A Prince of the Nobillo
Chapter 7: Trap Pass
As she and Carak walked down the long halls of the palace, Carak suddenly drew near to her. "Stay close, no matter what you see."
Lindsay heard the soft fluttering of wings and odd high hums and chirps as they approached an area brightly lit by pale sunlight. A waif of a woman, dressed in not quite a white toga but something similar tied around her body in strange places by stringed belts, padded across the hall on bare feet. Her six wings seemed shorter than Lindsay was used to seeing.
Lindsay heard a chirrup and a woman popped her head out of an adjoining hallway. Her skin was pale grey, as if she'd powdered it in cement, and her black hair was braided in an ornate style. Threads and a large needle hung from the braids, tapping lightly against the side of her face. She tilted her head, her neck scarcely looked thick enough to hold it up over her jutting shoulder bones.
Her lips were pursed, with only a quarter-sized spot of sangria paint at the very center which gave her something of a quizzical expression. Her eyelids were accentuated with bright blue paint, the eyelashes stuck together in pointed sections with colorful stones stuck to the very ends so they looked cartoonish. The "w" of the pupil stood out black in the electric blue of the iris.
Lindsay felt nauseous. Blue wasn't an eye color the Nobillo possessed, especially not in that shade.
The woman chirruped and turned her head and Lindsay saw the thread holding her lips pursed together; it was fraying and stained with dark sangria colored blood. She dashed off to where the other woman had come from. Yes, the wings were definitely shorter and shaped like they had been cut out by a child who didn't particularly know what wings looked like.
Lindsay gripped Carak's arm, taking comfort in the thick muscles of his forearm. A few more steps and she could see the hall the women had come from. There were dozens of them!
The hall itself was decorated in fake flowers and trees and leaves and hanging macramé seats where the pale, wan women curled up and slept - that is, those who were not relegated to the floor. She could see one sitting on the tiles with her legs splayed out like a child, picking at her bejewelled fingertips, her head banging softly against the wall as she hummed snatches of tunes.
A flute played a few notes and a number of them ran over to a wall where a panel lifted half an inch and a syrupy liquid slowly seeped out. They pressed their lips to the wall and she heard a sucking sound. It was like some demented butterfly garden!
"Don't look at them," Carak said.
"What are they?" Lindsay asked in horror.
"The Birds of Paradise. Make no mistake, they may have lost their minds, but their claws are very real."
"What happened to them?"
"I'll tell you when we've passed."
Carak led her in silence for the next five minutes until she stopped short.
"What the hell were those women?" she demanded.
"Boz's Birds of Paradise. But if you so much as whisper his name or what happened near them, they'll tear you apart."
"Are those his wives?"
"Some of them, most were just women he saw from his tower and liked the look of."
"What did he do to them?" she asked. She didn't want to know the answer and yet she felt she had to hear it.
Carak sighed. "He violates them, mind and body, until they go insane. The ones that behave, as he would say, go to serve him in his tower. The ones that don't... this is their fate until they starve to death."
"That's psychotic! What happened to their wings?"
"By law, those judged insane have their wings clipped so they can't fly. Ostensibly, it is to keep them from hurting themselves and others. Boz insists on doing it himself. You saw the results."
"So, he just sees a pretty girl, has her brought up to him, and rapes and mutilates her and then throws her in a hallway until she starves to death? How is he not in jail?!"
"Because he's a prince."
"But their families!"
"Are paid handsomely for the privilege of having a daughter taken into the service of one of the princes."
"They let him do that? To their daughters?" She was incredulous.
"Of course not. They don't know."
Lindsay was stunned. "So, they think... they think their daughters are just living as servants to the prince?"
"It is better they not know, there's nothing they can do to stop him. It's better to let them believe the lie."
"This is so messed up! How do you live here knowing that even exists?"
"I don't have a choice. You do." Carak said.
She was stunned by the bluntness of his words. "Are you saying I should go?"
"I'm saying you should consider it carefully."
She walked silently beside him, still not letting go of his arm. "When you say you don't have a choice... Carak, are you a slave?"
"I am a Child of the Immortal. It is my purpose to serve the Nobillo from my birth until my dying day. That was why we were created by the Immortal."
She gripped his arm tighter with both hands, each only able to span halfway around the muscles that divided it. She felt sick. So ill, in fact, she didn't even notice the way the large, opaque eyes of the Children of the Immortal guards followed them as they walked.
"Ah, I see you've arrived," Elihim said, answering the door. "You may dismiss your escort."
"I'm sorry," Lindsay said. "But the king ordered him to stay with me at all times. It would be a violation of his orders to dismiss him."
Elihim's brow creased slightly, Lindsay could see the tension grow in his jaw. "Then have him wait outside."
"I'd rather he be with me. I'd hate to disobey the king. I'm still so new here." She put on her best innocent expression.
"The king doesn't need to know; it can just be between us," he said smoothly, the serpent's tongue fighting a losing battle with the lion's rage.
"I don't think that would be wise. I'd hate to risk getting caught."
"Carak, wait outside." Elihim ordered.
