Cultivating Plants

“Where were we?” Rani said after sitting down on the throne. She had totally forgone the lazy laying position, instead opting out for a dignified straight sitting one. But one couldn’t deny both made her look like an emir. 

Like a ruler.

As a few seconds happened without the sultanzade saying anything, Aloe opened her mouth with a mixture of doubt and fear. 

“You were asking me if I knew why you summoned me, Pri-“ Aloe’s spine straightened out instantly as the emir looked at her in disapproval. “R-Rani.” She corrected herself quickly.

A simple tongue slip could spell out my end. Aloe thought, her heart beating faster out of fear.

“Ah, yes,” Rani muttered as if the last exchange had simply not occurred. “And you answered that you didn’t now, right?” Aloe nodded in confirmation. “Well, Aloe, I summoned you to talk about your mother, especially about her cause of death.”

At the mention of that subject, Aloe felt as if all the muscles of her body contracted. I may be physically tough now, but not mentally. She joked in the confines of her mind, the shape of her lips turning grim.

“What did you want to tell me about, Rani?” Aloe asked as politely as possible.

As politely as one could be referring to a sultanzade, a daughter of the Sultanah, by her first name, that was.

“First of all, some apologies are in order.” Aloe frowned at the princess’ words. “As the new emir of Sadina, the death of my subjects, my citizens, fall on my shoulders. Especially one as close in my environment as Shahrazad was.”

Even if her words contained lament, the cadence of an afflicted person, Aloe couldn’t feel the apology in Rani’s voice. The remorse. The emir lamented the death of her mother, yes, but she didn’t feel remorse about it.

And Aloe didn’t know what to do with that information.

“This plague is somewhat new, only appearing a few months back in a bordering city near Loyata,” Rani explained. “And whilst we tried to hold it back, there were some... unforeseen events. We didn’t calculate well the workings of the plague. Nuha here,” she pointed with the palm of her hand to the austere-dressed scribe at her side, “can tell you more about the basic details of the plague. Will you, dear?”

The scribe’s eyes had been all but glued to the parchment before her until now. Aloe doubted she had been even paying attention to their conversation until her name was mentioned. 

Nuha turned to face Rani and slightly bowed down to her. “Of course, my Emir.” 

Then she turned back to face Aloe. Her eyes were bloodshot and her eyelids down with exhaustion, yet her voice powerfully echoed through the room with the potency of a teacher lecturing their students.

“The plague is a type of pulmonary disease, scholars have yet to name it, but the population has been quick to name it ‘Asphyxia’.” The woman dictated slowly but clearly. “Unlike other pulmonary infections, this plague spreads slowly, mainly because of its mortality rate. It kills extremely fast, a couple of days at minimum for more exposed and fragile people, and a week at maximum for the rest of the population. This is factoring in the gestation and development time of the malady.”

Aloe gasped at the mortality of the plague. She had heard of maladies that killed quickly, but for one to kill in less than a week, two days only, was unheard of to her. Death by sickness was usually long and painful.

“Shahrazad found herself in the middle point, passing away after five days, though I personally estimated her time was extended thanks to the help provided by the university and the emir, here present.” The scribe pointed at the woman on the throne with her extended palm.

“Did... did my mother suffer?” Aloe timidly asked the scribe.

“Yes,” Nuha responded bluntly.

The crude response from the scribe provoked a series of strong reactions all over the room. Her fellow scribe at the other side of the throne looked at her as if she had killed her whole family whilst Aloe let out a strangled yelp, taken aback by the too-sincere answer.

The girl felt as if someone had punched her in the gut as the air left her lungs, her eyes began to water up as she gasped.

“Nuha!” Rani shouted at the scribe, her voice making the audience hall tremble. “Have you no tact, woman?”

“I feel I have lost that... quality after being surrounded by too much death, my Emir.” Nuha talked with the same slow cadence, unaffected by the emir’s powerful scream. “If it helps you,” the scribe directed to Aloe, ignoring her liege, “all infected suffered. The irritation on the lungs is strong, impeding patients from breathing, and forcing themselves to breathe hard enough to make their respiratory system bleed.”

“Uh...” Aloe let out a sound out of her mouth, half-groan, half-sob.

She couldn’t believe what her ears were hearing.

“Cease this at once,” Rani ordered, her voice disconcerted, her tone authoritative.

