Welcome to The Pact

It was here. The big day had finally arrived. 

Rhazira knew she would marry Zarim from the moment she had met him. He had been enchanted as soon as he had laid eyes on her in the field during harvest. Her chocolate-coloured skin glistened under the sun’s rays as she worked. Her golden eyes had regarded him with the composure of a princess, not the modesty of a simple peasant girl. He had fallen for her right there and then. 

Of course, there was always the small matter of her origin. It wasn’t tradition for an Azmiradi amiran* to marry a commoner. But Zarim had made up his mind. And once his mind was made up, there was very little anybody could do. Not even his kin. 

Try as she might, Zarim’s mother couldn’t separate her son from Rhazira. It wasn’t just her descent she was worried about. There was something off about that beautiful girl. Mothers tend to notice these things, it’s true. But it’s equally true that when it comes to matters of the heart, there is only so much mothers can do to protect their sons. And so eventually she settled. Zarim was to marry Rhazira on this beautiful late-summer day. The union wasn’t entirely with his mother’s blessing, but it was going to happen nonetheless. 

Preparations had begun early in the morning. The Zafiriq estate had been transformed into a magical venue. Banners of deep green and gold, a symbol of the Zafiriq family, adorned the palace’s white marble walls. The housekeepers had been out since dawn, collecting flowers from the garden. They had decorated the hallways and ballroom with bouquets of various colours. Every room carried the strong aroma of Azmiradi roses - the finest in the world. The decadence of the decore left nothing to be desired. After all, the heir to one of the most important Azmiradi families wasn’t going to marry without a spectacle. Zarim had ensured that Rhazira wouldn’t feel anything was lacking. He was going to create the perfect day for her today. A perfect day to go with the perfect life they’d have together. 

“Hold still, miss,” one of the maids said as she helped Rhazira button up her dress. The pearly silk complemented Rhazira’s skin well. 

“I’m not used to such clothes,” Rhazira said, pulling awkwardly at the soft fabric. “Dresses are not the preferred choice when working on the farm. Especially not something like this. It must have cost Zarim a fortune…” 

“Don’t you worry about that, dear girl,” one of the older maids interrupted. “Let the men think about costs. Besides, look at how wonderful you are in it. Master Zarim will surely be impressed,” the woman said with a cheeky wink. 

“There we are, miss,” the other girl said as she fastened the last button. “You look like Sune** herself.” 

Rhazira looked at her reflection in the mirror. Yes, she could get used to this life of decadence and luxury. “I will leave him breathless,” she said with a self-satisfied smile. 

“It’s time to go, dear girl. The guests are waiting,” the older woman said. Rhazira nodded and made her way towards the ballroom with both maids at her side. She would have much preferred a more private celebration, but Zarim had insisted. It was Zafiriq tradition, he had said. Everybody would expect a man of his stature to keep up with social appearances. Especially with his increasingly important role in Azmiradi government. 

Rhazira had doubted that he’d achieve his ambitious goals. In fact, she knew that Zarim wouldn’t live to see himself in the Azmiradi court, but had played along with his fantasies. After all, the last thing she wanted was for him to wisen up to her true purpose. Yes, the peasant girl role was perfect. Though she was undoubtedly blessed with unnatural beauty, nobody would have given her two looks in that field ten months ago. Nobody except Zarim. Just as she’d planned it. 

As Rhazira approached the ballroom, two guards dressed in ceremonial garb pushed the heavy doors open. She entered to the sound of the herald announcing her in front of the guests. She was taken aback by the multitude of guests around the long tables on both sides of the golden room. Hundreds of eyes were all directed at her. It was unnerving, even for someone with her training. She’d made it this far, she thought. She wasn’t about to let these finely dressed fools deter her. 

She walked forward slowly, nodding a timid smile to the guests on either side, just as a shy peasant girl would. Halfway through the room, she finally lifted her gaze off the emerald-green carpet under her feet and saw Zarim waiting for her on the other side of the room. He was dressed in a white ceremonial robe adorned with intricate green embroidery that revealed his Zafiriq heritage. His broad shoulders did not crumble under the anticipation of the moment. Instead, he stood tall and steady, waiting for her to join him. His lips curved slightly in a faint smile that was addressed to no one but her. 

Rhazira smiled back. Only this time, it wasn’t forced out of necessity. She felt… different. For a second, she questioned herself. It was as though Zarim’s honest eyes had peered directly into her soul, into her true nature. Did he suspect something? Did he know? No, she quickly shook away the notion. This was no time for distractions. She had work to do, she told herself firmly. 

She walked the rest of the way with deliberate grace, taking her time with each step. Her gown cascaded graciously behind her - the ripples of a gentle wave. Her figure beneath the fabric swayed from side to side as she walked. 

Zarim was mesmerised by her presence. He held her hands in his and they exchanged a look that seemed to last a whole eternity. The kind of glance that only lovers could share. 

