Terlamane: Would she kill for her family?

By Aysha Alnaqbi

Vell's life has been the same since the fire that ended her childhood and her father's life. Sew with her mother and visit the market in the morning, work at the bar late at night, meet with Ellis and scold him, and then fight until her fingers feel raw at Krion's assassin center. Up until now, all she wanted was to be able to provide for her mother and little sister. But when Vell is presented with the opportunity of a lifetime that would solve all her financial problems, she becomes tasked with her first major mission: kill the Maxim royal family without being caught.
Disguised as a noblewoman, Vell finds herself entangled in a life of luxury she had never imagined herself being a part of. As she finds herself drawing closer and closer to Terlamane's Golden Prince, Prince Lyrith, she starts to doubt herself and her intentions.
How far would she be willing to go in the name of her family?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sail Publishing LLC
• Release date: Apr 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781912924974

Book preview

here."

1

Two years later, the neighboring kingdom, Ketol, raided Vell’s village. At least that was what King Javaris, the king of Terlamane said in his letter of condolence to Vell’s village and its surviving inhabitants. The two kingdoms had been at war for a very long time, but Vell could not recall a time when Terlamane and Ketol had not been at heads with one another.

Her father had died trying to save the piano. He had succeeded, but he hadn’t had time to save himself. As Vell’s mother tried to run back into the house, to save her dying husband, she had slipped, and fallen headfirst onto a large stone. After that, she not able to see anymore.

Now Vell, Trojan, and their blind mother sat in a tiny apartment in the center of Honvaden, a small commercial town with roughly a hundred or so people. The unstable and ill-structured roads reeked of manure, but Vell had accustomed her senses to it and had learned to push the smell away. The small population made it simple for Vell and her family to memorize the names and faces of the other villagers, and soon enough, it was as if they had lived in the town their entire lives.

Their apartment was not lavish by any means; it was small, with barely enough space for three people, let alone three outgoing women who all had possessed different hobbies that required their time and devotion. The walls were thin and the wallpaper peeling, and the kitchen was almost the same size as their bathroom had been in the last house. In every corner—and there were not that many—Vell had placed the secondhand books that Trojan loved to read.

However, in the midst of their grief, the women had begun decorating the living area with scraps of inexpensive cloth from the market. Vell and her family did not salvage much money from the fire, but as the piano was intact, she had managed to sell it for a high price. How her young heart had ached at having to sell her father’s finest work—his greatest gift to her—but she had to do it, if she and her family were to survive.

Trojan was brushing their mother’s hair, while Vell finished one a dress for one of their many various clients. The dress that she held in her hands was one of her finest creations and she patted herself on the back as a small reward. It was a beautiful pale-blue dress that required her to burn through her small supply of candles, as she worked in the apartment’s poor light. Underneath the dress’s top layer, were pink layers of tulle that would jut out when their wearer walked. False pearls decorated the sweetheart neckline of the bodice and hem of the frock.

It’s very pretty, Trojan remarked on Vell’s handiwork, as she set down the brush. All set, Mother.

Their mother patted her youngest daughter’s hands to thank her. I want to rest, please.

Trojan nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see. Vell came over to help them both and together they lifted their mother from the chair.

Thank you, dears, their mother sighed.

***

After Trojan and her mother had finally gone to bed, late at night, Vell put on her dark cloak and left the apartment to go to her night job, in a bar a few minutes’ walk away. Two years ago, a full week after the fire and her father’s death, she had managed to get work at the Crux Crown, the biggest bar in the village of Honvaden. It was a rough place, but it wasn’t that bad a place to work. Her job didn’t pay much, but it was enough to pay for their rent and their sewing provided them with food and water. She did some small missions for Krion that gave her the money to purchase clothing and more luxurious items, such as good soap, earrings and the books that Ro was constantly fawning over in the market. Still that was only when Krion felt generous.

With her hood pulled down, she hurried through the dark alleys, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. He usually did.

