Mara and Morok

“Do you think we should expect any surprises from our dear Agatha?”

“I don’t think so. But I would have a guard at her side at all times while she’s in the palace. Someone you can trust.”

“Right…” The prince is contemplating the suggestion and I’m shivering in the chilly air, looking from one man to the other. Whatever they decide, I wish they would do it soon. “Thank you, Morok, you may go.”

Morok nods, turns around noiselessly and goes back down the stairs. He takes the bridles of my white steed and his own black mount and leads them away, to the stables, I suppose. It dawns on me that he’s not going into the palace with us. That realization makes me anxious. Morok is scary but I’ve gotten used to having him around. He’s the only one among all my guards who has similar powers to mine and does not belong to this world. And now I’m completely alone, again.

The moment I step over the threshold, through the enormous wooden gates, a wave of old unwelcome memories washes over me. I can see the richly decorated halls of another palace and other heavy gates that became the last obstacle between me and my revenge. The obstacle I couldn’t overcome. Fear and fury rise up in me and are about to take over but I make myself breathe in, breathe out, and return to the present.

Immediately past the entrance, we find ourselves in a gigantic hall. The doors on the left are locked but there is a suite of rooms stretching before us on the right. I can also see another marble staircase covered with red-velvet carpet, leading to the second floor. The walls are painted in gold and crimson with little silver elements here and there. The columns are adorned with grapevines, also made of gold. And when I look up, I see the ceiling decorated with stucco and massive, gilded chandeliers that seem to be pressing down on you, even though they are many feet above your head. Everything looks too expensive and oversized.

The prince interrupts my thoughts. “You’re right, Agatha, it would be wrong to drag you to my father in chains. Come along.”

I follow him upstairs. On the second floor, the prince turns right into a long corridor. It’s darker here as there are no windows, but there are enough candles mounted on the walls to be able to get around. We walk the whole length of the hall and stop in front of a carved, wooden door which is no different from the other five we’ve just passed.

“This will be your room.”

I don’t have time to answer as he flings the door open and I find myself squinting, expecting it to look like a prison cell, apart from the gold on the walls. But to my surprise, when I peek in, all I can see is a simple room in deep green shades. There are just a few gold touches, but that much I can take.

“No red?” I arch an eyebrow and turn to Daniel.

“Sorry, Agatha,” he smirks, “we didn’t have time to create a room especially for you, but you will find plenty of red in your wardrobe. I will send you maids; they will help you wash and change. I will be back in an hour.”

He takes off the manacles, somewhat reluctantly, and nods.

“But please don’t go telling the servants you’re dead, you’ll just scare them off.”

“I don’t believe I’m able to unscrew my head and stuff it under my arm.” I roll my eyes remembering the rumors he’d shared with me about Maras.

Uncharacteristically, the Prince doesn’t smile, just shoots me a searching look, turns on his heels and leaves. Now I can look around properly. The room is not big, but there are two large windows opposite the door. They reach almost to the floor, so the room must be bathed in sunlight during the day. In the middle of the room stands a massive four-poster bed. Next to the bed is a dressing-table, and a little further, a wardrobe. A huge, crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling and I am careful not to walk right under it as I’m afraid it will crash down and pin me to the floor. I walk up to the wardrobe and the doors creak open with a sense of foreboding. I’m right, of course, Daniel did go wild. I browse through brand new cloaks, gowns, trousers and shirts, all in scarlet, black or white. I shut the doors and make a mental note to tell Daniel that a Mara can wear other colors too.

As promised, Daniel sends me two lovely girls, Inna and Marina, who help me take a bath and make me look presentable. I’m not used to being waited on, so I try to refuse their help. They just smile respectfully and help me anyway, ignoring my feeble attempts to do everything myself. I suspect they haven’t been told who I am as they do not ask questions or cringe when they touch me. They actually are a lot of help, but I manage to at least talk them into letting me take the bath on my own.

“M’lady, there’s a strange spot on your back. Would you like me to call a healer?” Marina asks me while she’s helping me with the corset.

Inna comes nearer too and examines my back.

“Maybe you would like to put on another dress?” she suggests.

Marina answers before I can say anything. “No, His Highness wanted this particular dress.”

“So, it was His Highness who ordered you to clad me in this revealing dress with open shoulders?” I turn to them indignantly.

My maids lower their eyes.

To be honest, the dress is gorgeous. The color is more crimson than scarlet. The hem of the skirt and the sleeves are embroidered with real gold thread and delicate lace and the corset is embellished with pearls and rubies. I don’t remember ever wearing anything as beautiful, or as revealing, for that matter. The cleavage is at least a few inches too low for my liking and my shoulders are completely bare, which makes me want to cover myself with my hands. I look like an expensive doll and the fact that Daniel ordered me to wear this dress feels humiliating. The anger is bubbling up inside of me again but something touches the skin on my back and I start.

“I am sorry, my lady,” it was Inna, “but that spot…”

“What about it?”

I turn my back to the mirror and crane my neck to see what is so strange. What I see is a dark, almost black, spot on my shoulder blade that looks like the palm of a hand. Shadow’s touch. A sign that marks my connection with Morok. It’s the spot where he touched me when he was reviving me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine but I turn back to the maids and try to look reassuring.

“Oh that. It’s just a birthmark, that’s all. I can cover it with my hair. Could you help me brush it back?” I ask sweetly.

