Blind Love

Khari sat at the edge of the pond, surrounded by her fellow mistresses, and closed her sightless eyes. A symphony of vibrant noises filled her ears – the cheerful chirps of birds, an occasional breeze stirring the leaves in towering trees, and the muted sound of fish swimming just below the surface. Khari breathed deeply, feeling the sun’s warmth on her skin, and a peaceful calmness settled over her.

“Did you hear?” Khari drifted closer so that she could hear the resonant whispers of the other women. The sound of running water was barely audible beneath their urgent voices. “Prince Azim is back from the war,” one of them said.

“I can’t believe it,” one mistress said. “It’s been so long.”

“I hear he’s quite the looker,” said another, her voice coy. Her eyes were aglow with gossip and possibility, “And he’s single,” she added. “Doesn’t have a single prospect on the horizon.”

One of the women spoke with a haughty air, her face illumined with pride. “I hear he’s ruthless. He was a beast on the battlefield, leading our kingdom to victory.”

“Well,” another sighed, “Even though he’s Prince Wren’s twin, I heard he’s extremely ripped from years of fighting.” She fanned herself with an elegantly gloved hand as she fantasized about seeing his taut body. Her face grew warm, and a light blush colored her cheeks. Her comment made the other women giggle, their melodious laughs mingling with the wind.

The women’s conversation abruptly ended as a low, deep voice called out from behind them, “Ladies.”

They turned to face the man all at once, each dropping their gazes to the floor in reverence. Their voices had a uniform cadence as they said, “Good morning,” in perfect synchronization.

Wren’s gaze took in the women lounging in the courtyard, their brightly colored silks and shining jewels a vivid splash of palette amongst the lush greenery. He gave them a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with delight. “Good morning, my beautiful ladies,” he said, “I see you’re all enjoying the day.”

With graceful poise, Khari rose from the pond’s edge, “Good morning, Prince Wren,” she said as she performed a respectful bow.

Wren’s eyes were cold and unreadable as he glanced at her. His voice was low as he spoke but still carried a note of authority. “Ladies,” he said to the five other women around him. “Give us some space,” he commanded, his gaze never leaving her.

The women bowed one last time before scurrying off into the palace, leaving Khari and Wren in the quiet of nature. Wren brushed his fingertips along her long, raven-black hair, and she shivered at his touch. He moved around her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s weird you can tell who I am just by my voice,” he said. He delicately swept the hair off her shoulder and glided his fingertips across her alabaster skin. His touch was soft and light like a feather tickling her. He leaned in, his breath caressing her ear as he whispered, “Just like I can tell it’s you by your scent.” His lips grazed the side of her neck, and he inhaled deeply. A satisfied smile touched his lips as he said, “Jasmine blossoms,” he seemed to revel in the aroma she left behind.

He circled back around to face her, a cruel smile crawling up his face. The cloying scent of her perfume was overpowered by the venom in his voice, “Even that pleasant smell can’t save the fact that you’re crippled,” he sneered, eyes drifting towards her empty silver eyes, “Didn’t I tell you to kill yourself?”

His eyes flickered down to the scarf around her neck, “Oh yeah, you tried.” He raised his arm, and his fingers slowly grazed the scarf draped around her neck. His eyes narrowed as he tugged on the fabric, quickly unraveling it from her body and revealing a large, jagged scar covering her neck. His face softened, and he tossed the scarf aside with a slight nod. “Even the Gods wouldn’t take you,” he sighed. “That was the closest I’ve ever got to getting rid of you. And you couldn’t even do that right, so now I’m stuck with a blind mistress as a favor to your father, Duke Reign. What I wouldn’t do for my subjects.” He said, exasperated as he looked at the leaves rustling in the wind. He glared at her disgusted and said, “Get out of my sight.” He punctuated his words with a sarcastic laugh, “Something you’d never have...sight,” he spun away and strode off, the echo of his macabre laughter lingering in the air.

Khari stood motionless in the garden before raising her head toward the cloudy sky, trying to blink away the tears that were gathering in her eyes. Her heart felt like a heavy stone in her chest, and she knew deep down that she was nothing more than a toy to Prince Wren. A plaything to be used and discarded at his whim. She refused to allow herself to feel pity or regret. Instead, she raised her chin high as she made her way out of the garden, her steps deliberate and purposeful. She had learned the palace grounds well, navigating easily using her senses of hearing, smell, and touch. She had memorized the layout, the smells, and the sounds of each room and hallway. Even though she was blind, she had no difficulty functioning in her role as a mistress.

As she walked down the hall, her head held high and her back straight, she could feel the disapproving glares of the other mistresses on her. She heard their whispers and sneers as she passed. Their whispered gossip bounced off the walls and echoed in her ears, cruel and heartless. But she didn’t care. She had nothing to lose. No hope for a future. She didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Steeling her jaw and focusing on her next steps, she made her way to her chambers. Once inside, she stood motionless in the center of the room, taking long, steadying breaths before roaming around her small space like a caged animal. Despite it all, she refused to give in to despair. Instead, she channeled his barbarous words into fuel to get through another day.

Tears filled her eyes, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm of despair. For the first time in her life, she felt utterly powerless. She was a gift from her father to the future king, a way of cementing an alliance between two lands. Prince Wren may have been cruel with his words, but it was nothing compared to the verbal and physical abuse she had endured at her father’s hands. Her hope was fading as the prince never failed to remind her that she was nothing more than an object. With every insult, with every degrading remark, he drove it home. She was nothing more than a tool to be used by those in power, and all she could do was brace herself for a future of loneliness, where love and true acceptance would never come her way. And so, she accepted her fate.

