SV Fic: 1,001 Kryptonian Nights (Chlark, Adult), Chapter 5/6
Yeah, your eyes aren't deceiving you, it's actually an update. I promised this for Wednesday, which wasn't possible, so I cleared Friday night and did my best to get this out for you. :)
At least, in my own defense, I didn't leave you on an evil cliffie last time. The same can't be said for this chapter, however. *Ducks brickbats*
One reason this chapter took so long is that I decided to try something different in it. You'll know what I mean when you read it. Believe it or not, this is the first time I've tried this thing in my fairytale fic, and it was actually very, very hard to write.
I know I promised smut here, but sadly, Kal-El and Chloe refused to cooperate. *Lesigh* They're both kinda stubborn, but believe me, when they get going, they *really* get going. :D The next chappie should be the big finale, and we'll see what happens then. :)
As always, this fic is lovingly dedicated to my lj friend butifulyletdown. Get better soon!! *Hugs*
And so, I give you the latest update on the adventures of Sultan Kal-El and harem girl!Chloe. Enjoy!!
Oh, and as for feedback? *Presses nose to candy store window* Nope, I don't want that chocolate bunny, not at all. *Hopeful look*
Read the last chapter here.
Read the whole story from the beginning here.
Chapter Five
Kal-El eyed the cowering maid glumly, wondering when, if ever, he’d manage to learn how to stop terrifying people. After almost three years as Sultan, he felt he ought to be doing better by now.
He succeeded in coaxing the maid to her feet with soothing murmurs, but noticed, with a jab of guilt, that the woman still shook like a leaf. Eyes on the floor, she handed her brightly-colored silken bundle to Chloe; then, scarcely waiting for Kal-El’s nod of dismissal, she bolted for the door, almost tripping over the threshold in her haste to make good her escape.
As he watched her disappear, he shook his head sadly. “How can I help people if they’re scared to death of me?”
Of course, Kal-El mused, he’d known he would be different. Jor-El had told him many times that his powers would set him apart. He’d known that he would never really fit in with the people of this world.
What he hadn’t known was how much that would hurt.
“It’s not your fault.” The matter-of-fact voice drifted up from the level of his shoulder. “I guess she doesn’t see people appear out of glowing crystals every day.”
He peered down at a head topped by a tousled mass of golden curls and felt the gloom lift a little, knowing that Chloe had seen far worse, and had chosen to stay.
Kal-El’s indestructible body shivered as he remembered her words. “You’re not alone. Not any more.”
He’d thought no power in the world could defeat him, but he’d been wrong; in that moment, the tiny figure by his side had conquered him completely.
Kal-El lifted a hand to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear, already craving anew the feel of her soft body against his. He wondered, not for the first time, how such a brave heart and amazing mind could be packed into such a small-and beautiful-package.
Lightly, he rubbed her ear lobe between his thumb and forefinger. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said, responding to her comment. “We never really left this room. The maid probably only saw the stone light up when we, well, sort of woke up from our trance.”
He sighed again regretfully. “But I guess that was enough.”
She tilted her face upwards, eyes twinkling. “Yeah. It must be hard for you to keep good help.”
Kal-El brightened. Even if the rest of the world never learned to accept him, Chloe was more than enough.
Briefly, he wondered whether he should have told her the truth about the Kryptonite rock her father had taken from their village. Jor-El had made him promise to keep Kryptonite’s deadly powers a secret, but if any human could be trusted with that secret, he felt certain it was Chloe.
On the other hand, could he go against his father’s wishes?
He was still engaged in silent debate when she turned toward him, still cradling in one arm the fresh set of clothes the maid had given her. The gleaming crimson material she held against her chest contrasted sharply with his black caftan and her sky-blue dress. Kal-El also couldn’t help but notice that the material, which puddled underneath her breasts, highlighted her shapely contours in various interesting ways.
At once all thoughts of Kryptonite vanished as a fiery haze clouded his vision. Instinctively he jerked his head upward, trying very, very hard not to remember how silky and firm those breasts had felt in his hands, and how good they’d tasted coated in honey.
Swallowing, he pinched his eyes shut to keep the sudden surge of heat inside. This, he told himself sternly, had to stop, or he’d wind up turning his newly-made best friend and lover into the world’s most beautiful cinder.
One small arm slipped around his back as her body, cushioned by the bundle of clothes, pressed against his. Her hold, feather-light though it was, made Kal-El stiffen in panic as he fought to maintain control. Immune though he was to cold or heat, he felt himself break out in a sweat.
Chloe rested her head against his shoulder. “You do know I’m not afraid of you any more, don’t you?” he heard her murmur softly.
Like an evening breeze, her quiet voice soothed him, cooling his damp forehead. Cracking open an eyelid experimentally, he discovered, to his relief, that the haze had disappeared.
Relieved, he risked a quick glance down, careful to keep his gaze well away from her head. Focusing on the crimson bundle sandwiched between them, he watched Chloe’s hand slide out from under it; he followed her delicate fingers as they trailed up his dark tunic and came to rest on his pearl-encrusted sigil.
Where her voice had cooled him, her touch, so close to his heart, warmed his soul. He drew a deep breath, feeling as if an unimaginable weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Look at me,” she ordered. “It’ll be alright.”
For a minute he hesitated, listening to the steady, unruffled rhythm of her heartbeat. He raised his eyes to meet an expression of complete trust, and silently thanked the Universe for sending him such a priceless gift.
She propped her chin on his chest, grinning up at him as he exhaled a long sigh of contentment. “You just need to learn how to blend in a little better. I can help with that.”
Her grin was like bottled sunshine. It was impossible not to return it. “Do you really think I can? Blend in, I mean?” he asked hopefully. “I’ve tried, but so far, it hasn’t really worked.”
She gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Kal-El, since when does swooping down to conquer a kingdom count as ‘blending in’?”
Kal-El sobered, uncomfortably aware of the accusation hidden behind her remark. “I told you why I did it,” he said, feeling a twinge of guilt. “It’s my destiny to help people.”
A pair of finely-shaped eyebrows lifted. “By ruling the world?”
Releasing him, she reclaimed her bundle and stepped back, peering up at him curiously. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but-do you really like the idea of being a dictator?”
“No,” he shot back, without thinking. “In fact, I hate it.”
He paused as he realized what he’d just said. It was the first time he’d ever admitted it out loud, but deep down, he’d known for a long time that he wasn’t cut out to be a world conqueror. And it looked as if Chloe knew it, too.
He was well aware how impressive Chloe was (in her clothes or out of them, he thought, hiding a smile), but he was only just beginning to realize that her real talent was exposing the truth.
His hand cupped her cheek. “Believe me, if I could think of any other way to do what I was sent here to do, I’d choose it in a heartbeat.”
