Princess Carmel; Chapter 4

 

Princess Carmel; Chapter 4

© 2022 by Amber Wright

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Carmel nodded numbly. If she was to be the peace treaty, she would be ready. El would prepare her—His way. She felt a tug on her sleeve and turned to find Zara whispering.

Carmel cleared her muted thoughts rumbling through her head. “Yes?”

“The king is looking up here. You should not appear bold, else he may change his mind and refuse you.”

“Would not that settle the question?” Carmel stepped away from the window. “That would mean that El would have answered my prayer.”

“You know not what you say, my lady.” Zara said nervously, tidying things around the room and plumping up cushions. “This is a very serious matter for you to—trifle with.”

“I am not trifling with this matter,” Carmel said softly and walked across the cushiony rugs towards her bathing room. “My bath is ready. I need to prepare for my sister’s betrothal banquet as you have said.” She turned her head a notch.

“Yes, my lady.” Zara followed after her with shuffling steps.

Steam rose from the huge limestone bath as Carmel stepped into the chamber. The limestone floor felt cool as she kicked off her sandals. A few granules of sand rubbed between her toes as she stood waiting for the servants to leave. Last of all, Zara laid out the soaps, perfumes and tunic before leaving.

“Thank you.” Carmel said suddenly.

Zara blinked in surprise. “My lady?”

“I would like the purple headdress tonight.”

Zara made a bow. “As you wish.”

Carmel watched Zara take away her outer robes and jewels from the chamber, closing the door behind her. Now for her bath. Even in her tunic, she felt smothering hot in that chamber filled with steam.

00000

Music from lyres, harps and flutes met her ears as Carmel slowly descended the sleek, creamy white

limestone stairs. Spaced evenly every five steps, a guard stood with spear in hand and sword in his sheaf.

Every step she took, thoughts of leaving her home and everything she held close to her heart slipped through her mind like a strand of beads. The music grew louder with each step taken until it erupted into her ears like a waterfall, spraying beautiful droplets of melodious tunes.

Carmel floated across the passageway floor and stepped under the archway of the banquet hall. Then she paused. She hoped she was not the last of her family to enter. She noticed her father had not yet arrived and so she let out her breath, very much relieved.

Carmel was rearranging her deep purple veil with the multi-colored crystal beads when she heard a man clearing his throat. She whirled, half-turning, and felt her jaws drop.

“I have met the king and his family,” he spoke with an accent after politely making a slight bow. His clothes were expensive and jewels hung about his shoulders and headdress.

Carmel nodded, too surprised to speak.

“But I hear this banquet is to announce the last eligible princess’ betrothal.”

Carmel froze. Surely this man was not King Ezron of Aram-Damascus. If so, what would he do—poison them in their beds while they slept? She gathered her courage to speak. “You are a stranger here, yes?”

“Yes, but not at all strange although,” here he smiled as if to himself, “I have just made my kingship complete by my own genius.”

Carmel sucked in her breath. So this is the feared and dreaded—a nervous gulp—King Ezron! She tried to say something but her throat only made an odd gasping sound. She quickly pulled a piece of her veil to her mouth, abashed. What would the King Ezron think of her now?

“You seem to have a throat problem, no?” he stared at her in a confused sort of way.

Carmel started to shake her head but then nodded. She did have a throat problem—just then. Her throat felt like a bowl of water-logged sand. King Ezron stopped a passing servant with a tray with a pitcher of water and cups. The servant looked at Carmel curiously and handed her a cup filled with fresh water taken from the waterfall on the outskirts of Tyre.

Carmel felt the cool water slide down her throat and her gasping stopped. “Thank you, King Ezron.”

King Ezron knitted his brows. “How did you

know my name?”

Suddenly Carmel felt foolish. She stumbled for sensible words to say but only found herself shrugging out, “Words travel.”

“I can see that now.” King Ezron cleared his throat importantly. “What all did you hear about me, may I ask?”

Carmel stared up at him. Dare she flatter him by saying all that she had heard about him? She would. It may make him leave sooner and leave them in peace. “I have heard that you are a very brave man who took the throne of Aram-Zobah.”

“And?” His tone sounded pleased.

“And that you have told the king of Tyre that you wish to destroy him and his kingdom if he does not hand over a daughter of his to you for wife.” The words chilled her even as she spoke.

“And?” His tone flattened impatiently.

“And—what?” Carmel began to feel a little fear rise in her and at the same time she felt her throat parching up like a vase of sand.

She took another sip of water from her cup.

“And if the king of Tyre does not wish for war,” he threw out his hand in the direction of the royal table, “why does he yet plan to marry his last eligible daughter to another?”

“But the king of Tyre has another daughter.” Carmel felt her heart beating up into her throat. “It may be true that his other daughter is not as fair, but she is still—his daughter.”

“I am pleased to hear this.” King Ezron gave her a triumphant grin. “And does this daughter wish to build her a house upon the mount in Aram-Damascus?”

“I—I do not—” Carmel stumbled for words yet did not want to lie so she said simply, “She may.”

King Ezron still wore his triumphant grin.

Carmel felt her cheeks burn. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I shall be going.”

“Before you leave,” King Ezron lowered his voice a notch, “whom have I had the pleasure of meeting this eve?”

“I am Carmel.”