The Blade's Shadow (Ishtar's Legacy Book 4)

by Lisa Blackwood

  That stirring of emotions was what had him letting down his guard and speaking from the heart. “I am happy the gods chose us for each other.”

  Asharru bestowed him with one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. Then she was laughing, and that was wonderful as well.

  “I’m glad you’re happy with their choice. I doubt they would have changed our fates even if we had hated each other. The gods are said to be stubborn and set in their ways.”

  “Ah. It’s good then that I don’t hate you.”

  Laughter was in her eyes. “I don’t hate you either, my Blade. Far from it.”

  Again, the new happiness and warmth was urging him to lean down and kiss Asharru. However, she had reason to be nervous enough without him adding further complications even if she welcomed his advances.

  “Come, your servants will be here soon, and so will your new Shadow Guard.” He held out his hand. When she took it, he guided her back inside.

  Asharru went with him willingly.

  If he wasn’t just puffing up his own chest, he thought she’d relaxed once he’d taken her hand in his. He reminded himself to do so as often as circumstances allowed. During his studies to become a priest, he’d once read something about how Blades possessed some power that allowed them to soothe their monarchs; the text might have been talking about their gryphon natures, but it seemed to work on their human sides as well.

  Tirigan gave her fingers another squeeze and willed peace to wrap around her mind.

  Perhaps there was something to that scroll he’d read all those years ago, for Asharru relaxed further, a genuine smile on her face now.

  Chapter 16

  The relaxation Asharru had seemed to absorb from her Blade earlier that morning was now long gone as she glanced at herself in the mirror. A queen looked back.

  At least I look the part, Asharru admitted. Though that was entirely the work of the servants and the dressmakers.

  Her hair had been braided again. Gold beads used to secure the ends of the braids clinked softly against each other as she moved. A matching gold necklace with a large garnet mounted to the center circled her neck. From her shoulders to her ankles she was swathed in shimmering golden fabric that shifted and flowed around her as she moved.

  More gold circled her waist and draped down the front of her dress’s skirt in the form of a wide belt with more garnet and jet stones forming a pattern. The artist’s skill made the stones look like they were growing out of the metal itself, or that magic held them in place.

  She smoothed a hand along the flowing skirt to brush out non-existent wrinkles and then glanced at her feet encased in sandals that laced up nearly to her knees. No one would see them unless it was windy at the temple. But the dressmakers had even thought of that, for the sandal laces glinted with the shimmer of spun gold, and more polished garnet and jet stones decorated the delicate straps crisscrossing her feet.

  Yes, she looked the part of a queen. Now all she had to do was live up to the title and keep New Sumer prosperous in the coming years.

  Tirigan appeared in the mirror next to her.

  He was dressed in the ceremonial garb of a Blade. The fabric of his wrap was gold to match her dress and pleated at the front this time, more in the style of an old world shendyt. He still wore the wide belt, but this time the dressmaker had attached Asharru’s gryphon feathers so they dangled from delicate fittings.

  She’d never really thought of the origin of their fashion and rituals, but she supposed they all drew upon cultures from an earlier time before her ancestors sought out their new home. The histories said in the first thousand years, there had been some travel back to their homeland.

  “What are you thinking? I’m having trouble pinpointing just what thoughts are flowing through your eyes.”

  Asharru laughed. “That’s no surprise. I’ve been thinking of frivolous things like the origin of the clothing we’re wearing.”

  “You’re probably not the first royal to seek frivolous things to distract themselves on the day of their coronation.”

  “Perhaps.” Asharru drew herself up. “But the time for woolgathering is over.”

  When she started toward the outer chamber and the hallway beyond, her new Shadow Guard followed and merged with the garrison guards out in the hall. The garrison guards had already seen the Shadows as they entered her chamber. And as they were being led by Kuri and Hunzuu, none of the garrison members had uttered a word.

  Though, there had been a few questioning looks.

