64. Feast (Patreon)

Oh. It was a miracle that she held herself up, or that was what Aloe was inclined to believe. She hyperventilated as the words of the emir reiterated in her mind, the caress of her breath still lingering in her body and memory. Oh no.

Even if she was not one for gossip and politics, the scribe had heard stories of the sultanzade and the palace. Everyone had. If something had more reach and perseverance than tax collectors, it was the words of the snake tongues.

Now, it wasn’t good to take at heart the words of the snake tongues, but when so many of them spoke of the same, it was difficult not to take it as fact. And the fact was that sultanzade – much like her mother – were lecherous.

“...and those eyes...” Aloe whispered once she managed to calm herself a bit, though her breath was still ragged.

She knew it since the beginning, working for the imperials was a dangerous prospect. She may not lose her life, but there were still bad things that they could do. She had taken Rani lightly, mainly because her mother had been safe and she had never said anything about the sultanzade antagonizing her, only now it occurred to her that maybe they didn’t touch her because she was a married woman. There were many ifs, but... it was undeniable, Aloe saw it in the emir’s eyes, the desire.

“She...” The words died in her mouth.

It was early to speak, mostly because Aloe had no experience whatsoever on the subject – whether it may be sentimental or carnal, but those words couldn’t be ignored.

“That was practically a confession...” Aloe clutched her heart. “I’m on her sights...”

Why was she, an unattractive young girl with a barely noticeable family that contained no noble blood, in the sights of a princess of the most powerful nation in the world, was beyond her understanding. Aloe had nothing notable, most – nay – all maids in the palace were far more beautiful than her. Whilst shrewd, Aloe was neither a scholar; and any banker or merchant could provide better services than her.

This wasn’t anxiety and self-hate talking – it partially was – but a fact.

Aloe wasn’t an equal, nor she could ever be, and that was what scared her.

If it was for sexual pleasure, not only there were several laws that allowed imperials to visit brothels without spending a coin – curiously enough those laws weren’t redacted by the Sultanah Aaliyah-al-Ydaz, but her predecessors – and the fact that many people would throw themselves at the feet of the sultanzade, especially the Sultanah, as the snake tongues said their sexual prowess put the best of courtesans to shame; but direct servants – keyword: servants, not employes nor vassals – had stipulations on their contracts about carnal satisfaction and intercourse.

So why, with all of those privileges and benefits, would Rani set her eyes on her?

The lack of answers didn’t only baffle her, but it downright scared her. It terrified her to the core.

The ruler of one of the richest regions of Haffat looked at her.

And when someone had it all, when it fixated on someone, it could not be anything good.

As Aloe stood there in the audience hall, alone and paralyzed, the thought of running away did honestly go through her mind. That was the sheer horror that filled her mind. To just let it all go and not look back. It was a stupid thought, if she did so, she wouldn’t be able to run far, and less without money. After paying taxes, Aloe had to scratch some money from her mother’s stash. She may have two houses and a plot of land to her name, but in liquid assets, she was poorer than some commoner families.

Even if the plan was viable, there was still a saving grace. A reason to stay. Whilst her mother hadn’t mentioned Rani, she hadn’t badmouthed any of her personal scribe companions, and Aloe was aware that Rani had been the imperial scribe before her promotion to emir. So, even if it wasn’t much, Aloe deposited her trust in the sentence Rani spoke the first time she saw her.

“Your mother was a colleague of mine when I worked as the imperial scribe of the court, a friend if you will,” She had spoken. Aloe could only think of her as a friend of the family, even if it was out of desperation.

{*}

No matter how addled her mind may be, Aloe knew that she had to eat. Well, or at least her body did, she didn’t have that much of an appetite currently.

A conundrum arose in her thoughts as she walked toward the feast hall. She wanted to see how the place looked, yes, but at the same time, it was likely that Rani would be there.

