Touch of Flame

When Malachi came home at night, the lights were dimmed again. The hall was already filled with the scent of sweet jasmine that led him to the parlor where he found Ravina laying near the fireplace on the carpet, with only a pillow below her head.

“Ravina?”

She sat upright, her hair a little messy.

“What are you doing there?” He asked.

“Ah… I just… found it comfortable here,” she replied.

He looked around and found the wine on the table, nearby. She followed his gaze.

“I had a few guests and offered a little wine,” she explained.

He just nodded. She watched him curiously again. “I’ll go to sleep,” he said.

“Do you want some wine?” She asked. “You look like you need it.”

“Then I should probably not have it.”

“A little won’t hurt,” she said reaching for the jar and cups.

Malachi gave in and went to sit with her. She pulled the smaller table from under the large one and placed it between them. Then she served the wine but only poured very little to herself.

“I don’t do well with wine,” she explained.

Malachi just grabbed his cup and took a sip. Perhaps he needed the wine to sleep tonight.

He met Ravina’s probing gaze. “You want to ask something?”

She took a sip from her wine as well and then blinked at the taste. “Oh, this tastes like the one from the party. How do you make your wine?”

“Is it good?” He raised a brow.

She tasted it again and nodded. “It does not taste like this back home.” She focused on drinking it and then looked at the jar.

Malachi smiled and poured her some more. “Don’t worry. I will not take advantage of you.”

She looked at her filled cup and then at him. “You could use some too,” he told her.

She shook her head. “You are supposed to talk. Not me.”

“And why do you need me to talk?”

“You seem to have something to say.”

“I see. You have been doing a lot of studying lately.”

“It is what I do,” she said.

He lifted his cup and drank his wine. Nothing he said would make anything better between them. Ravina waited for him but was again taken by the taste of the wine.

“I don’t even like to talk and even worse is to listen,” she admitted.

“You have problems,” he told her straight.

“I do. Why do you think I got my nickname?”

He watched her throat as she swallowed more of the wine. “I don’t know,” he sighed everting his gaze.

“Do you have a nickname?” She asked and then shook her head. “Oh, right I forgot.”

Terrorizer?

She looked down at the cup in her hand and then drank some more. Malachi frowned. And she said she wasn’t supposed to drink. She already finished her cup and reached for the jar. She poured herself some more.

“Do you want more?” She asked but didn’t wait for a reply. She filled his half-empty cup.

Her eyes became hooded as if she couldn’t hold them open.

“I heard Zoila went home,” she began. “Strange. She didn’t even say goodbye to me.”

“You sound heartbroken,” he teased.

“I mean, she was so fond of me. Even more, than she was of you.” Her speech began to slow down. She was already intoxicated.

“Well, you didn’t seem to mind her at all. Or the fact that I brought her here,” he just wanted to know her thoughts.

“I do mind but what am I supposed to do? I came here on my own and put myself in this situation. ” She shrugged taking a sip. “You were exploring your options which you should. Why would you just accept me when you can find someone who can give you warmth and care like a wife should? I am not the desirable wife. I have never been.”

He just watched her as her eyes became small and she had trouble keeping her head straight for more than a few moments. “I mean… don’t misunderstand me.” She held her hand out and waved no before dropping it. “It might look like I don’t want to become queen. Well, actually deep down I don’t. ” She corrected herself. “BUT I am not completely useless. I would not make a good wife but I would be a better queen, you know.”

She sat up straight, stopping her head from rolling. “I would be a good adviser, good support, I would make sure you look your best as a king and I would present myself in the best way I could as your queen. I would not do anything to bring shame to your name. I would be your spine, as my father used to say about my mother, but I can’t be a wife. It’s just not in me.”

“Why?” He asked.

“Ughh…” she let herself fall on the table, one arm stretched and her head falling on top of it. She startled him. “Where do I begin?”

He waited.

“I just don’t like it,” she mumbled. “It frightens me. Wifely duties. Not only would I give up to do what I love, but I would give myself to someone as well. Let them see me, all of me, and be near me, touch me…”

Malachi wasn’t sure what to make of her words but it seemed like the problem wasn’t just about hating to be touched. She didn’t want people too close to her. She didn’t want to be vulnerable.

“And I am supposed to do the same,” she said it as if it was the hardest thing to do. “Then I would carry and birth children. I don’t even like them or want them. I can barely take care of myself. I don’t want them in this world, growing up in fear with parents that don’t love each other and can not love them either.”

“But you were getting married, to a man you wanted it seemed.”

“That was just luck or bad luck. He is dying anyway.”

Malachi stiffened. Dying? “Then why were you marrying him?” He blurted.

She pushed herself up and looked at him. “I had to marry someone and I chose him because he seemed practical like myself. Then we just happened to get along. The only time…” she shook her head, her eyes glistening. “I let someone in… they had to die.” She chuckled as if she found it absurd.

Malachi frowned disturbed.

“What is the point?” her eyes teared up and she gulped the rest of the wine down. “Finally when you find even a little courage and let someone in… they have to be dying. I am cursed. Even my uncle is dying. Everyone is leaving me.”

She rubbed her forehead, sucking in a sharp breath. She then fisted her hair, leaning against the table with an elbow. “Everyone is leaving,” she whispered, the tears streaming down. His heart clenched.

Her uncle was dying?

“Do you know why they are dying, King Malachi?” She looked up at him. “To protect our people. And I am here, drinking wine with you.”

She pulled herself back to see him clearly. “I am here for my people. I don’t want any crown or to be a wife. I have been trying to convince myself that I can do it.” She waved with her hand, looking like she threw away something.

“Someone told me pretending would make the feelings real which is why I have been avoiding even pretending to like you because if I did like you… what would that make of me?”

Malachi said nothing but he understood her point.

“All the fear and terror I have witnessed, the loss and pain of my people, the sacrifices made, liking you would be like disregarding all of that. Disrespecting all those experiences.”

He nodded looking down. She was right.

“Say something,” she urged.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Defend yourself!” She demanded.

“There is nothing to defend.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Then I must have lost my morals and values.” She said letting her face fall into her hands.

He was confused.

She looked up again. “You know about instinct. Tell me, should I listen to my logic or instinct?”

He really didn’t know. “Use both.”

“I can’t. My conscious mind tells me I should not like being with you. My intuition tells me you are not bad. Maybe it is just me being desperate to ease my guilt so I am trying to find excuses for you or maybe not. What do you say?”

“Don’t try to find excuses for me. Everything you know about me is true.”

She nodded slowly, her lips pressed together in disappointment. She tried to stand up while intoxicated with her injured leg. Malachi hurried to catch her from falling. He picked her up and she put her arm on his shoulder. She leaned on him as he carried her to her room.

“You smell like coffee,” she murmured.