This time, she managed to make it to the bar without him sneaking up behind her back and scaring her out of her wits. As she opened the door of the bar, the smell of alcohol and grease and drunken men wafted into her nose. The evening was in full swing at the Crux Crown.

She shrugged off her coat, as if she was shedding a skin and hung it near the door. She replaced it with an apron that had her name stitched on the corner. The place was crowded. As Vell scurried across the room to the bar, to write in her name in the shift-book, she heard the loud grumbling of soldiers who had come back from the battle with Ketol. Elsewhere glasses were being raised in the name of the king and raucous laughter could be heard throughout the bar.

Barely made it, I see, her friend, Kayja, smirked. The boss is getting more and more furious about your timing these days. She handed Vell two glasses of rum and nodded her head toward a table far on the left, where a single person was sitting. Go serve him. She patted Vell on the back and went to get another man’s order

Sighing, Vell straightened her back and put on the biggest smile that she could muster before walking over to the table she had to serve. Along the way, men with stomachs full of beer shouted at her constantly, screaming sweet nothings, which earned a laugh from their mates. Vell wasn’t the prettiest girl in the village.

Here you go, sir. She placed the two mugs on the table and then she rolled her eyes. How did you manage to get here before me?

He took off his hood, so that Vell could finally see him. His eyes were the most picturesque things she had ever seen. They were silver-gray, like the fur of a wolf, and his beige-blond hair gleamed, even under the dim lighting. After downing his drink, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and quickly ran his hand through his hair.

I have my tricks, he simply replied.

Well, your tricks won’t earn you any more drinks like the last time, Ellis, so wipe that smile off your face. She took the mug he’d just finished and pretended to be busy working so her boss wouldn’t be angry with her. I didn’t think you’d show up when you didn’t stop me on my way here.

I’ll always find a way to meet you. You should know that by now. Finishing his last drink, he pulled something from his pocket. This time, he was wearing black leather tights and a plain white shirt with the front laces undone. The black belt around his waist hung loose. Happy Birthday, Vell. He gave her a single black rose.

You actually remembered! Her smile became genuine as her hand went to the rose in his hand. Thank you.

It’s nothing. I wish I could give you something else. Money would have been nice.

Yes, money would have been a better gift from someone who dresses so nicely.

He laughed, and her cheeks grew red. She was glad he couldn’t see it properly, or he would have poked fun at her red cheeks, as he had hurtfully done before.

In Vell’s second week at the bar Ellis had stumbled by, and they had soon become friends. That was after she accidently poured his drink down his shirt.

Always persistent, I see. He caught her wrist and forced her to sit down. She shook her head in protest, but laughed all the same as she gathered up all the mugs on his table and left.

She wished she could have stayed for longer, but that would have earned her a sixth strike at work. Once she had seven strikes, she would be fired. While balancing numerous glasses and mugs on her hands and head, she managed to finally reach the counter and rinse them all.

You know, if you want help, you can ask. Ellis had followed her over, and he took a wet rag and started cleaning along with Vell. Why does he keep doing this?

Ellis, please. If he catches you doing this . . . Her voice trailed off in fear.

Don’t worry. He placed the rag on top of Vell’s head and started dunking the glasses in the murky cold water inside the bucket. He won’t catch us.

You sound confident.

I have my ways of making people do what I want. The glimmer behind his eyes did not go unnoticed by Vell.

If you’re trying to impress me, it isn’t working. She glanced up at him but he was too concentrated on cleaning the mugs and glasses. His dark-blond eyebrows were knitted together, creating a crease in between the two. Vell wanted to tap the crease but she knew it wouldn’t be appropriate. Her cheeks flushed once again, just at the thought. Ellis wasn’t much older than she was. He looked to be two or three years older, but he was very well educated for his young age. She had once asked him why he wasn’t taken—a man of his wealth and education should have been shackled to a spouse by then— but, he had simply replied with a wink and said, I haven’t found the right one.

