Lion's Bride

by Iris Johansen

  Laughter again.

  He glanced down at the courtyard. She was smiling at Haroun, and he was looking at her as if she burned as bright as that torch in his hand.

  He might well be right. She exuded a fire and strength he had never seen in another woman. Even in her most vulnerable moments she had shown a courage he would have applauded in any of his soldiers.

  She and Kadar were walking with Haroun to light the torches by the front door.

  Even her walk was different from that of other women. Her stride was graceful but purposeful, with a touch of almost militant boldness. What life had shaped that boldness?

  He frowned as he realized where his thoughts had led him. Let Kadar wonder about her, he would not. He would keep her at the same distance as he did everyone else.

  She threw back her head and laughed again. The sound carried full-bodied and rich on the evening air. She never laughed when in his presence. She was always wary and tense, as if she were afraid he’d spring at her. Perhaps she should be wary. He wanted to spring on her. He wanted to loosen her braid and cover his naked body with that fair, silky hair. He wanted to cup her breasts in his hands and spread her thighs and go deep within her.

  Christ, he was hardening just thinking about it.

  So he would not think about it. She was only a woman, like any other. He would call for a woman to sooth his lust and dismiss the Greek from his mind.

  “Today I only light the torches, but someday I shall be a great soldier,” Haroun boasted. “Just like Lord Ware.”

  Thea smiled indulgently. The boy was truly irresistible, with those burning dark eyes and endearing smile. “I’m sure you’re a very great lighter of torches. There’s time for the rest.”

  His smile vanished and he shook his head. “I must do it right away. I have responsibilities.”

  “And one of them is lighting the torches,” Kadar said. “Abdul will not be pleased if they’re not lit by the time darkness has fallen.”

  Haroun gave him a stricken glance. “At once, Lord Kadar.”

  A smile still lingered on Thea’s lips as she watched the young boy dash away to the ladder leading to the battlement. She enjoyed the few minutes’ chat with Haroun every evening. He was so proud of his place in this grim fortress.

  “We should go in,” Kadar said. “It grows cool.”

  “In a moment.” Her gaze followed Haroun as he went from torch to torch, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Children always left brightness where they passed. She murmured, “He reminds me of Selene.”

  “Who is Selene?”

  The question brought her abruptly back to the present. She turned and started up the steps. “You’re right, it’s growing cool.”

  “Do you think I’m going to ride off and capture this Selene if you tell me who she is?” Kadar asked as he followed her. “What must I say to prove I wish only what is best for you? Am I not the most charming and kindhearted of men?”

  He was both of those things, but he was also the most persistent man she had ever met. During the past three days he had found a way to insinuate at least one subtle inquiry into every conversation. “If you were as kindhearted as you claim, you wouldn’t plague me with questions I don’t wish to answer.”

  “But that’s only an example of my kindness. If you were as old and experienced as me, you’d realize that you should rely on my judgment in this.”

  She snorted. “You’re perhaps two years older than I am.”

  “Ah, Thea, I was older than you when I was in the cradle.”

  She opened her lips to argue with him and then shut them again. In spite of his flippant remarks and smiling face, she still sometimes caught a glimpse of the Kadar she had seen when he had shown her his falcons.

  Kadar chuckled. “If I’d had a cradle. We were too poor. I slept on the floor of our cottage, wrapped in a blanket. I think that was why I walked so soon. I was afraid the rats would eat me if I didn’t run away from them.”

  She shivered. “That is not funny.”

  “No, but it’s better to laugh at such things than dwell on them.” He paused. “Did you worry about the rats when you were a child, Thea?”

  “No.” Nicholas would have been enraged if there had been any rats near his beautiful silks. She suddenly realized he had done it again—slipped another question into the conversation. She asked in exasperation, “When will you take me to Damascus? I’m well now.”

  “Soon. There is no hurry.”