Her expression softened. “I know. That’s why I’m still here.”
Her gaze slid to one side, focusing on something behind Kal-El’s back. Swiveling his head, Kal-El saw that she was staring at the granite table holding Jor-El’s crystal.
“I thought you could use a fresh point of view,” she said, in an unexpectedly sharp voice.
Surprised, he turned back to her and caught a glint of something in her eyes. Was it anger? Defiance?
Whatever it was, the glint faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. With a visible effort, she tore her gaze away from the table and looked up at him with a smile that seemed just a shade too bright. “First things first,” she said, briskly, “You’ll never blend in until you learn how to act a little less, er, godlike.”
“I try not to frighten anyone,” he countered defensively. “I’m really pretty low-key.”
He frowned when he saw her roll her eyes. “I mean it,” he insisted stubbornly. “I’ve got very simple tastes.”
“Uh-huh,” she scoffed. “That’s why you live in a gold-plated palace the size of a small city.”
Stung a little by her mockery, Kal-El opened his mouth to protest that the palace came with the job, only to be interrupted by a soft but persistent tap on the thick double doors at the entrance to the chamber. Squinting at the doors, he looked through the wooden panels and saw his vizier, resplendent in full court dress, waiting on the other side.
“What is it, Ahmed?” he called out impatiently.
“Your Majesty, your presence is respectfully requested in the Great Audience Hall.” Kal-El watched the vizier incline his turbaned head toward the closed doors. “The ambassadors of our allies are anxious to do you honor.”
Inwardly, Kal-El groaned. He’d forgotten that today was the day of his weekly Royal Audience, when the diplomats of virtually every kingdom for hundreds of miles around gathered to curry favor with him. It was one of his least favorite duties, but his vizier Ahmed had talked him out of discontinuing the audiences, pointing out that the diplomats would see it as an insult.
Unfortunately, although Ahmed’s political advice might have been good, his timing couldn’t have been worse. Reluctantly, Kal-El turned to face Chloe and winced at the mischievous gleam in her eyes.
“What are they honoring you for?” she asked, sweetly. “Having simple tastes?”
“Um,” he began, groping for a good response.
It didn’t help that Chloe was watching him with increasing amusement. A dimple formed on one rosy cheek, making her look, if possible, more adorable than ever.
“It’s nothing, really,” he insisted, trying to ignore the flush that he knew was spreading up his own cheeks. “Just a small meeting.”
Chloe pursed her full lips and cocked her head to one side. “Was that supposed to be a good lie?” she inquired archly.
Kal-El sighed, wishing that Chloe’s knack for the truth was a little less all-encompassing.
“Best I could come up with on the spur of the moment,” he confessed, defeated. “The thing’s actually huge. Every ambassador in the city comes out of the woodwork to shower me with flattery and gifts. Which, trust me, is a lot more boring than it sounds.”
He’d expected to hear laughter, but instead, the serious expression she leveled on him was almost sympathetic. “I suppose they see the handwriting on the wall,” she commented thoughtfully. “They’re trying their best to butter up their future Overlord.”
Which was, Kal-El thought guiltily, exactly why he hated these audiences. Not that he had any plans to conquer anybody for at least another century or so, but still, he knew they were nervous, and it bothered him. He didn’t want to make anyone nervous.
Watching him, Chloe sighed as if she could guess his thoughts. “Mind taking me along?” she asked, and added, with a hint of that dangerously familiar mischievous gleam, “I’d love to see how well you, um, ‘blend in.’”
Uh-oh, Kal-El thought glumly. Somehow, he didn’t think that Chloe was going to like what she saw.
“Are you sure?” he asked, gamely putting up resistance. “You’ll probably be the only woman there. Not that I haven’t asked the men to bring their ladies along,” he added quickly.
Well. He should have known that that wouldn’t work.
“All the more reason for me to come,” she countered cheerfully, and lifted her bundle of clothes. “Plus, it’ll give me a chance to show off this little silk number.”
She padded across the room towards Kal-El’s bedchamber. “Be out in a minute,” she singsonged as she drew back the curtain at the entrance, then pinned him with a look. “No peeking. I promise you, it’ll be worth the wait.”
Kal-El smiled in spite of himself. Whatever happened, with Chloe along, the royal audience was sure to be anything but boring.
* * * * * * * *
A half hour later, as he led a long procession of glittering courtiers through the last in a series of cavernous marble halls, Kal-El stole a glance downwards at the stunning vision whose slender hand was currently resting on his outstretched arm.
Chloe had been right. It had definitely been worth the wait. The light silken skirt of the crimson dress the maid had brought drifted gracefully behind her, and its sleeveless top hugged her torso in all the right places. A broad golden Egyptian-style collar sparkling with diamonds and sapphires circled her creamy throat, making it seem even longer and more graceful than it actually was. Her small feet were set off by leather sandals studded with rubies.
The obligatory headdress and veil was the only part of the outfit that she’d balked at wearing, claiming it suffocated her. Considering it was about as light as a spider’s web, Kal-El had his doubts about that, but she’d held her ground until he’d pointed out that going bareheaded might offend the ambassadors. Reluctantly convinced, she’d grumbled and thrown the sheer golden material over her head and let Kal-El fasten it with a circlet shaped like intertwined gold-and-silver snakes.
As Chloe walked beside him, Kal-El admired the way the headdress framed her face, floating over her blonde curls like a halo. He made a mental note to send the maid who’d chosen the outfit his thanks-as soon as she’d stopped running.
They approached the broad marble archway that marked the entrance to his throne room, trailed by the shuffling sound of several dozen sandaled feet. Kal-El paused, listening to the royal herald inside the chamber calling out the million-and-one honorary titles that his councilors had given him while Chloe shot him a look and harrumphed softly from behind the hated veil.
When the herald reached “Son of the Sun,” he led them through the archway and into the hall, only to feel a gentle tugging on his arm. He stopped again at once, bringing the entire colorful parade to a halt.
Beside him, Chloe was surveying the sea of bowed heads with eyes as round as saucers. “Wow,” she breathed. “You could fit a small country in here.”
Kal-El cast a disinterested glance over the crowd of kowtowing nobles. As usual, the glitter of gems and the gleam of gold was everywhere, especially on the nobles’ elaborate turbans, which were decorated with feathers intended, so the vizier had told him, to show off the owner’s importance. He hadn’t bothered to listen to Ahmed’s long-winded explanation, but he was reasonably sure that the more feathers, the higher the rank.
The one the vizier had offered him when he’d first arrived had been topped by no less than six ridiculously-huge peacock feathers; he’d waved it away, telling the man that just because he could fly like a bird was no reason for him to look like one.
