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The Lifted Veil

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White washed marble and stone houses stretched for miles under the hot sun. Statues of Gods and Goddess, man and beast alike decorated the street corners, parks, and building reliefs. They were spattered with sparkling gold or silver details that caught the eye and created dancing lights across ones skin when caught in the line. Green parks with tall trees offered shade from the bright sun, with cool ponds and rivers, little orange and white fish swimming to and fro as they scrambled and splashed for offered scraps of bread. Walkways made of polished stone led to private gazebos in which lovers could seek solace with one another.

Near the middle of the city, waterways offered travel by small boats. Bridges connected streets more often than not there, the water sparkling as it flowed under them. The canals all sourrounded the White Palace. The palace its self was no less grand or spectacular than its surrounding city. Tall white towers with domed tops of bright colors that glistened as if wet. The walls shimmered with the pattern of scales, as if the entire palace were carved from the hide of a pale dragon. Encircling its three courtyards, the palace was a maze of spotless hallways and gilded rooms.

The first of the courtyards was a simple thing. Short bushes and sparse trees, the pathways were decorated with shallow pools to all sides, the statues of heroes and gods sending fountains of water high into the air. It was the King's courtyard, built to his precise directions. The second courtyard was a menagerie. Animals of all breeds, rare beasts and otherwise hard-to-find species sat in gilded cages along these paths. Plants and habitats all crowded together for the wonder of the viewer. The third of the courtyards belonged to the wives and children of the royal family. Flowers of all colors and scents populated the wide walkways there, a maze of high trees and blossoming bushes. At the middle of this courtyard sat a large round gazebo, shading the inhabitants beneath it.

Three children crowded around the man seated on a plush chair low to the ground, a large book on his lap. He wore a small cream-colored wrap around his head to keep off the sun, his deep red hair peeking out from under it in small curls and waves. Eyes the color of the early sunset, a beautiful orange-red, narrowed with the amused smile that he gave the youngest of the three, a small blond. Bracelets jingled as his pale and slender hand reached out to pat that unruly mop of hair. His light-orange vest was open to bare his toned chest, down to the low rim of his baggy, ivory-colored pants. With a soft voice, he spoke again,

“And what happened at the battle of Atutenridge?” He asked. The oldest of the boys, a dark-haired and tanned skinned boy of eleven stood up straight.

“The humans fought the Tengu there. They fought their shape-shifting by painting themselves, and wearing de-tailed clothes.”

“I think you mean detailed.” The redheaded teacher corrected.

“That's right!” Spoke up the second oldest, who looked much like his older brother. “They fought back those crow-demons, and took their fans! Daddy has a Tengu fan!”

“Nuh-uh!” The youngest and oldest said at once.

“Yuh-huh, I saw it! It was thiiiiss big!” He held his scrawny arms out wide, almost falling over in his seat. “It was red, and it had feathers on it!” Both of his brothers were watching him with wide eyes, mouthes open in large O's of awe.

“That's not a Tengu fan.” A new voice joined the group. All eyes turned to the oldest sibling of the royal Juriel family, who was stepping slowly towards the others under the shade. His dark brunette hair was unruly and wild, falling to his shoulders and framing his lightly tanned face. Green eyes shone with mischief as he lifted his thin white shirt, twisting it into his hands to let the breeze cool the sweat on his toned stomach. His dark pants were lose, hanging about his waist casually, his feet bare as the rest of them. At seventeen, his body was swiftly becoming a man's. “But Father does have a real live Tengu.”

“No!” All three children's attentions were drawn to their oldest brother in rapt attention.

“Prince...” The teacher frowned, his voice warning. The youth ignored it.

“It's true! He keeps it in the menagerie, in the farthest, darkest corner. It's a giant beast, like a man eight feet tall! It has great black wings, large as Griffin's! It's nose is hooked like a beak, and its claws are six-inches long, ready to tear little boys who come to close to pieces and devour them!” He pounced, and his brothers screamed. The youngest blond began to cry.

“Prince Ashani!” The teacher's face had become a pale pink across the tops of his youthful cheeks, and he closed the book with a snap. He didn't seem to be a day older than the prince, but his attitude said otherwise. Ashani stopped tickling his brothers to give the redhead an innocent look.

“What's wrong, Teacher?” He asked, wincing as a brother's foot found his stomach. He curled up, groaning as his brothers laughed, piling on top of him.

“Humph. Serves you right...” The man said, frowning even more as his voice trailed off. To the sides, palace guards were moving to and about as if in a hurry. “What...”