  He might not be in a hurry, but Selene was still in Constantinople. The longer Thea took to establish herself, the longer Selene would have to bear the life at Nicholas’s house.

  “I wish to leave tomorrow.”

  “We will see. Would you like to start a game of chess before you go to bed?”

  “No.” She cast a glance at Haroun, who had just finished lighting the last torch on the battlements. He smiled and waved at her. She felt another pang as she lifted her hand in response. She wanted Selene here now. She wanted to see her smile and know she was well and happy.

  No, she was lying to herself. She was also being selfish. Selene was the only person she loved, and she needed someone to love in this alien land.

  “You look sad.” Kadar urged softly, “Tell me your thoughts.”

  The man would not stop.

  “I will not tell you my thoughts.” She strode into the castle. “I’m going to bed.”

  Two nights later she noticed it was not Haroun who was lighting the torches but one of the soldiers.

  “He is gone,” Kadar answered when she asked about it. “He went back to his village last night. Ware wasn’t pleased with him. He was too young.”

  “But he was so proud….” Anger flared through her. “How old would he have to be to light the torches and run errands?”

  “He was too young,” Kadar repeated. “This is not a place for children.”

  No, she thought bitterly, it was a place where women were kept only to couple and serve and men were taught to wage war. “He should not have sent him away.”

  Kadar shrugged. “He thought it best.”

  Her gaze lifted to the shadowy figure on the battlements. Ware was always there this time of evening, looking out at the mountains.

  Ware had thought it best, and a boy’s life had been changed. Ware felt lust, and a woman rushed to his bed. Ware refused permission, and the gates would not be opened for her.

  By the saints, she could do nothing about altering his power over the others, but she would not let him hold her there.

  She turned and ran across the courtyard.

  “Where are you going?” Kadar called, startled.

  She didn’t answer as she flew through the hall, then up the steps and finally the long, twisting stairway.

  She threw open the door and strode out onto the battlements. She stopped for a moment before approaching him, catching her breath and gathering her arguments.

  Sweet Jesus, he looked alone. She could almost touch the wall of terrible isolation that surrounded him.

  Well, if he was alone, it was his own doing. A man could expect nothing else if he pushed everyone away from him. She would not feel sorry for him. She had her own worries and he was one of them.

  She strode forward until she stood beside him.

  “I must talk to you,” Thea said.

  Ware’s gaze never left the mountains. “It’s late. Go to your bed.”

  “It’s not late. It’s been five days. Why are you keeping me here?”

  He still didn’t look at her. “Kadar says you’re not healed.”

  She snorted. “Even my burn is gone.” She moved closer to him. “I cannot linger here any longer. I must start my work.”

  He didn’t answer.

  She wanted to shake him. “Why not let me go? You don’t want me here. I’ve scarcely seen you since you brought me my mulberry leaves.”

  He glanced at her. “Did you wish me to amuse you?”

  She spoke through clenched teeth.
“No, I don’t wish you to amuse me. You wouldn’t know how. All you know is war and coupling.”

  “War is not amusing, but coupling can be—” He shook his head. “No, that’s not amusing either. When the need is upon me, it’s too intense to smile about.”

  He seldom smiled at anything but Kadar’s quips. Yet he had smiled that night she had come upon him with Tasza. Did only drunkenness rid him of grimness? No, even that night she had been aware of bitterness surrounding him like a dark cloud.

  “If you want amusement, go to Kadar,” he said. “Stay away from me.”

  “I’ll not stay away from you. Not until you tell Kadar to take me to Damascus.”

  “He wants you here. He thinks you’ll not be safe until he knows everything about you. Tell him what he wants to know and you’ll go to Damascus the next day.” He met her stare. “As for me, I don’t care where you came from or what dangers you face. You don’t belong here. You’re right, I know only war and coupling. You cannot fight for me, and that only leaves one use.” His gaze went to her breasts, and he said without inflection, “I grow hard when I look at you. If you stay here much longer, I’ll probably take you to my bed.”

