Evan sat in a golden cage. Literally. He sat on silk cushions embroidered with gold thread in something that looked like a golden birdcage, but fitted to his size. Around him was something like a great chamber from a tale of One Thousand and One Nights. There were many guests. All dressed in fantastical, semi-transparent outfits. And music. Pure luxury. It was easy to fall under the illusion that this was some fairy tale.
"Is something wrong?"
He looked around. Zahira stood over him. From the tone of her voice he could have thought she was worried about him, but he knew she was more worried about his meat.
"I'm embarrassed."
And that was the truth. Evan was red as a beet. The reason was his outfit. Harem pants, a top, sleeves, a veil over his face, and instead of underwear a skimpy triangular scrap of fabric on chains, one of which ran between his buttocks. Compared to this, the stripper outfit he had worn at the housewarming seemed like a sealed jumpsuit.
"You look adorable. Like Prince Azhar Al-Rahim."
"Someone you once ate?"
The tigress widened her eyes.
"You don't know?"
"Know what?"
Suddenly Zahira seemed to drift away.
"It's a very old fairy tale penned by Master Nazim Al-Quadir. In the simplest terms it goes like this. Prince Azhar Al-Rahim was kidnapped by a sorceress. She promised him the freedom of his concubines if he voluntarily allowed her to eat him. A great feast was prepared…"
Silence fell. It stretched unbearably. After a moment Evan couldn't take it.
"And how does it end?"
The tigress sighed heavily.
"That's exactly the problem. No one knows. Master Al-Quadir died during a plague before he could finish the tale."
Evan widened his eyes. He had once heard of the famous unfinished symphony. Was this something similar?
"And the author's other works?"
"The Master wrote many similar works in his life, but they end in different ways. Some with salvation, others with the antagonist's victory. For centuries folklorists, philosophers, literary scholars and other learned people have argued about what the ending was supposed to be. Was the prince meant to be rescued? Was his sacrifice meant to save his concubines? Or perhaps something else?" She tilted her head. "Including me. I adore fairy tales. Since childhood I have wondered what the true ending was supposed to be."
"And you kidnapped me because I'm supposedly a human and I have four girls."
Zahira laughed lightly. And pulled out a tablet.
"You see, at the beginning of the tale the prince arrives at the court of a lion sultan named… Arslan. There he also gains his protection."
Evan flinched. He felt drops of sweat on his back.
"The prince had four concubines. An elegant vixen from a desert oasis, a barbarian she-wolf from the north, a cat from a forgotten library, and a mantis from spiritual gardens."
Now he began to grow uneasy. Then Zahira showed him a painting from the time when the tale was still being written. On it was the hero of the tale, and he looked very similar to him.
"The sorceress from the tale was Arslan's opponent. Her name was Zahira Al-Nair and she was a tigress."
She smiled at him as if she wanted to say he had no choice.
"To keep the prince from escaping, the sorceress sent assassins to kill the prince's concubines if he tried to flee. I sent my own assassins."
Evan couldn't believe it.
"Just like in the fairy tale. Almost word for word."
He could practically see it in her eyes.
Lion king Arslan and protection. Director Arslan and patronage.
Elegant vixen from an oasis. Elegant vixen cook.
Barbarian she-wolf. Rebellious she-wolf.
Cat from a library. Nerdy cat-girl.
Mantis from the gardens. Gothic mantis from the garden.
Sorceress tigress Zahira Al-Nair. Illegal cook Zahira Al-Nair.
Assassins sent. Assassins sent.
Kidnapped for a feast. Kidnapped for a feast.
"I see you already understand. Until now everyone only guessed. Now the fairy tale is happening for real. And I intend to bring it to its end."
She sipped a little tea.
"No, this will not be a feast. This will be a living legend. Will the prince be eaten, or will someone arrive to save him? The world will finally know the true ending."
In the evening Evan found himself in the kitchen. It looked like a perfect marriage of modernity, fairy-tale style and culinary tradition. There was everything from marble countertops to a great stone oven. The scent of exotic spices practically drilled into the nose.
He was already naked. Worse, his erosion was raging. Instinctively he drank in the spices with his nose. His soul seemed poisoned by this fairy tale. He himself wondered what the true ending was. Because of that his manhood was hard and fully ready.
Several kitchen boys were watching him. Later Zahira came. She was in a cook's outfit.
"You look magnificent."
She approached and stroked his manhood. Perfect in every inch. Like in the paintings.
Evan only sighed and asked, resigned.
"Wine and herbs?"
"I admit that would really suit you, but no. That's too European for this fairy tale. This will be a roast in an oriental style."
"I don't know oriental cuisine."
"Please leave everything to me. You will be proud that you became this dish. First I invite you there."
She pointed him to something that looked like a shallow stone basin filled with some golden cream with red traces.
"What is that?"
"Marinade. Yogurt, olive oil, saffron, garlic, honey, pomegranate syrup, orange juice and zest, cumin, coriander, cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, turmeric, cloves and black pepper."
"Luxurious."
"Not only. It will sink into your meat the way a melody sinks into the soul."
Zahira's helpers laid him in the basin. Then he sensed openings he hadn't noticed at first. They bound him so he couldn't move. Then they spread the marinade over him so that only his eyes, nose and mouth were uncovered.
"Wonderful. Please wait patiently. This act will last until morning. We will learn the ending during tomorrow's dinner."
Evan swallowed.
"At which moment does the fairy tale end?"
"At the moment when the sorceress directs the knife toward the prince in order to violate his meat in an irreversible way." She laid two orange slices over his eyes. "Good night… prince."
Evan was left under guard. The scent of the marinade drilled into his nose. The spicy scent of the spices. And on top of that the pomegranate was almost the scent of wine… almost. At first he was cold, but after a few moments the marinade warmed. A chase of thoughts raged in his head. Fantasies driven by the erosion. Longing for the girls. Unease about them.
He didn't know when he fell asleep.