25 Moods ~ Empress Shizaaqa
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yrae
Title~ 25 Moods ~ Empress Shizaaqa
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All characters and places are mine~ as are the snippets
Notes~ These are the same 25 moods I wrote with Nol a few months ago. In working on Shizaaqa's character, I thought it might be a nice idea to do them for her, too. It was... a challenge, to say the least, but well worth it. I definitely have a much better handle on how the Kazinian Empress operates now, as well as her empire.
Admittedly, some of them are a little flimsy and most degenerate into anger, but it feels to me like a more natural progression. I've tried to show every current aspect of her life and the people she interacts with: each of her four children, her partner, random politicians both Kazinian and foreign and her palace staff. All taken from the very recent past, no more than five years ago, except for Despondent.
~ ~ ~
Shizaaqa closed her eyes as she stepped into the aviary, then stood silent as the wire door closed behind her. As beautiful as the musicians inside the palace walls were, as accurately as they imitated the birds of Kazin’s rainforest, not even the best of them could compare to the real creatures.
The empress could identify them all. She had, after all, selected many of the creatures for their songs, not merely their magnificent plumage. The piercing, joyful tune of a grey whistler shone out overhead, backed by almost the almost guttural ‘te-ar’ of a regent bowerbird. A superb fruit dove took up its deep, resonant ‘oom’ calls, sending a pleasant shiver along Shizaaqa’s neck and over her scalp.
Opening her eyes to watch the stunning jewels of colour flitting through the dark foliage, the empress smiled.
Shizaaqa was reading through the Silronan queen’s latest plea for money when there was a knock on the door. The empress gladly laid the letter on her table as she called for whoever it was to enter.
It was her handmaiden, a darling little thing who always reminded Shizaaqa of a topknot pigeon with her barely-controlled fuzzy ponytail and habit of sniffing when she thought the empress wasn’t watching.
Iis bowed curtly and Shizaaqa nodded to permit her to speak.
‘Empress,’ she began, fear and sadness in her voice. Shizaaqa’s eyes grew harder as the girl continued. ‘The mistress Kesani has been slain.’
‘How?’ the empress demanded, quelling the slight chill in her chest before it spread any further.
There was a snap of fear in the handmaiden’s eyes. ‘I have not been given any further details, Empress. I came as soon as I—’
‘Then find some,’ Shizaaqa snapped, bearing her teeth just slightly.
Iis bowed again and excused herself rather rapidly.
Shizaaqa laced the tips of her fingers together and looked down at the glistening green nails. Kesani had been the palace’s finest musician for nearly a decade, and one of the few who knew just what the empress wished to listen to at any given time. Her music would be missed.
Not feeling guilty so much as technically guilty, in an opposite-of-innocent sense. Shizaaqa never actually feels guilty. Always someone else's fault.
The door opened to admit Shizaaqa’s handmaiden and a tall woman with neat, dark hair.
‘Chief Investigator Kelah, as requested,’ Iis introduced, then slipped back outside.
Shizaaqa smoothly crossed one leg over the other as she gestured to the chair opposite her. She tapped one bright red nail on the table, scrutinising the Chief Investigator as she crossed the room.
Kelah smoothed her batik skirt over her knees as she sat down, a nervous motion judging by the way her fingers quivered as she clasped them in her lap. ‘Empress, I—’
‘I don’t want to hear excuses,’ the empress seethed. ‘For eight months, your team has been examining Investigator Shima’s activities, and you found her to be guilty of high treason. A spy working for Raykin’s king.’
‘Yes, Empress, but—’
‘Enough.’ Shizaaqa’s tone grew more threatening, though her voice grew no louder. ‘I allowed you this much time to look into her affairs because Investigator Shima has been a long-serving and trusted member of my team, and I would not lose her dedication lightly. Your report this morning, not three days after I ordered Investigator Shima’s execution, claims her innocence.’
She fell silent, staring at the almost-squirming Chief of Investigators sitting opposite her. Kelah knew she was on thin ice, as well she should have done three days ago.
‘Two black horses are waiting outside,’ Shizaaqa informed her. ‘They will escort you to the executioner’s block.’
‘But Empress! She was—’
‘Chief Investigator, you are dismissed.’
Empress Shizaaqa took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose, not to still her anger but in an expression of it. Her jaw tightened and she dipped her head just slightly so she needn’t crease her brow to lower it. One nail tapped against the mahogany of her desk, then in one sinuous movement she flowed to her feet.
The room fell obediently silent, and Shizaaqa allowed it to hang in the air for a few moments before speaking.
‘Gentlemen,’ she hissed, using the term as an insult. ‘You are completely missing the point. I will be the one to lay blame. As far as you are concerned, the criminal is your only concern. As I see it, you are all equally guilty of allowing his escape.’
She locked eyes with each man seated around the table. Some looked guiltily away, others looked as though they wished to challenge her accusation but wisely remained silent.
‘I don’t care how far out of Assiraz you believe him to be, I want him locked up.’ She lowered herself back into her seat, one arm on each of the arm rests as she crossed her legs. ‘Do not try to pander the blame onto anyone else. You are all responsible.’
‘You called for me, Empress?’
Shizaaqa nodded offhandedly as she set the transport minister’s report on her desk, then laced her fingers over her knee. ‘I did.’
The transport minister visibly relaxed, but only slightly. The empress was not tapping a nail on the woodwork. Yet.
‘In your latest report, you recommended that money be set aside for refurbishing the roads in the northern quadrant of the city.’
The transport minister nodded. ‘That’s correct, Empress.’
‘Why?’
The woman, at least ten years Shizaaqa’s senior, crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands in her lap. Her eyes flicked to the report on the empress’s desk, a hint of irritation in her eyes. Apparently she thought she had been clear enough with her reasoning in that report. ‘Empress, we are only at the very beginning of the monsoon season, and there really are no roads in the northern quadrant, only mud baths.’
‘Yes, I read that much,’ Shizaaqa said with thin lips. ‘Why do they need refurbishment?’
The minister almost frowned. ‘Because there is nothing left of them, Empress.’
The empress shook her head just slightly, her curls brushing against her shoulders, then spoke slowly and very clearly. ‘I don’t think you quite understand what I’m asking. Why do I need to refurbish their roads? Does the northern quadrant ever see wagons that would get caught in mud?’
The minister’s eyes dropped. ‘No, Empress.’