  The crude boldness shocked her, but no more than her own physical response. Her breasts were swelling beneath his gaze as if he were stroking her. She could feel her nipples hardening, pressing against the soft cotton of her gown. Could he see that betraying response in the bright flare of the torches? she wondered. Probably. His gaze was narrowing, his mouth curving with that same heavy sensuality she had seen in the hall that night.

  “Every time I take a woman now, I want it to be you. At first I thought it because I was growing bored with Tasza, but I’ve tried two others and it’s the same.” He said thickly, “I want them all to be you. I want you to open your thighs and let me stroke you. I remember how soft your woman’s fleece looked. I want to feel it against me as I move in and out of—”

  “Stop.” Her voice was strangled. “This is not…decent.”

  “Look at yourself. You want it.”

  “No, I don’t.” She tried to steady her voice. “I’ll not be one of your women. I won’t be any man’s property. I’m going to have my own embroidery house and be free to live life as I please.”

  His gaze at last lifted from her breasts to her face. “Then stay away from me.” He turned back to the mountains. “And tell Kadar what he wants to know. I’ve let Kadar have his way in this, but I’ve little patience. If you stay much longer, I will have my way.”

  “It’s none of your concern what life I left behind me. If you don’t let me go, I’ll find a way of leaving anyway. I’ll not let you—What is that glow?”

  His gaze never left the third mountain. “Just a campfire.”

  The answer barely registered as she leaned over the battlement to see better. “No, not there. To the south.”

  He stiffened. “My God.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the door leading off the battlement.

  She hurried after him. “What is it?”

  “Jedha. The village is burning.”

  “The village…”

  The families of all the soldiers who guarded this fortress lived in the village.

  He had sent Haroun back to Jedha.

  She flew down the steps after him. “I’m going with you.”

  “No.”

  “I’m going.”

  He turned to look at her. “I’ve no time for this. Do what you wish. God knows, you may be as safe there as here.”

  “I’ll get salves and linens.” She ran down the corridor to the scullery. “Jasmine!”

  The courtyard was filled with armored soldiers and milling horses when Thea rushed out the door a short time later.

  Her gaze searched the courtyard until she found Kadar.

  “Kadar!”

  He walked his horse up to her.

  “May I ride with you?”

  He glanced at Ware, who was now mounting his horse across the courtyard. “I think you should stay here. We don’t know what we’ll encounter at Jedha.”

  “Don’t be foolish. We’ll encounter people who are hurt. Jasmine is following with a wagon full of bandages, salves, and food.” She held up her arms for him to lift her onto his horse. When he made no motion to help her, she added, “And Lord Ware said I could go.”

  “He did?” Kadar’s expression became thoughtful. “I wonder…” He bent down and lifted her onto his horse. “You are sure?” He galloped across the courtyard and reined in when he reached Ware. “Is this wise?”

  “It may not make any difference. I’m leaving a force here, but it may be too small….” He shrugged. “She maybe safer outside the gates.”

  “But if it’s a trap?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to go anyway. That’s my village that’s burning.” He waved his hand and galloped over the drawbridge with the column of soldiers thundering after him.

  “What did he mean?” Thea asked as Kadar followed the soldiers. “A trap?”

  “I don’t think it’s a trap,” Kadar said reassuringly. “Ware has made sure his army is stronger than the Knights Templars’. That’s why they haven’t attacked him yet. They’re waiting for an opportunity.”

  He had mentioned the Knights Templars’ pursuit of Ware before, but it seemed impossible they would burn a village to draw him out. After all, they were monks, servants of God. “Fires start all the time. A careless mistake with a cooking flame…” He did not seem to be listening. “How far is it?”

  “Over the next hill. We’ll be there soon.”

  But would it be soon enough to help the villagers? she wondered desperately, her gaze on the red glare lighting the night sky.

  The village was ablaze, every house an inferno.