One glance at Chloe’s face told him that she was thinking twice about walking into the middle of this gilded mob. Why, he wasn’t sure, because she was more dazzling than all of them put together.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve already faced Jor-El,” he said, bending close to her ear. “Compared to him, this is nothing.”
She took a deep breath, straightened, and, lifting her chin, started with him down the long patterned carpet leading to the platform at the far end of the hall, where his throne waited under its golden canopy. Along the way they were fanned by the breeze from the masses of bobbing ostrich, swan, eagle and pheasant plumes.
Feeling as if he were in an aviary, Kal-El brushed aside the ticklish tip of an ostrich frond and guided Chloe past the courtiers toward the small marble-and-gold fountain near the base of the platform. Circling around it, they climbed the steps to the top of the dais; once there, Chloe continued to scan the crowd, from which a low murmur had begun to rise.
“I think I’ve shocked them,” she said in a low voice.
He frowned, glaring at the upturned faces that, here and there, stared at Chloe in barely-concealed disapproval. At once the guilty parties fell to their knees and touched their feathered foreheads to the gleaming floor tiles. “They’ll get used to you, don’t worry.”
Hearing her answering sigh, he turned toward her with a confused look. “What?”
Her shoulders rose and fell in a graceful shrug. “It’s just that-it doesn’t mean much if you order them,” she answered sadly.
The vizier hurried up the steps to his side and inclined his head to both Kal-El and Chloe, causing the three small peacock feathers in his turban to flutter gently. “We are honored that your new favorite is gracing us with her presence,” he intoned deferentially, snapping his fingers at a nearby servant. “A seat shall be prepared for her at once.”
The servant scurried into the crowd and re-emerged a few seconds later, carrying a large golden pillow from one of the refreshment tables lining the walls. Kal-El watched, mystified, as the servant knelt to place the pillow at the foot of his throne.
Chloe narrowed her eyes. “With all due respect, Your Majesty,” she said, giving the vizier a glare so icy it could have frozen molten steel, “I am not your pet Pekingese.”
Finally realizing what was going on, Kal-El grinned. He knew Chloe well enough by now to guess what she’d think of being asked to sit at his feet.
The vizier’s peacock feathers quivered as he stared at Chloe, aghast. “How dare you address His Majesty in that manner?”
Kal-El held up a restraining hand. “Don’t bother, Ahmed,” he said mildly. “It’s no use, trust me. Besides, she’s right.”
He leaned down and gave his irate companion a mischievous wink. “A Pekingese would be quieter.”
“Hmmph,” she replied, but the corners of her lips tugged upwards. “Don’t forget they bite, too.”
Chuckling, he settled on one end of the throne’s wide seat and pushed aside a few of the pearl-studded indigo cushions piled along its sides. “Sit here,” he said, patting the freed space beside him, which shone with gold-and-silver inlay. “There’s plenty of room.”
Ignoring the collective gasp that rose from the hall, she gathered up her full skirt and slipped gracefully into the offered space. Since the throne had been made to his measure, her feet didn’t quite reach the floor, but she solved that problem by resting them on the golden pillow that was supposed to have been her seat.
She craned her slim neck this way and that, taking in the hall from her elevated perch; over the edge of her veil, her eyes gleamed with fascination. “Not exactly low-key, is it?” she breathed, so softly that only Kal-El could possibly have heard, as her gaze swept over the jewel-studded canopy and the chamber’s high walls, which were spangled with azure and gold mosaic tiles.
Kal-El shifted uneasily beside her. He didn’t want Chloe to think that all his talk about being low-key had been a lie. “Well, it is the Audience Chamber,” he pointed out defensively. “It’s supposed to be fancy.”
She tilted her head back to peer at the ceiling, which had been painted to resemble the night sky. Kal-El bit his lip, knowing what she would see, and dreading her reaction.
She caught her breath. “Are those real stars?”
He followed her gaze upwards to the three-dimensional display of twinkling suns that never failed to amaze new courtiers. “It’s only an illusion,” he explained, verbally trying his best to shrug off a view that court poets loved to call the Eighth Wonder of the World.
She chuckled softly before turning back to the display. “So much for simple tastes.”
Before he could answer, she pointed at a large red star at the center of the bright constellations. “That’s Krypton’s sun, isn’t it?”
“Jor-El put it there,” Kal-El confirmed. “He said I should never forget my true home.”
“Your true home?” Sobering suddenly, she turned to look at him, examining his puzzled face with an expression that, half-hidden by the veil, Kal-El found hard to read.
He returned her gaze anxiously, ignoring the line of lords and ambassadors that was beginning to form at the foot of the dais, and wondered if he’d said something wrong.
“Tell me,” she asked, gravely. “Do you always do what your father says?”
The question caught him by surprise. As he stared at her wordlessly, the Persian ambassador, a paunchy self-important older man swathed in gold-trimmed white robes and crowned with a turban twice the size of his head, was padding forward, trailed by at least two dozen retainers bearing litters loaded with jewels, gold, and silver.
Kal-El glanced at him without interest, and turned back to answer Chloe. “Of course.”
He didn’t bother mentioning that just a few minutes ago, he’d almost told her all about the biggest threat to him on the face of the Earth. He was reasonably sure, he reflected with a twinge of discomfort, that his father wouldn’t have approved of that.
He took her hand. Instantly, her fingers curled tightly around his. Kal-El saw the way they fit together and was amazed at how natural it felt.
He looked up to meet a pair of unexpectedly intense hazel eyes. “Don’t you? Do what your father wants, I mean?”
Relaxing into an amused grin, she replied, dryly, “Obviously, you’ve never talked to my father.”
Kal-El frowned, totally lost, and Chloe’s expression gentled. “I love my father,” she explained quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I let him run my life.”
“I see,” he said thoughtfully.
“Do you?”
“Not really,” he admitted, smiling. “My whole life has been my father.”
She nodded in understanding. “I suppose the idea of free will must seem strange. But,” she went on cheerfully, “you’ll get used to it. After all, I got used to you.”
Not sure what to say, Kal-El squeezed her hand lightly, and found himself hoping that she was right.
The vizier, who stood as usual behind Kal-El’s throne, bent down to whisper in Kal-El’s ear. “That reminds me, Your Majesty. The lady’s father is an accomplished scribe. I’m considering recruiting him as an assistant…with your permission, of course.”
Kal-El exchanged a look with Chloe, who smiled her agreement. “He’d be thrilled, I’m sure.” She paused, shifting her glance from the vizier to Kal-El, and added, slowly, “As long as it’s understood that his job doesn’t depend on me. I’m staying for now, but don’t forget, I haven’t promised anything.”
Kal-El’s heart sank at the reminder. “That goes without saying,” he answered, stiffly.
The small hand didn’t leave his grasp. “I just want to be honest with you,” she murmured. “But I’m not about to give up on you that easily.”
