THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

Keeping a dignified composure while leaving the scene required every bit of self-control Delilee could muster. Instead of screaming at the Sachem, she focused on not stepping on the hem of her dress. Instead of digging out the knife nestled inside her boot and plunging it into his chest, she concentrated on keeping her pace slow and dignified. She wanted to run—if not in a wild rage at the Sachem, then at least in a sprint out of the chamber.

Sahruum, don’t let me cry.

When she reached the aisle’s top stair, she paused for the slightest second and almost gave into her instincts to look back. At the very least, she owed her family one last glance. Behind her, the shuffle of feet echoed throughout the chamber. Had the Sachem released them from the aether yet? Were they back on their feet to be ushered out?

Delilee inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly. She couldn’t look back. Jalice wouldn’t look back—at least not for Delilee’s reasons. Jalice would’ve only turned around to gush over her husband. Delilee refused to look at his face again. He would see through her façade if he happened to glimpse the pain and rage that boiled behind her eyes.

The two hirishu waited at the top of the stairs. Delilee walked between them without pause, and the men fell into stride with her. One of them grumbled a weak reprimand for her frantic dash into the Temple, but she ignored it. Her mind obsessed over the fate that awaited her parents and siblings.

Shrill voices broke through her dark ruminations. She jolted and took in her surroundings. She had arrived at the bottom of the Temple stairs, and she struggled to recall the journey out of the entrance hall, past the Temple doors, and down the exterior steps. A gaggle of young women wearing expectant expressions blocked her path. Delilee blinked, certain one of the talimai—Jalice’s handmaids—had addressed her with an inquiry. She searched for an excuse to dismiss them without drawing suspicion.

Jalice never went anywhere without her talimai. The role of decoy had only been a step above these handmaids, but Delilee had always been thankful for the distinction. The Ikaul treated the talimai—most of whom were Vekuuv—worse than dung.

“You look upset, Tecalica,” said one of them.

Delilee recalled the woman’s name as Geshar. White scars marred the woman’s golden skin as visible punishments for incidents of disobedience or inefficiency during her servitude as a talimai. Furthermore, the skin ink on her right forearm declared her as Vekuuv. Sandy blonde hair, adorned with a few colored leaves, spiked from her scalp like a grimalkin’s mane.

Yet Geshar’s hair was absent of any symbolic weave. The Vekuuv custom had largely been eradicated since the unification of the two tribes, declared by the Sachem a conspiratorial practice that could communicate treasonous messages between rebels. Jalice still continued the practice with the blessing of Hydrim, and Delilee did as well in her role as decoy.

Delilee squared her shoulders and banished all panic or shock from her face. “You’re mistaken, Geshar,” she replied. “I’m always pleased after spending time with my Sachem.”

Geshar’s face paled, and her greyish eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

Delilee shot her hand up, and Geshar grew silent as the other talimai stiffened with rapt attention. “There’s a tribal gathering tonight. I require a bath in preparation.”

Geshar piped up, eager to remedy her apparent misstep. “Let me accompany you, Tecalica. I will bring—”

“I’ll be washing alone,” Delilee interjected. “You all will gather the necessary items for my attire tonight. The brightest feathers, fresh paint, a clean dress—it must all be ready for me when I’m finished at the baths. If it isn’t, I will notify the Sachem that you failed to present me appropriately.”

The women were moving before the last words had left her mouth. Delilee was left with the two warriors, and she wasted no time moving down the gravel path that led to the far side of the Temple.

The chieftess’s bath was private—a feature Delilee now purposely sought out. Forged as an underground chamber at the edge of the Buvaigin River, the space served as the only ideal place for Delilee to discard her fake demeanor and be at peace as herself. There she could grieve alone without fear of a witness to her mourning.

Until then, Delilee couldn’t afford to let her mask slip again. Her failure to keep her composure after she exited the Temple had provoked Geshar’s comment. Delilee knew her disguise required she maintain an exuded confidence to avoid suspicion. As she made her way past the Temple, she held her head high.