‘Do those living in the northern quadrant wear finery that would be ruined in mud?’
The woman’s mouth hardened, and Shizaaqa could almost hear the suppressed sigh. ‘No, Empress.’
‘Is the quality of the northern quadrant’s roads worth the gold you’re asking me to set aside for them?’
‘No, Empress.’
A dark smile graced Shizaaqa’s lips as she passed the report back across the desk. ‘Review that and present it again tomorrow morning.’
The minister nodded and stood stiffly as she took the paper. ‘Yes, empress,’ she muttered.
Shizaaqa’s eyes snapped open at the sound of her door opening. Her handmaiden stood there with one hand on the handle. She was a brave creature, Shizaaqa had to give her that much.
‘Forgive me for intruding, Empress,’ she said timidly. ‘The Raykinian king is waiting for your attendance outside your office.’
Shizaaqa glared at the handmaiden, fully aware that it was more of a tired look than any genuine aggression. ‘I did not sleep last night, Iis. I’m tired.’
‘What should I tell the king, Empress? He’s been waiting for an hour.’
The empress groaned and closed her eyes, rearranging her pillow more comfortably. ‘Tell him he’s in my empire now, and if he has any intention of leaving it, he’ll wait until I feel like being slightly more civil with him before holding a meeting.’
I couldn't resist. She had to say it somewhere.
‘You’re not old enough,’ Misbah, Shizaaqa’s partner was telling their eldest son. ‘I wasn’t a Lieutenant until I was nearly thirty.’
‘Father, I’ll be an old man by then!’ Sahid protested. ‘Times have changed since you were climbing the ranks.’
The General shook his head sternly. ‘Not that much, they haven’t.’
A clatter of glass against silver was the only warning Shizaaqa had before her cocktail landed in a creamy pink puddle in her lap.
The young princess was the first to recover from the shock. ‘You imbecile!’ Assili yelled in her high-pitched young voice as the waiter hurriedly made himself scarce.
Shizaaqa stood slowly, quivering with rage as servants began dabbing at her sarong, legs and chair with towels. ‘Off with his head!’ she screeched.
‘Shizaaqa,’ King Mithé said with infuriating calm. ‘I am not leaving this room, let alone your empire, until I’m happy.’
‘I know,’ Shizaaqa returned through tight lips. ‘However, when you’re happy, I rarely am.’
Mithé shrugged. ‘Not my issue. I want you to take more control of your empire. Maybe the state taxes work in some states, but certainly not in Silrona. Queen Shala barely has enough money to pay them, let alone her own army.’
‘That is hardly my concern,’ Shizaaqa told him, her vowels more clipped than normal. ‘Silrona receives more taxes from its Houses than any other state in the empire, therefore Queen Shala pays more to Assiraz.’
Mithé clasped his hands over his disgustingly ample stomach. ‘Silrona also has the largest army outside Assiraz. Why is there not enough left over to pay them?’
‘Mithé,’ the empress said, her voice icy. ‘Stop telling me how to run my empire. If you feel as strongly about this as you say you do, then you’ll back your feelings with more than just words.’
The foreign king folded his arms, unfazed. ‘You mean with steel.’
‘I mean with gold, Mithé.’
‘Synia, Head of Intelligence,’ Iis introduced, then bowed and left as the clean cut woman stepped into the room.
‘Frangipani,’ the head of intelligence said with a dip of her head.
‘Fern,’ Shizaaqa returned, gesturing to the chair opposite. ‘You said it was urgent?’
Fern nodded and took a deep breath. ‘We’ve received word from Sinazi, and I felt you should be told personally. Their queen has been killed.’
The empress’s emerald eyes hardened, but she knew there was more to it than that. Queens had been killed before, and she’d learned of their deaths through letters. ‘Go on.’
Fern took another deep breath. ‘She was killed by an arrow tipped with sea snake venom. I’m unsure if you’re aware of this, but that’s Hibiscus’s method of killing.’
Shizaaqa’s eyes widened for a moment before she narrowed them and tapped a lacquered nail against her desk. ‘Send Flannel Flower down there. I don’t care how much you offer her, I want Hibiscus eliminated.’
Fern nodded. ‘Of course, Frangipani.’
This would almost be cute if they weren't so damn evil.
The door clicked closed behind the disappearing health minister, but the meeting was not yet finished.
Princess Assili stood from her chair behind Shizaaqa’s desk, then rounded it to stand beside the chair the minister had been sitting in, hands clasped behind her back as she awaited her mother’s verdict.
Shizaaqa nodded slowly as she stepped forwards. ‘I’m impressed,’ she told the twelve-year-old. ‘You saw early on that Minister Sresha was watching me, and made her realise that you were the one to listen to. You remind me of myself when I was around your age.’
Assili dipped her head in gratitude, but she didn’t smile. ‘Thank you, Mother. I only hope I can live up to your legacy.’
‘Continue as you are, child, and you may very well exceed them.’
Shizaaqa yawned delicately into the back of her hand as she retired to her bed chamber for the night. Before she was able to sit at her dresser and begin removing her jewellery, she caught a brief movement out of the corner of her eye.
On the corner of her bed sat a large black spider, its legs long enough to span her palm. It crept silently over the satin sheets towards her pillow, each awkward step looking as though it was going to step on its own feet.
Shizaaqa turned away from her dresser and back towards the door. Iis wouldn’t have gone far down the hallway outside yet.
‘Iis,’ the empress called through the wood, watching as the spider froze at the sharp sound of her voice.
Sure enough, the handmaiden appeared at the door in a few moments. ‘Yes, Empress?’
Shizaaqa nodded towards her bed, making Iis squeal and cover her mouth. ‘My deepest apologies, Empress,’ she murmured, hands clasped under her chin. ‘I’m not terribly fond of spiders.’
‘Kill it,’ the empress ordered, ignoring her handmaiden’s apologies, ‘and bring me new bedding.’
It had been a good death. Good, strong and honourable, and Shizaaqa would make certain that the empire knew it.
A disease that would have killed anyone in a month had Empress Yasina fighting for almost a full year. Only a fool could say she had been a frail old lady for the duration. Yasina’s mind had been as sharp as when she had been healthy, and she never allowed her weakness to show. She never once gave into it, and even her own advisory panel had no idea until two months ago.