As he confidence came surging back, he wondered why the fact that he’d completely lost his heart to this girl didn’t frighten him in the least. With a negligent wave of one hand, he beckoned the Persian ambassador forward while he bent close to Chloe for a last, quick reply. “You have my word, I’ll learn how to be ordinary.”
Serenaded by Chloe’s answering snort, he turned toward the portly ambassador, who hurried past the marble fountain toward the base of the dais, fell to his knees with an audible thud, and kissed the fringed hem of the damask cloth that covered the platform.
“O Fountainhead of flowing wisdom and power!” he recited with downcast eyes, one arm outstretched toward the fountain as if for inspiration. “O Sea of flowing beneficence! You put the waters of the world to shame.” The arm swept past the fountain and pointed to his overburdened servants. “Please accept these poor tokens of my royal master’s esteem.”
Kal-El cringed inwardly as, from his side, came the discreet but unmistakeable sound of bottled laughter. “Forget ‘ordinary,’” Chloe’s soft voice drawled. “Just try not to overflow, okay?”
Kal-El sighed as he watched two of the Persian’s retainers take hold of the ambassador’s chubby arms and pull him to his feet. As they did, litters piled high with treasure paraded past them.
And they were only the first. Next came the Babylonian delegation, bringing pretty much the same thing, except they threw in a small forest of cuttings from their fabled Hanging Gardens. Then the Egyptians countered with rare spices and a scale model of the Sphinx, on which Kal-El’s head replaced the original. The Cretans livened up the proceedings by hauling in a half-dozen bulls garlanded with flowers on which scantily-clad slave girls sat; Kal-El immediately ordered both the bulls and the girls freed, much to the disappointment of everyone but Chloe. Meanwhile, the Greek delegation, as they waited for their turn, toasted Kal-El and the entire court with massive amounts of ouzo.
Kal-El, uninterested in the drink, offered his goblet to Chloe, who was about to refuse when she caught sight of the shocked look on the Greek ambassador’s face. She sipped at it and made a face, but hung on to it stubbornly.
Kal-El politely acknowledged each tribute with thanks and a curt nod, all the while pleasantly aware that Chloe was only inches away. As one hour slid into the next, he found it increasingly hard to ignore her tempting presence, and even harder to sit through the endless flattering speeches.
Chloe had been right, he reflected, watching their faces. They were all afraid of him. Everyone but her.
He wanted, with all his heart, to take Chloe out of here right now and fly them both to a place where no one had ever heard of Sultan Kal-El.
He thought of Jor-El, and sighed inwardly. If only he could.
After receiving three or four more delegations, Kal-El became aware that Chloe was leaning ever so slightly against him, and he heard a small, ladylike hiccup. Glancing at her anxiously, he saw that her goblet was almost empty and her eyes were drifting shut.
“ ‘M fine,” she mumbled sleepily. “Don’ worry.”
Without bothering to answer, Kal-El rose, keeping one hand on her shoulder to prop her up. “My Lady Chloe is tired,” he announced to the hall, cutting off the flowery speech of the representative from Phoenicia. “Thank you all, but this audience is over. Please leave us.”
Within minutes, the chamber was so empty that Kal-El felt sure even human ears would have been able to pick up the sound of a pin dropping. Last of all, the vizier left, bowing in respectful silence on his way out.
Gently, Kal-El scooped up Chloe’s unsteady form from the throne, unhooking the veil and pushing off the headdress so that she could breathe more easily. “Shhh. I’ll take you to your bed,” he whispered, rocking her in his arms. “It’s getting late anyway. The sun must have set by now.”
She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It just makes me feel more dizzy.”
Chagrined, he stopped the motion and held her perfectly still. “Sorry.”
She blinked a few times, then looked up at him with eyes that were unexpectedly clear. “Y’know, you’re really hopeless.”
It was Kal-El’s turn to feel caught off-balance. “What do you mean?”
One bare white arm lifted briefly, traced a shaky circle around the empty chamber, and dropped to her side. “This. You did it like it was second nature-ordering everyone out. Kal-El, I don’ think-” she paused, hiccupped, and continued, “I don’ think you could act like a regular person if your life depended on it.”
“I told you, I can learn to be ordinary,” he insisted.
Chloe managed a weak smile. “Ordinary people leave a room. The room doesn’t leave them.”
She shook her head, then stopped, blinking as if the motion had made her dizzy again. “I just….it’s too much.”
“Then tell me what I have to do,” he asked urgently, suddenly afraid that Chloe, in spite of what she’d said earlier, had already decided to give up on him. “Tell me what I have to do so that people won’t be afraid of me anymore. Please, I need your help.”
Steadying her head against his supporting arm, she stared up at him for a long moment, as if considering. “Well,” she said at last, “there’s one thing we might try. I can show you, but we need to go to my house.”
Kal-El nodded, choosing to push aside his questions. “We flew over it this morning. I remember it. Would now be okay, or would you rather rest first?”
She snuggled closer to him and yawned. “Now’s fine,” she murmured. “It won’t take long.”
* * * * * * * *
Less than a minute later, Kal-El was carrying Chloe across the flat roof of her father’s mudbrick house, which was bathed in the pale light of a rising crescent moon. As he’d thought, it was night, and the streets below them were deserted.
Chloe lifted her head from his tunic and took several deep breaths of the fresh air, which seemed to revive her a little. “I can walk,” she said, squirming impatiently.
Kal-El set her down carefully and followed her to a small opening cut in the roof, from which a ladder protruded. “It’s down here, in my father’s bedroom,” she explained, starting down the ladder.
Mystified, he watched her to make sure she got down alright before descending after her. Once he reached the bottom, he stepped onto the beaten-earth floor of the tiniest room he’d ever seen and stared at its plain but clean furnishings: a rough-hewn wooden table, two benches, shelves filled with cutlery and other household items, and few clay pots. A single opening led to another room, from which he heard rummaging sounds.
“Need any help?” Kal-El called out. “It’s pretty dark in there.”
“Nope,” she sang out. “I know what I’m looking for.” After a little more rummaging, he heard her exclaim softly. “And-hey!-I’ve got a surprise for you, too.”
A minute later, Chloe emerged, her elegant court dress looking completely out of place in this simple two-room house. Over one arm, she carried what looked like a pile of rags. The other arm was hidden behind her back.
She moved closer to him, grinning. As she did, Kal-El winced, feeling a sudden wave of nausea pass over him.
Extending her hidden arm, she opened her hand. “Look what I found,” she said cheerfully, and Kal-El blanched.
There, in her exposed palm, was a glowing chunk of Kryptonite.
Somehow, he thought, as blackness overcame him, she’d figured out his secret. She’d planned this all along. The only person on Earth who wasn’t afraid of him, had betrayed him.