Ellis, please leave. I need this job, she sighed, and left the cleaning station and went into the public eye of the bar to refill the glasses. There were large barrels fixed on the wall, and she grabbed a few glasses to start filling them up with the alcohol.

Women at the table in the corner. Three whiskies and one vodka—the usual Kayja whispered in Vell’s ear and handed her the glasses that needed to be filled. She took the glasses that Vell and Ellis had just cleaned and went to fill them up with other orders.

After Kayja left, Ellis took the glasses from Vell and started to fill them up himself. This made her furious, but at the same time, her heart swelled with gratitude. What did she do to deserve a friend like him? Ellis was the only person who would listen to her when she was troubled. He didn’t laugh at her when she told him she wanted to become a tutor one day. He prayed with her when she was praying for her father. He sometimes brought rare berries and sacks of flour to her apartment. Vell’s mother loved him and so did Trojan.

Vell knew that Ellis hated strawberries and wine. He loved to gamble and was an expert at cards. He always tipped Vell more than she needed, and most of the time she would secretly return his gold to his pocket without him noticing it.

The strangest thing about him was the fact that he always had a small pebble inside his shoe. When she has asked why, one evening in the field of black roses, he had just chuckled and stroked his horse’s mane.

In case of an attack and I need to defend myself. I could take out the pebble from my shoe and . . . He took the pebble out of his shoe and aimed it at her shoulder. A pebble! What use was that she wondered, but said nothing.

Vell was afraid of Ellis. Afraid of what he could do with the information he had about her. He knew everything about her and she knew very little about him. Her paranoia was a product of Krion’s teaching.

Trust is a luxury that assassins do not have. We do not have friends, he declared. We do not have family. We have the blood in our veins and the knowledge in our minds and that is all.

Vell took the glasses from Ellis and hurried over to the table of women. All five of them wore dark veils that covered their faces; only their eyes were exposed.

Three whiskies and one vodka cocktail. She set the order on the table and grinned at them. Would you like anything else?

No. That’s all, the biggest of all of them replied. Strange. Her accent wasn’t like that of people from Terlamane.

Loud laughter and curses came from the other side of the room and she found Ellis squeezed in tightly between two bulky men. His hands were holding his cards loosely and he secretly glanced at the cards of the two men playing and calculated to himself. Effortlessly, he threw his cards on the table and they landed all laid out properly. He had seven lions in a row. He had won the whole game.

The men all barked at him, Their beefy hands clutched their cards, damp from sweat, before they threw them at Ellis. They all missed.

Thank you for that, lads. He scooped up the money that was on the table and hid it quickly inside a leather pouch, before the men could object. Fair game, boys, fair game. Same time tomorrow? He winked, and all the men loosened up and recommenced the game.

Continuing her job, Vell took a man’s order and filled up his tumbler as he glared at her. He was old, with a white beard that matched the two furry creatures above his eyes. As she was leaving, his cold hands grabbed her dainty wrist and she froze.

Play something sweet, won’t you? his voice rasped out. He had drunk too much that night and it was noticeable.

Pardon, Sir? Vell tucked a lock of hair behind her ear to calm her nerves.

On the piano over there. He tipped one of his many tumblers toward the piano that was center-stage. Play something.

I can’t, sir. I’m sorry.

Here. The old man took out three golden coins and Vell’s eyes widened. Their rent was due soon and her job wouldn’t pay her until next month. The sewing no longer earned her as much as it used to, and their rent was increasing because of the harsh taxes. With a terrible feeling in her stomach, she eyed the coins, and then the piano.

Okay. She set down all of her tumblers and glasses on the man’s table and pocketed the money.

Playing the piano in the bar was allowed, just as long as you were good enough to do so. So, as she slowly dragged her feet toward the stage, her heart started pounding in her chest. When she sat down on the little stool, she let out a huff of air and placed her hands on top of the keys. Then she let her hands do the rest.

