by K T Munson
“Be careful where you place your heart,” Qye said softly.
Lancel felt as though he had been caught stealing tarts from his mother’s kitchen. Leader Qye knew the love Lancel bore Ashira. He carefully concealed his emotions behind an iron mask. He was a knight who loved his queen, nothing more.
“All people who serve the queen love the queen,” Lancel declared.
“I am not without sight,” Qye corrected him. “You bear the love a king bears a queen, not a servant.”
Lancel was stunned that he was so easily discovered. Leader Qye tipped his head before turning back around the corner. After a moment Lancel followed, his feet felt as heavy as lead. He was a servant in love with his queen and he had no idea what he was going to do about it.
Chapter 60
Ashira Highlander
Ashira stood at the edge of the tent as the last of the day faded into night. The ring of safety that she had needed so badly, was burning with the cinnamon scented tar, that repelled the sand sharks. The large circle would not have kept them out but apparently cinnamon was fatal to sand sharks.
It had been hard to let Cain go, after she thought she had lost him. She wanted him to always be close enough that he was within her line of sight. She knew it was unreasonable to make everyone stay with her because she was worried. Despite that, she could not deny the clench of fear in her heart when Cain had disappeared over the next dune, that morning.
“He will be fine,” Eliron said making her jump at his words.
“You startled me,” she said, turning her head to the side so she could see his face.
“I did not mean to,” Eliron retorted as he came up to stand just behind her as he smiled.
“Thank you for staying with me,” Ashira stated before turning to look back out at the horizon.
“Ashira,” he began and she turned to him as his face contorted with emotion, “I have wanted to thank you for what you did.”
“I couldn’t let you die,” Ashira breathed, her chest tight with emotion.
She turned to face him as he caught her hand in his. “Does that mean I can hope?”
“Hope for what?” Ashira asked clearly confused.
“That you might accept me as your husband,” Eliron replied his voice so deep it rattled through her.
“Of course I accept you as my husband,” Ashira responded completely shocked. “I know what you did for me. What you have always done since we made our vows.”
Eliron shook his head as his face spread into a foolish grin. “I had hoped, but I feared asking, but what have I done?”
“I know that you went against Vargosian law for me,” Ashira explained putting a hand on his cheek. “I know our marriage is only valid once we lay together. The moment I knew that I mattered more to you than some law, I realized that I loved you.”
“How long?” He asked and his free hand fell naturally to her waist.
“I was going to tell you that day,” Ashira said her eyes fluttering at the memory. “The day he came.”
“I think I was bewitched by you the moment I knew you would be mine,” Eliron informed her. “When I thought I might die, my thoughts were of Vargos and you.”
Ashira went to her toes and touched her lips to his before saying, “You are and always will be my husband. I accept you and this marriage with the fullness of my heart and soul.”
He realized what she was saying and confirmed, “Are you sure?”
“I am,” she said though a part of her was still a little afraid; she was ready. “I am ready.”
He bent his head to kiss her lips softly and inquisitively at first. Ashira felt desire bury her memories and other emotions. She returned his gentle inquiry with passion. His hands went around her waist and drew her against him. She reached back and pulled the tie to close the tent’s door. They consummated their marriage surrounded by sand.
In the morning, he helped her dress, kissing her shoulders and neck as he did so. They laughed as he tried to convince her to return to the bed and she complained of sand everywhere. She discovered that intercourse was no different than sword play and at both, she clearly excelled. Ashira was as happy as she had ever been. It was only overshadowed by the understanding that they would reach the edge of the sand and would have to return to reality.
That is how they spent their days before arriving at the city of Tiam. Laughter filled the air, and at night they found comfort and passion in each other’s arms. Ashira felt as though she was flying and Eliron was her wings. She told him stories of her family, about when she was young. In turn he told of the trouble he and Lisbeth use to cause. His sister was, of course, always the instigator.
As they drew closer, only hours between them and their final destination, Ashira stared at the tops of the buildings. She could see them rising above the sand like stone trees. Eliron stopped beside her; their time was coming to an end. It had been a dream and now she was about to awaken.
Eliron broke the silence as he said, “Shall we ride to our future my bride?”
Ashira straightened her back and lifted her head; she was a queen and should act as one. She studied her husband’s strong features and piercing gaze. He had become so dear to her in such a short time that simply looking at him stirred her emotions. She was the Bride of the Water King, and she would ride into battle against any enemy for her family and for her kingdom.
“We shall,” she said feeling for the first time like her old self, “We shall face it together.”
It did not take long for them to ride the last hour to the city. Their small party saw the closed gate and turned south. Men at the walls watched them with a wary eye until they walked back into the sands, where an old tunnel door was buried.
“Thank you,” she told them as she descended down the steps.
Eliron put his hands on his chest and bowed just as Leader Qye had shown them. The People of the Dunes, that had been their guides, did the same in response. She smiled because they performed the movements much more smoothly.
They followed the dark tunnel until they emerged in the city. The door was hidden between two houses and bowed out so no building could easily be constructed around it. Eliron and Ashira covered their faces as they strode through the mostly empty streets. The few they did pass, the word of war was on their lips.
Ashira and Eliron moved towards the inn that Leader Qye had recommended. She could feel the healing potion Qye had given her, slap against her hip, as she walked. She had not told the others about his gift; it was hers and hers alone.
Ashira marveled at the beauty of Tiam. Her brothers had been able to travel here on diplomatic missions, all but Mohit. She had been a woman and her mother had thought it improper. Mohit had stayed with her and danced around her like a trained monkey, to keep her happy. They finally reached the Flying Swan Inn with its white walls and soft edges.