Faintly, he heard someone scream, and then there was nothing.
Read the next chapter here.
At least, in my own defense, I didn't leave you on an evil cliffie last time. The same can't be said for this chapter, however. *Ducks brickbats*
One reason this chapter took so long is that I decided to try something different in it. You'll know what I mean when you read it. Believe it or not, this is the first time I've tried this thing in my fairytale fic, and it was actually very, very hard to write.
I know I promised smut here, but sadly, Kal-El and Chloe refused to cooperate. *Lesigh* They're both kinda stubborn, but believe me, when they get going, they *really* get going. :D The next chappie should be the big finale, and we'll see what happens then. :)
As always, this fic is lovingly dedicated to my lj friend butifulyletdown. Get better soon!! *Hugs*
And so, I give you the latest update on the adventures of Sultan Kal-El and harem girl!Chloe. Enjoy!!
Oh, and as for feedback? *Presses nose to candy store window* Nope, I don't want that chocolate bunny, not at all. *Hopeful look*
Read the last chapter here.
Read the whole story from the beginning here.
Chapter Five
Kal-El eyed the cowering maid glumly, wondering when, if ever, he’d manage to learn how to stop terrifying people. After almost three years as Sultan, he felt he ought to be doing better by now.
He succeeded in coaxing the maid to her feet with soothing murmurs, but noticed, with a jab of guilt, that the woman still shook like a leaf. Eyes on the floor, she handed her brightly-colored silken bundle to Chloe; then, scarcely waiting for Kal-El’s nod of dismissal, she bolted for the door, almost tripping over the threshold in her haste to make good her escape.
As he watched her disappear, he shook his head sadly. “How can I help people if they’re scared to death of me?”
Of course, Kal-El mused, he’d known he would be different. Jor-El had told him many times that his powers would set him apart. He’d known that he would never really fit in with the people of this world.
What he hadn’t known was how much that would hurt.
“It’s not your fault.” The matter-of-fact voice drifted up from the level of his shoulder. “I guess she doesn’t see people appear out of glowing crystals every day.”
He peered down at a head topped by a tousled mass of golden curls and felt the gloom lift a little, knowing that Chloe had seen far worse, and had chosen to stay.
Kal-El’s indestructible body shivered as he remembered her words. “You’re not alone. Not any more.”
He’d thought no power in the world could defeat him, but he’d been wrong; in that moment, the tiny figure by his side had conquered him completely.
Kal-El lifted a hand to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear, already craving anew the feel of her soft body against his. He wondered, not for the first time, how such a brave heart and amazing mind could be packed into such a small-and beautiful-package.
Lightly, he rubbed her ear lobe between his thumb and forefinger. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said, responding to her comment. “We never really left this room. The maid probably only saw the stone light up when we, well, sort of woke up from our trance.”
He sighed again regretfully. “But I guess that was enough.”
She tilted her face upwards, eyes twinkling. “Yeah. It must be hard for you to keep good help.”
Kal-El brightened. Even if the rest of the world never learned to accept him, Chloe was more than enough.
Briefly, he wondered whether he should have told her the truth about the Kryptonite rock her father had taken from their village. Jor-El had made him promise to keep Kryptonite’s deadly powers a secret, but if any human could be trusted with that secret, he felt certain it was Chloe.
On the other hand, could he go against his father’s wishes?
He was still engaged in silent debate when she turned toward him, still cradling in one arm the fresh set of clothes the maid had given her. The gleaming crimson material she held against her chest contrasted sharply with his black caftan and her sky-blue dress. Kal-El also couldn’t help but notice that the material, which puddled underneath her breasts, highlighted her shapely contours in various interesting ways.
At once all thoughts of Kryptonite vanished as a fiery haze clouded his vision. Instinctively he jerked his head upward, trying very, very hard not to remember how silky and firm those breasts had felt in his hands, and how good they’d tasted coated in honey.
Swallowing, he pinched his eyes shut to keep the sudden surge of heat inside. This, he told himself sternly, had to stop, or he’d wind up turning his newly-made best friend and lover into the world’s most beautiful cinder.
One small arm slipped around his back as her body, cushioned by the bundle of clothes, pressed against his. Her hold, feather-light though it was, made Kal-El stiffen in panic as he fought to maintain control. Immune though he was to cold or heat, he felt himself break out in a sweat.
Chloe rested her head against his shoulder. “You do know I’m not afraid of you any more, don’t you?” he heard her murmur softly.
Like an evening breeze, her quiet voice soothed him, cooling his damp forehead. Cracking open an eyelid experimentally, he discovered, to his relief, that the haze had disappeared.
Relieved, he risked a quick glance down, careful to keep his gaze well away from her head. Focusing on the crimson bundle sandwiched between them, he watched Chloe’s hand slide out from under it; he followed her delicate fingers as they trailed up his dark tunic and came to rest on his pearl-encrusted sigil.
Where her voice had cooled him, her touch, so close to his heart, warmed his soul. He drew a deep breath, feeling as if an unimaginable weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Look at me,” she ordered. “It’ll be alright.”
For a minute he hesitated, listening to the steady, unruffled rhythm of her heartbeat. He raised his eyes to meet an expression of complete trust, and silently thanked the Universe for sending him such a priceless gift.
She propped her chin on his chest, grinning up at him as he exhaled a long sigh of contentment. “You just need to learn how to blend in a little better. I can help with that.”
Her grin was like bottled sunshine. It was impossible not to return it. “Do you really think I can? Blend in, I mean?” he asked hopefully. “I’ve tried, but so far, it hasn’t really worked.”
She gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Kal-El, since when does swooping down to conquer a kingdom count as ‘blending in’?”
Kal-El sobered, uncomfortably aware of the accusation hidden behind her remark. “I told you why I did it,” he said, feeling a twinge of guilt. “It’s my destiny to help people.”
A pair of finely-shaped eyebrows lifted. “By ruling the world?”
Releasing him, she reclaimed her bundle and stepped back, peering up at him curiously. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but-do you really like the idea of being a dictator?”
“No,” he shot back, without thinking. “In fact, I hate it.”
He paused as he realized what he’d just said. It was the first time he’d ever admitted it out loud, but deep down, he’d known for a long time that he wasn’t cut out to be a world conqueror. And it looked as if Chloe knew it, too.
He was well aware how impressive Chloe was (in her clothes or out of them, he thought, hiding a smile), but he was only just beginning to realize that her real talent was exposing the truth.
His hand cupped her cheek. “Believe me, if I could think of any other way to do what I was sent here to do, I’d choose it in a heartbeat.”
Her expression softened. “I know. That’s why I’m still here.”