“They're looking for the suspicious man that was hanging around here.” The oldest prince explained, untangling his limbs from his brothers. He moved to sit beside the teacher's legs, throwing an arm over them as he rest his head there. The redhead thought nothing of it, his brows still together curiously.

“Suspicious man?” Those lovely eyes moved to the youth's face, one brow raising.

“Yeah. They say he was some kind of fire sidhe. Father's out of his mind trying to find him. Damned little bastard actually burned two men to death—...” He paused as the teacher's hand rose, bangles jingling, to touch the golden choker that he wore. It was thin and polished, the royal family's crest of a rising sun behind a scorpion at the front. His perfect nails traced the symbol. “Oh, no. Don't worry, he knows it wasn't you.” Ashani tried to assure him, giving a smile.

“Of course not...” The redhead swallowed, averting his eyes. Ashani frowned as well, but he fell silent. The younger boys however did not.

“Teacher?” Asked the second oldest. “What's wrong? Are you going to cry?”

“No, Fahdi, I'm...”

“Yurae Effendi!” A stern voice called out, once again drawing all eyes. Marching towards them were three guards in full dress—not simple palace guards. These were the King's private men. Ashani stood up as his brothers scrambled to cower behind him.

“...Yes.” The redheaded teacher stood, setting his book down on the seat that he had just vacated.

“You're to come with us.” One of the tall men reached out to seize his upper arm, jerking him forward.

“Wait!” The oldest prince protested, grabbing the guards wrist. “What's this about? What business does Father have with our teacher? He was in the middle of a lesson!”

“I am not obliged to answer that, Prince Ashani. Please release me so that I may escort him to the royal chamber as I have been ordered.” The man's glare was as cool and cold as ice.

“No! Tell me what--!”

“Prince Ashani, please!” The redhead, Yurae, shouted. His voice shook a little, but it was firm. His eyes bored into the Prince's sternly. “I will go with them.”

“No, first tell me why—Ah!” The prince winced as his hand was pried off of the guards wrist painfully. They jerked their target forward. Pulling his arms behind his back, they tied his wrists with a coarse brown rope. Yurae allowed this without resistance, his eyes straight ahead.

“Brother, were are they taking teacher?”

“Brother, is teacher in trouble? Did he do something bad?”

“Brother, brother, help teacher!”

Ashani's brothers were all worried, the two youngest crying. His fists clenched as he looked down to them, summoning a smile. “Don't worry you three, I'll bring him back.” He said, mussing their hair. His expression changed as soon as he stood, grim and determined as he jogged to catch up with the departing group. “I'm coming with you!”

“That is fine.” The guard that had spoken all along acknowledged. All expressions were equally grim as they made their way through the winding white hallways of the palace, though two hearts were racing furiously. They reached the giant wooden double-doors shortly, two of the guards breaking off to heave them open. The third followed through, leading the redhead with a rough hand. The Prince followed after him.

“What is this? I asked for Yurae, why are you with them Ashani?” Billowed a booming voice from the front of the long hall. At the end of it on a marble dais sat the king on a throne of gilded wood and gold, the seat a plush red. He was a giant of a man, standing 6'4'' at full height. His long raven-black hair hung in waves down his back and over his shoulders, his beard a thin and short trim that accented his square jaw. His coal-dark eyes were stern as they regarded his son, his expression severe. Ashani had never seen his father make such an expression. It made him recall his mother's words, nine years ago.

'That man... he is a demon!' Those words had seemed to alien to him then, recalling his father's always smiling face and large, gentle hands. But his mother had taken her own life not three days later. Ashani steeled his resolve. “I wish to be present.” He stated firmly.

“Very well. Goud.” The King ordered. The guard holding the teacher shoved hard, toppling the youth so that he sprawled face-forward onto the thick carpet.

“Ngh!” Yurae winced, squirming to fold his legs under himself so that he sat on his knees. The wrap on his head slipped off, sending crimson curls cascading over his shoulders. His sunset-eyes glared up at the King.

“With that look, you must know why you're here.” The King stated, his hands clutching the arms of his throne. Yurae only frowned deeper.

“I don't know who it was.” He said firmly.

“Nonsense! There hasn't been a fire sidhe sighted since the Jishad war ended eighteen years ago!” He pounded one fist onto the heavy wooden arm of the throne. “You know who that man is and you will tell me!”

“I said I don't know!” Yurae shouted back, fists clenched tightly behind his back. “This is ridiculous!”

“Goud, Ward, Thyms.” The King said quietly, his expression unchanging. The three elite moved forward, two of them each grabbing one of the teacher's shoulders and folding him over. He craned his neck to keep his line of sight even with the king's, eyes blazing as his hands were seized by Goud, who held something small in his other hand.