She didn’t dare play the Banned Song, but she played something that was equally as hard. A song she had heard her now dead aunt sing around the house, all the time when she was a little kid. Her music filled up the bar, and Vell let the sound of laughing and flying fists fade into the background, along with her other worries. As she played the music, she forgot about her mixed feeling for Ellis, her longing for her departed father, and her inability to be what she always dreamed of becoming. The forceful chorus started building up and her fingers moved like lightning. Her father always said her fingers were even faster on the instrument, than her heated comebacks in an argument. For a long time, she hadn’t believed it, but she did, now.

Suddenly, a violin picked up the tune, but Vell couldn’t turn around to see who was playing or she would lose all focus. The two performers on stage worked as one body, and one soul. As she touched the keys rapidly and pressed the pedals, the violin hurriedly picked up the pace as well. Cheers were thrown out like copper coins to beggars on the street, and her chest swelled with pride.

For you, Father. Wherever you are, she said under her breath and turned the loud chorus into a soft ending—one she knew her father had enjoyed so much whenever she used to play it around the house.

When the violinist stopped playing, so did Vell and she pressed her hands to her forehead to stop herself from crying. People clapped, some asked for an encore, but all she did was curtsy as a lady did to a king and smile at the audience. Just as quickly as they began cheering, the cacophony faded away into nothing, their attention turning back to their alcohol and cards.

Vell turned to look at the musician who had accompanied her in her playing, and to her surprise, she found Ellis bowing to the audience. When he bowed, he truly looked like a prince straight from the stories Ro read at night. He looked at her and took her hand and they took a bow together. Even though the clapping was simmering down to a halt, they continued bowing until Vell felt her feet wobble.

He let go of her hands and she immediately felt his absence. But, then his hand found hers again, but this time the pouch from his most recent wins at cards was separating his fingers from hers.

I wanted to give this to you. Ellis’ eyes were focused on their hands, while Vell’s eyes were caught on his face.

Ellis. She could barely allow his name to escape her lips. Just saying his name made her breathless. I cannot accept this. This— She jiggled the pouch, and the sound of a million coins could be heard. With shaking hands, she opened the pouch and found shimmering gold coins glinting back at her. It’s unbelievable. I— she stammered. The money would pay her rent and there would be enough left over to buy the food and home supplies that Vell, and her family, was always running short of.

Please, take it. Ellis closed the pouch and tied the extra string around Vell’s wrist. She let him do so, willingly, because she so desperately needed the money. Besides, it was better for the money to be used to support a family than fuel a man’s need to drink even more.

I’ll take it. She noted his beaming reaction. But, only to stop you from buying more drinks. She flicked the hand holding the purse around. Oh, the joy she felt when she heard the sounds of the coins clattering beautifully against each other! I think you’ve had enough.

Oh, but, Lady Vell, your birthday adventure isn’t quite done yet. It’s merely started. Ellis was desperately trying to stifle his laughter.

Really, Prince Ellis? I thought it ended as we were playing on stage.

As I have done countless times before, I will prove you wrong. Come, I have paid for your night off. Let us hurry before the sunrise!

2

In his eyes she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

However, he wasn’t going to confess that to her, because breaking their friendship would be like cutting off the air around him. He would die.

Sure, Vell’s hands felt a little rough and there were small blisters decorating her fingers, but in his clasp, her hands were like the finest silk from the Orshan Empire.

They were both a blur of legs and swishing clothes as they ran through the middle of the night like madmen. That’s what he loved about Vell: her bravery and straightforwardness. She was brave enough to venture out into the night with him. For a split moment, Lyrith, who had only disguised himself as Ellis by using his magicae, let his illusion shatter. Immediately, he regained his focus and turned himself back into Ellis again. If the guards saw him, he would be taken away from Vell. They would drag him back to the palace, where he would be scolded by his father for sneaking out, late at night.

He didn’t care. All he could think about was the field of black roses and Vell sitting in them. Lyrith and Vell both had mud on their clothes from the slippery track, and the lantern in his free hand was close to slipping from his palm and burning down the village, but he was going to risk it all —just to see her smile.

