Page 18 of The Tenth Muse

Not just any fig tree.

My tree.

A sour stone dropped into my stomach, acid rising up my still raw throat.

“They worked tirelessly to get it prepared for you.”

My feet skidded against the tiled floor until they bumped into a chopped root embedded into the tree’s gilded base. The crevices and veins of the bark were marbled in streaks of blue and gold and the few figs shimmered down at me, coated in glitter. So plump and juicy, forever held in time, unable to be savored.

The Emperor’s proud voice vibrated off the glass walls. Benches and other painted plants in gilded pots lined the space surrounding the new tree at its center. “Want a grove of trees, your own forest? I will build you one within these walls. Whatever you wish.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” My voice was still frail from the canthymn, the faintrap, rap, rapconstant beneath the stuttering of my own heartbeat.

He came around and cradled my chin to face him. “Say you’ll stay.”

We both knew it wasn’t a question.

I couldn’t get out the words, only nodded in agreement, swallowing down my sobs until the door closed behind him for the night.

four

. . .

Three moon cycles passed,each one seemingly longer than the last.

I was starting to forget the familiar scents of fresh grass, leaves after evening rain, and earthy sediment. The Caprificus Forest was my home, but I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see it again. I curled up in my tree, admiring a lush fig hanging down. It taunted me, deliciously appetizing, but missing its sweet ripe scent. My stomach rumbled, mouth watering as I stared at it longingly. The instinct to reach up and pluck the deep purpled fruit was so strong that, before I knew what I was doing, I clutched it in my palm.

Thick chunks of glitter scraped against my skin, shiny and abrasive. I retracted my grasp, watching it plummet and roll across the floor.

A throat clearing tore my attention away from the lifeless fig to the room’s entrance.

“Dear splendor, the Emperor wishes to see you.”

I nodded, climbing down the tree, slipping the last bit of the way since there was no rough bark to give purchase.

Baubles hung around my forehead, neck, wrists, and hips. They clanged with each step out of the room and into the grand hall.

The detailed murals were blurs now. I no longer admired them one by one. They’d all been memorized after just a few sunrises here, when restlessness had pulled me out of the greenhouse. The fig tree didn’t comfort me like it had back in the forest. My former home no longer vibrated with life. With growth.

I didn’t hold it against the Emperor, though. He’d never lived among nature, staying in the palace had made that clear to me. He’d truly believed he’d treated me as his honored guest, throwing lavish parties to celebrate me every night. Monarchs and diplomats traveled across the lands to hear my melodies, to bring gifts, and donations of thanks for witnessing a splendor’s rarity. It was overwhelming being surrounded by people all the time, but every time I wanted to cower away from it I remembered how lonely I’d been in the forest.

While I missed it, there was no reason to go back. No one waited for me. The nymphs that sometimes frolicked in for a visit now that I was grown would no doubt see it as a good thing the next time they went to drop a basket. Maybe they never even came back to know I was gone. Not that I’d ever find out.

This was my shelter now. A place where I was provided for. I should have been happy. Grateful.

Every day I was brought plump figs drizzled in honey or stuffed with goat cheese, and piles of bread that wafted with steam fresh from the kitchen. The baubles that swayed with my hips when I walked glittered golden with navy gems that winked at all who passed. A ring of flowers from admiring guests were left at the base of my tree each day, sometimes becoming thick floral stacks until the scent of their wilting was cause enough for the servants to come and whisk them away.

It was a strange existence, but it was better than solitude.

The fact that we hadn’t turned off toward the wing of the palace with their bedchambers was a good sign. The King was not in need of another song. Last week I’d been summoned urgently to perform my canthymn once again. My throat had burned for two days afterward, scraped raw by the time I’d finished my nightly entertainment following another lavish dinner in my honor. I had been exhausted but people had traveled from other territories to hear my voice, and the Emperor had done so much for me. Weariness was a small price to pay.

The doors to the throne room opened and we passed the gilded pillars, the rippling of feathered fans, and found ourselves before the Emperor and Empress. Beside them was a man I recognized from the nightly banquets, but I could not remember his name. He had dark colored spectacles, a long lilac beard and bushy brows that were so thick they appeared to float off his forehead.

Around the outskirts of the room, courtiers stood in their usual clusters, murmuring and pointing at the man and the dark blue drape that hung over what looked like a small, tapered shape set atop a pedestal.

“Go ahead, Councilman Garaut, I have gathered everyone here to share your latest triumph.”

“Oh great Emperor. I have worked day and night for weeks to bring you this gift. An invention to emulate the greatness you have brought our empire as its ruler. Something to last you the next hundred turnings.”

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