The girls look at me with a hint of suspicion in their eyes but they do not dare to pry further. They brush my hair so that it falls down my back in a waterfall, though a smaller and lighter waterfall than it used to be. They also line my eyes with stibnite, powder my face and paint my lips. There are so many jars, flasks and tiny bottles on the dressing-table that I’m afraid to even touch them, having no idea about their contents or purpose. But the girls seem more competent, they swiftly pick up this jar or that bottle and apply colors that match my dress. In the end, when I open my eyes and see my reflection, it’s not an unpleasant sight.

“You are breathtaking, m’lady,” Marina says with a shy smile.

“Thanks to you.”

“I meant m’lady is breathtakingly beautiful even without the dress or the makeup. I am sure His Highness will appreciate your beauty.”

“His Highness can shove…” I glimpse a startled look on my maids’ faces and check myself. I put on my best smile and force myself say: “I hope he will be satisfied.”

The prince seems to be into collecting beautiful things. And he must be considering me a new object in his collection.

As soon as the thought forms in my head, the door to my room flies open. It is not the prince who strides in though, it is four guards.

“Excuse us, my lady. We have been sent to accompany you to the Great Hall.”

Four fully armed men, and I am not even allowed hairpins, let alone weapons. Maybe Daniel fears I might kill someone with the hair comb he gave me.

In an act of desperation, I actually cast a quick glance at the dressing-table, but my hair comb is not there.

“Lead the way.” I sigh, standing up and hitching up the hem of my dress. Two guards are walking in front of me and two more are bringing up the rear.

It takes us at least five minutes to get to the Great Hall, though it is situated on the same floor. We weave through corridors and passages, in and out of halls till I completely lose my bearings. But the guards finally stop in front of heavy doors and throw them open. I straighten up and fold my hands somewhere in front of my belly, the way women do at court. I enter the hall, the clicking sound of my heels against the polished floor loud in my ears. Apart from that, it’s almost silent, there are only a few people speaking in hushed voice somewhere in the distance. I was expecting to find a crowd gaping at a living Mara, but the hall is almost empty.

I take a look around and see that the hall is indeed enormous and spacious, I guess it is where all royal balls and events are normally held. The walls are flickering with gold, a line of sculptures stretching along each of them. The ceiling is covered in frescos, which I can see even at this dark time of the evening due to hundreds of candles lighting the room. There are a lot of windows, too, and by day the hall must be dazzling, with all the gold reflecting the sunlight. But now the windows are dark and I can’t even guess what is beyond them.

I spot a table to the right, laden with dishes for the evening meal. On the left, there’s a throne, elevated on a platform and towering over the hall. In the throne sits the current King of Araken, Dmitry Rakhmanov. One glance at the king is enough to see that the demanding task of ruling the country has taken its toll on his health and hasn’t left him many years to walk the earth. His hair must have been the color of gold before, but now it is almost completely silver, and his thinning beard and mustache too are peppered with grey. I can spot a few bald patches on his head despite the servants’ best efforts to hide them by brushing the hair to one side. He must have lost a lot of weight, too, because his red and gold caftan is too baggy, making the king look even older. His hazel eyes are clouded and his whole body speaks of his fatigue. He’s resting his head on a hand, propped on the armrest. Next to the king’s throne, there are three smaller ones, probably for his heirs. One of them is occupied by a pretty, young woman in a powder-pink gown. Her golden hair falls in a thick braid down her left shoulder and loose locks frame her face, making it even more charming. Behind the throne, I can make out Daniel, absorbed in conversation with a dark-haired man. The prince is wearing a spotless crimson doublet, he has clearly had a bit of time in which to clean himself up too. The dark-haired man is dressed in a simple, black caftan. Though they are of more or less the same height, in every other sense they look like complete opposites.

“Brother!” The woman calls to Daniel and rises from the throne as I approach.

The prince is so absorbed, he hasn’t noticed me come in, but now he and the other man turn their eyes towards me. The dark-haired stranger looks me up and down with his brilliant green eyes, claps Daniel on the shoulder and vanishes somewhere behind the thrones. The prince pays him no attention now as his eyes are fixed on my dress. I hope he is not looking at my cleavage.

I face the king, who stares absently in the distance, but then blinks a few times and finally turns his attention to me. When he realizes who I am, he stands up from the throne with his head held high and his eyes adopt a proud expression. I’m relieved to see he still has some strength left in him. It would be more challenging to try to negotiate with a feeble old man. The only absent member of the Royal family is the elder son and the heir to the throne, Nikolay.

Daniel steps down and sets off in my direction but I raise a hand motioning him to return back to his place. Maras might have lived out in the wilderness but we have been taught the ceremony of court. I curtsy, not taking my eyes off the king, and he nods approvingly. Daniel glances at me in surprise, then grins and goes back to stand to the right of his father’s throne. Now they are all looking at me, I can clearly see their resemblance, all three have light hair and hazel eyes.

“Welcome to Yarat, Mara,” the king starts.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“I must admit, when my son suggested this idea, my first impulse was to refuse. I was skeptical and didn’t truly believe it even vaguely possible. But, when all the others have failed so gloriously, I had to resort to this plan in the end.”

The king and his children sit back down on their thrones and I am left standing at the foot of the platform. I’m still in the dark as to why they resorted to this plan. Why raise me from the dead? Getting rid of a few ghouls is hardly worth so much trouble. So, when the king pauses and looks at me expectantly, I keep my silence.