Only Shizaaqa and the healers had known how long Yasina had been battling this illness, but the new empress did not intend for it to remain as such for long. She would let the empire know exactly how strong her mother’s death had been.
The portrait artist cleared his throat as he watched the empress, spread out as she was on the sofa. His eyes seemed to spend more time examining Shizaaqa’s curves as the canvas he painted. ‘Are you feeling uncomfortable, Empress?’ he asked, his voice slightly choked. ‘We could take a break if you so wish.’
The empress smiled and dropped her head in a smooth nod as she sat up straight, feet back on the marble floor. She rolled her head stiffly and drew herself to her feet, floating across the floor to the artist and his work.
‘This is how you see me,’ Shizaaqa murmured, running her eyes critically over the unfinished painting.
‘Yes, Empress. Well, it will be. You see the shadows need more work, and I’d like to shine some more light on your face. And I’ll paint on clothes, of course,’ he added as a hurried afterthought.
Shizaaqa turned her eye on him, one eyebrow raised, and lowered her voice. ‘Of course,’ she agreed, walking around behind him and holding her lips close to his ear. ‘But is that what you really want to do?’
‘Lieutenant Renzan,’ Shizaaqa said tersely. ‘I hope you realise why I have called you in here.’
The Lieutenant bowed deeply before clasping his hands behind him. ‘I’m afraid I don’t, Empress.’
The empress’s eyes narrowed. ‘My son tells me he made a suggestion to yesterday morning,’ she reminded him. ‘Do you remember how you responded to this suggestion?’
Lieutenant Renzan frowned and shook his head. ‘What was the suggestion, Empress?’
Shizaaqa turned to the young prince standing by her desk. ‘He brushed me off before I was able to make it,’ Shoaib said, his vowels just as clipped as his mother’s.
The empress snapped her head back to the Lieutenant. ‘You brushed off the prince of Kazin before he had even made a suggestion. Do you hold this much value in my opinions, Lieutenant Renzan?’
Renzan bowed his head respectfully. ‘Your opinions are orders, Empress.’
‘Then why are my son’s so worthless that you won’t even listen to them?’
‘He’s a child, Empress.’
Shizaaqa’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s my child,’ she said darkly. ‘He receives more training from his father and grandfather than you ever could have, as evidenced by your etiquette and distain towards your superiors.’
The Lieutenant bowed again, probably to hide a grimace on his face. ‘My apologies, Empress.’
‘Apologies will not save you, Lieutenant. You are hereby relinquished of your position. The two black horses outside will escort you to the dungeons. I suggest you learn respect while you are down there.’
Shizaaqa doesn't do silly, so here are some birds being silly for her.
Shizaaqa was alone in the aviary, sitting on a carved sandstone bench as she watched half a dozen brilliantly coloured lorikeets. They were flapping around in the shallow pool of water, making bright, bubbly noises as they splashed water like drops of diamonds into the air.
At the base of a large tree, a glossy black bird of paradise with an almost skirt-like pair of wings danced to attract a mate. It spun and tottered around on tiny legs, four long and delicate feathers bouncing on its head. An impressive performance, Shizaaqa thought, if only there were a female of his species to watch.
Almost as if he had heard her, the bird pulled its wings in and shrieked loudly, causing all but one of the lorikeets to flutter off.
The last continued to play in the shallow pool for a few moments, then paused, looked around, realised it had been left alone and disappeared into the trees.
Shizaaqa folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at the bird of paradise. ‘Congratulations,’ she told it.
Shizaaqa laced her fingers together and rested her elbows on the arms of her throne.
‘I am unimpressed,’ she said, loud enough for her brother to hear her and perhaps the sharpest ears of the performers. ‘You were always the one to enjoy plays, Rezzi, not me.’
Commander Rezzi sat beside her on a smaller, less impressive throne. ‘Give them time, Shizaaqa. They’ve only been performing for a minute.’
‘Yes, and already I know the story,’ his sister replied tersely. ‘The woman will do wrong and be cast out of her village, and somehow she’ll die to save the village, thereby meeting the gods and progressing to the afterlife. All plays are the same, Rezzi, this is why they bore me.’
He shook his head. ‘Not this one. This group is branching out. They use music.’
Shizaaqa cast a sidelong glance at the Commander. ‘I’m not blind, Rezzi. I can see their instruments.’ She turned back to the performers, lips narrow.
‘Give them time,’ her brother said again.
‘Very well, but the second that woman,’ she said nodding towards the leading lady, ‘starts begging to the villagers not to be exiled, they will be dismissed.’
Shizaaqa took one look at the plate as it appeared in front of her, then glared up at the waitress. ‘What is this?’ she demanded crisply.
The waitress bowed deeply before answering. ‘Nira fillet with grilled onion and figs in a garlic—’
‘Nira?’ Shizaaqa hissed. ‘I specified river cod. Take this back to the kitchens and ask the chef if he thought maybe I wouldn’t notice the difference, then have him cook the meal I specified.’
‘Yes, Empress,’ the waitress answered obediently. ‘He thought the Raykinians—’
‘Do the Raykinians pay his wages?’ Shizaaqa interrupted. How dare she talk back to the empress! ‘Do they ensure he stays employed? Can they have his fingers broken if he disobeys them? Or yours?’
‘No, sorry, Empress.’
‘You will not try to contradict me,’ Shizaaqa seethed. ‘I’ll see both of you in my office after the meal—river cod, as specified—has reached its conclusion. Until then, I want no further acts of insubordination.’
Shizaaqa tossed her hair over her shoulder as she strode from her bed chamber, chin held high and her full regalia of feathers and Colours fluttering behind her. The solid clack of her heels against the marble echoed down the long corridor, lined with magnificent displays that Shizaaqa all but ignored. She had more important things in mind.
The Raykinian king and his ilk had been tainting her palace and her empire for nearly a month now. A month far too long, as far as the empress was concerned. If the king was so fond of dealing in words, Empress Shizaaqa would give him some words that would give him no room to think about them, let alone formulate another high and mighty speech to tell her why she was wrong.
Kazin was her empire, and by the time the day was through, that fat king of a dustbowl would realise just how unwelcome he was here.
Shizaaqa’s eyebrows lifted as her second son walked out onto the balcony. ‘Kanera, what happened?’
The prince’s arm was in a sling and he scratched the back of his neck with the other.
‘I fell off my horse,’ he explained, cringing either in memory or in preparation of what he must have known was coming.