Her gaze slid to one side, focusing on something behind Kal-El’s back. Swiveling his head, Kal-El saw that she was staring at the granite table holding Jor-El’s crystal.
“I thought you could use a fresh point of view,” she said, in an unexpectedly sharp voice.
Surprised, he turned back to her and caught a glint of something in her eyes. Was it anger? Defiance?
Whatever it was, the glint faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. With a visible effort, she tore her gaze away from the table and looked up at him with a smile that seemed just a shade too bright. “First things first,” she said, briskly, “You’ll never blend in until you learn how to act a little less, er, godlike.”
“I try not to frighten anyone,” he countered defensively. “I’m really pretty low-key.”
He frowned when he saw her roll her eyes. “I mean it,” he insisted stubbornly. “I’ve got very simple tastes.”
“Uh-huh,” she scoffed. “That’s why you live in a gold-plated palace the size of a small city.”
Stung a little by her mockery, Kal-El opened his mouth to protest that the palace came with the job, only to be interrupted by a soft but persistent tap on the thick double doors at the entrance to the chamber. Squinting at the doors, he looked through the wooden panels and saw his vizier, resplendent in full court dress, waiting on the other side.
“What is it, Ahmed?” he called out impatiently.
“Your Majesty, your presence is respectfully requested in the Great Audience Hall.” Kal-El watched the vizier incline his turbaned head toward the closed doors. “The ambassadors of our allies are anxious to do you honor.”
Inwardly, Kal-El groaned. He’d forgotten that today was the day of his weekly Royal Audience, when the diplomats of virtually every kingdom for hundreds of miles around gathered to curry favor with him. It was one of his least favorite duties, but his vizier Ahmed had talked him out of discontinuing the audiences, pointing out that the diplomats would see it as an insult.
Unfortunately, although Ahmed’s political advice might have been good, his timing couldn’t have been worse. Reluctantly, Kal-El turned to face Chloe and winced at the mischievous gleam in her eyes.
“What are they honoring you for?” she asked, sweetly. “Having simple tastes?”
“Um,” he began, groping for a good response.
It didn’t help that Chloe was watching him with increasing amusement. A dimple formed on one rosy cheek, making her look, if possible, more adorable than ever.
“It’s nothing, really,” he insisted, trying to ignore the flush that he knew was spreading up his own cheeks. “Just a small meeting.”
Chloe pursed her full lips and cocked her head to one side. “Was that supposed to be a good lie?” she inquired archly.
Kal-El sighed, wishing that Chloe’s knack for the truth was a little less all-encompassing.
“Best I could come up with on the spur of the moment,” he confessed, defeated. “The thing’s actually huge. Every ambassador in the city comes out of the woodwork to shower me with flattery and gifts. Which, trust me, is a lot more boring than it sounds.”
He’d expected to hear laughter, but instead, the serious expression she leveled on him was almost sympathetic. “I suppose they see the handwriting on the wall,” she commented thoughtfully. “They’re trying their best to butter up their future Overlord.”
Which was, Kal-El thought guiltily, exactly why he hated these audiences. Not that he had any plans to conquer anybody for at least another century or so, but still, he knew they were nervous, and it bothered him. He didn’t want to make anyone nervous.
Watching him, Chloe sighed as if she could guess his thoughts. “Mind taking me along?” she asked, and added, with a hint of that dangerously familiar mischievous gleam, “I’d love to see how well you, um, ‘blend in.’”
Uh-oh, Kal-El thought glumly. Somehow, he didn’t think that Chloe was going to like what she saw.
“Are you sure?” he asked, gamely putting up resistance. “You’ll probably be the only woman there. Not that I haven’t asked the men to bring their ladies along,” he added quickly.
Well. He should have known that that wouldn’t work.
“All the more reason for me to come,” she countered cheerfully, and lifted her bundle of clothes. “Plus, it’ll give me a chance to show off this little silk number.”
She padded across the room towards Kal-El’s bedchamber. “Be out in a minute,” she singsonged as she drew back the curtain at the entrance, then pinned him with a look. “No peeking. I promise you, it’ll be worth the wait.”
Kal-El smiled in spite of himself. Whatever happened, with Chloe along, the royal audience was sure to be anything but boring.
* * * * * * * *
A half hour later, as he led a long procession of glittering courtiers through the last in a series of cavernous marble halls, Kal-El stole a glance downwards at the stunning vision whose slender hand was currently resting on his outstretched arm.
Chloe had been right. It had definitely been worth the wait. The light silken skirt of the crimson dress the maid had brought drifted gracefully behind her, and its sleeveless top hugged her torso in all the right places. A broad golden Egyptian-style collar sparkling with diamonds and sapphires circled her creamy throat, making it seem even longer and more graceful than it actually was. Her small feet were set off by leather sandals studded with rubies.
The obligatory headdress and veil was the only part of the outfit that she’d balked at wearing, claiming it suffocated her. Considering it was about as light as a spider’s web, Kal-El had his doubts about that, but she’d held her ground until he’d pointed out that going bareheaded might offend the ambassadors. Reluctantly convinced, she’d grumbled and thrown the sheer golden material over her head and let Kal-El fasten it with a circlet shaped like intertwined gold-and-silver snakes.
As Chloe walked beside him, Kal-El admired the way the headdress framed her face, floating over her blonde curls like a halo. He made a mental note to send the maid who’d chosen the outfit his thanks-as soon as she’d stopped running.
They approached the broad marble archway that marked the entrance to his throne room, trailed by the shuffling sound of several dozen sandaled feet. Kal-El paused, listening to the royal herald inside the chamber calling out the million-and-one honorary titles that his councilors had given him while Chloe shot him a look and harrumphed softly from behind the hated veil.
When the herald reached “Son of the Sun,” he led them through the archway and into the hall, only to feel a gentle tugging on his arm. He stopped again at once, bringing the entire colorful parade to a halt.
Beside him, Chloe was surveying the sea of bowed heads with eyes as round as saucers. “Wow,” she breathed. “You could fit a small country in here.”
Kal-El cast a disinterested glance over the crowd of kowtowing nobles. As usual, the glitter of gems and the gleam of gold was everywhere, especially on the nobles’ elaborate turbans, which were decorated with feathers intended, so the vizier had told him, to show off the owner’s importance. He hadn’t bothered to listen to Ahmed’s long-winded explanation, but he was reasonably sure that the more feathers, the higher the rank.
The one the vizier had offered him when he’d first arrived had been topped by no less than six ridiculously-huge peacock feathers; he’d waved it away, telling the man that just because he could fly like a bird was no reason for him to look like one.
One glance at Chloe’s face told him that she was thinking twice about walking into the middle of this gilded mob. Why, he wasn’t sure, because she was more dazzling than all of them put together.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve already faced Jor-El,” he said, bending close to her ear. “Compared to him, this is nothing.”