  Later, after the temple rituals, she would formally introduce New Sumer to her Blade and his Shadows. Only the nobles had seen her Blade, though rumors were swirling throughout the city according to Kuri’s reports.

  Asharru and her entourage soon made their way out of the palace and onto the broad set of stairs leading down to where the Processional Way began. Floral scents from the terraced gardens to either side drifted to her. Though she couldn’t enjoy them this day, not with the four chariots awaiting to carry her to the temple where she’d become a queen.

  Even the horses were done up to match Asharru and Tirigan’s color scheme down to the gold beads that tipped each of the horses’ braids.

  “Well, we’ll certainly be a pretty picture, won’t we?” Tirigan said with a little huff of humor as he stepped into the chariot and took the reins from a groom.

  “I can’t deny that,” she mumbled as she stepped in behind him and rested one hand upon the vehicle and the other on his shoulder.

  He’d instructed her to grab hold of his belt to steady herself, but she’d declined, saying it wouldn’t look very queenly. The hand on his shoulder was purely to soothe her beast’s need to touch Tirigan. She’d been so busy in the last few days, she hadn’t had time to shapeshift and allow the creature out to hunt and play.

  She was also sure her beast was getting annoyed at the lack of cuddle time with her favorite person. Not that she could blame her gryphon.

  Asharru’s gaze roamed over Tirigan’s form, her eyes lingering upon his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Her gaze continued down his back. Strangely, she found she wanted to run her fingers along the path her eyes had just taken.

  She gave herself a little shake. Focus, you can’t allow yourself to become distracted by your Blade’s fine form today.

  And today of all days is not the time to enter my first heat cycle. Do you hear me, my beast?

  But as was usual with her gryphon nature, all she got in return was the impression of a slowly flicking tail and a wash of stubborn intent.

  Now she knew why she was suddenly so interested in her Blade’s physical attributes. At least she would have some days before she was in full heat. There would be time to talk with Tirigan.

  Seeking to distract herself, she glanced around to the other chariots in the formation.

  Kuri was driving Laliya’s chariot. When Asharru glanced in the guardswoman’s direction, the newly anointed Shadow nodded her head in acknowledgment. Turning her gaze to the left, Asharru briefly studied Hunzuu as he competently drove his team. As for Bashaa, he stood just behind Hunzuu, looking as comfortable as if he’d been born in a chariot, though Asharru knew this was his first ride in one.

  Half turning to glance over her shoulder, she spotted Nutesh in the chariot bringing up the rear of the diamond formation. Shadow Burrakurin was driving his chariot.

  The chariot ride was the last bit of freedom Asharru enjoyed for the rest of the day. Once they reached the temple of Ishtar, the day long rituals of coronation began.

  Chapter 17

  After a day that felt twice as long as Asharru thought it would, she was at last anointed and crowned under a radiant orange and red sky just moments before the sun sank into the ocean.

  Laliya timed the placement of the crown upon Asharru’s head to the exact moment the sun seemed to slide under the waves.

  “By decree of our great goddess Ishtar, Queen of the Heavens,” Laliya said in a clear, far-reaching voice. “I cr
own you Queen Asharru of New Sumer. May you rule long and justly.”

  As the crown settled heavily upon Asharru’s head, the crowds below and lining the stairs and central ramp of the ziggurat burst into cheers and calls, the sounds swelling into one great wave.

  It filled the air and touched something deep within her.

  Standing at the topmost level of the temple, high up on the ziggurat, Asharru could see her beautiful city spreading out around her as it dropped away to the surrounding ocean in the distance.

  “I will protect you with my last breath,” she whispered.

  Tirigan came forward then and knelt with his head bowed and his crystalline sword resting naked against his bent knee. “And I shall protect you with my last breath, Queen Asharru.”

  It was part of the ritual, the swearing of fealty, and yet she felt the depth of truth behind his words.