‘You what?’ Shizaaqa asked darkly. ‘What kind of a warrior do you hope to make? One so weak he doesn’t even own a horse?’
‘No, Mother, he reared up and tried to bolt.’
‘He?’ the empress clarified. ‘Are you still riding the same stallion I told you to either geld or exchange a year ago? I warned you this would happen, Kanera. You told me you were strong enough to handle him.’
Kanera shrugged, an action he instantly regretted as he winced and held his good hand up to his shoulder. ‘I was wrong, Mother. I’ll have him gelded tomorrow.’
Shizaaqa’s eyes narrowed as she inspected his sling, then she rested back in her chair, cocktail in hand. ‘See that you do.’
She doesn't do despondent, either. If something's not going her way, she will MAKE it go her way, thank you very much. Hence this is winding the clock back a bit. 15 years to be exact.
Shizaaqa lay panting and bloodied on the bed, one hand to her brow in exhausted relief. She hated having to go through this. It wasn’t a posture suited to an empress. She could only pray that she wouldn’t have to bear the pain again.
‘It’s a boy, Empress,’ the midwife told her in a small, almost pitying voice.
Shizaaqa’s eyes clenched tightly closed at the sound of yet another son’s piercing squalls. Nine months for another boy. Her third. She had to produce an heir, and she was running out of time and energy.
‘Leave me,’ she told the midwife, moving her hand from her brow to cover her eyes. ‘I want to be alone.’
She took deep, controlled breaths as the midwife and assembled healers left the room with her child. A few moments after the door had clicked shut, she took one last, deep breath and let it out in a long, anguished scream.
She's never been drunk in her life, so here's her son being drunk instead.
Shizaaqa raised an eyebrow as her eldest son sat down on the sofa beside his brother with a satisfied sigh.
‘I see you’ve already had your cocktail hour, Sahid,’ she said tartly, then took a delicate sip of her favourite cocoa liqueur.
The prince paused halfway through making himself comfortable. ‘I haven’t.’
Shizaaqa lifted a finger from her brandy balloon in reproach. ‘Don’t lie to me, Sahid. You smell of it.’
‘I smell of lying?’ He almost looked worried, as though he believed his mother could smell a lie.
‘You smell of liquor.’
Sahid’s three younger siblings all passed their drinks to their lips at once, and Shizaaqa suspected them to be hiding grins behind their glasses.
‘Go wash and change,’ Shizaaqa told him. ‘I don’t mind you drinking with others in the army, but you will return here with your mind fit. Understood?’
Sahid stood and bowed to her. ‘Yes, Mother. It won’t happen again.’
The loud voices had been echoing down the corridor for a few minutes now, and just as Shizaaqa was about ready to send for someone to break up the fight, there was a loud crash that would have been deafening in whatever room it had come from.
The empress sprang to her feet in the dead silence that followed, then the yelling started up again as she exploded into the hallway. She could hear that the voices were in the luncheon dining room, and her fury only rose. There were a few objects in that room that could have made such a crash, and Shizaaqa would swear death if any of them were broken.
Sure enough, shards of crystal were scattered over the floor like a thousand diamonds. Once, it had been a stunning vase shaped like a peacock, a gift from Misbah at the birth of their first child, twenty years ago. It had displayed dozens of golden and ruby peacock feathers, more spectacular than the largest jewel could ever be, but several of the feathers were snapped now.
Standing over it were two palace servants who Shizaaqa wouldn’t have even recognised at the best of times, but their faces would be burnt into her mind for a long time to come, now. They fell silent again as soon as certain death descended on the room.
‘TORTURE CHAMBER!’ the empress screeched. ‘NOW! And may Ulzaq torture you for eternity in the afterlife!’
‘Good afternoon, Prince Nolryn,’ Shizaaqa welcomed, her voice silky as the foreign prince gave her a short bow. ‘How you’ve grown since I saw you last.’
Prince Nolryn stiffened as he straightened and held her eyes in a glare reminiscent of his father’s. He wasn’t yet strong enough to hold it, though. ‘I’d hope tho,’ he returned, making Shizaaqa blink briefly in mild confusion. Was he speaking his own tongue or a bastardised version of hers?
‘I’ve hardly come all thith way to trade pleathentrieth, Thithaaqa,’ he went on.
By the gods, Shizaaqa thought, it is Kazinian.
‘I’ve come becoth we have rethieved word that you have—’
‘Stop,’ Shizaaqa interrupted, holding up one hand. ‘You’re tainting my language and embarrassing yourself. Stay within the bounds of your own tongue, Prince Nolryn, you’ll be easier to understand.’
Shizaaqa lifted her nose and flared her nostrils just slightly as she sniffed the air. Her brow creased and she lowered her head again. ‘What is that smell?’ she demanded.
Assili crinkled her nose as well. ‘It smells like raw sewage.’
‘Or the Northern Quadrant,’ Sahid added, holding one hand over his nose.
‘You say that as though you’re familiar with the area,’ Shizaaqa mused.
Sahid coughed and shook his head. ‘Mother, please.’ He glanced off into the trees of the palace garden. ‘There must be a northerly breeze, however faint.’
Shizaaqa closed her eyes, trying not to cough as well. The stench was getting stronger. ‘We’ll take cocktails on the southern balcony this evening, children. This balcony is filth.’
The door squeaked as it swung open, causing Shizaaqa’s eyes to flare and glared daggers at whoever had opened it.
‘Iis, I told you clearly that I wanted no interruptions.’
The handmaiden bowed before wheeling a small tray table into the empress’s bed chamber.
‘I know, Empress, but I have something that should make you feel better.’
Shizaaqa eyed the table’s contents—a teapot, cup and saucer with a selection of fruit and biscuits—and blinked disdainfully at it. ‘Iis, do you remember when I last tried to stomach anything from the kitchens?’
Iis nodded. ‘Yes, Empress, but this has come with recommendations of the healers. The tea especially is supposed to be very medicinal.’
The empress’s eyes flicked up to her handmaiden’s. ‘Did the kitchens have a hand in making it?’
‘Yes, Empress.’
‘Take it away and have the healers prepare it. I will not risk further illness until the chef is replaced.’