“Yes, my Emir,” Nuha stated as emotionless as ever. She wasn’t affected by her own words nor by those shouted by the emir.

The sultanzade facepalmed and sighed, her face filled with regret.

“Apologies for that,” she directed to Aloe, “Nuha doesn’t pull her punches, and I should have expected such a lack of touch and decorum on her part.”

Aloe would have been surprised by having a Sultanah’s offspring apologize to her, if it wasn’t for the dagger she felt twisting in her throat.

Upon seeing the reaction of the commoner, Rani sighed once more and looked at her scribe. “Take the day off, Nuha. Out of my sight.”

“Gladly,” The scribe bowed down and remorselessly made her way out of the audience room.

As Nuha walked past her, Aloe got a better look into her eyes. Tired, yes, but overflowing with intelligence. Now she noticed that the words she had uttered weren’t by mistake but a neatly calculated risk.

Anger should have bolstered her upon becoming aware of this, but instead, Aloe became impressed with the unscrupulous scribe. She toyed with me and played with the emir just to check out at an early hour. The pain and anguish she had been feeling disappeared as she realized the sheer nerves of the woman.

In reality, Nuha never risked offending the emir, only a no-name commoner. And she valued that offense and pain to be less worth than her rest. Aloe truly didn’t know what to feel upon that fact. Namely a mix of adoration and rage. Mostly rage.

“Once again, I feel like I must apologize for my scribe’s words,” Rani said, but it was obvious in her tone and actions that she didn’t feel it. The princess was just being diplomatic.

Aloe wouldn’t tell that to the emir, of course.

“T-there’s no problem.” The girl responded after taking a deep breath.

It hurt her – a lot – knowing that her mother hadn’t had a peaceful death, but a part of her was happy that she wasn’t there to see her suffering. Yet another part insulted her for being as monstrous as not wanting to spend the last moments of her mother with her.

“Back at the matter at hand,” Rani continued, briefly startling Aloe, “before Nuha rudely presented her arguments, I wanted to tell you about the death of your mother.”

Aloe gulped down a big drop of saliva as the eyes of the emir settled on her. Whatever she was going to say, it wasn’t going to be nice, as her piercing eyes indicated.

“Aloe, your mother didn’t suffer a death as natural as others may believe,” Rani revealed.

“What?” The words escaped Aloe’s mouth beyond her control, titles, and position be damned. “What do you mean that her death wasn’t natural? Was she assassinated? Did assassins attack the palace again?”

“You aren’t that far from the truth, but unfortunately, the culprits aren’t assassins.” The emir calmly explained, yet with every word her tone became more and more enraged. “The true killer of your mother isn’t the plague, but my brother, Hassan.”

“T-the... emir?” Aloe expressed with visible confusion, recalling the name of the emir, or rather, the former emir now.

“Indeed.” Rani’s voice was slow, but Aloe swore she could hear the gritting of teeth. “That human scum that is my brother was the nince-damned culprit.” All pretenses of tranquility disappeared as rage overwhelmed the sultanzade’s voice and the woman gripped the armrests of her throne, threatening to break them under her strength. “That fucking moron!”

The emir released her grip only to hit the armrest with her full strength, splintering the hardwood as if it cracked ceramic. Splinters flew in all directions, Aloe too stunned and slow to notice how close she had been to being hit by many of them.

“The man could have gone out with his head high up, but noooo it had to fucking wreck anything!” The sultanzade’s eyes shone dangerously, scaring Aloe. “That fucker brought the plague to his own palace through the servants before running away like a rat! He didn’t even deign to come to the capital to be deposed, he just fucking exiled himself! Argh!”

Aloe didn’t know what to be more shocked at, the dangerous violence of the princess that could get her killed or the contrast between the calm seductress and the raging maelstrom.

Rani breathed.

Hard.

Her inhalations could be felt around the room, air pouring towards her with force.

And she exhaled.

After repeating the process she finally calmed down.

“Apologies for my lack of control, that man makes my blood boil.” The woman said with unnatural calmness, a stone masquerade on top of her visage.

“I-I see...” Aloe said. “Should I get going then?” After noticing the lack of honorifics in her speech, Aloe quickly threw a “Rani” as the princess had instructed her.

“Wait.” Rani extended her arm, stopping Aloe in her tracks. “I still have one more petition for you.

Aloe took a deep breath of her own and bravely asked, “What may that be, Rani?”

“Would you like to work for me?” The emir offered with her opened palm.