Almost there. She quelled the urge to walk faster. Even as she and the hirishu entered the tunnel that led to the bathing chamber, she made a point to slow her pace. She feigned concern over staining her skirt and lifted it delicately as they walked through the dark tunnel. When they reached the slender stairs that led down to the bathing pool, she turned to the warriors.

“Don’t come past this point,” Delilee commanded. “There’s no way someone can get to me from down there. Stay here until I return.”

The men exchanged mutual glances, but nodded acknowledgment. Satisfied they would obey her command, Delilee turned and glided down the stairs. When she reached the final step, she looked behind her to ensure she couldn’t be seen. The tunnel’s vantage point from where she stood offered no visibility to outsiders.

The façade fell. For a time, she could be Delilee, not Jalice.

She tugged at her clothes with trembling hands, ripping off the pieces in a frenzy. The air caught in her lungs, and her throat squeezed tight. Sobs escaped her, but she kept the sound controlled and muffled. The hirishu were out of sight, but they weren’t deaf.

With the last garment discarded, she raked her hands through her hair and dismantled the weave. She grabbed at the white crystal stones to cast them to the ground. Finally, she ripped off the craddleberry branches around her neck before she rushed into the pool of lukewarm water.

Her feet settled on the smooth tiles that lined the pool floor. An amenity given only to the chieftess, the aether-coated tiles heated the water from its naturally frigid temperature inside the chamber. During the cold months, the heated water produced a steam fog, as it did now.

Delilee covered her face with her hands as sobs overtook her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The strain inside her unhinged, and the strength in her legs to stay upright buckled. She sank to her knees, leaving only her neck and head above the water. The red paint on her face trickled down her cheeks, now diluted with the water her hands applied.

A sudden itch broke across her. Delilee dug her fingernails into her skin, slashing erratic lines in a desperate need to alleviate the rash forming on her chest and arms. Her pale complexion transformed into a myriad of bright red lines that crisscrossed in chaotic patterns.

Despair over her failings crowded her thoughts. She couldn’t save her family, she couldn’t alleviate the lyprow root’s itch, and she couldn’t even take a bath in her own skin. A shriek of constrained breath choked past her lips, yet she kept it quiet, still mindful of the warriors. Enraged by her circumstances, she thrashed her arms in the water like a caged animal. Finally, she grew still, too tired from her outburst to scratch at her skin anymore despite the persistent itch.

“Why, Sahruum?” she squeaked, not caring that her voice sounded weak. “Why did you let this happen?”

Silence followed. Sahruum didn’t answer. That was too much to expect of the celestial god. Instead, a verse from the Sacred Tomes filled her mind.

No star dies without a burst of final light. No constellation forms without a future meaning. Sahruum steps into the tomorrows of the faithful and protects those who hold to infinite wisdoms.

Remembering the verse calmed Delilee. She sighed deeply. Sahruum would take care of her family. They’d be protected. If they were to perish, though, it would be in sequence with the Star Alignment and Sahruum’s grand design. All Delilee could really do was hope that Sahruum would keep them alive long enough for her to see them again someday.

The sting of the itch shook her from these worries. She rubbed her skin again but stopped when the itch turned into a burning heat on her right arm. Delilee choked back a horrified gasp. A sliver of loose skin hung off her forearm, drifting in the water like paper. Tendrils of blood splintered around the fresh wound.

It’s getting worse. Her skin had peeled twice already during the week. The stress of this realization awakened a physical craving. She grabbed at the loose skin and flinched as she yanked it free from her arm. It was far too soon to partake of more lyprow, but she couldn’t keep itching and peeling. Not with the Sachem’s gathering tonight.

She sprang out of the water and dashed to her piles of clothes by the staircase. The craving to taste the potion hijacked her senses, and her body tensed with anticipation. She fumbled at her dress, anxious when she couldn’t locate the vial she sought.

A quiet clink echoed in the air. Something had fallen from one of the pockets and struck the stone floor.

Delilee lunged for the vial before it could roll into a crevice. With shaking hands, she took off the cork and threw back her head. Her tongue tingled with preemptive ecstasy even before the first drops passed her lips. It tasted like spoiled berries and crushed mushies, flavors she found detestable. But with each passing day, she’d developed an acclimated palate for it. No amount of shame over this could quench the growing addiction.