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All characters and places are mine~ as are the snippets
Notes~ These are the same 25 moods I wrote with Nol a few months ago. In working on Shizaaqa's character, I thought it might be a nice idea to do them for her, too. It was... a challenge, to say the least, but well worth it. I definitely have a much better handle on how the Kazinian Empress operates now, as well as her empire.
Admittedly, some of them are a little flimsy and most degenerate into anger, but it feels to me like a more natural progression. I've tried to show every current aspect of her life and the people she interacts with: each of her four children, her partner, random politicians both Kazinian and foreign and her palace staff. All taken from the very recent past, no more than five years ago, except for Despondent.
1. Happy
Shizaaqa closed her eyes as she stepped into the aviary, then stood silent as the wire door closed behind her. As beautiful as the musicians inside the palace walls were, as accurately as they imitated the birds of Kazin’s rainforest, not even the best of them could compare to the real creatures.
The empress could identify them all. She had, after all, selected many of the creatures for their songs, not merely their magnificent plumage. The piercing, joyful tune of a grey whistler shone out overhead, backed by almost the almost guttural ‘te-ar’ of a regent bowerbird. A superb fruit dove took up its deep, resonant ‘oom’ calls, sending a pleasant shiver along Shizaaqa’s neck and over her scalp.
Opening her eyes to watch the stunning jewels of colour flitting through the dark foliage, the empress smiled.
2. Sad
Shizaaqa was reading through the Silronan queen’s latest plea for money when there was a knock on the door. The empress gladly laid the letter on her table as she called for whoever it was to enter.
It was her handmaiden, a darling little thing who always reminded Shizaaqa of a topknot pigeon with her barely-controlled fuzzy ponytail and habit of sniffing when she thought the empress wasn’t watching.
Iis bowed curtly and Shizaaqa nodded to permit her to speak.
‘Empress,’ she began, fear and sadness in her voice. Shizaaqa’s eyes grew harder as the girl continued. ‘The mistress Kesani has been slain.’
‘How?’ the empress demanded, quelling the slight chill in her chest before it spread any further.
There was a snap of fear in the handmaiden’s eyes. ‘I have not been given any further details, Empress. I came as soon as I—’
‘Then find some,’ Shizaaqa snapped, bearing her teeth just slightly.
Iis bowed again and excused herself rather rapidly.
Shizaaqa laced the tips of her fingers together and looked down at the glistening green nails. Kesani had been the palace’s finest musician for nearly a decade, and one of the few who knew just what the empress wished to listen to at any given time. Her music would be missed.
3. Guilty
Not feeling guilty so much as technically guilty, in an opposite-of-innocent sense. Shizaaqa never actually feels guilty. Always someone else's fault.
The door opened to admit Shizaaqa’s handmaiden and a tall woman with neat, dark hair.
‘Chief Investigator Kelah, as requested,’ Iis introduced, then slipped back outside.
Shizaaqa smoothly crossed one leg over the other as she gestured to the chair opposite her. She tapped one bright red nail on the table, scrutinising the Chief Investigator as she crossed the room.
Kelah smoothed her batik skirt over her knees as she sat down, a nervous motion judging by the way her fingers quivered as she clasped them in her lap. ‘Empress, I—’
‘I don’t want to hear excuses,’ the empress seethed. ‘For eight months, your team has been examining Investigator Shima’s activities, and you found her to be guilty of high treason. A spy working for Raykin’s king.’
‘Yes, Empress, but—’
‘Enough.’ Shizaaqa’s tone grew more threatening, though her voice grew no louder. ‘I allowed you this much time to look into her affairs because Investigator Shima has been a long-serving and trusted member of my team, and I would not lose her dedication lightly. Your report this morning, not three days after I ordered Investigator Shima’s execution, claims her innocence.’
She fell silent, staring at the almost-squirming Chief of Investigators sitting opposite her. Kelah knew she was on thin ice, as well she should have done three days ago.
‘Two black horses are waiting outside,’ Shizaaqa informed her. ‘They will escort you to the executioner’s block.’
‘But Empress! She was—’
‘Chief Investigator, you are dismissed.’
4. Angry
Empress Shizaaqa took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose, not to still her anger but in an expression of it. Her jaw tightened and she dipped her head just slightly so she needn’t crease her brow to lower it. One nail tapped against the mahogany of her desk, then in one sinuous movement she flowed to her feet.
The room fell obediently silent, and Shizaaqa allowed it to hang in the air for a few moments before speaking.
‘Gentlemen,’ she hissed, using the term as an insult. ‘You are completely missing the point. I will be the one to lay blame. As far as you are concerned, the criminal is your only concern. As I see it, you are all equally guilty of allowing his escape.’
She locked eyes with each man seated around the table. Some looked guiltily away, others looked as though they wished to challenge her accusation but wisely remained silent.
‘I don’t care how far out of Assiraz you believe him to be, I want him locked up.’ She lowered herself back into her seat, one arm on each of the arm rests as she crossed her legs. ‘Do not try to pander the blame onto anyone else. You are all responsible.’
5. Confused
‘You called for me, Empress?’
Shizaaqa nodded offhandedly as she set the transport minister’s report on her desk, then laced her fingers over her knee. ‘I did.’
The transport minister visibly relaxed, but only slightly. The empress was not tapping a nail on the woodwork. Yet.
‘In your latest report, you recommended that money be set aside for refurbishing the roads in the northern quadrant of the city.’
The transport minister nodded. ‘That’s correct, Empress.’
‘Why?’
The woman, at least ten years Shizaaqa’s senior, crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands in her lap. Her eyes flicked to the report on the empress’s desk, a hint of irritation in her eyes. Apparently she thought she had been clear enough with her reasoning in that report. ‘Empress, we are only at the very beginning of the monsoon season, and there really are no roads in the northern quadrant, only mud baths.’
‘Yes, I read that much,’ Shizaaqa said with thin lips. ‘Why do they need refurbishment?’
The minister almost frowned. ‘Because there is nothing left of them, Empress.’
The empress shook her head just slightly, her curls brushing against her shoulders, then spoke slowly and very clearly. ‘I don’t think you quite understand what I’m asking. Why do I need to refurbish their roads? Does the northern quadrant ever see wagons that would get caught in mud?’
The minister’s eyes dropped. ‘No, Empress.’
‘Do those living in the northern quadrant wear finery that would be ruined in mud?’
The woman’s mouth hardened, and Shizaaqa could almost hear the suppressed sigh. ‘No, Empress.’