“Sire, I do not know who—” Those beautiful eyes widened considerably. “Auh—auuugh!” The scream was piercing and raw, shocking Ashani who couldn't clearly see what had just occurred.

“Father!” He shouted, stepping forward once, hand outstretched uselessly. “Father, please tell me what this is about! There's no way Yurae effendi has anything to do with this other man!” The redhead was groaning lowly, and it made his stomach sick to the core.

“Ashani...” the King sighed. “You really know nothing of this. Please, stay silent son.”

“But I know him! He would never harm this family—!”

“I said be silent!” The King roared now, standing from his throne. Ashani's green eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. His lips moved, but he couldn't seem to form the words he wanted to.

“Damn it, Sire!” Yurae's voice rose suddenly. “I do not know who he is! Why would I lie to—!” His breath was stolen again, and it ended in an ear-shattering scream. His face fell forward then, forehead pressed to the carpet as he screamed again, his fury and agony muffled by it only slightly. Ashani paled when he saw something fall this time—something small and pale, and red. A... a fingernail?!

“Father!” Ashani cried, tears rising to his eyes. It was like a scene out of his worst nightmare. His kind father was behaving like a heartless demon, and to the very man that had consoled him and taught him everything he ever wanted to know after his mother's death!

“Enough! Sahid, Hajin!” Two more men came through the side doors then, and at the King's direction they took hold of the Prince.

“What are—no, Father!” His protests went unheard as the King began to descend the dais. He stopped just before the redhead, having no reaction to the mewls of pain floating up from the floor. Ward and Thyms lifted the teacher so that he could look up again. His body was racked with panting now, red ringlets of hair stuck to the sides of his pale face with sweat, tears slipping from his eyes. His lower lip trembled as he fought to speak, his voice hoarse,

“Sire...” He whispered, eyes narrow and burning with a fury and fear that Ashani had never seen before. Why was this all happening like this? What had gone wrong!

“You still do not wish to tell me who your friend is?” The King asked coldly.

“I cannot tell you what ...I do not... know.” Yurae shook his head slowly.

“So be it. Take him to the dungeon! I want him put through the Water Barrel for the next four hours!” The King's voice was booming once again, and the redhead looked as if he had just been given the death sentence. Ashani's eyes widened just as much as Yurae's, though he couldn't even find the breath to speak. Yurae on the other hand became animate. He lept to his feet quicker than the guards could catch him. Though his face was good ten inches below the King's, he tried to get as close as possible.

“Sire, please! Listen to me—stop this!” He writhed in the hands of the two men that grabbed his arms, pulling him backwards. Bare feet skidded on the carpet as he fought in vain to stop from moving. “Sire, no! You know that I am—ngh—innocent! I know nothing!” His cries became higher, more desperate. “Sire! Master! Master, don't do this! P-please! Master! ... Mahdi! MAHDI!” The heavy door closed, and the King looked as composed as if he had just had the most pleasant of conversations with an old friend. The men holding the Prince released him, and he slid to his knees slowly, eyes on the trail of blood that led away from those two perfect nails laying on the carpet. Yurae had called his father by his first name at the end...

“F...father...” He spoke slowly. The dark-haired man glanced over to him with uninterested eyes. Ashani swallowed hard. “F-for a fire sidhe... Even a sealed one... Water...”

“I know, son. Fire sidhe are extremely frightened of water. To the point of pure phobia. It was a key factor in the war years ago, and the reason I choose to be sourrounded by water now. But it won't kill him.” He smirked, turning his back and heading towards the doors behind his throne.

“But, Father... Yurae...” Ashani stood, moving to follow him. A stern glare stopped him.

“That spineless devil is not who you think he is, Ashani! You must never be charmed by the sidhe! That is a rule of life! We would not be here today if we let every fae creature walk all over us! Our forefathers did not abolish all beings of glamor just so that we could be seduced by their pretty little faces and bodies! Their pretty words and pleading voices! That damned thing knows who this person is who has already killed two of my men! What am I supposed to do, son? Eh?” He turned to tilt the Prince's chin up. “Wait until they come after you? Maybe your brothers? This is what a King must do, Ashani! ...Do not interfere.” He ordered in a clipped tone. With that, he left the room along with the guards.

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Notes: Effendi is a title for the master of a profession. Teacher, doctor, mason. Think of Japanese suffix's like '-sensei'. A sidhe is a type a fae/faery/fay, and it's pronounced as 'she'.