Efe Matthews

The palace was decorated to suit the occasion. There were ornaments of pure gold and silver hanging along the hallways and a wide array of lights reflecting different colors, which created a very enchanting picture. Extremely rare crystals, called camoulon, were perhaps the most fascinating. They looked somewhat like diamonds, but they reflected very deep and distinct kaleidoscope of colors—they displayed every variation of the full color spectrum. It was like nothing she had ever seen, except that, well, her own hair tended to reflect almost identical colors.

In what looked like a dining hall was the longest dining table she had ever seen. It stood over five feet high, about 20 feet wide, and at least two hundred feet long. It was made of what appeared to be genuine yellow gold. The chairs were equally monumental. There had to be close to 500 chairs, all made of silver with golden crests. The spindles had alternating gold and silver designs and the seats looked fluffy, like peacock feathers. The table was set with various pieces of gold, silver, and camoulon plates, goblets, and cutlery. Everything looked otherworldly but perfect.

The wedding was scheduled for noon the next day, and the preparation was extensive. The king invited other neighboring kings, queens, emperors, lords, ladies, -noblemen, and many others from faraway lands to the occasion of his only daughter’s wedding. Maids and menservants ran errands, making sure everything was perfect. King Zumali would accept nothing short of perfection.

Zumali, feared and well respected, was the strongest of all the kings. He stood about nine feet six inches tall, and weighed over six hundred and fifty pounds, with a strong muscular body. It was typical for a man of his stature to stand out among others. His facial features looked as if they were chiseled out of olive-glazed marble, but he was flesh and blood, purple blood maybe, but he certainly wasn’t from earth, he was otherworldly. He looked human, though mutated over the centuries. His ears were pointed at the top and slightly rounder and wider at the bottom than human ears. His long, wavy dark hair was like pure silk and it reflected several different colors, like the camoulon. His lips were full, sexy, and kissable. He was handsome, no doubt, but also strange like an ancient god.

His voice thundered in no uncertain terms as he addressed the emperor, standing about an arm’s length from him in the magnificent dining hall. “I will not accept anything less than ten thousand acres,” he said. His intense, slanted eyes darkened with fury and his pupils transformed from their usual deep royal purple to a fiery flame of colors—like flowing lava.

“I can give you three thousand acres, Your Highness,” the emperor replied. He was a head shorter than the king and was obviously terrified of him. His features were vastly different from the king’s. At about eight feet tall, he weighed almost one thousand pounds, with pudgy midsection that made him look like a barrel. He had dusty brown hair and brownish narrow eyes, which awkwardly complimented his tawny skin tone. His ears were rounded, and his thin lips sat remarkably close underneath the tip of his long nose which covered about half the length of his broad face. His face looked like a cross between a man and a wolf. He was not a comely fellow, by any stretch of the imagination.

“Three thousand acres for my daughter’s hand in marriage? You have to be joking,” Zumali’s scornful laugh echoed across the hall.

“I will also give you fifty young maidens, seven gold mines, and two hundred chariots.” The emperor was far from joking. He wanted to marry the princess for her beauty as well as for political reasons. He knew that if he married the king’s daughter, then he would have all the protection he needed.

The king thought about the emperor’s proposition for a moment and then shook his head in refusal. “We can call off this wedding,” he said. “Ten thousand acres or you can find yourself another bride. I love my daughter very much, and I will not give her to a swine like you for anything less than that.”

True, Zumali loved his daughter, but his quest for the keys to infinite power seemed to have turned him into a mindless caricature, possessed by the most vicious of demons. Not even his love for his daughter could measure up to his unholy quest.

King Zumali was firm and ruthless. Rulers of other nearby kingdoms were afraid to cross him, so was the emperor. The emperor knew that if he disagreed with the king and walked out of the arrangement, he would lose his head, so he grudgingly agreed to his demands. “All right, I will have the papers ready at the first light of dawn. Ten thousand acres, two hundred chariots loaded with ammunition, seven gold mines, and fifty young maidens in exchange for your daughter’s hand in marriage,” the emperor repeated.

“I was hoping you understood that you only had one option. You are lot smarter than you look,” Zumali said to the emperor. Both warriors shook hands in agreement, and the emperor promptly departed.