  She reached down and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and then she closed hers over top until they were both holding the grip. Then urging him to his feet, she guided him to the top of the west facing stairs and held the sword above their heads, their fingers intertwined around the hilt.

  Below the cheers redoubled to a deafening level.

  “That wasn’t part of the traditional rituals. Did you just declare me your mate?” Tirigan asked in a startled voice as he looked down into her eyes.

  Emotions flickered across his features too swiftly for her to register before he mastered a neutral mask.

  “Not mate—that is only something that can be decided upon by mutual agreement. But I did just announce you as my co-ruler.” She paused and sought words to explain. “I wanted to give you a gift equal to your service and dedication. I want New Sumer to know how much I trust and value you, my Blade. If you wish, we can dream up some other title if you don’t want to be called king.”

  Tirigan’s expression softened. “Let’s just keep calling me your Blade for now.”

  She nodded. “As you wish.”

  “Thank you.” Then he leaned forward and surprised her by pressing his lips to hers in a sweet, lingering kiss.

  Below another roar went up from the crowd.

  “Now who is giving the people of Nineveh the wrong idea?” Asharru asked with a grin.

  Tirigan just shrugged as he held his left hand out to her, and then together they started down the ziggurat’s tall stairs.

  Chapter 18

  Navigating through the crowds on their way back to the palace was slow going, but eventually, they made it back. Plentiful food and drink awaited the royal party and the guests.

  In the days since Tirigan had first walked among her court openly as her Blade, the nobles had become somewhat used to him. Or, Asharru thought more likely, they’d concluded the Blade had already had ample time to seek and destroy the most corrupt of the nobility if he so wished. Thus, the rest were safe from execution.

  Asharru grinned into her cup. While it was true Tirigan, and Bashaa as well, had been hunting up some fascinating details, they had found no one with plans of a genuinely dark nature.

  It was possible Ekurzakir and his daughter were working alone and had just enlisted Ugurnaszir only recently because they needed the added manpower with Nutesh’s defection. Perhaps Asharru’s court was free of Ereshkigal’s agents.

  While it would be easy to let down her guard, it wouldn’t be wise. The Gryphon Court was never peaceful for long. Ekurzakir might be on the run, but that didn’t mean he was her only enemy.

  As she sat her throne, her new crown an unaccustomed weight upon her brow, she reflected it might be better if the nobles of her court continued to view Tirigan as an unknown and possibly hostile commodity, rather than a tamed royal guard.

  She debated how best to accomplish that, but no ideas were forthcoming. Sighing, she glanced down at her own cup and took a small sip. She’d been careful to only have a little wine. Today was not the day to overindulge, not if her beast was indeed putting her into her first heat spell.

  Glancing sidelong at Tirigan, she allowed herself to study him as he glowered at the crowd below the dais. She grinned into her cup again.

  Perhaps she didn’t need to think up a master plan to make the nobles respect her Blade. If he kept up that glower, the look alone would instill all the fear he needed. She relaxed into her throne and continued to sip at her wine. As evening faded into night, the wine and ale followed more freely, and the crowd became more boisterous.

  There was more than a little rowdy drunkenness, but such was to be expected. The garrison guards were instructed to leave the nobles to their fun unless the unruliness looked to shift toward violence.

  The Shadows merely glowered at the drunken nobles, but she sensed their readiness to act.

  Midway through the night, Laliya and Bashaa approached Asharru.

  “Come, there must be some law that says a queen needs to dance at her coronation feast, surely?” Bashaa said with an accompanying grin and a twinkle of amusement.

  “Hmm,” Asharru said in response. “And I assume you have someone in mind as my partner.”

  Bashaa’s grin grew broader. “I’d volunteer myself, but that might make someone else jealous. Though perhaps if I pretended to court you, that would bestir him into doing something about it.”

  Laliya snorted and swatted him on the back of his head.

  “Males. Such meddling creatures.” Laliya’s tone was laced with humor.

