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A Blessed Olive Tree: A Spiritual Journey in Twenty Short Stories

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Zain Hashmi

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“While Under the Mountain had been a series of halls and rooms and levels, this... this was truly a city. The walkway that Mor led us down was an avenue, and around us, rising high into gloom, were buildings and spires, homes and bridges. A metropolis carved from the dark stone of the mountain itself, no inch of it left unmarked or without some lovely, hideous artwork etched into it. Figures danced and fornicated; begged and revelled. Pillars were carved to look like curving vines of night-blooming flowers. Water ran throughout in little streams and rivers tapped from the heart of the mountain itself. The Hewn City. A place of such terrible beauty that it was an effort to keep the wonder and dread off my face. ... Mor led me down the avenue toward another set of stone gates, thrown open at the base of what looked to be a castle within the mountain. The official seat of the High Lord of the Night Court. Great scaled black beasts were carved into those gates, all coiled together in a nest of claws and fangs, sleeping and fighting, some locked in an endless cycle of devouring each other. Between them flowed vines of jasmine and moonflowers. I could have sworn the beasts seemed to writhe in the silvery glow of the bobbing faelights throughout the mountain-city.”

“I felt it. Felt- him. The very rock beneath my feet seemed to tremble- a pulsing steady beat. His footsteps. As if the mountain shuddered at each touch. Everyone in that room went still as death. As if petrified that their very breathing would draw the attention of the predator now strolling toward us.”

“He is lucky to have all of you.' 'No,' she said softly- more gently than I'd ever heard. 'We are lucky to have him, Feyre.' I turned from the door. 'I have known many High Lords, ' Amren continued, studying her paper. 'Cruel ones, cunning ones, weak ones, powerful ones. But never one that dreamed. Not as he does.' 'Dreams of what?' I breathed. 'Of peace. Of freedom. Of a world united, a world thriving. Of something better- for all of us.”

“If you've moved elsewhere, I wrote after getting home from Amren's apartment, you could have at least given me the keys to this house. I keep leaving the door unlocked when I go out. It's getting to be too tempting for the neighbourhood burglars. No response. The letter didn't even vanish. I tried again after breakfast the next day- the morning of Starfall. Cassian says you're sulking in The House of Wind. What un-High-Lord-like behaviour. What of my training. Again, no reply. My guilt and- and whatever else it was- started to shift. I could barely keep from shredding the paper as I wrote my third one after lunch. Is this punishment? Or do people in your Inner Circle not get second chances if they piss you off? You're a hateful coward.”

“Crafted of tiny blue gems so pale they were almost white, it clung to every curve and hollow before draping to the floor and pooling like liquid starlight. The long sleeves were tight, capped at the wrists with cuffs of pure diamond. The neckline grazed my collarbones, the modesty of it undone by how the gown hugged areas I supposed a female might enjoy showing off. My hair had been swept off my face with two combs of silver and diamond, then left to drape down my back. And I thought, as I stood alone in my bedroom, that I might have looked like a fallen star.”

“I've had lovers,' Mor clarified, 'but... I get bored. And Cassian has had them, too, so don't get that unrequited-love, moony-woo-woo look. He just wants what he can't have, and it's irritated him for centuries that I walked away and never looked back.' 'Oh, it drives him insane,' Rhys said from behind me, and I jumped. But the High Lord was circling me. I crossed my arms as he paused and smirked. 'You look like a woman again.' 'You really know how to compliment females, cousin,' Mor said, and patted him on the shoulder.”

“Copy these sentences,' he drawled from across the table, handing me a piece of paper. I looked at them and read perfectly. 'Rhysand is a spectacular person. Rhysand is the centre of my world. Rhysand is the best lover a female can ever dream of.' I set down the paper, wrote out the three sentences, and handed it to him.”

“And will I still be bound by this bargain at Nynsar, too?' Silence. I pushed. 'After- after what happened-' I couldn't mention specifics on what had occurred Under the Mountain, what he'd done for me during the fight with Amarantha, what he'd done after- 'I think we can agree that I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing.' His gaze was unflinching. I blazed on. 'Isn't it enough that we're all free?' I splayed my tattooed hand on the table. 'By the end, I thought you were different, thought that it was all a mask, but taking me away, keeping me here...' I shook my head, unable to find the words vicious, clever enough to convince him to end this bargain. His eyes darkened. 'I'm not your enemy, Feyre.' 'Tamlin says you are.' I curled the fingers of my tattooed hand into a fist. 'Everyone else says you are.' 'And what do you think?' He leaned back in his chair again, but his face was grave. 'You're doing a damned good job of making me agree with them.' 'Liar,' he purred. 'Did you even tell your friends about what I did to you Under the Mountain?' So that comment at breakfast had gotten under his skin. 'I don't want to talk about anything related to that. With you or them.' 'No, because it's much easier to pretend it never happened and let them coddle you.' 'I don't let them coddle me-' 'They had you wrapped up like a present yesterday. Like you were his reward.' 'So?' 'So?' A flicker of rage, then it was gone. 'I'm ready to be taken home,' I merely said. 'Where you'll be cloistered for the rest of your life, especially once you start punching our heirs. I can't wait to see what Ianthe does when she gets her hands on them.' 'You don't seem to have a particularly high opinion of her.' Something cold and predatory crept into his eyes. 'No, I can't say that I do.”

“What if you could stand against us- hold your own, a High Lady?' 'There are no High Ladies.' HIs brows furrowed, but he shook his head. 'We'll talk about that later, too. But, yes, Feyre- there can be High Ladies. And perhaps you aren't one of them, but... what if you were something similar? What if you were able to wield the power of seven High Lords at once? What if you could blend into darkness, or shape-shift, or freeze over an entire room- an entire army?”