The White City

Chapter 3

Raziel sat with his legs swung up upon the grand marble table. He sat at the opposite end of his father. A servant dumped a plate of fruits and vegetables in front of him. He wore the crown wrong in the raven nest on his head.

None of them had gotten as long as to speak. However, Raziel knew something was brewing under his father's skin. Something about the incident yesterday. The beautiful lady entered his mind at once. He shook away the image, focusing on the man in front of him.

Gray oily hair reached the king's shoulders and almost fully covered his left eye. His cold face was accompanied by a pair of glaring brown eyes there once had been so full of life. A fur stretched over his body and the tips of it swept the floor. He hatched an apple in his clutch. “Second pastor Pablo summoned the holy council for an audience this night. He was rather.” The king let the apple fall on his plate. “Persistent.” 

Raziel let the glamour of an expressionless face cover the mass of emotion he held. “I gathered he informed you regarding our encounter with the magician.” Raziel let his finger dance along the rim of the table. If he let himself, he could feel the heat of the sparks. Feel the power of her presence radiating through his bones.

“Indeed, son.” The king rested against the chair; his eyes focused on his young son. His own hand caressed his chin. “The occurrence that disturbed me the most was that of you saving the girl. Care to explain your wrongdoings or would you prefer to be put before the entire council? It can be arranged for this afternoon.” The king nodded along to his words. They hung in the air for a moment. Raziel had stopped every movement. His body had frozen.

“I do demand an answer, prince Raziel.”

“Of course, father. Pardon me.” Raziel let his legs fall from the table. He sat upright in his chair, tilting the crown in its rightful place. “I will explain the matter to you. I wish not to discuss my actions with your council. This prior night, as the witch exposed her magic to me and second pastor Pablo, I couldn't detect if it was the ale playing dirty tricks on us or not. It would be wrong to kill an innocent girl in drunken confusion. I wished to seize the girl and bring her to the council. However, she escaped us and therefore we are in this predicament.”

The king didn’t react to his explanation. He mirrored the expressionless outer of his son. The unspoken truth divided them. Both of them knew this assembly wouldn’t bring any one of them closer to their truth.

“I see,” the king said. “If you had brought the girl to us, you would have made the right choice. But, she was not brought here. We may have a dangerous magician wandering our streets. And we have you, the prince, to thank for that. What a humiliation.”

“What makes Magician dangerous? If you don’t mind me asking.” Raziel sat on the edge of his seat. His fingers drumming against his thighs. A mild heat was spreading throughout them.

“They have a power which we cannot control. They are unstable beings which can expose us to the danger of the Change.”

“What power do you speak of?” Raziel inclined even further towards his father, a light getting lit deep within his eyes.

The king noticed it and pulled away from the table. “We shall discuss this no further. Church will begin shortly. I expect you to be by my side.” The king lifted an eyebrow. He never asked. He always commanded. And as the king, his words were law. Raziel knew that.

“Of course, my king.” Raziel stood only to bow down to his own father. The king twirled around, the fur goat gliding through the silent winter wind. Raziel watched his father leave the room, descending into his private wing of the prison he referred to as a castle.

Just as Raziel left the room, did Laylah flee out of a local baker in the other end of the city. In her clutch, she had a single pouch of bread, still hot from the oven. The black ropes hugging her swayed in the wind. The hood had hidden her identity; however, she wouldn’t be able to step a foot inside of that shop ever again.

She followed the stream of people strolling towards the church. They were in high spirits. A girl even skipped past Laylah. From her delicate, red lips, she hummed a melody. An elder couple strode in front of her. The woman held on tight to her husband, grey strands of hair falling down along her back. The strands caressed her white coat.

“Have you heard of the news?” the woman asked, her head turning to look upon her man. He shook his head. Their footfalls crunched in the fallen snow. Laylah, who hid behind them, didn’t let a sound escape from under her shoes.

“Indeed, I have not. Please tell an old chap.” The man had a warm smile as he looked down upon his wife. He held on tighter, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“The king!” the woman said. “The king will be between our ranks at the ceremony today.”

Laylah clenched her  fists, watching the man react with excitement to his wife’s words. “King Befalius? I would have thought he enjoyed his personal church inside his castle. What an honor he gives us.”

“Do you believe the prince will be there as well?” The woman pulled at her husband's arm, urging him to walk faster. Laylah kept up with their strides as they reached the town square. She was the coal among snowflakes as she stood there.

The man shrugged his shoulders as a reply to his wife’s previous question. “You can never be sure. That prince has a mind of his own.”

Laylah parted with the pair. In the pits of her stomach was an undeniable hunch. It pressed into her organs, urging her to stop. Nevertheless, she kept on walking until she reached the bench outside the church. She sat down, the unease in her stomach growing as the square emptied out.

Her hand reached down and pulled up some of the bread. She tore a piece off and let it fall into her mouth. As it had yesterday, a sunbeam hit her face. However, there was no crystal this time. No, the elements showed her something else. It was a simple path. A path of ice and terror. A path in which the powers resting inside of her urged her to follow.

The bread fell from her hands as she used both hands to cover her from the sun. It stung in her palms. She gritted her teeth as her eyes shut close. Her mother’s words once again rang through her mind. “You must learn to use the weapons you were born with.”

Her lungs closed in, cutting off her air supply. Behind her palms, she fought to breathe. The chaos around her had only just begun. The bells were ringing, and every man and woman chased the doors of the church. Laylah opened her mouth wide, gasping in a long breath of air. The sun kept cutting through her fingers, urging her to look upon the magic it displayed. She couldn’t cave in so instead she let out a whimper and bit down her lip.

Then, as if someone had placed a shadow in front of her, did the pain vanish. The painful hunch in her stomach washed away. Her eyes opened, and her hands fell down along her sides. The sun hit her face but showed no icy path of misery. It simply shined.

Laylah glanced around the square. Only a carriage decorated in the purest form of gold and satin drove across the town square. It was pulled by two marvelous white horses and a man dressed from top to toe in silver armor. The shun reflected upon his uniform as they neared the shadow of the church. Pablo came creeping out from behind the door, his back more straight than usual.

Laylah stood from her seat on the bench, her eyes following the carriage with care. The hunch in her stomach was now grow stronger and stronger. A heat spread through her fingers. She held them up in front of her as the wagon stopped. Inside, the king and his son stood from their seats opposite each other.

Raziel had been sitting on his hands ever since they’d arrived at the square. The heat had scared him, however, not enough to let his father know.

They stepped out together and walked up the few steps to Pablo. He straightened his white suit and bowed as they arrived.

“Greetings Pablo,” the king said as Pablo came back to his original height.

“My king.” Pablo’s eyes swayed and swept over the prince. “Prince Raziel. I see you have found yourself a watch.”

Raziel slid his hands down into his pockets. His dad had a death grip on his arm, stopping him from muttering a single word.

“Shall-“

Pablo interrupted the king’s words by letting his gaze sway to the spot right over the king’s shoulder. He locked eyes with a beautiful pair of ice blue. Shivers ran down Laylah’s back as Pablo lifted a hand to point her way. She took a step away. The two individuals covered in pure white fur, turned to look upon the spot were Pablo pointed.

“It’s her,” Pablo said. “It’s the witch."