’ll put it in your employment contract that any advice and work given in the scope of your position will be heeded and done.” She scoffed, there was no one in a position of power would allow an advisor to have so much control. The look he gave her though, made her pause and consider if he wasn’t kidding.

“If I see it in writing, then I will agree to be your diplomatic advisor.”

Rovan stood from his position still on the floor from their earlier confrontation and stretched like a cat, waltzing up to her, until they were nearly nose to nose. “I think we will be done for the night, let me escort you to your new chambers.” He held out his arm for her to take, her eyes flickered to Ahlai whom had stayed quiet during the entire exchange, and saw that the woman was smiling broadly at them, giving an encouraging nod. She took his arm reluctantly and as they walked to the door she felt him draw closer and whisper in the shell of her ear, “And I think you will enjoy quarreling with me as well.” The comment took her so off guard that she couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged up the corner of her lips. Killing him will be easier than she originally thought.