  An uproar and drunken laughter drowned out Laliya’s next words. Once the noise had died down, Asharru leaned forward to see what foolery was going on down on the floor.

  With a twist of her lips, Laliya mumbled, “Idiots.”

  Asharru swiftly pinpointed one noble as the source of the earlier laughter. He was gesturing with extensive, exaggerated motions, directing other onlookers to gaze up at the throne.

  Briefly, she wondered what he was telling his companions. Or trying to tell them. She suspected he might be too drunk to string together coherent sentences.

  Slowly, the other revelers around the male fell silent, their attention drawn by his antics. Curiosity held their focus upon him.

  As more people fell silent to listen to the male, Asharru heard snippets of what he said.

  “Know them… I’m telling… Blade’s familiar…. didn’t recognize him until…”

  “What are you rambling about,” one of his companions asked, his patience clearly wearing thin at the first male’s ramblings.

  The man in question took another long drink and then gestured at Tirigan with the cup. “The Blade, he was one of Ugurnaszir’s favorites. Knew he was familiar but couldn’t place him until I saw him standing with the red-headed female and the other male.”

  “Shh. Now’s not the time to discuss such things,” his more sober companion hissed.

  The first male looked confused. “But that man isn’t even noble born. He was a pleasure slave.”

  The soberer of the two men looked upon Tirigan and then Asharru where she sat upon the throne. He blanched, proving this male was less drunk than his friend and still had some survival instincts.

  “You’re mistaken,” he said in a clear voice for the benefit of the rest of the court, and then lowered it to whisper as he leaned closer to the drunk. “You fool, it doesn’t matter what he was before, he’s her Goddess blessed Blade. She’ll have your head if you disrespect her male.”

  The drunk swung his gaze back to Asharru and then Tirigan. His grin grew broader. “There’s no disrespect if it’s the truth. He was Ugurnaszir’s favorite pleasure slave. Saw him during several of the Governor’s parties. Same with the other male and the female.”

  Asharru glowered down at the noble, wishing he’d been just a little drunker. That way he might never have recognized Tirigan or his friends. But as she scanned the crowd, she could see several others studying Tirigan and then his friends, one by one.

  Recognition flickered in other eyes.

  Someone farther back in the crowd, a man even drunker tha
n the noble causing trouble at the foot of the stair, called out in boisterous drunkenness. “Give us a performance. I wanted to see Ugurnaszir’s protégé in action.” He raised his goblet, sloshing a good bit of its contents on himself in the process. With a grunt, he lowered the cup and looked inside as if surprised to see less wine. Shrugging, he downed the rest.

  Other drunken voices joined him, urging him on and he grinned, staggering closer. “Let’s see the pretty man and his friends perform.” His gaze slid to Asharru where she sat her throne. He stared at her crown, a look of confusion crossing his features until he seemed to remember this was her coronation feast. His grin grew broader. “A great performance for our queen! That would be a worthy gift!”

  Laughter rippled through the crowd, some drunken sounding, others the nervous twitters of the more sober merrymakers.

  As for herself, she didn’t care what foolery the drunken nobles called for, nor did she care if all New Sumer knew she’d gone to the slave markets and started freeing slaves.

  But for Tirigan, Laliya, and Bashaa’s sake, she would have spared them having their histories revealed.

  Unfortunately, they’d been recognized. There was nothing Asharru could do to take that back. However, that didn’t mean she’d just sit by while her court insulted and demeaned her beloved Blade and her friends.

  Asharru started to rise, but Tirigan placed his hand on her shoulder as he moved out from behind her throne. She’d been about to order the drunken fools removed from the throne room, but Tirigan’s gentle squeeze to her shoulder conveyed that he wanted to do this himself.

  She nodded, settling back in her throne to watch as Tirigan walked down the short flight of stairs, his gait confident.

  “I know neither of your names,” Tirigan said as he speared first one male and then the other with his gaze. “Nor do I care to know them. However, I think you need setting straight about a few details since your tone suggests insult.”