Wren’s words rippled through her head like a cold wave reverberating in her skull. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, and her upper lip quivered in defiance. Even the Gods wouldn’t take you, he said, but she forced a tight-lipped smile, knowing that one day he would come to understand the power she possessed.

The sound of a knuckle rapping on the door cut through the silence. She stirred from her thoughts and crossed the room, her feet making barely a sound against the wooden floor. With an absent-minded, “Yes?” she opened the door.

The door creaked open to reveal a massive figure wearing a full set of heavy battle armor. He stood tall, his broad shoulders accentuating his uniform’s intricate gold and black details as a large emblem of the kingdom’s crest was proudly displayed on his breastplate. His face was framed by waves of long dark hair, and captivating brown eyes shone from beneath a strong brow. He exuded an air of daring strength, the embodiment of a true warrior.

Khari stood still, her head cocked to one side as she overheard a slight shift in the person’s stance. The scent of woody ginger wafted around her, and she heard the stranger take a step closer. “I believe you dropped this,” he said gently. His eyes scanned over her body, drinking in her essence. She was absolutely stunning. His eyes moved from her face to her dress, a deep fuchsia shade that clung to her curves and contours. His gaze lingered on her chest, rising and falling with each breath before drifting up to the scar etched across her neck. She wore her hair in an intricate style with ringlets of curls framing her face and cascading down her back. Her creamy skin had a touch of rose to her cheeks, but it was her silver eyes that captivated him. Even though she couldn’t see, they seemed to pierce his soul.

His gaze fluttered down to the scarf in his hand. He ran his fingers along the smooth silk fabric, clutching it tightly like a lifeline. He remembered the scene earlier in the garden. Prince Wren had been fierce and unyielding as he used his words like a weapon, cutting and tearing the woman apart with every syllable that left his lips. Wren’s words had been like a sharp knife to the heart, and his brother’s cruelness had stung him to his core. Why does my brother treat her that way? He knew there must be a reason Wren was so unkind, but he couldn’t understand why someone deserved such treatment. She didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserved that. There must be a reason.

Khari took a step back, her expression apologetic as she softly cleared her throat, “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I don’t think I know you. I don’t recognize your walk, your smell, or your voice. Who are you?”

He brought his gaze up to meet her, and his lips spread into a broad smile. Can she really identify someone just by listening and smelling? Bewildered and impressed, he reached up with his hand and grabbed hers, gently placing the scarf he was carrying into her soft grasp. “I’m General Azim-”

She abruptly yanked her hand away as though she’d been burned. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her eyes widened in shock as she realized who was standing before her, “Prince Azim?” She bowed deeply, tripping over her words in an effort to correct her poor etiquette skills, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so forward. I wasn’t expecting you. Please forgive my lack of manners.” She remembered what had been told to her by the other maidens in hushed tones. The stories of the Demon of the Battlefield, he who had caused such destruction in the war. They said he was a monster and held no mercy on the battlefield. But as his warm hand touched hers, her heart told her a different tale. The softness of his touch made her heart flutter with a feeling that she could not deny. Still bent in a deep bow, her hair fell forward as a curtain, hiding her blushing cheeks. She finally said, “Welcome back, Your Highness.” She heard him move closer, entering the room. His footsteps were heavy and reverberated through the room as he walked, unlike Wren, whose steps were often slow and heavy with exhaustion as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“Prince Azim?” he asked.

Her head bowed, she slowly lifted her head, genuinely apologetic as her voice quivered, and asked, “Would you prefer to be addressed by another title?”

“No, it’s all right. I suppose I’ve been called General Azim for so long; it’s all I know.” He looked around her quarters, taking in the details of the small but neat space. A bed was pushed against one wall, a large mahogany wardrobe was across from it, and a desk sat below a window that opened out to a balcony. His gaze fell on the tapestry mounted to the wall. A reminder of home and everything he had left behind. Its intricate design depicted a lion clutching a sword and shield atop hues of gold and black - the same colors matched his armor. He smirked and inhaled deeply. The aroma of jasmine hit his nose. His brother was right; the woman did carry an alluring and intoxicating scent. He slowly spun around, and his eyes fixated on her. “I guess it’s something I’ll have to get used to,” he said, a glint of interest sparking in his gaze.

She smiled, “I’m glad you’ve returned home safely.”

The corners of his mouth lifted as he locked in on her bright, beaming smile. It was the first time seeing it since he arrived at her doorstep, and it didn’t disappoint. A wave of emotion swept through him, making his chest flutter. He shook his head, breaking the spell, and said, “Thank you. I must be going. I’ve kept my father waiting long enough.”

She bowed her head, her mind whirling as she processed what he had said. Could it be he had chosen to come to see her first before visiting his father? Finally, she raised her head and said, “Of course.”

Halfway out the door, he paused and slowly turned towards her. His hand on the knob as his eager eyes searched her face, “Forgive me for being so rude. I never even asked you what your name was.”

“Khari…Khari Reign,” she replied.

“Khari.” He said softly, letting her name linger in the air like a gentle caress. He felt his heart flitter at the beauty of her name, and it washed over him like a warm embrace. He kept his eyes connected to her, slowly tracing each contour of her face before he started to walk away, “I’ll see you around….” he said, his steps beginning to build pace as he called her name once more, repeating it with more than just a hint of lingering sentiment, “…Khari.”

Azim shut the door behind him as it softly clicked close. His smile dropped instantly as he thought of his brother and how he had treated her. He walked the hallway with slow, calculated steps, set to get to the bottom of it. There seemed to be no reason for him to treat her that way, and he was determined to find out why.