Chapter Thirteen – The Price of Intrigue

Christine

Persia 1875

"Risa! Come here!" The Shah calls to me and I run over to him, my bare feet making not a sound on the cool marble. I approach the Shah and notice the circle of wealthy-looking men surrounding him, causing my stomach to do flips. The closer I get, the more I can make out of the men's faces, and the more I make out of the men's faces the sicker I become; standing beside the Shah in a clear position of honor is none other than Hamir. As I walk up he shoots me a sly smile, scaring me half to death.

"Yes, my Lord?" I try to disguise the shakiness in my voice as I speak but it's quite a hard task. I've never felt that small, but in the company of these men, all much larger than myself, I feel tiny and intimidated.

"Allow me to introduce you to my Grand Vizier, Hamir." Hamir? Vizier to the Shah? Does he know? God help me. "He has informed me that you have not begun to serve officially in my harem." I blush profusely. Must he give me such a talking to in front of a group of men? "Now," he says slowly, "I am willing to give you a second chance, Risa, a chance to repay me for my hospitality though you do nothing to support us here. You are friendly with Indira?" I nod. "Answer me properly."

"I am friendly with her, Sir." I reply, my voice meek.

"You are aware, of course, that she is the ante-Khanum and is therefore second only to my wife. However, you are also aware that she is very ill today." Why must he talk to me like a dictator? He is telling me what I know and what I do not! I cannot imagine being married to him. Raoul would never…

My thoughts are cut short as the Shah continues. "Risa, any and all debts you owe to me will be repaid if you take over Indira's work today." I feel bile rising up into my mouth and I nearly gag in front of all of these men.

"T-t-take over her work?" I spit out on impulse.

"That's most certainly not a problem for you?" The Shah asks, though he states it more like another order. Cover it up, Christine!

"N-n-no, my Lord, of course not!" I stammer. "I'm…honored to take over the work of the ante-Khanum."

Later…

It is late at night and most of the harem has gone to rest, but I cannot. What I've done today makes me ill to the innermost depths of my being. Those men, all eight of them, excluding Hamir, came to me in succession, all vying for the services of a true harlot. They were all vying for the services of the ante-Khanum.

I walk over to the window of my room, small as it may be, and look out onto the courtyard of the Shah's palace. It is utterly serene, birds asleep on the exotic trees, basking in the coolness the stone offers. Sometimes I wish I were free of the confinements humans are subjected to, free of feeling as though I am a pawn in some bigger game to some divine power.

As if in a distant dream, I hear the door of my room creak open. Just the wind, I think, but I suddenly feel myself enveloped in a large pair of arms. "Risa, your skin is so cold," Hamir says, pressing his lips against my hair, burying his face in my tousled curls, and rubbing my arms with his hands. I shudder as his mouth moves to my neck, his weathered fingers moving aside the thin fabric of my nightdress to give himself more access to skin. A cry escapes my lips as he nips lightly at my flesh with his teeth. "You are exquisite, Risa," he purrs, his hands moving over my shoulders down my front to my chest.

"Stop, Hamir," I manage to say.

"Hmm?" he mumbles, his mouth practically fused to the skin of my neck.

"Hamir," I say, wriggling away from his grasp, "I can't do this right now. I need to rest." He sighs tremendously, making me feel a little bit guilty for shoving him away like I did.

"Are you still hung up over that man Reza's departure yesterday? He wasn't good for you, Risa," he states plainly, his voice tinged with hurt.

"How do you know what's good for me and what isn't?" I snap back, crossing my arms over my chest like a defiant child.

In an instant Hamir shoves me up against the wall of my room by the window, pressing me flat against the hard stone, pinning me down. He lowers his face so his lips are right by my ear. "Don't forget this, Risa," he murmurs slyly. "Never forget that I am the one who introduced you to the ways of this harem. You enjoyed your day did you not?" I say nothing, though I know that, however much I am loathed to admit it, I basked in the pleasure I was giving to Indira's men. It put me on such a natural high that I could've floated. But never will I admit to that.

When I do not respond, Hamir presses his lips to mine in a bruising kiss, one destined to leave a mark, if not on my skin but on my very soul. Though I am still pure in body, I am not pure in mind; this will forever be the day that Christine Daaè fell to the great power that is erotic love.