The effects were instantaneous. Her skin pinched and the insides of her mouth went numb. A single convulsive shiver ran from head to toe, shedding all the patches of peeling skin off her body like a snake discarding an old husk.

Delilee sighed in relief at the alleviated itch. No scratch marks remained either. Her skin had replenished with a new coat due to the potion’s effects. She shivered in the cold breeze that entered from the same tunnels that gathered and drained the river water. Rather than dip back in the pool or dry off, she peered off absentmindedly, lost in a murky despair.

When are you coming back, Annilasia? She refused to contemplate whether the tillishu and Jalice were still alive. Still, the tillishu had been gone for so long.

If Annilasia never returned, Delilee would be trapped in her disguise until the lyprow’s long-term effects wore off. She couldn’t rely on it forever, despite Korcsha’s next dose of lyprow arriving the following day.

Receiving the aethertwister’s secret note had been anything but comforting. A dark fate would befall Delilee eventually if she kept to this path for too long. Her identity would be exposed as the lyprow continued to erode her body. Then would come the consequences—execution most likely, or possibly even an aether drain of her aura. She tried to avoid thinking too long on that possibility. The longer she took lyprow, the more its effects worsened. Eventually, someone would notice.

The verse from earlier resurfaced. Delilee sighed. There was no use in pondering the terrible consequences that could happen. Annilasia was capable and strong. She’d protect Jalice and get her to safety, and then return for Delilee. All Delilee could do was keep up her role.

Pretending to be Jalice came as natural as breathing. Delilee had studied her cousin’s mannerisms every day while tasked as the Tecalica’s decoy. She memorized every quirk. But that wasn’t the only skill Annilasia had tasked her with while masked as Jalice. They’d switched Jalice out for Delilee because the chieftess had been unwilling to betray the Sachem. Delilee’s job to spy on him was proving as taxing as the lyprow root’s side effects.

Thus far, Delilee hadn’t uncovered any secrets. The Sachem had spent most of his time charging aethertwisters and warriors with finding the traitors who’d tried to abduct his Tecalica. Not only that, but the Tecalica’s vulnerability had been remedied with a constant pair of warriors tasked with keeping her safe. The constant security left little room for Delilee to sneak around and decipher the Sachem’s plans. If Annilasia were to return now, Delilee would have almost nothing to show for her time as Tecalica.

Doubt over the validity of Annilasia’s claims crept into Delilee’s mind. The tillishu had said she’d heard whispers from Ikaul warriors who’d been stationed in Vekuuv. They claimed the Sachem had the Vekuuv slaves constructing a device of grand proportions. Annilasia had no other details about it, and so had tasked Delilee with finding out more while Jalice was relocated.

Delilee returned to the pool and dipped her legs in the water. Perhaps tonight would unfold differently. Maybe the gathering would somehow provide her an excuse to comb the Fortress for secrets that could validate Annilasia’s theories.

She whispered the verse as she peered down at the water’s surface. A reflection stared back at her, but it wasn’t her own. A different pair of eyes, smoother strands of red hair, and a less rounded face mocked her desire to see her own features. Seeing Jalice’s face only added to her anxiety.

I don’t think I can play this role much longer, and it hasn’t even been a week yet.

Soft steps padded down the stairs and startled her. She craned her neck to see Geshar standing at the bottom of the passageway with downcast eyes.

“The gathering is only hours away, Tecalica.” The talimai’s voice echoed through the air like a stone skipping across water. “I’ve brought you a towel to dry and some fresh clothes to wear on your way to the tower.” Geshar gathered up the discarded garb and hair ornaments.

Delilee turned away in fear that her raw emotions might still be worn openly on her face. She cleared her throat.

“Very well, then,” said Delilee. “I’ll dry and be at the tower soon.” She listened for Geshar’s compliant retreat, which came after a moment of quiet hesitation.

Delilee’s eyes traveled back to the reflection in the water—Jalice’s reflection. It was time to don the mask again. Moments later, when she climbed the stairs and greeted the warriors, Delilee once again slipped back into her role as the Tecalica of the Unified Tribes.