***

Why do you like them so much? He fiddled with the rose in his hand and started asking her questions. Whenever he was nervous, he would try to make small talk; but, the problem was he never knew when to stop. Vell knew that about him, but she didn’t seem to care.

Ellis had taken her to her favorite place in the world. It was a large field of black roses—a long walk away from her apartment. The roses grew in abundance there. A large tree grew in the middle of the field, and Vell and Ellis would climb it or sit under, to seek shelter from the sun and harsh rain. A small river ran through the field, but they were too far away to see it.

It’s something I can’t explain. Like what my name means.

I know what your name means.

Oh? She raised a brow. Do tell. Were you going to tell me my name meant beautiful, or another word that would for sure make me swoon and fall for you?

With that comment, Ellis, who was actually Lyrith, blushed a deep crimson. That was exactly what he was going to say. Vell noticed and struck her rose on the top of his head. "You were going to say that! I know all of the tricks that you men think work wonders on women. Nothing can get past me."

Marry me, Ellis blurted out.

She stared at him, her mouth almost hitting the grass that had been softly crushed beneath her old shoes. All the roses she had collected slipped from her hands, but Ellis ran from his position underneath the tree and snatched them up before they could fall on to the grass. He got down on one knee and presented the flowers to her.

Ellis, get up. What are you doing?

I’m asking you to marry me, Vell.

Her head swayed to the side. She scowled, ready to argue and scream at him. Vell noticed that he didn’t seem to care.

No. Her breaths were short and her fingers were trembling. I can’t, Ell. I have a family to support. I can’t leave them all for you . . . you’ll be in the way . . .

But I can provide! I will give you everything that money can buy! I promise you, life with me will not be easy, but it would be a life where your family would be safe and sound. You wouldn’t even have to live far away from them. I could build a house for them right next to ours, so that when you did long for them, they would be right there. Your mother would be taken care of by the best physicians in all the land. Just say yes. Please.

A few moments passed with him resting on his knee, the roses in his hand swaying in the night to the soft autumn breeze that reminded Vell of her father.

Ellis . . . no. The answer is still and always will be no. But, you could marry Trojan. If anything, she needs to get married right now, not me. If she did marry you, I’d always know that she was in safer hands than she ever was with me. She tucked her hair behind her ears.

He got up to make her stay, but she swatted his hand away and all the roses fell to the ground. Vell noted the red mark she’d left on him and she started apologizing.

So you’re going to mutter weak apologies for a small mark on my wrist but not for hurting my feelings? Ellis remarked. "How can you say that about Trojan? How could I ever be happy with your sister? I asked you, not her! I could never marry your sister without remembering you every day. You’re the person I want, not her."

Ellis, please. I’m begging you. She started to undo the knot tied around her wrist that held the pouch full of coins. It was a mistake coming here. Meeting you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. You . . . You’ve made my life worse than it ought to be. You’re a monster. A hideous monster that won’t go away! She spat out the last few words as if they were poison, and she could see his heart breaking before her eyes. Don’t show up at the bar or at my home ever again. With that, she picked herself up and ran away from him. She needed to clear her mind—she had to.

Lyrith stayed in the field of black roses. He watched as she ran away and his cheeks were flushed an angry shade of crimson-red.

He wanted to run after her, but he knew it would only infuriate her more, and that was the last thing he wanted. His heart was heavy with rejection, which was something to which a grand prince, such as he, was not accustomed.

The pouch filled with the money he’d won at cards sat sadly, a short distance away, and as he stared at Vell’s shrinking silhouette in the distance, the golden wedding band that rested in his pocket grew heavy like lead, which dragged him down even further into the grass.

****

Vell ran back home without a single tear running down her cheek.

She has known that he would ask her sooner or later, but nothing could have prepared her for that. Nothing. She wasn’t going back to the apartment, no. Vell was going to the village where her family once resided. The ash and debris of the fire’s aftermath had been whisked away by King Javaris’s men. Even though the land had been made available to the public again, no one had dared to build another home or business yet, for fear that their building would be burned down again.

