The carriage clattered on the cobblestone road that broke unnaturally through drifting desert sand. The hot sun pulsed overhead, melting reality into mirage. Keeping one hand on the reins, I adjusted my wide-brimmed hat. We had been traveling for several days, at a slow but steady pace, and we were approaching the squat fortress that was the abandoned castle of Carez. By horseback, Carez was less than a full day’s ride from the Mehal, but by carriage, burdened with a woman with child and a woman recently divested of one, the pace was far slower.
In my grandmother’s day, Carez had rarely been inhabited, a glorified trading post more than anything, and after her demise, it had fallen out of use, and, more importantly, out of memory. These lands, home to nomadic shepherds who cloaked themselves in long white robes, were not known for their fertility or riches. Only the most brave merchants would travel into the desert to emerge forth with the beautiful metalwork of the tribes. Of course now, even they would not venture forth. The tribes, like everyone else from Aquia, were fast asleep.
Blinking against the glare of the sun, I thought something flashed, but it vanished beneath the bright light. Then, almost half an hour later, we arrived at the castle, nearly stumbling upon it. Built on a rocky promontory jutting from the earth, it was not a high building, but circular in shape and constructed entirely of smooth, polished granite, with the distinct of air of having remained unused for decades. The citadel was surrounded by a circle of dry palm trees and I could make out wells in the earth, which I assumed that, at the very least, the local nomads once used. I had discovered in these past few days that fresh, cool water was nothing to scoff at.
“We’ve arrived!” I called to Oelphie. “But remain in the carriage while I…”
I walked to the immense door and pushed it lightly with my fingertips. To my surprise, it swung open. I strode in, half-expecting to see it populated by a family of sleeping nomads, but it was blissfully empty—and cool. At its center was an open courtyard, where a once-functioning fountain was shaded by palm trees. Staircases swathed in shadow led to the floors above.
It was perfect. Abandoned. Forgotten. No one would find her here. No one would touch her. I had vowed to keep her safe and I would remain true to my word. Satisfied with my findings, I returned to the carriage. “Oelphie, let’s bring her in.”
Oelphie’s head emerged from the carriage, her face tanned and hair frazzled from the heat. “Lady Auralia has gone into labor,” she stated calmly.
My knees weakened, but, Better now then when we have left. “Alright. Well then. Let us carry her inside and then…do this.”
Together, we hefted her through the door and lay her in the center of the courtyard. Quickly, I returned to the horses, and brought them, with the carriage, into the shade of the castle. I looped its reins around one of the courtyards palm trees whose yellowed fronds he began to chew ponderously. Then, I darted back and bolted the door shut.
Seeing Oelphie’s bemused regard, I said defensively, “There are no servants to put them in the stables! Or look after the carriage. It is too hot to leave the horses outside, and I would not want to make our presence known to any who may have followed us.”
She shook her head with a smile, which dissipated as Auralia moaned. I froze. It was the first sound I had heard from her in years and it shook me. But soon, it was as if I had dreamed that noise, for the labor proceeded smoothly and quietly. She made no other noise, even when her closed eyes screwed up with pain, eyelids and irises trembling madly as if in the midst of a nightmare. Yet, I gave thanks at the ease of her delivery, after the horror mine had been. Oelphie and I, with no expert training, would have been powerless to help Auralia birth her child had the labor been a hard one.
Within the hour, I held, in my hands a niece, the daughter of my sister and my husband, a beautiful baby girl with brown eyes and fine wisps of golden hair, just like her mother’s, a child named Talia. Her lusty wails quieted my fears.
I cradled the small creature and her wild cries echoed in the hall as her mother’s face relaxed into peace once more. I had lost my own child. I had known my husband to be my sister’s violator. Yet, in the midst of it all, I had found something precious. I was raw and emotionally strained, but...at peace. Tenderly, I kissed Talia’s forehead, rocking her gently.
She was Auralia. She was me. She was even Gwydion, but I hoped she would be better than any of us.
In the meantime, Oelphie had tidied Auralia up, redressed her, and bathed her with a scrap torn from her soiled gown. Looking up at me tiredly, she asked, above Talia’s cries, “What do we now?”
My hand rose to my neck, to the lamp pendant the djinn had given me. It was warm to touch. Slowly and deliberately, I ran my thumb across it several times until it became hot. My vision grew black and when it cleared the djinn stood before me once more. The child grew silent in my arms.
As tall and lithe as ever, his garb blending with the shadows, he examined his surroundings bemusedly. “Good day, your Majesty. I am gratified to see that you are looking well.” He peered downwards at Talia, “And who is this?”
“My niece Talia. Now, your Grace, I have a request of you. A wish.”
Steepling his fingers, he peered intently. “Yes?”
Gesturing towards Auralia in the center, I said tightly, “I need to protect her. I need to ensure that no one touches her again. I wish that you protect her from the world.” I shivered as I spoke. But it did not matter. I could never risk her being hurt again, whatever the consequences.
The djinn cocked his head to the side. He raised an eyebrow. Then, we were standing outside, beneath the glare of the sun. Hot breezes ruffled my hair. My vision blurred blackly from being thrown from the shadows of the citadel to the brightness of the desert at midday.
As the djinn concentrated upon the citadel, he raised his hands and slowly, seemingly from the earth, immense tawny crystals began to creep over the stone of the building. The crystals blossomed, interlocking and lacing through each other, like hands cupping, fingers entwining, until the entire citadel was shielded by sand-colored glitter. From afar, it would like a mirage and when near, it looked impenetrable.
Stepping closer, I delicately extended a finger, running it along the lines of the formation. Rough and sharp, the angles of the crystals formed interweaving petals, mimicking the curve of roses. They were unnaturally cool to the touch, like a block of ice on a summer’s day. “What are these?”
“They are called desert roses,” the djinn explained, shimmering like a mirage himself. “There is no material forged by man that will be able to penetrate the citadel.”
“And she will be protected by a fortress of roses and thorns,” I murmured to myself.
Turning to thank him, I was met only by a vista of rolling golden dunes, the jagged Aquian hills far to the west, and endless blue sky. “Thank you!” I called as Oelphie hitched the horse to the carriage. Handing Talia carefully to Oelphie, I went behind the fortress, drawing cold water from the well. I drank deeply before bringing the whole bucket back to water the horse.
After feeding Talia in the shade of Auralia’s fortress, I took the reins, ready to make the long trip back to Nyneveh. I turned around one last time to see the mound of crystalline roses glimmering in the sun. Auralia was safe. No one would ever touch her again. No one would find her, and even if they did, they would not be able to break through the barrier of desert roses. I clicked the horse forward.