92. Karaim (Patreon)

No rebuttal left Aloe’s mouth; she accepted her destiny in silence. She took a minute to fix her clothes and then followed the foreign maid into the inner palace. The sky was already tainted with the orange tinge of twilight, streaks of purple slowly growing as the night closed in.

The maid guided her through confusing and ample corridors, she herself being quite big. Whilst not as colossal as her summoner, the maid was taller than most women even if her build was more on the thinner side.

Aloe tried to steel herself for whatever might happen, but the reality wasn’t so simple. In truth, she found herself nauseated, fearing what could happen. Her previous ‘talk’ with the Sultanah had been short – barely two exchanged sentences – but it affected her greatly, nonetheless. She feared her psyche couldn’t hold in a personal and drawn-out conversation.

“This is the Sultanah’s office, she is waiting for you inside.” The maid signalized with her open palm after stopping before the door. Aloe didn’t enjoy the indifference that formed the woman’s visage.

As if the maid wouldn’t want anything to do with the Sultanah, she rushed away, leaving Aloe alone before the door. The scribe took multiple deep breaths, mentalizing herself as best as possible, then knocked once on the door. Shyly. Terrified.

She stood still for a solid half a minute, silence lingering both inside and out on the corridor. She didn’t dare to knock again. A minute later, she got an answer.

“Come in.” A powerful voice answered.

Aloe had only heard her talk a few words, but that was enough for her to never forget Aaliyah-al-Ydaz’s voice. Hesitatingly, the scribe grabbed the doorknob and – after taking another deep breath – she opened the door.

The Sultanah’s private office was a curious room, for lack of better words.

There were no windows at all, meaning all lighting came from candlelight. That meant that the ventilation was almost nonexistent, the airflow totally stale. An incense burned on a table, hiding the likely odor that would have thrashed the room otherwise. As expected from Asina’s palace, the room was colossal. Enough to fit a desk, libraries, a sofa, a bed, and... a lot of seats.

The problem wasn’t with the amount, but the variety. A myriad of different seat types, from simple wooden stools to golden thrones littered the room.

Aloe did her best to not ogle around and instead focused on the woman of the world’s desire.

“I have heard and attended your summon, My Sultanah.” The scribe bowed down with a ninety-degree bow.

“That I can see.” As Aloe stood up, she realized she couldn’t read the woman. If Rani was a wall, immutable but with defying characteristics; Aaliyah-al-Ydaz was a void, unseeable and all-consuming.

And the void stared back at her.

Those were eyes, Aloe knew that, but it was hard for her mind to process that as the shining gemstones drilled into her very essence.

“T-too what may I assist you, My Sultanah?” Stuttering was the last thing she wanted to do. Showing weakness against such a foe was a death sentence. Yet it was impossible to show anything other than that when the heavens themselves pressured you down.

“First, sit down.” The paragon of might ordered.

Aloe looked around in confusion. Where? Her brain didn’t have enough power to process that command when half the office was just sitting spots. When Aaliyah-al-Ydaz stood up from her desk, the scribe stepped backward fearing an aggression due to her indecision. Instead, the Sultanah walked to the velvet sofa and sat down, putting her legs one on top of the other forming a delicious arch. As the beautiful woman patted slowly and enticingly the pillow beside her with a single finger, it was made clear where she wanted Aloe to be.

Against her better judgment, but also the only right option, Aloe sat beside the Sultanah of Ydaz. Her big body – colossal compared to her diminutive build – emitted as much heat as a campfire.

Aloe trembled. “What w-would you need from my person, My Sultanah?”

“Nothing really.” Aaliyah-al-Ydaz lazily responded with her head resting on the back of her hand.

If this were a normal conversation, Aloe would have asked if that was the case or maybe straight up left. But this wasn’t a normal conversation. She didn’t have the guts, nor the death wish, to ask back. The two women waited on the sofa in silence. Aloe felt like prey as the Sultanah devoured her with her mesmerizing eyes. No matter that she had two layers of clothing, she felt even more naked than that time with Rani in the bath.

“Truth is, I just wanted to indulge myself.” Aloe gulped at the connotations of those words, which made the Sultanah snicker. “Not as you may think.” Her sultry and low voice didn’t tell Aloe the same. “After having known about you, I knew that I needed to say something to you, to talk to you.”

Aloe couldn’t understand how or why, but the tone of the Sultanah invited her to talk.

“And why may that be? If I am so bold to ask, My Sultanah.”

“Tell me your name again.” The half-naked woman reclined more, pushing her back to the side of the sofa. Her bountiful breasts fell to the sides, almost threatening to spill out of the threads that could vaguely be considered clothes.

“Aloe Ayad.” The scribe responded with uncertainty at her own name.

“That is the question. Is it not?” Out of nowhere, the Sultanah pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. She poured the crimson liquid with masterful dexterity that would make barmaids if they were even qualified for their job. Even if Aloe didn’t enjoy alcohol and wasn’t exactly tolerant, she had more than enough brain cells to not refuse a glass poured by a monarch. The scribe didn’t drink, barely wetting her lips, though Aaliyah-al-Ydaz downed half the glass with a single, drawn-out gulp. “Nobles have surnames, that is quite literally a requisite of the job. But that is uncommon with commoners. Either they are foreign, fallen nobles that kept their family’s name, or... they were issued in knighthood or as a gift by the Crown.”

Aloe instantly understood where the Sultanah was getting at. Taking a slight inhalation, the scribe drank from the wine. Even the faintest of drops was enough for her throat to light up on fire, no matter her internal infusion.

“So, when I heard a recent family name like Ayad – quite literally meaning ‘blessing’ – which was bestowed by myself a long ago, I could not help myself but be intrigued.” As Aaliyah-al-Ydaz shook her glass, her eyes lost on the shimmering liquid, Aloe’s thoughts wandered elsewhere, captivated by the image. Heavens, how is she so beautiful? It wasn’t a woman, but a mountain yearning to be climbed. “Now, you may know what person I bestowed that name to, do you not?”

The question snapped Aloe out of trance, and she pushed the glass out of her mouth’s reach.

“It was my grandfather, Karaim Ayad.” The scribe’s voice was certain, unlike her thoughts.

“Indeed, a name I have not heard in a while...” The Sultanah was more focused on her own thoughts than Aloe. And in that way, they were similar. For she also was more focused on her.

Thankfully, some hint of sapient thought still lingered in her mind.

“Excuse me, My Sultanah...” Aloe started and waited a few seconds for permission. She took the following silence as acceptance. “Did you know my grandfather?”

“If I knew him?” Aaliyah-al-Ydaz let out a full-blown laugh.

The noise remained Aloe of the drums used for celebrations. Sounds loud enough to shake her stomach.

“Yes... We knew each other. A long time ago we certainly did.” For the first time, the scribe saw a crack in the void, a small reading. It was a single emotion: melancholy. “He is dead, is he not?”

The crack disappeared as soon as it showed, and Aloe could no longer tell the emotion behind the Sultanah’s words. She couldn’t determine if it was sadness, rage, or indifference that was in her tone.

“Almost three months ago,” Aloe revealed. “He had grown sick in his isolation. No one had seen him until a few months before his death when left his greenhouse after becoming incapable of living by himself.”

“With his plants until the end, eh.” The woman snickered. “Alright, child.” When coming out of her lips, Aloe didn’t care about being called a child. Aaliyah-al-Ydaz lifted her back and poured more wine into her glass. “Let me tell you the story of a peculiar group and a man who made me into what I am. The story of Aaliyah Asina, Umar, and Karaim.”