Chapter One: Dreams and Nightmares
"Tell me this, Zaraya: How many Tieflings have you ever seen among the Hands of Ord?"
I fold my arms and pull myself up straight, my jaw clenching as I try not to openly glare at my father. "If I am to be the first, then so be it." Despite my best efforts, a bit of defiance seeps into my voice.
"It is not only that," he protests. "You will have to constantly work to prove yourself. You will have to be the best at everything, just to be considered good enough. Any failure or mistake will be attributed to you being a Tiefling, and any success qualified in spite of it. You will be the first suspected of any wrongdoing. Your every motive will be questioned. You will—"
"Baba, I know!" I snap. He looks surprised—it's not like me to interrupt him. But we have had this conversation many times, and I am growing tired of hearing it. "I know what I am getting into, and I know there will be obstacles. But I want to do some good in this city, not spend my days selling baubles I cannot afford to snobs with more gold than sense!"
He looks a little hurt by that, and I suddenly wish I could take the words back. He and Mama have built their business up from nothing, starting with a ramshackle stall in the Suncut Bazaar and eventually becoming the premier jewelry shop in the Circlet Walk. He is proud of it, and rightfully so.
Before I can apologize, though, he sighs. "I am not trying to change your mind, albi," he says gently. "I only want to make sure you are managing your expectations. I want you to be happy."
"I am beginning to think Baba is right," Zaraya groaned into her hands. "I had one of the top five marksmanship scores of this class of recruits, and I held my own with the sword. I passed all the physical training requirements by a wide margin. I answered every question put to me correctly and without hesitation. And still they passed me over. And still the same excuse, too—'quotas.'" The word tasted sour on her tongue.
"You know your father won't think any less of you if you decide to pursue something else," said Kamaria from behind her. "Neither will I, or anyone else. If Ironhand Sem can't see how qualified you are, that's his problem. You do not have to subject yourself to that."
"I will think less of me," Zaraya bit out. "I will not give up because some asshole Minotaur looks down on Tieflings. How will anything ever change if people like me give in to people like him?"She sighed heavily, bowing her head and letting her arms fall to the tabletop as Kamaria began to knead the tension from her shoulders. "I want to keep fighting for it, but I am beginning to think I'm just banging my head against a wall. I don't want to think it's futile, but…"
Kamaria said nothing. She didn't have to. Zaraya was just grateful for her presence, for her listening ear and quiet compassion and steadfast support. Even on days like today, when she returned home from her studies spent and exhausted, she seemed to draw from an endless well of patience and wisdom. She'd once told Zaraya that she had at one time wanted to become a cleric of Serataani, the Wildmother. She would have been a good one.
"Ya hayati, I do not deserve you," Zaraya moaned as Kamaria's firm but gentle touch worked knot after painful knot out of her muscles.
Kamaria giggled at that, giving Zaraya's shoulders one last squeeze before sliding her hands around her chest to pull her into a tight embrace. "Ya hayati, you're stuck with me, anyway," she teased.
Chuckling, Zaraya scooped up one of Kamaria's hands to kiss her fingers—but stopped as her eyes fell on the once-smooth, deep bronze skin and saw the angry red rash that spread in scaly splotches past her wrists and up her forearms. Her breath caught. She'd seen Kamaria come home before with minor chemical burns or skin irritation from some laboratory incident, but never anything quite so… lurid. "What is this?" she asked, frowning.
Kamaria released her and pulled out a chair to sit beside her, holding out her arms to allow Zaraya a better look. "I am not sure," she admitted. "I first noticed it while I was working with the ruidium today. It itches like crazy, but that's why I grow aloe in the garden. It helped a bit." She shrugged. "It's probably nothing—an allergic reaction to something I handled in the lab today. I'll ask Rafiq to look at it tomorrow. He'll know how to help."
"Well, make sure you talk to a healer if it gets worse. I do not like the look of it." Zaraya stood and held out a hand to her beloved. "Come, let us go to bed. You look as tired as I am."