She took a deep breath, straightened, and, lifting her chin, started with him down the long patterned carpet leading to the platform at the far end of the hall, where his throne waited under its golden canopy. Along the way they were fanned by the breeze from the masses of bobbing ostrich, swan, eagle and pheasant plumes.
Feeling as if he were in an aviary, Kal-El brushed aside the ticklish tip of an ostrich frond and guided Chloe past the courtiers toward the small marble-and-gold fountain near the base of the platform. Circling around it, they climbed the steps to the top of the dais; once there, Chloe continued to scan the crowd, from which a low murmur had begun to rise.
“I think I’ve shocked them,” she said in a low voice.
He frowned, glaring at the upturned faces that, here and there, stared at Chloe in barely-concealed disapproval. At once the guilty parties fell to their knees and touched their feathered foreheads to the gleaming floor tiles. “They’ll get used to you, don’t worry.”
Hearing her answering sigh, he turned toward her with a confused look. “What?”
Her shoulders rose and fell in a graceful shrug. “It’s just that-it doesn’t mean much if you order them,” she answered sadly.
The vizier hurried up the steps to his side and inclined his head to both Kal-El and Chloe, causing the three small peacock feathers in his turban to flutter gently. “We are honored that your new favorite is gracing us with her presence,” he intoned deferentially, snapping his fingers at a nearby servant. “A seat shall be prepared for her at once.”
The servant scurried into the crowd and re-emerged a few seconds later, carrying a large golden pillow from one of the refreshment tables lining the walls. Kal-El watched, mystified, as the servant knelt to place the pillow at the foot of his throne.
Chloe narrowed her eyes. “With all due respect, Your Majesty,” she said, giving the vizier a glare so icy it could have frozen molten steel, “I am not your pet Pekingese.”
Finally realizing what was going on, Kal-El grinned. He knew Chloe well enough by now to guess what she’d think of being asked to sit at his feet.
The vizier’s peacock feathers quivered as he stared at Chloe, aghast. “How dare you address His Majesty in that manner?”
Kal-El held up a restraining hand. “Don’t bother, Ahmed,” he said mildly. “It’s no use, trust me. Besides, she’s right.”
He leaned down and gave his irate companion a mischievous wink. “A Pekingese would be quieter.”
“Hmmph,” she replied, but the corners of her lips tugged upwards. “Don’t forget they bite, too.”
Chuckling, he settled on one end of the throne’s wide seat and pushed aside a few of the pearl-studded indigo cushions piled along its sides. “Sit here,” he said, patting the freed space beside him, which shone with gold-and-silver inlay. “There’s plenty of room.”
Ignoring the collective gasp that rose from the hall, she gathered up her full skirt and slipped gracefully into the offered space. Since the throne had been made to his measure, her feet didn’t quite reach the floor, but she solved that problem by resting them on the golden pillow that was supposed to have been her seat.
She craned her slim neck this way and that, taking in the hall from her elevated perch; over the edge of her veil, her eyes gleamed with fascination. “Not exactly low-key, is it?” she breathed, so softly that only Kal-El could possibly have heard, as her gaze swept over the jewel-studded canopy and the chamber’s high walls, which were spangled with azure and gold mosaic tiles.
Kal-El shifted uneasily beside her. He didn’t want Chloe to think that all his talk about being low-key had been a lie. “Well, it is the Audience Chamber,” he pointed out defensively. “It’s supposed to be fancy.”
She tilted her head back to peer at the ceiling, which had been painted to resemble the night sky. Kal-El bit his lip, knowing what she would see, and dreading her reaction.
She caught her breath. “Are those real stars?”
He followed her gaze upwards to the three-dimensional display of twinkling suns that never failed to amaze new courtiers. “It’s only an illusion,” he explained, verbally trying his best to shrug off a view that court poets loved to call the Eighth Wonder of the World.
She chuckled softly before turning back to the display. “So much for simple tastes.”
Before he could answer, she pointed at a large red star at the center of the bright constellations. “That’s Krypton’s sun, isn’t it?”
“Jor-El put it there,” Kal-El confirmed. “He said I should never forget my true home.”
“Your true home?” Sobering suddenly, she turned to look at him, examining his puzzled face with an expression that, half-hidden by the veil, Kal-El found hard to read.
He returned her gaze anxiously, ignoring the line of lords and ambassadors that was beginning to form at the foot of the dais, and wondered if he’d said something wrong.
“Tell me,” she asked, gravely. “Do you always do what your father says?”
The question caught him by surprise. As he stared at her wordlessly, the Persian ambassador, a paunchy self-important older man swathed in gold-trimmed white robes and crowned with a turban twice the size of his head, was padding forward, trailed by at least two dozen retainers bearing litters loaded with jewels, gold, and silver.
Kal-El glanced at him without interest, and turned back to answer Chloe. “Of course.”
He didn’t bother mentioning that just a few minutes ago, he’d almost told her all about the biggest threat to him on the face of the Earth. He was reasonably sure, he reflected with a twinge of discomfort, that his father wouldn’t have approved of that.
He took her hand. Instantly, her fingers curled tightly around his. Kal-El saw the way they fit together and was amazed at how natural it felt.
He looked up to meet a pair of unexpectedly intense hazel eyes. “Don’t you? Do what your father wants, I mean?”
Relaxing into an amused grin, she replied, dryly, “Obviously, you’ve never talked to my father.”
Kal-El frowned, totally lost, and Chloe’s expression gentled. “I love my father,” she explained quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I let him run my life.”
“I see,” he said thoughtfully.
“Do you?”
“Not really,” he admitted, smiling. “My whole life has been my father.”
She nodded in understanding. “I suppose the idea of free will must seem strange. But,” she went on cheerfully, “you’ll get used to it. After all, I got used to you.”
Not sure what to say, Kal-El squeezed her hand lightly, and found himself hoping that she was right.
The vizier, who stood as usual behind Kal-El’s throne, bent down to whisper in Kal-El’s ear. “That reminds me, Your Majesty. The lady’s father is an accomplished scribe. I’m considering recruiting him as an assistant…with your permission, of course.”
Kal-El exchanged a look with Chloe, who smiled her agreement. “He’d be thrilled, I’m sure.” She paused, shifting her glance from the vizier to Kal-El, and added, slowly, “As long as it’s understood that his job doesn’t depend on me. I’m staying for now, but don’t forget, I haven’t promised anything.”
Kal-El’s heart sank at the reminder. “That goes without saying,” he answered, stiffly.
The small hand didn’t leave his grasp. “I just want to be honest with you,” she murmured. “But I’m not about to give up on you that easily.”
