Hydrangea craned her neck and strained her eyes to see Bastian. They were being separated. Again.
Her heart pounded as the two warriors continued to pull her struggling self away. She relented. Fighting them would do nothing, and may cause problems for both of them.
They brought her up a flight of dirt stairs at the end of the tunnel and opened a door. She closed her eyes then squinted them open as she was exposed to the afternoon sun peeking through the rain clouds.
After coming through a thin strip of jungle followed by farmland then into a large city her knees were bleeding from being dragged.
The roads were made of colourful red and yellow bricks covered in a layer of mud. The buildings were all pyramids, their sloped sides staggered with steps along the front. They had vibrant grasses and plants growing from pots and planters set on the steps being watered by the rain. Houses were stacked above the pyramids with dripping thatched roofs. At the beginning crawl of the city the houses were much smaller but as she was brought further within the confines of the city the houses grew to be large mansions.
The gardens were what caught her eyes the most, the flowers were so beautiful, their blooms every colour imaginable and species she'd never seen before. Some looked fluffy and others looked sharp. She focused on them and not the citizens watching her like she was lower than the mud staining her skirts.
The two men crossed under a geometrical arch, she was still in between them. A large courtyard was opened up to them. A podium stood in the centre of the grid-like yard. Four large trees with gardens were placed in the corner of the area. Along the left side of the place was a river. Steps led down from the brick courtyard floor and to the shore.
She barely had time to take in the entire place and all the people strolling about, or the blood stains that were being washed by the rain.
By the time they stopped moving she was tired, hurt and drenched with rain. She was being held by one of the men while the other was speaking to a woman in a doorway. Hydrangea hung her head, her hair dripping onto the stone mingling with the blood from her knees.
"Traga alleo.(Bring her in.)" The woman said and Hydrangea was dragged into the mansion.
She peeked through her hair and saw smooth clay floors. Woollen carpets stretched across patches of the smooth surface.
She was dragged through a large, long entryway and then through to a curtained off area. The men dropped her and she caught herself on her hands, wincing at the pain shooting from her knees and her stinging hands.
"Euvou pegar daqui. Sair eir assistir aluta.(I'll take it from here. leave and go attend the fight.)" The woman said and the two men stalked off through the curtains.
"Stand."
Hydrangea looked up at the familiar word and for the first time observed the woman. Her hair was free of restraint and reached her hips, a strange braid was woven at the top of her head. Her clothes were simple and looked comfortable; a below knee skirt with green and gold patterns covered by a yellow striped shirt that reached just below her hips.
"Stand." She repeated impatiently.
Hydrangea grimaced at the idea of standing but did her best to raise herself to her feet. Her legs were sore from being dragged for such a long period of time.
"Take it off." She pulled at her dress and Hydrangea's brows raised tiredly. This felt terribly familiar.
She steeled herself. She would not draw out something that she could do herself and without trouble. Her hands went to her corset and began unlacing it. Her hands moved quickly and she soon had her heavy clothes removed and was standing in her undergarments.
It felt so long ago, she smiled internally at the bittersweet memory. She still felt a small amount of shame. Hannah. The attendant's name had been Hannah, she'd cared for her quite a bit.
"This too." The woman pointed to the fabric wrapping her breasts and the fabric protecting her woman's place. She sighed and did so, the fabric joining the fabrics on the floor. Embarrassment assaulted her for a few moments, but she blinked it away.
The woman scrutinized her and Hydrangea felt her ears burn, praying that her cheeks wouldn't show her discomfort.
"You are bruised." She said, jabbing her upper arm. Hydrangea hissed, she was bruised in many places. "And poisoned."
Hydrangea blinked, "Poisoned?"
"Yes. Ketzalcatl lives in the water." The woman explained.
"Oh." Hydrangea breathed silently. Amaru had warned them of the giant snakes but he hadn't said they were poisonous. She raised her arm and saw the red skin that was turning white in some areas.
The woman grabbed her wrist and observed her arm as well, "Eles deveriam ter trazido vocemais cedo. Porcos tolos.(They should've brought you sooner. Foolish pigs.)" Hydrangea watched her, not understanding her mutterings. "Maseu, vou fazero is quepuder.(But, I'll do what I can.)"
She signalled her to sit on a stool and Hydrangea swallowed and did so.
An hour later she emerged from the house feeling more filthy than she ever had in her life.
Her skin had been scrubbed with aloe, removing the red and replacing it with a sensitive pink. Her hair had been pulled back into a thick braid interwoven with beads and threads starting just above her temples. Her skirt was the same length as the woman's—because of her knees—but she was wearing a much different cut of shirt. A square of fabric was pulled over her head, barely covering her bosom, the point came down to her navel. Her neck was adorned with multiple necklaces of different lengths and her ears were pierced with beads and dangling feathers.
She was all prettied up, and this time not for Bastian. She felt ill and repulsive.
The woman led her out onto the streets, the rain still pouring down. She'd said she was leading her to an arena. She knew there was no hope for escape, she was in an enemy city being led to who knew what kind of fate?
As her sandalled feet walked along the mud covered bricks and the rain pounded the ground, her thoughts returned to her husband. "I love you." Her heart raced and her skin tingled in the way it always did when he touched her. Or even was near her.
"We're here."
She looked up and saw the woman gesturing to a massive pit in the ground, at the centre of which was a muddy field.
"You're friend is inside."
"Bastian?" She asked excitedly.
The woman raised a brow, "I wouldn't be so excited." She said in her rolling Selvan accent.
"Wha-why?" Fear creeping back into her and seizing her heart.
"He's not safe," She put an arm around Hydrangea's shoulders in a way that signalled they were closer than they were. "He's a prisoner, same as you."
"But why am I not down there?" She asked as she was led down rock steps covered by a canopy.
The woman laughed as though she'd made a joke, "Because you're a woman," She leaned down and whispered into her ear, "And the Tlatoani finds women, especially foreign, desirable." She leaned back, her right arm still around her shoulders. With an effortless movement she flicked her hair back, "Besides, it's not so bad. You'll be well taken care of in the harém."
Hydrangea held her breath at the mention of a harem. She was in a harem now? Oh, Bastian, she pleaded. This was so hopeless. There was no way out. She was a prisoner in an enemy's land, and a woman. It only made sense.
She clenched her sweaty hands as they neared a curtain. They were much closer to the floor of the arena, seats carved into the stone were filled with Selvans, all of them cheering at the figures fighting in the mud. Her expression turned pained; the idea of finding death and fighting entertaining was sick.
"Where's Bastian if he's a prisoner as well?"
She raised a brow as she pulled back the patterned curtain, "Men are not wanted, unless it's for the Sun." She gave her a pointed look. Behind the curtain was a room dug into the rock, filled with people dressed in bright fabrics, or none at all. It had a view of the entire fighting field. "Your friend is in there."
Hydrangea's heart stopped as she followed the woman's hand to the arena, where a man was fighting with two Selvan warriors with spears, only armed with a wooden sword.
"Bastian." Her voice came out as a whisper as she watched his mud and blood covered form kill the two warriors. "Bastian."