‘Is the quality of the northern quadrant’s roads worth the gold you’re asking me to set aside for them?’
‘No, Empress.’
A dark smile graced Shizaaqa’s lips as she passed the report back across the desk. ‘Review that and present it again tomorrow morning.’
The minister nodded and stood stiffly as she took the paper. ‘Yes, empress,’ she muttered.
6. Tired
Shizaaqa’s eyes snapped open at the sound of her door opening. Her handmaiden stood there with one hand on the handle. She was a brave creature, Shizaaqa had to give her that much.
‘Forgive me for intruding, Empress,’ she said timidly. ‘The Raykinian king is waiting for your attendance outside your office.’
Shizaaqa glared at the handmaiden, fully aware that it was more of a tired look than any genuine aggression. ‘I did not sleep last night, Iis. I’m tired.’
‘What should I tell the king, Empress? He’s been waiting for an hour.’
The empress groaned and closed her eyes, rearranging her pillow more comfortably. ‘Tell him he’s in my empire now, and if he has any intention of leaving it, he’ll wait until I feel like being slightly more civil with him before holding a meeting.’
7. Shocked
I couldn't resist. She had to say it somewhere.
‘You’re not old enough,’ Misbah, Shizaaqa’s partner was telling their eldest son. ‘I wasn’t a Lieutenant until I was nearly thirty.’
‘Father, I’ll be an old man by then!’ Sahid protested. ‘Times have changed since you were climbing the ranks.’
The General shook his head sternly. ‘Not that much, they haven’t.’
A clatter of glass against silver was the only warning Shizaaqa had before her cocktail landed in a creamy pink puddle in her lap.
The young princess was the first to recover from the shock. ‘You imbecile!’ Assili yelled in her high-pitched young voice as the waiter hurriedly made himself scarce.
Shizaaqa stood slowly, quivering with rage as servants began dabbing at her sarong, legs and chair with towels. ‘Off with his head!’ she screeched.
8. Irritated
‘Shizaaqa,’ King Mithé said with infuriating calm. ‘I am not leaving this room, let alone your empire, until I’m happy.’
‘I know,’ Shizaaqa returned through tight lips. ‘However, when you’re happy, I rarely am.’
Mithé shrugged. ‘Not my issue. I want you to take more control of your empire. Maybe the state taxes work in some states, but certainly not in Silrona. Queen Shala barely has enough money to pay them, let alone her own army.’
‘That is hardly my concern,’ Shizaaqa told him, her vowels more clipped than normal. ‘Silrona receives more taxes from its Houses than any other state in the empire, therefore Queen Shala pays more to Assiraz.’
Mithé clasped his hands over his disgustingly ample stomach. ‘Silrona also has the largest army outside Assiraz. Why is there not enough left over to pay them?’
‘Mithé,’ the empress said, her voice icy. ‘Stop telling me how to run my empire. If you feel as strongly about this as you say you do, then you’ll back your feelings with more than just words.’
The foreign king folded his arms, unfazed. ‘You mean with steel.’
‘I mean with gold, Mithé.’
9. WTF!
‘Synia, Head of Intelligence,’ Iis introduced, then bowed and left as the clean cut woman stepped into the room.
‘Frangipani,’ the head of intelligence said with a dip of her head.
‘Fern,’ Shizaaqa returned, gesturing to the chair opposite. ‘You said it was urgent?’
Fern nodded and took a deep breath. ‘We’ve received word from Sinazi, and I felt you should be told personally. Their queen has been killed.’
The empress’s emerald eyes hardened, but she knew there was more to it than that. Queens had been killed before, and she’d learned of their deaths through letters. ‘Go on.’
Fern took another deep breath. ‘She was killed by an arrow tipped with sea snake venom. I’m unsure if you’re aware of this, but that’s Hibiscus’s method of killing.’
Shizaaqa’s eyes widened for a moment before she narrowed them and tapped a lacquered nail against her desk. ‘Send Flannel Flower down there. I don’t care how much you offer her, I want Hibiscus eliminated.’
Fern nodded. ‘Of course, Frangipani.’
10. Triumphant
This would almost be cute if they weren't so damn evil.
The door clicked closed behind the disappearing health minister, but the meeting was not yet finished.
Princess Assili stood from her chair behind Shizaaqa’s desk, then rounded it to stand beside the chair the minister had been sitting in, hands clasped behind her back as she awaited her mother’s verdict.
Shizaaqa nodded slowly as she stepped forwards. ‘I’m impressed,’ she told the twelve-year-old. ‘You saw early on that Minister Sresha was watching me, and made her realise that you were the one to listen to. You remind me of myself when I was around your age.’
Assili dipped her head in gratitude, but she didn’t smile. ‘Thank you, Mother. I only hope I can live up to your legacy.’
‘Continue as you are, child, and you may very well exceed them.’
11. Scared
Shizaaqa yawned delicately into the back of her hand as she retired to her bed chamber for the night. Before she was able to sit at her dresser and begin removing her jewellery, she caught a brief movement out of the corner of her eye.
On the corner of her bed sat a large black spider, its legs long enough to span her palm. It crept silently over the satin sheets towards her pillow, each awkward step looking as though it was going to step on its own feet.
Shizaaqa turned away from her dresser and back towards the door. Iis wouldn’t have gone far down the hallway outside yet.
‘Iis,’ the empress called through the wood, watching as the spider froze at the sharp sound of her voice.
Sure enough, the handmaiden appeared at the door in a few moments. ‘Yes, Empress?’
Shizaaqa nodded towards her bed, making Iis squeal and cover her mouth. ‘My deepest apologies, Empress,’ she murmured, hands clasped under her chin. ‘I’m not terribly fond of spiders.’
‘Kill it,’ the empress ordered, ignoring her handmaiden’s apologies, ‘and bring me new bedding.’
12. Bereft
It had been a good death. Good, strong and honourable, and Shizaaqa would make certain that the empire knew it.
A disease that would have killed anyone in a month had Empress Yasina fighting for almost a full year. Only a fool could say she had been a frail old lady for the duration. Yasina’s mind had been as sharp as when she had been healthy, and she never allowed her weakness to show. She never once gave into it, and even her own advisory panel had no idea until two months ago.
Only Shizaaqa and the healers had known how long Yasina had been battling this illness, but the new empress did not intend for it to remain as such for long. She would let the empire know exactly how strong her mother’s death had been.