Zaraya fell asleep curled against Kamaria's back, arms wrapped around her waist, tail twined around her leg. Many a peaceful night had passed this way, yet she always marveled at it. How could she be so lucky, she wondered, to fall asleep each night and awaken each morning with this wonderful, kind, brilliant, beautiful woman in her arms? Why was she the one privileged to kiss those full lips, to caress those soft curves?
Even the hardest and most frustrating of days could be made into fond memories, ending this way.
But the peace didn't last, this time. In a bright white flash of pain, Zaraya jolted awake as the back of Kamaria's head slammed into her face so hard she thought her teeth might crack. She disentangles herself from Kamaria's thrashing form and sat up, one hand clapped to her mouth, the other reaching out to catch her lover's shoulder and shake her awake.
Kamaria's entire body was slick with sweat, her face contorting into expressions Zaraya had never seen her wear before. She muttered in her sleep, most of it slurred into incomprehensibility, but Zaraya could pick out a few words. "…not enough… never will be," Kamaria moaned.
"Kamaria!" Zaraya hissed through lips that were already growing swollen. She licked them and tasted blood. "Wake up, hayati!"
With a deep gasp as though she were coming up for air after too long under water, Kamaria sat up suddenly, her eyes snapping open as Zaraya jerked out of the way. "Why have the Gods forsaken me?" she cried.
Her voice emerged distorted, so full of anguish and despair that Zaraya almost didn't recognize it. She thought her heart might shatter at the sound. "Kamaria, beloved… it's all right," she murmured helplessly. "I'm here. I've got you."
Kamaria blinked once, twice, and stared around blindly in the darkness as some of her panic seemed to subside. "…Zee?" she croaked, and though her voice was dry and hoarse, it was her own again. She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry… I-I had a terrible nightmare. It was so cold… I was trapped, in-in a cavern or a ruin or something, chained and alone and drowning and… and…" Tears began to run down her cheeks as she trailed off.
"Hush, now." Zaraya pulled Kamaria into her arms and held her as she sobbed. "It's all right. It was not real. You're all right."
Eventually, Kamaria's sobs faded to hiccups, and her breathing gradually evened out as Zaraya stroked her hair and continued to whisper comforting words in her ear. They sat like that for a long time, Kamaria shivering in the warm night air and clutching Zaraya for support like a vine growing up a trellis. "I'm sorry," she said again after a while. She gave a soft, self-deprecating snort. "You must think me very foolish, having a bad dream and crying about it like a child."
"Not at all," Zaraya murmured. She trailed her fingers up and down Kamaria's spine in the way that always relaxed her, and smiled as she melted in Zaraya's embrace. "But perhaps the light of morning will bring a bit more clarity, yes?"
Kamaria sniffled. "Perhaps. Thank you, my love." Straightening, she pulled away from Zaraya just enough to lean back in and kiss her lips. Zaraya couldn't help but hiss at the sudden burst of dull pain, and Kamaria jerked back. "What—Gods, Zee, you're bleeding!"
"It's nothing. Do not worry," said Zaraya. "It will be healed by morning."
But Kamaria would not be dismissed so easily. She lit a candle on the nightstand, and got up to search the small cabinet of medicinal salves and potions she kept beside the washbasin. Retrieving a jar and dampening a clean cloth in the water, she returned to Zaraya's side and shushed her before she could protest any further. "Ah-ah-ah. You took care of me, so let me take care of you, all right?"
Zaraya chuckled. "All right." She closed her eyes as Kamaria gently wiped the blood from her face, then smeared a stringent-smelling salve over her cut and bruised lip. It stung for an instant, and then the throbbing ache began to fade. "Thank you, hayati."
"Of course." Kamaria capped the jar and Kissed Zaraya's cheek. "I think I can sleep now. Thank you for helping me pull myself together."
But as she snuffed out the candle, Zaraya couldn't help but notice how her hands still trembled.