Rhazira felt uncomfortable looking into Zarim’s dark honest eyes for this long. His words came as a relief for her growing doubts: 

“You look stunning, my love,” he murmured loud enough for her to hear. 

“And you look… eager,” she replied with an enigmatic smile. 

He raised an eyebrow, but before he could reply the officiant stepped forward.

The room quieted for a moment as the guests took their seats. It was time for the ceremony to begin. The officiant held up a piece of green silk as he started chanting an ancient Azmiradi song. The melody was simple and slow. Although most people in the ballroom didn’t speak the old language anymore, everybody knew the story of the song. It spoke of the eternal love of Vashid and Jalirya. They shared a bond so strong that not even the black dragon could break it. The beautiful melody filled the room, moving some of the guests to tears. 

The officiant tied the green piece of silk around Rhazira’s hand as he continued his song. He then took Zarim’s hand and tied him to the other end of the ribbon. He passed an ivory chalice to Zarim, inviting him to drink. Zarim took a sip of the sweet wine and passed it to Rhazira. She looked into his eyes one final time before the bond was sealed. There was no going back, she thought as she closed her eyes and drank from the chalice. 

As the song reached its natural conclusion, the officiant nodded with approval. He paused and looked around the room. A thousand eyes tensed with anticipation. The man raised Zarim and Rhazira’s hands and said with a booming voice: “Before these witnesses, I declare Zarim and Rhazira bound as one. May this union last throughout the ages!”

Cheers filled the room as Zarim and Rhazira turned to face the crowd in unison, their hands still bound under the Zafiriq colours. Zarim squeezed her hand gently, turning to his wife with warmness in his eyes. She looked at him with a calculated smile. She was beginning to like him. Pity it wouldn’t last. 

* * * 

The rest of the evening was a blur of smiles and niceties. Zarim tended to each guest as if they were members of his own family. He thanked each of them for coming. They talked about the beautiful ceremony, of course, but the topic always turned to politics. He promised them great things would come very soon, once he had moved up to Ifrah*** with his beautiful new wife. Rhazira stood by his side the whole evening. She laughed when the moment called for it. She nodded when she should. A beautiful trinket to go with the powerful young man her husband was. 

They danced under the shimmering light of the golden chandeliers. They kissed in front of the gathered crowd - an official seal of their union in the eyes of high society. In truth, both of them couldn’t wait for the ball to be over and for them to remain alone for the first time as husband and wife. 

The night wound down. Guests drifted away, their cheers and laughter fading into the silence of the warm summer night. Zarim left the servants to clear up as he took his new wife by the hand and made his way to their private chambers. For the first time since they met, Rhazira would spend the night with him. He could barely hold his excitement. 

Rhazira was also eager but for very different reasons. The thrill of the hunt had already taken over her. She knew the moment was coming - the culmination of all that hard work she had put in. A few moments still and she would be done with him. 

“Our first night as husband and wife,” he said softly, stepping closer to her. 

“You’ve waited long for this,” she said her voice low and rough, almost a growl. 

“I would wait a lifetime if it meant having you,” he replied. His sincerity cut at her resolve like a blade. But it wasn’t enough to change her mind. The dice were thrown a long time ago. 

Zarim leaned in and whispered in her ear: “I will protect you, Rhazira. You can trust me.” 

Trust, Rhazira couldn’t help but laugh at that notion. Trust was a fragile thing and his was about to be broken. 

Zarim stepped back and looked at her in confusion. Her features morphed before his eyes. Her mouth widened in a carnassial grin. Her yellow eyes now revealed her feline nature. How had he not noticed that before? Was he so blinded by his love for her? He staggered back but knew there was no escape. 

“Rhazira… Why?” he gasped in horror before her panther-like face. 

“It’s nothing personal, dear -” she said, her voice darker than before, “ - it just has to be done.” In one swift, well-calculated move, she pounced and stuck her claws into Zarim’s chest. He fell onto his back and felt her fangs tearing at his throat. Darkness followed. 

Rhazira stood on top of Zarim’s bloody corpse, her excitement now wearing off as the warmth left his body. She didn’t have much time. She had to tell the others and get out of the palace as soon as possible. She reached in for the inner lining of her dress and took out a small stone. Its carved runes glowed as she held it with both hands. She spoke into the stone three simple words: 

“It is done.” The message would be sent over instantly to whoever had the other half of the stone. 

She waited no more than a minute before she received the reply: 

“Excellent work, Rhazira. Your talents will be put to good use in our organisation. Welcome to The Pact.”

Footnotes:

* Amiran - a lesser noble in the Dominion of Azmirad. Typically these own smaller estates and report directly to the sarquadis, the district governors.

** Sune - goddess of beauty.

*** Ifrah - the capital of the Dominion of Azmirad.