As he confidence came surging back, he wondered why the fact that he’d completely lost his heart to this girl didn’t frighten him in the least. With a negligent wave of one hand, he beckoned the Persian ambassador forward while he bent close to Chloe for a last, quick reply. “You have my word, I’ll learn how to be ordinary.”
Serenaded by Chloe’s answering snort, he turned toward the portly ambassador, who hurried past the marble fountain toward the base of the dais, fell to his knees with an audible thud, and kissed the fringed hem of the damask cloth that covered the platform.
“O Fountainhead of flowing wisdom and power!” he recited with downcast eyes, one arm outstretched toward the fountain as if for inspiration. “O Sea of flowing beneficence! You put the waters of the world to shame.” The arm swept past the fountain and pointed to his overburdened servants. “Please accept these poor tokens of my royal master’s esteem.”
Kal-El cringed inwardly as, from his side, came the discreet but unmistakeable sound of bottled laughter. “Forget ‘ordinary,’” Chloe’s soft voice drawled. “Just try not to overflow, okay?”
Kal-El sighed as he watched two of the Persian’s retainers take hold of the ambassador’s chubby arms and pull him to his feet. As they did, litters piled high with treasure paraded past them.
And they were only the first. Next came the Babylonian delegation, bringing pretty much the same thing, except they threw in a small forest of cuttings from their fabled Hanging Gardens. Then the Egyptians countered with rare spices and a scale model of the Sphinx, on which Kal-El’s head replaced the original. The Cretans livened up the proceedings by hauling in a half-dozen bulls garlanded with flowers on which scantily-clad slave girls sat; Kal-El immediately ordered both the bulls and the girls freed, much to the disappointment of everyone but Chloe. Meanwhile, the Greek delegation, as they waited for their turn, toasted Kal-El and the entire court with massive amounts of ouzo.
Kal-El, uninterested in the drink, offered his goblet to Chloe, who was about to refuse when she caught sight of the shocked look on the Greek ambassador’s face. She sipped at it and made a face, but hung on to it stubbornly.
Kal-El politely acknowledged each tribute with thanks and a curt nod, all the while pleasantly aware that Chloe was only inches away. As one hour slid into the next, he found it increasingly hard to ignore her tempting presence, and even harder to sit through the endless flattering speeches.
Chloe had been right, he reflected, watching their faces. They were all afraid of him. Everyone but her.
He wanted, with all his heart, to take Chloe out of here right now and fly them both to a place where no one had ever heard of Sultan Kal-El.
He thought of Jor-El, and sighed inwardly. If only he could.
After receiving three or four more delegations, Kal-El became aware that Chloe was leaning ever so slightly against him, and he heard a small, ladylike hiccup. Glancing at her anxiously, he saw that her goblet was almost empty and her eyes were drifting shut.
“ ‘M fine,” she mumbled sleepily. “Don’ worry.”
Without bothering to answer, Kal-El rose, keeping one hand on her shoulder to prop her up. “My Lady Chloe is tired,” he announced to the hall, cutting off the flowery speech of the representative from Phoenicia. “Thank you all, but this audience is over. Please leave us.”
Within minutes, the chamber was so empty that Kal-El felt sure even human ears would have been able to pick up the sound of a pin dropping. Last of all, the vizier left, bowing in respectful silence on his way out.
Gently, Kal-El scooped up Chloe’s unsteady form from the throne, unhooking the veil and pushing off the headdress so that she could breathe more easily. “Shhh. I’ll take you to your bed,” he whispered, rocking her in his arms. “It’s getting late anyway. The sun must have set by now.”
She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It just makes me feel more dizzy.”
Chagrined, he stopped the motion and held her perfectly still. “Sorry.”
She blinked a few times, then looked up at him with eyes that were unexpectedly clear. “Y’know, you’re really hopeless.”
It was Kal-El’s turn to feel caught off-balance. “What do you mean?”
One bare white arm lifted briefly, traced a shaky circle around the empty chamber, and dropped to her side. “This. You did it like it was second nature-ordering everyone out. Kal-El, I don’ think-” she paused, hiccupped, and continued, “I don’ think you could act like a regular person if your life depended on it.”
“I told you, I can learn to be ordinary,” he insisted.
Chloe managed a weak smile. “Ordinary people leave a room. The room doesn’t leave them.”
She shook her head, then stopped, blinking as if the motion had made her dizzy again. “I just….it’s too much.”
“Then tell me what I have to do,” he asked urgently, suddenly afraid that Chloe, in spite of what she’d said earlier, had already decided to give up on him. “Tell me what I have to do so that people won’t be afraid of me anymore. Please, I need your help.”
Steadying her head against his supporting arm, she stared up at him for a long moment, as if considering. “Well,” she said at last, “there’s one thing we might try. I can show you, but we need to go to my house.”
Kal-El nodded, choosing to push aside his questions. “We flew over it this morning. I remember it. Would now be okay, or would you rather rest first?”
She snuggled closer to him and yawned. “Now’s fine,” she murmured. “It won’t take long.”
* * * * * * * *
Less than a minute later, Kal-El was carrying Chloe across the flat roof of her father’s mudbrick house, which was bathed in the pale light of a rising crescent moon. As he’d thought, it was night, and the streets below them were deserted.
Chloe lifted her head from his tunic and took several deep breaths of the fresh air, which seemed to revive her a little. “I can walk,” she said, squirming impatiently.
Kal-El set her down carefully and followed her to a small opening cut in the roof, from which a ladder protruded. “It’s down here, in my father’s bedroom,” she explained, starting down the ladder.
Mystified, he watched her to make sure she got down alright before descending after her. Once he reached the bottom, he stepped onto the beaten-earth floor of the tiniest room he’d ever seen and stared at its plain but clean furnishings: a rough-hewn wooden table, two benches, shelves filled with cutlery and other household items, and few clay pots. A single opening led to another room, from which he heard rummaging sounds.
“Need any help?” Kal-El called out. “It’s pretty dark in there.”
“Nope,” she sang out. “I know what I’m looking for.” After a little more rummaging, he heard her exclaim softly. “And-hey!-I’ve got a surprise for you, too.”
A minute later, Chloe emerged, her elegant court dress looking completely out of place in this simple two-room house. Over one arm, she carried what looked like a pile of rags. The other arm was hidden behind her back.
She moved closer to him, grinning. As she did, Kal-El winced, feeling a sudden wave of nausea pass over him.
Extending her hidden arm, she opened her hand. “Look what I found,” she said cheerfully, and Kal-El blanched.
There, in her exposed palm, was a glowing chunk of Kryptonite.
Somehow, he thought, as blackness overcame him, she’d figured out his secret. She’d planned this all along. The only person on Earth who wasn’t afraid of him, had betrayed him.
Faintly, he heard someone scream, and then there was nothing.
Read the next chapter here.