13. Flirty
The portrait artist cleared his throat as he watched the empress, spread out as she was on the sofa. His eyes seemed to spend more time examining Shizaaqa’s curves as the canvas he painted. ‘Are you feeling uncomfortable, Empress?’ he asked, his voice slightly choked. ‘We could take a break if you so wish.’
The empress smiled and dropped her head in a smooth nod as she sat up straight, feet back on the marble floor. She rolled her head stiffly and drew herself to her feet, floating across the floor to the artist and his work.
‘This is how you see me,’ Shizaaqa murmured, running her eyes critically over the unfinished painting.
‘Yes, Empress. Well, it will be. You see the shadows need more work, and I’d like to shine some more light on your face. And I’ll paint on clothes, of course,’ he added as a hurried afterthought.
Shizaaqa turned her eye on him, one eyebrow raised, and lowered her voice. ‘Of course,’ she agreed, walking around behind him and holding her lips close to his ear. ‘But is that what you really want to do?’
14. Serious
‘Lieutenant Renzan,’ Shizaaqa said tersely. ‘I hope you realise why I have called you in here.’
The Lieutenant bowed deeply before clasping his hands behind him. ‘I’m afraid I don’t, Empress.’
The empress’s eyes narrowed. ‘My son tells me he made a suggestion to yesterday morning,’ she reminded him. ‘Do you remember how you responded to this suggestion?’
Lieutenant Renzan frowned and shook his head. ‘What was the suggestion, Empress?’
Shizaaqa turned to the young prince standing by her desk. ‘He brushed me off before I was able to make it,’ Shoaib said, his vowels just as clipped as his mother’s.
The empress snapped her head back to the Lieutenant. ‘You brushed off the prince of Kazin before he had even made a suggestion. Do you hold this much value in my opinions, Lieutenant Renzan?’
Renzan bowed his head respectfully. ‘Your opinions are orders, Empress.’
‘Then why are my son’s so worthless that you won’t even listen to them?’
‘He’s a child, Empress.’
Shizaaqa’s eyes narrowed. ‘He’s my child,’ she said darkly. ‘He receives more training from his father and grandfather than you ever could have, as evidenced by your etiquette and distain towards your superiors.’
The Lieutenant bowed again, probably to hide a grimace on his face. ‘My apologies, Empress.’
‘Apologies will not save you, Lieutenant. You are hereby relinquished of your position. The two black horses outside will escort you to the dungeons. I suggest you learn respect while you are down there.’
15. Silly
Shizaaqa doesn't do silly, so here are some birds being silly for her.
Shizaaqa was alone in the aviary, sitting on a carved sandstone bench as she watched half a dozen brilliantly coloured lorikeets. They were flapping around in the shallow pool of water, making bright, bubbly noises as they splashed water like drops of diamonds into the air.
At the base of a large tree, a glossy black bird of paradise with an almost skirt-like pair of wings danced to attract a mate. It spun and tottered around on tiny legs, four long and delicate feathers bouncing on its head. An impressive performance, Shizaaqa thought, if only there were a female of his species to watch.
Almost as if he had heard her, the bird pulled its wings in and shrieked loudly, causing all but one of the lorikeets to flutter off.
The last continued to play in the shallow pool for a few moments, then paused, looked around, realised it had been left alone and disappeared into the trees.
Shizaaqa folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at the bird of paradise. ‘Congratulations,’ she told it.
16. Bored
Shizaaqa laced her fingers together and rested her elbows on the arms of her throne.
‘I am unimpressed,’ she said, loud enough for her brother to hear her and perhaps the sharpest ears of the performers. ‘You were always the one to enjoy plays, Rezzi, not me.’
Commander Rezzi sat beside her on a smaller, less impressive throne. ‘Give them time, Shizaaqa. They’ve only been performing for a minute.’
‘Yes, and already I know the story,’ his sister replied tersely. ‘The woman will do wrong and be cast out of her village, and somehow she’ll die to save the village, thereby meeting the gods and progressing to the afterlife. All plays are the same, Rezzi, this is why they bore me.’
He shook his head. ‘Not this one. This group is branching out. They use music.’
Shizaaqa cast a sidelong glance at the Commander. ‘I’m not blind, Rezzi. I can see their instruments.’ She turned back to the performers, lips narrow.
‘Give them time,’ her brother said again.
‘Very well, but the second that woman,’ she said nodding towards the leading lady, ‘starts begging to the villagers not to be exiled, they will be dismissed.’
17. Incredulous
Shizaaqa took one look at the plate as it appeared in front of her, then glared up at the waitress. ‘What is this?’ she demanded crisply.
The waitress bowed deeply before answering. ‘Nira fillet with grilled onion and figs in a garlic—’
‘Nira?’ Shizaaqa hissed. ‘I specified river cod. Take this back to the kitchens and ask the chef if he thought maybe I wouldn’t notice the difference, then have him cook the meal I specified.’
‘Yes, Empress,’ the waitress answered obediently. ‘He thought the Raykinians—’
‘Do the Raykinians pay his wages?’ Shizaaqa interrupted. How dare she talk back to the empress! ‘Do they ensure he stays employed? Can they have his fingers broken if he disobeys them? Or yours?’
‘No, sorry, Empress.’
‘You will not try to contradict me,’ Shizaaqa seethed. ‘I’ll see both of you in my office after the meal—river cod, as specified—has reached its conclusion. Until then, I want no further acts of insubordination.’
18. Confident
Shizaaqa tossed her hair over her shoulder as she strode from her bed chamber, chin held high and her full regalia of feathers and Colours fluttering behind her. The solid clack of her heels against the marble echoed down the long corridor, lined with magnificent displays that Shizaaqa all but ignored. She had more important things in mind.
The Raykinian king and his ilk had been tainting her palace and her empire for nearly a month now. A month far too long, as far as the empress was concerned. If the king was so fond of dealing in words, Empress Shizaaqa would give him some words that would give him no room to think about them, let alone formulate another high and mighty speech to tell her why she was wrong.
Kazin was her empire, and by the time the day was through, that fat king of a dustbowl would realise just how unwelcome he was here.
19. Fierce
Shizaaqa’s eyebrows lifted as her second son walked out onto the balcony. ‘Kanera, what happened?’
The prince’s arm was in a sling and he scratched the back of his neck with the other.