Be as it may, Aloe decided to continue on, she couldn’t avoid the emir when she was literally working directly under her command. After following the directions of the maids, she made it to her destination.

There was only one word to describe the feast hall: copious.

Aloe had never been hungry in her life, she had never experienced true starvation, the only time her stomach had been empty was because she had been too lazy to cook. But as she stood in the doorway leading to the hall, she felt like a ravenous hyena. Long tables, way longer than whole houses, were filled with plates of food. Fruit, vegetables, meat, even fish. Everything was fair game.

Of all the sins she may boast, gluttony wasn’t one of them. But the sight made her think so twice.

There was a main table, so to speak, where the people with actual influence and status ate, but it wouldn’t be called a feast hall if only a few people indulged in the food. Yes, even servants ate the food. The difference in quality was obvious, especially with the meat products, but the quantity was the same if not greater.

There were five tables in total, a long one parallel to the doors at the back of the room on top of an atrium where the high-standing palace inhabitants ate, and four other shorter ones perpendicular to the main one where the servants gorged.

Even if the servants – regardless of their position and standing – were allowed on the four tables, that didn’t mean that there weren’t ones working. Maids walked up and down filling cups and carrying trays, and there were multiple cooks on-site to reheat the meat that had grown cold from being exposed for long on open stoves.

If Aloe had been a more commoner-born and raised person, she would have cried and flinched in disgust at the sheer amount of wasted food, no more than a display than an actual meal. But considering that the food the ones at the top didn’t touch slowly trickled down to the servants, it almost seemed fair. Of all the despotic nightmares she could have imagined, she instead saw a crude approximation of a very big family.

She was happy to not see Rani anywhere in the hall, which lightened her mood a bit, but the other sultanzade still feasted on the table.

To say that Naila Asina was a voracious person was an understatement. When people said that they were hungry enough to eat a cow, everyone knew they were exaggerating. But as Aloe approached the table and plates kept coming in and out, she thought how she would believe such a statement if it came out of the imperial scribe’s mouth.

How can she fit this much in her tiny body? That was a perfect example of selective reasoning on Aloe’s part as the sultanzade was slightly taller – and far bulkier – than her. Scratch that, how is she that small if she eats this much?

Although the girl was shoving enough food to feed a whole family of nine down her throat, Naila didn’t fail to notice Aloe’s presence.

“What?” The sultanzade asked with a mouth full and a stylish yogurt sauce lipstick.

“Nothing at all.” The scribe of commoners responded with a slight bow.

“I do not like your gaze, woman.” Naila protested.

Now, Aloe had a lot of reasons to protest. Mainly on why a princess was eating with worse manners than a pig, but she was wiser than to throw wood to the fire. Or her head.

Aloe sat down at the table; unfortunately, the extremes were taken by low-ranking scribes and what she’d written off as nobles, so she was forced to sit somewhere near the sultanzade.

“Excuse me,” Aloe raised a hand to cry for the attention of a nearby maid.

“Excuse me?” Naila interjected before the maid could talk and puffed out air derisively. “If you are going to keep that position, act like it, woman. A maid shouldn’t excuse you.”

“It’s called ‘common courtesy’, Scribe Naila,” Aloe explained calmly, her voice neutral like a mother who was teaching her child. “It costs nothing to speak nice words, and it’s a requirement of someone in my position.”

The sheer amount of double meanings and coated poison in her words astonished Aloe, even if she was the one who had uttered them. She couldn’t wrong the sultanzade, but at the same time, her dumb pride didn’t allow her to be stepped on by an entitled child. She lacked a bit of height and age before she even thought of letting her step on her.

She turned to face the maid. “Is there falafel somewhere?”

Whilst not a cooking prodigy, Aloe knew her food. And she would kill for some imperial chef falafel.

“I’m afraid not, venerable Scribe.” The random maid bowed as if it was her own fault, her expression mortified at the incompetence.

Dunes. Now she felt bad.