  Thea stared in horror at the flaming chaos before them.

  Bodies…everywhere.

  Men, women…Dear God, children…little children.

  “I have to help them. I have to—” She slipped from the saddle.

  “Thea!” Kadar called.

  She ignored him and ran toward a little girl lying beside a burning hut. She carefully turned the body over. Blood. Dark eyes staring at the sky. Dead.

  “You can’t help here.” Ware’s voice came from beside her. “Wait outside the village with Kadar. If there’s anyone alive, I’ll have them brought to you.”

  She dazedly stared up at him, still mounted on his horse. “She’s dead.”

  “It was a clean sword thrust,” he said quietly. “She didn’t suffer.”

  “Sword…” She glanced at the other bodies. She had noticed only the death and devastation, not the means. An arrow protruded from the back of a man across the path. A woman was crumpled against a wall, clutching a wound in her stomach. She could not believe it. “They murdered them?”

  “Wait outside the village.”

  She shook her head. “Someone may be alive. I have to—”

  “I gave my soldiers orders for all bodies to be checked for signs of life. This is their village, their people. They won’t make mistakes.”

  Ignoring him, she stood up and moved to a man lying a few feet away. He was dead also. She moved to another lying next to the well in the center of the square. Dead.

  Frozen expressions of fear and horror.

  Blood.

  A woman swollen with child with an arrow in her back.

  The smoke from the burning cottages was now so thick, she could barely see.

  Kadar was on his knees beside her. “Ware says you must leave this place.”

  “I will not,” she said fiercely. “Someone must be alive. I have to—” Was that a movement? She leaped to her feet and ran toward the slumped figure on the other side of the well. “Haroun?”

  The child opened his eyes. “Mama…”

  “Shh…it’s all right.”

  He shook his head and his lids closed again.

  But he was still alive. She turned to Kadar. “Take him out of here.”

>   She found only one other survivor of the massacre. An old man who had hidden beneath a wagon. It didn’t seem possible that there could be no one else left alive. Perhaps the soldiers had discovered others…. She had to keep searching.

  Ware jerked her to her feet. “Will you stay here until you burn to death with the corpses?” He lifted her in his arms and strode down the street.

  “Let me go.” She started to struggle. “I found two alive. There may be more.”

  “There are no more.” His face was completely without expression. “And if there were, we couldn’t reach them. The entire village is engulfed.” He set her down on her feet. “Take care of her, Jasmine.” He was gone again.

  Jasmine. She hadn’t seen the wagon arrive. She had seen nothing but death and blood and fire.

  “You are weeping,” Jasmine said. “Are you hurt?”

  She hadn’t realized she was weeping. She reached up a hand and touched her wet cheek. There didn’t seem to be enough tears in the world for what she had just seen. “No, I’m not hurt.”

  She turned back to the village.

  There was no village, only a solid sheet of flame.

  “May Allah be merciful,” Jasmine’s voice was unsteady. “I was not treated with kindness here, but I would not have had this happen. I grew up in this village.”

  Thea saw several of the soldiers standing with tears running down their cheeks. This was their home, the place of their birth, the people they had loved in that bonfire. She couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. She turned back to the wagon. “Did you look at Haroun?”

  “He may not live. He’s had a sharp blow on the head. The old man, Malik ben Karrah, has only a few burns.”

  “Did they find anyone else?”

  “One man. Amal, the cobbler. He died before I could look at his wounds.”

  Two alive out of an entire village. She suppressed the wave of sickness that washed over her. She couldn’t help anyone if she was ill. She climbed onto the bed of the wagon. “Then let’s get back to Dundragon so that we can care for the boy.”

  “Are you all right?” Kadar was beside the wagon.

  She nodded. “But we have to get Haroun back to the castle.”

  “Not now. Ware has taken some men and gone on ahead to make sure the road is safe. I’m to wait a quarter hour and then escort you back.”