Lingering Scents

Sahri stopped on the palace steps and scowled up at the walls which soft sand in dawn’s light. She’d spent a blissful month absent and didn’t relish the desperate summons which had drawn her back.

Her fingers ran over the silk scarf looped into her belt. The cloth hissed as she pulled it free and wrapped it about her mouth and nose. The guards lining the stairs didn’t stir when she passed until two pulled open the doors for her.

The scent of lavender was overwhelming. Sahri loathed the smell her scarf could not completely block. The scent of her childhood. Those within the palace certainly bore less protection and wheeled about in euphoric chaos.

Sahri ducked away with practiced ease. Her feet quickly covering the distance to the grand chamber, and she slipped within.

The little prince, Tahren, lazed in his throne. His head lulled as he turned to her. “Sahri,” he slurred, “come to join the fun?”

She shook her head approaching the throne. “No, brother.” She stopped beside him and scowled at the bottle he cradled on his lap. “Not to join.” Snatching it away from him, Sahri ducked away when he swiped at her lazily, glass glinted within his loose fist.

“That is mine!” Tahren wailed.

Sahri shook her head. “We have talked before about indulging in our cursed mother’s scents.” Glowering, Sahri didn’t know which vexed her more. Her brother still clutching the stopper, or mother’s enchantments whose bewitchments had brought her the throne.