TRIAL'S OF DECEIT

UNENDING

Lately, Abriella had never felt as alone as she did at the moment. The day had been uncharacteristically stressful, and her body attested with a terrible migraine which felt like it was splitting her skull. In an attempt to remain in control, she scrunched up her nose and slowed her breathing. As she straightened her unruly bed coverings, her thoughts went astray. On a day like this, with the selection looming at the corner, she missed her old and only friend Zekehdi like one who would miss an amputated limb.

She'd never been one who was seen among a hoard of friends. From her earliest memory of her stay in the center, Abriella had never formed a real and genuine bond with anyone. Simply put, she was branded an outcast among outcasts. The people of Razeh-Cal did not take to change easily and while she was often told of her beauty, it could in no way surpass her blemish of having uncommon features different from the reddish bronze hue Razeh-Cal possessed, which her pale skin tone only chose to emphasize.

This wasn't her only flaw to them, as her naked forehead proved to anyone who looked at it. As the citizens of Razeh-Cal were known for three things; their unique beauty, their cold-blooded ruthlessness and acumen, manipulative skills when doing business and their Cal, otherwise known as mind ability, seen in the form of unique markings on their foreheads. The markings came in different patterns and color symbolizing the three major grand houses of Cal distantly related to the royal household. The number of marks determines the mental strength of each individual. Every child, naturally or genetically formed, possessed such marks as it was the one common variable found on both the Jalaks and the kazi. The lowest ranking mental strength a pure blood or a kazi possessed was three marks, while Jalaks were most often single marked, openly declaring their mixed heritage and, unfortunately for Abriella, she possessed neither.

It was frowned upon to be intimate with outsiders and especially if the result was an offspring, because it almost always brought children with little to no Cal marking. Regardless of the physical appearance of the offspring, their blood is always of the shade of purple. Since the citizens of Razeh-Cal scorned any form of change to their DNA and their way of life, any and all relation to a Jalak meant social destruction and collapse even among lowly slaves.

For so long she could not understand the yawning chasm that ate away her confidence, the loneliness she later understood as the feeling sucked her into desperation for contact of any kind. It was one of those days, a day that seemed like any other until she caught sight of him. Zekehdi came strutting into the Jalaks quarters like he owned the place, with a perfectly symmetrical face. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, giving his face a strong, masculine and chiseled appearance. His lips were full, and his nose was straight and strong. His bronze skin was pale, but unlike her own pale skin, his wasn't sickly, his complexion smooth and unblemished. His eyes were his most striking feature - like a rare jewel, they were a deep magenta color, similar to a rich velvety wine. His lashes were thick and so white that they almost glowed against his pale skin framing his deep bronze skin. He had long, white hair that fell in waves around his well-defined shoulders. He looked like a god among men and the other Jalaks noticed and if it hadn't been for the collar that suppressed s****l desires of any kind, Abriella was sure that most of the slaves would have dropped their panties for him.

Somehow, even with his own species present, he'd still chosen to befriend her to the utter disgust of his own people, of course. Abriella could still remember the very first words he'd spoken to her.

''Move Fahxai''.

He had said the words like a challenge, daring her to confront his new name for her.

For the three years he'd stayed in the quarters, they'd formed a bond that went beyond the mental and physical connection most felt. Abriella was sure that if she could feel an atom of desire - which she'd never felt, she knew it would be directed towards him, but for those precious years she'd cherished what most others took for granted - companionship. Right until the very moment he was selected, Abriella had hugged and touched more than she had ever done in her life, taking and taking something Zekeh didn't mind giving freely.

Now with the selection looming again, the anxiety and her own helplessness made her already aching head throb harder. She'd rubbed her temples and grimaced when the gesture did nothing but make matters worse.

Fatigued and frustrated, she gave up on the heavy sheets and lay on them like that, ignoring the wrinkles. Her lids felt like lead, and she breathed an exhausted sigh when she could close them again. A part of her felt like she should be mentally and physically preparing for the selection process, while another part of her didn't see the need since she was not likely to be chosen yet again. Leaving all behind, she let her subconscious drift as sleep claimed her.

***

A buzz filled the air as instructors flitted from place to place barking orders and fretting over the smallest mistakes. Helpers in large groups bustled about, all moving quickly and purposefully. Some carried boxes, arranged flowers, hanging lights, and set up tables, while some others, probably of a higher rank, arranged their activities, walking around with writing pads. There was a constant stream of people coming in and out of the door, and the air filled with the sound of their footsteps and their voices. Jalaks coming of age for the next selection were already made to scrub and fitted for the occasion. They were ushered and seated in a tiered-up hidden alcove set off from the larger room with a translucent material, chins and backs straight. The whole process gave Abriella a horrible feeling of deja vu that she could not shake..