Erik

I sit alone at the table in the Daroga's home poring over a map he's given me of Persian land, my hand around a glass of strong liquor. My eyes are strained from hours of searching on the map, the writing so tiny I can barely make out any of it. In my distress, I slam the glass of liquor down hard on the table, sloshing the dark liquid all over the map. "Fuck," I stammer, for my voice has barely been used since I've gotten here, my throat tight from its disuse.

God, I shouldn't have followed her. I don't consider myself a religious man by any means, but I find myself clasping my hands together, bowing my head and praying. "Dear Lord," I whisper into the silence, "send me a sign. Tell me why I am here. Lord, I beg you. Is it Your divine will that I end up where I am? Why did You put me on this Earth if I was destined for the failure I've received? Give me a reason to keep going, Lord. Send me a sign." I pause, ready to end my prayer, but I think twice. "And Lord, protect Christine. See that she is well and safe and cared for. I am putting my Angel in Your hands, Lord. Watch over…"

My praying is cut short by a sharp rap on the door. I unfold my hands and step up from the table, making sure my mask is in place, and hurry to answer. I open the door only to find a young man with a splinted leg leaning against the doorframe on the opposite side of the threshold step from me. "Who the hell…"

"Erik Garnier?" the man says, standing upright. "Is that really you?" Reza.

"Reza," I say, my voice calmer though still raspy, as I take his hand and shake it, "I thought you were in Sardes."

"I was," the Daroga's son responds, motioning to his splinted leg as I beckon for him to come inside. "Listen, Erik, where's my father at?"

"I'm not sure," I reply, shutting the door with a snap. "He just said he was going out for the day and since I had business I stayed here." Reza stops dead in his tracks as though he is having some revelation. "Reza? Is something the matter?" I watch as his eyes travel to his father's map, my liquor spilled all over it. "I was trying to clean it up…" I start, stupidly assuming that he is angry over the map's state of ruin.

"I know where Christine is." I stare blankly at Reza for a moment, waiting for the words to settle in. Before I can respond, however, the door bursts open, revealing the Daroga.

"Reza, m'boy! What are you doing home? I thought you were in Sardes for another few months!" The Daroga embraces his son.

"I hurt my leg, Father, that's all," Reza replies. "The men I was working for insisted I go home early."

"And they were damn right," the Daroga says firmly, his eyes falling on his son's splinted leg. "You're better off here." He diverts his attentions away from his son to look upon me. "Erik, how's the search going?"

"Not well," I reply coolly. "Your damn map is all but unreadable. How's anyone supposed to find anything with this?" I say, motioning to the map.

The Daroga makes his way over to where I was sitting before and lifts the sodden map from the table. "Nobody's going to be able to find anything with liquor all over the map," he says, his voice tinted with sarcasm, "let alone a dainty thing like you say this girl is." I catch Reza's eye as his father is busy trying to wring out the map and he nods.

"Father?" Reza starts as the Daroga shakes his head and plops the soggy map down on the table again, his efforts having proved useless.

"Yes, Reza?" he replies, going over to a small cupboard to pour himself a glass of liquor.

"I was just talking to Erik and I think…nay, I know where Christine is." The Daroga, who was busy taking a swig out of his glass, chokes on the drink.

"What?" he sputters. "That's impossible! Where…"

"Let me finish," the young man states. "Christine is in Sardes. Don't worry," he assures me quickly, "she's quite safe, though I don't know how long that'll last."

"What do you mean, you 'don't know how long?'" I exclaim angrily. "This is a Parisian young lady we're talking about! Anyone could hurt her if given the chance!"

"Erik, she's in good hands, at least where safety is concerned," Reza says. "I don't want to hurt you with this, Erik, nor do I wish to make you worry, but…" he trails off. I make a motion with my hand, telling him wordlessly to keep going. I need to know where she is. I need to find her. My former infatuation with her is beginning to become my life again. "Erik, she's in the Shah's harem at Sardes and is the charge of the Khanum herself."

If I'd eaten anything in the last few days I swear I would've been sick. Even now the liquor is threatening to come back up. "The Khanum herself?" I manage to say. "She's living in the harem under the wing of the Khanum?" Reza nods.

"She personally entertains the Shah…"

"EXCUSE ME?" I bellow. "She entertains…"

"She sings for him, God damn it!" Reza replies. "What did you think I meant?" The boy blushes slightly and I feel myself going hot as well. Christine would never do that, I've assured myself of that. Not my Angel. The three of us stand in silence for a few moments before I speak again.

"Tell me how to find her."