‘I fell off my horse,’ he explained, cringing either in memory or in preparation of what he must have known was coming.
‘You what?’ Shizaaqa asked darkly. ‘What kind of a warrior do you hope to make? One so weak he doesn’t even own a horse?’
‘No, Mother, he reared up and tried to bolt.’
‘He?’ the empress clarified. ‘Are you still riding the same stallion I told you to either geld or exchange a year ago? I warned you this would happen, Kanera. You told me you were strong enough to handle him.’
Kanera shrugged, an action he instantly regretted as he winced and held his good hand up to his shoulder. ‘I was wrong, Mother. I’ll have him gelded tomorrow.’
Shizaaqa’s eyes narrowed as she inspected his sling, then she rested back in her chair, cocktail in hand. ‘See that you do.’
20. Despondent
She doesn't do despondent, either. If something's not going her way, she will MAKE it go her way, thank you very much. Hence this is winding the clock back a bit. 15 years to be exact.
Shizaaqa lay panting and bloodied on the bed, one hand to her brow in exhausted relief. She hated having to go through this. It wasn’t a posture suited to an empress. She could only pray that she wouldn’t have to bear the pain again.
‘It’s a boy, Empress,’ the midwife told her in a small, almost pitying voice.
Shizaaqa’s eyes clenched tightly closed at the sound of yet another son’s piercing squalls. Nine months for another boy. Her third. She had to produce an heir, and she was running out of time and energy.
‘Leave me,’ she told the midwife, moving her hand from her brow to cover her eyes. ‘I want to be alone.’
She took deep, controlled breaths as the midwife and assembled healers left the room with her child. A few moments after the door had clicked shut, she took one last, deep breath and let it out in a long, anguished scream.
21. Drunk
She's never been drunk in her life, so here's her son being drunk instead.
Shizaaqa raised an eyebrow as her eldest son sat down on the sofa beside his brother with a satisfied sigh.
‘I see you’ve already had your cocktail hour, Sahid,’ she said tartly, then took a delicate sip of her favourite cocoa liqueur.
The prince paused halfway through making himself comfortable. ‘I haven’t.’
Shizaaqa lifted a finger from her brandy balloon in reproach. ‘Don’t lie to me, Sahid. You smell of it.’
‘I smell of lying?’ He almost looked worried, as though he believed his mother could smell a lie.
‘You smell of liquor.’
Sahid’s three younger siblings all passed their drinks to their lips at once, and Shizaaqa suspected them to be hiding grins behind their glasses.
‘Go wash and change,’ Shizaaqa told him. ‘I don’t mind you drinking with others in the army, but you will return here with your mind fit. Understood?’
Sahid stood and bowed to her. ‘Yes, Mother. It won’t happen again.’
22. Enraged
The loud voices had been echoing down the corridor for a few minutes now, and just as Shizaaqa was about ready to send for someone to break up the fight, there was a loud crash that would have been deafening in whatever room it had come from.
The empress sprang to her feet in the dead silence that followed, then the yelling started up again as she exploded into the hallway. She could hear that the voices were in the luncheon dining room, and her fury only rose. There were a few objects in that room that could have made such a crash, and Shizaaqa would swear death if any of them were broken.
Sure enough, shards of crystal were scattered over the floor like a thousand diamonds. Once, it had been a stunning vase shaped like a peacock, a gift from Misbah at the birth of their first child, twenty years ago. It had displayed dozens of golden and ruby peacock feathers, more spectacular than the largest jewel could ever be, but several of the feathers were snapped now.
Standing over it were two palace servants who Shizaaqa wouldn’t have even recognised at the best of times, but their faces would be burnt into her mind for a long time to come, now. They fell silent again as soon as certain death descended on the room.
‘TORTURE CHAMBER!’ the empress screeched. ‘NOW! And may Ulzaq torture you for eternity in the afterlife!’
23. Sarcastic
‘Good afternoon, Prince Nolryn,’ Shizaaqa welcomed, her voice silky as the foreign prince gave her a short bow. ‘How you’ve grown since I saw you last.’
Prince Nolryn stiffened as he straightened and held her eyes in a glare reminiscent of his father’s. He wasn’t yet strong enough to hold it, though. ‘I’d hope tho,’ he returned, making Shizaaqa blink briefly in mild confusion. Was he speaking his own tongue or a bastardised version of hers?
‘I’ve hardly come all thith way to trade pleathentrieth, Thithaaqa,’ he went on.
By the gods, Shizaaqa thought, it is Kazinian.
‘I’ve come becoth we have rethieved word that you have—’
‘Stop,’ Shizaaqa interrupted, holding up one hand. ‘You’re tainting my language and embarrassing yourself. Stay within the bounds of your own tongue, Prince Nolryn, you’ll be easier to understand.’
24. Disgusted
Shizaaqa lifted her nose and flared her nostrils just slightly as she sniffed the air. Her brow creased and she lowered her head again. ‘What is that smell?’ she demanded.
Assili crinkled her nose as well. ‘It smells like raw sewage.’
‘Or the Northern Quadrant,’ Sahid added, holding one hand over his nose.
‘You say that as though you’re familiar with the area,’ Shizaaqa mused.
Sahid coughed and shook his head. ‘Mother, please.’ He glanced off into the trees of the palace garden. ‘There must be a northerly breeze, however faint.’
Shizaaqa closed her eyes, trying not to cough as well. The stench was getting stronger. ‘We’ll take cocktails on the southern balcony this evening, children. This balcony is filth.’
25. Ill
The door squeaked as it swung open, causing Shizaaqa’s eyes to flare and glared daggers at whoever had opened it.
‘Iis, I told you clearly that I wanted no interruptions.’
The handmaiden bowed before wheeling a small tray table into the empress’s bed chamber.
‘I know, Empress, but I have something that should make you feel better.’
Shizaaqa eyed the table’s contents—a teapot, cup and saucer with a selection of fruit and biscuits—and blinked disdainfully at it. ‘Iis, do you remember when I last tried to stomach anything from the kitchens?’
Iis nodded. ‘Yes, Empress, but this has come with recommendations of the healers. The tea especially is supposed to be very medicinal.’
The empress’s eyes flicked up to her handmaiden’s. ‘Did the kitchens have a hand in making it?’
‘Yes, Empress.’
‘Take it away and have the healers prepare it. I will not risk further illness until the chef is replaced.’