There, her fate was decided without her consent. Princess Zuraph was hiding behind one of the pillars, listening while her father traded her happiness for land and treasures. Since the death of her mother, Queen Hazanaiah, Zuraph and her father were inseparable until about six months earlier, when her father started acting strangely. She knew something happened to him, but he would not confide in her. The princess found solace in the arms of her lover, Zichran, the son of an old gold miner. Zichran was exceedingly handsome, but he was by no means a nobleman, and he was thus considered unsuitable for her. She loved him, nonetheless.

King Zumali heard about her relationship with Zichran and ordered her to stop seeing him immediately. Risking her life and his, the princess often snuck out of the palace to meet her lover. She knew that they would not be able to see each other once she married that disgusting emperor, so she wanted to spend as much time as she could with him. She slipped out of her hiding place and ran to the gardens where she spent most of her time since she lost touch with her father. Soon, she heard his whistle and quickly looked around to see if anyone was within earshot or watching.

She climbed over the fence to the side of the stream where he usually waited for her. The whistle was their call sign. He smiled as she approached him. He is by far the most gorgeous man in Chando, she thought. He was about the same height as her father, but slimmer. His shoulder-length hair was like refined yellow gold and his eyes seemed to capture the blue of a stormy sky. They always reminded her of the storm over a turbulent sea. They were clear blue when he was happy and excited, but darker and stormy when he was angry, sad, or agitated. She could always tell his disposition from his eyes.

They hugged and kissed in heated passion. “I missed you very much,” he told her.

She laughed, “You missed me, since when? Yesterday?”

“Um-hmm,” he nodded, planting little kisses on her face and her neck. He felt her tense and immediately stopped kissing her. He pulled away from her and noticed a single tear running down her right cheek. “Don’t cry, my love,” he said, wiping the tear from her cheek.

Even with tears in her eyes, she was still incredibly beautiful. She looked like a female version of her father, King Zumali, but with more feminine features, and a kinder heart. Her knee length silky hair was shaded as a very dark purple crape myrtle with finely dispersed colors, like she captured the camoulon gem in those strands. Her eyes were variations of mauve, with very distinct silver linings around her pupils. She was about eight feet and eleven inches tall with curves that could make a priest rethink celibacy. Zichran never got tired of basking in her beauty. No one could.

“I’m so scared,” she told him. “I hate the emperor. I will die first before I marry him,” she mourned.

“Sh-h”—he placed his finger on her lips— “don’t say such things. I will never let you marry that old bastard,” he vowed.

She smiled weakly, admiring his bravery. “My father has already accepted the emperor’s offer. They finalized the deal just minutes ago. I am supposed to marry him tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t.” Zichran was serious. “Not if I have anything to do with it, and I do have everything to do with it—I love you.”

“What are you planning to do?” she asked with curiosity.

“I spoke with my grandfather, and he said he can help us elope somewhere.”

“Elope? Where?”

“I’m not sure, but he said no one would find us there. We will never have to worry again,” his voice was reassuring, but the princess knew there was nowhere for them to hide. The king would find them.

“How can he hide us?” she asked. “My father will not rest until he finds us.”

“My grandfather said he knows of somewhere safe, where the king will not find us, but we will have to leave tonight.”

“I can’t leave. Everyone will be dressing me up for the wedding, and my father will be looking for me shortly.”

“Meet me out here after everyone goes to sleep. No one will look for you until morning.”

She was skeptical, but agreed to meet with him, if nothing else, just to see him one last time. “I will try,” she said.

“Please, sweetheart, give us a chance,” he pleaded sensing her hesitation.

“I will try, I promise.”

“I pray you do,” he said, pulling her into his arms. They made love by the stream, and she stayed with him for a little while before heading back to the palace.

The princess squeezed her eyes to stop the tears that were welling in them from spilling as Zichran called to her retreating back. “Zuraph,” she heard his voice faint and distant. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders, shaking her. Someone was shaking her, gently at first, and then a little more vigorously as his voice became clearer.

“Wake up, Angela.” Zeke shook her harder.

Angela jumped as she came back to reality, squeezing her sleepy eyes. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, panting.

 

“I was dreaming.”

“I thought so. You were tossing and turning for a while.”