The Scythe and the Flower

On the very first day of Queen Archeodita's reign, the palace was decorated more magnificently than ever before. Colorful tapestries—red, yellow, and blue embroidered with gold—hung on the high walls above lush green vegetation. From the palace roof, during the procession, rose and lotus petals fluttered down, falling like a red-and-white ripple of rain. People filled the wide palace avenue, now resembling a riverbed of a human stream. The heads of the crowd—mostly nobles and governors—moved slowly and evenly, like waves, in sync with their steps. I looked ahead: among the statues and marble walls, I could see the dark, narrow slit of the entrance to the main hall. The sun had only just risen, casting everything in a golden haze, as if looking through thick air that made everything shimmer. We were greeted by girls in open garments, dancing gracefully. Their arms rose and fell with enchanting fluidity. The light silk garments moved with their bodies like shadows, trailing behind them.

Remarkably, there was no wind, so no sand tangled in our hair, and we could admire the beauty of the palace with wide-open eyes. We passed through the door. Coolness swept over us. The air, liquid-like, dried our sweating skin. The desert furnace remained behind the curtain of palace carpets. Inside, under the glow of a thousand torches and among palms and ferns, the throne stood. Its yellow marble steps, polished to a mirror shine, reflected the flicker of fire. We moved toward the throne — it was my turn to kiss the queen's toes, in recognition of her victory over Anaxemond. Over the one who had cared for and loved us as if we were his own sons. Over the one she had brutally cut down in the final battle beneath Fibae, leaving three ragged wounds on his body with her infamous serrated sword.

We were prepared for this turn of events, too. Everything was proceeding as planned. Full compliance with the victor, the sacred rite of anointing her as queen of all Eshibet. By now, her troops are already quartered. While they come to understand what has happened, our mobile units will cut down the occupiers one by one in their evening clothes. And Eshibet will be a sovereign state again. All that remains is for me to fulfill my part.

I stood before the queen and slowly lifted my eyes to her. Oh — she was of otherworldly beauty. Of course, she was not of our blood. Her light skin, now tanned to a deep burgundy-brown by the scorching desert sun, matched beautifully with her pale blue eyes like the midday sky. Her hair, tied into a knot, was held with a leather cord adorned with golden clasps. Several straight strands had slipped free from the knot, falling swiftly across her cheeks, which were faintly flushed. Before me sat Grace herself — a goddess in female form. To her left rested the serrated sword against the armrest; light shimmered across its uneven surface. The queen's hands were motionless, but I harbored no illusions. Archeodita was not only beautiful but also a fierce warrior. Her reflexes were lightning-fast.

I stepped forward and leaned slightly to get closer to the queen's bare feet. My hands were hidden beneath my cloak, unseen by her personal guard's hounds. I found the hilts of the daggers. Their blades had soaked in turari solution for two days. Even a tiny scratch could be enough to kill. I kissed her toes. They smelled of vanilla and honey. Essential oils and eucalyptus tickled my nostrils, bringing an otherworldly pleasure. Her body was so close I could feel her life energy radiating from it. A young, predatory flower. And I — a gardener with a scythe.

I slightly straightened, keeping my hands behind my back. Three guards turned their dog-like muzzles toward me. Peripheral vision didn't lie — soon they would figure out what was happening, and it would be too late. Fatally late. I looked at her once more. She had lined her eyes heavily with black kohl, framing those captivating pools with sorrow like Eshibetan women, with long lines extending from the outer corners. A diadem sat on her head, golden pendant earrings at her sensuous ears. She was, as always, beautiful. Thank you, god Nra, for those nights of ours. But that's enough — I can't delay any longer. Forgive me, my most… The time has come.

I raised my hands above me, holding the two daggers, still damp with poison. Two glints reflected in her eyes. Everything slowed: her right hand seizing the sword and thrusting it straight before her; the curves of the daggers sweeping past me. Three blows simultaneously — I pierced her chest and abdomen, and her sword passed through my ribcage, shattering the bones to dust. I felt the tearing metal in my heart and collapsed helplessly onto her. We merged in a kiss, and I felt our blood mingling in our mouths. So warm and faintly salt…