When she reached her father’s tombstone, she took a small pebble out of her shoe and placed it on top of the soil. Under the Terlamane custom, people placed rocks on tombs because the rocks were almost permanent. Over a long time, they would erode away, as well however, and seep into the soil, which gave back to the earth. So far, forty-seven different-sized pebbles and rocks created a ring on her father’s grave.

Hello, Father. Vell grinned, and everything she had desperately tried to conceal behind her eyes face drained away, without her noticing. Tears began to pour down her face. For the longest time, she could hear her father speaking to her, as if he was there, but it was only a figment of her imagination.

She let her tears lie there on her cheeks, knowing that the autumn wind would take them away in a few moments.

I said ‘no’. Vell took her ghost father’s hand.

A little bird told me that would happen. A bluebird perched itself on his shaking fingers. To Vell, the ghost looked so real that she could almost cup his cheek and touch the stubble that her mother always scolded him for having, and she could almost feel his skin. But it wasn’t real. She had to remind herself of that every time she came to visit his empty grave.

Ghosts were what became of people when their souls could not reach the end of their journey to the stars. Normally when people passed away, their souls would detach themselves from their bodies and they would channel themselves up into the sky, landing among the stars. The greater their good deeds when they were alive, the brighter the star they would become. Vell was never the religious type—something she inherited from her father. He believed in science and machines, so Vell just believed that everyone died and everyone lived, as simple as that. So whenever she saw her father’s ghost, she didn’t take it as a sign that he hadn’t made it to the stars; she took it as a sign that she could manipulate things into existence.

Turning her attention to her father, she asked, Is that so?

Why did you say no? he replied simply.

Because . . . family comes first. Trojan would never be happy if I left, and she can’t look after Mother all by herself.

I can’t give you any advice.

I didn’t come here for advice or to listen to you trying to convince me to say yes before it’s too late, she sighed, and bit the inside of her cheek. I miss you. We all miss you. I came for closure.

Closure for what, Vell? We’ve been over this, before. It is not your fault that I died.

I need closure for everything! She threw her hands up and let out an exasperated sigh. The war between Terlamane and Ketol has been going on for years. More and more people are being sent off to battle and, because of that, labor is scarce. We don’t have enough food; we barely have the money to buy decent petticoats for the coming winter, and working as a seamstress doesn’t pay that much. Lately, nobody has been ordering dresses. I just finished the first dress anyone had ordered in the past four months! Working at the bar is tiring, but it’s the only job where I can earn money quickly enough. Doing little missions for Krion is a rarity. The only thing I seem to be doing is sitting and waiting.

Are you done? He let out a shaky laugh. I think you scared off the bird."

A soft laugh rolled from her mouth like a pebble falling down a mountain. I’m sorry. Trojan and Mother miss you. Mother’s headaches don’t seem to be going away any time soon, but we’ve been giving her herbs to ease the pain. We can’t afford a physician to look at her, right now, but we should have enough money shortly and I will seek out one of the greatest physicians in the village. Her name is Salma, I believe. She’s Orshan, but people seem to trust her.

There’s my brave girl. He brought his hands up to her face and cupped her cheeks, but she felt nothing. You will be fine. One word of advice—

I told you, I didn’t come for advice.

You didn’t come for advice, correct, but I will give it to you regardless. When you assemble a piano, you need a certain number of strings to create a noise. Each note has exactly one or two strings. That is how much is needed to create a sound. However, if one note were to b carry too many strings, the note wouldn’t work and the piano wouldn’t be a piano anymore. It would be a broken piano that has too many parts to play.

Vell quickly understood the direction of her father’s parable. I’m the note that has too many strings.

"You are the piano with too many parts and notes and strings. Take some of those parts away. You saying no to Ellis might have taken off one string, but you have added a string-less note that has no use until it can create sound. Now go, your mother must be worried