Eliron went in first and Ashira followed him. There were children looking at her in the street and pointing. They were gathered around a porch. When she looked at them they laughed and ran off back into the safety of the house. Their laughter and shouts could be heard even after she entered the inn.
The interior was simple and yet somehow elegant. She immediately saw her brother and hurried across the room. Ashira all but threw herself at her brother. She feared losing him more than anything else at the moment.
“I was worried,” Ashira said as she sat next to Cain.
Cain gave her a knowing smile as he said, “I know.”
“Where is Lancel?” Eliron asked looking around.
“Securing passage,” Cain said leaning forward. “Hadrian passed by a day before we arrived. He is at least three days ahead of us up The Knife by now. We are returning south.”
“We’re going home?” Ashira asked suddenly relieved.
“Yes,” Cain explained, “Lancel and I decided with Hadrian gone, and our sudden return, the people would turn to us.”
Lancel suddenly appeared in the doorway and hurried towards
them as he said, “We need to go now, there is a boat leaving.”
They all hurried to their feet and followed Lancel through the city. It was a whirlwind of sights as they saw the older and newer parts of the city. The docks were crawling with merchants and shipmen; trade had been stalled by Hadrian’s march. Lancel hurried them onto the boat and paid twice the normal fee.
Ashira made her way to the back of the boat so she could look at the city. She wished she could have seen more of the city and its beauty. Roanoak had its own kind of appeal but there was something about a city built on sand and constructed from a low plateau. Everything else was purchased and brought there. Everything had been shipped from outside; from the dirt for the orange and persimmon trees to the trees themselves. It was saying goodbye to a dream—now she would have to return home to reality.
“Do you wish to stay in Roanoak?” He asked his face unreadable, “Or return with me to Vargos?”
“The people of Roanoak have been calling my name,” Ashira explained, “Vargos needs you but Roanoak needs me.”
“I need you,” Eliron said harshly.
She tipped her head to the side her eyebrows pressed together as she touched a hand to his face, “I do not wish to be parted from you but my home is ruins. My family needs to be properly mourned, by me and our people. I cannot return until they are put to rest.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist so that he stood behind her. They looked to Tiam as the boat began to move. She could feel his hot breath against her ear and she remembered the sands. A part of her longed to return and another part longed for home. She was ready to be the People’s Princess once more.
“I understand,” he finally said.
“When you miss me,” she said leaning into his embrace, “Think of our time in the sands.”
Chapter 61
Celia
Celia watched the ships as they went by. Hadrian had closed the ports a few days after Lancel and Cain had gone into the desert. She had been delayed getting out of Oaken Harbor. When he had sailed north, the ports had reopened and she had been on the first ship out. Narana had stayed in Roanoak with a friend of Cain’s.
As she looked out at the faces of people aboard the ships, she missed the girl. Narana had been a good companion and although a bit imprudent at times, she had always been loyal. Celia had insisted she stay safe though Narana had tried to sneak off to go with them, twice.
The ships made her disheartened. She had chosen one task after another to keep herself distracted but she was running out. She didn’t know what to do once Ashira was returned; assuming that Lancel and Cain hadn’t gone on a fool’s errand after an already dead girl. Tiam offered little for them; she was not a woman of learning or wealth and she did not intend to become a concubine.
Celia glanced over to Rauf who was standing next to her. She had become so used to his presence that she felt like a part of her was missing when he was gone. She turned back to the ships when she saw a young woman out on deck.
“No,” Celia said quietly astonished as she moved along the railing before yelling, “Yes! Ashira!”
The young woman suddenly perked up and looked around as Celia continued moving along the railing. Ashira was much prettier without the blood on her. Her face and features were too unique to be forgotten. She began moving along the deck of her boat as well.
“Thank you for the horse!” Ashira called out.
Celia reached the back of the boat as she called, “Roanoak is waiting for you to wash away the blood. I am sorry for the part I played.”
Ashira reached the back of her boat and waved as she called, “Find your happiness!”
Celia felt a sudden weight lift off of her shoulders—she had been forgiven. She touched the string of pearls at her throat as she stared after Queen Ashira. Rauf was standing behind her waiting for her. She realized that she had only been involving herself, because of her guilt.
She had witnessed enough of the joys and cruelty of life, to last a lifetime. She had experienced betrayal, slavery, and degradation of being a possession. She saw death, the slow corruption of power, and tasted freedom. She had met a princess and helped a prince. She had been witness to it all and as she stood watching the boat as it travelled farther and farther away; she knew that life was unpredictable. One moment she was in Lorian part of the community she had always known and next she was sailing down The Knife to overthrow a kingdom.
She walked over to Rauf and put a hand on his chest as she said, “Let’s remake ourselves in Tiam, as husband and wife.” He opened his mouth only to close it again. Celia put a hand on his chest as she added, “Only if you will have me.”
Rauf continued to stare at her, his big, broad, ugly face, set in surprise. She gave him a look that said she was waiting for an answer. Rauf bent over and picked her up before she could react. He tossed her over his shoulder and carried her across the boat. There were some cat calls and jibes but Celia hardly heard them.
“Put me down!” She called halfheartedly hitting him with her little fists, to no avail.
He marched them down to the cabin and tossed her onto the straw mattress. He put himself like a stone wall on either side of her and declared “Mine.”
She looked up at him as he proceeded to prove his claim.
Chapter 62
Hadrian
As the first of his ships reached what was once the wealthiest city in Ostapor, the gates opened. Darkness enfolded their entry as they glided through the ebony water. The gates to Ostapor opened as his contact inside had assembled slaves to allow him entry. In The Commander’s arrogance he had focused his attention on Sylon’s incompetent army and not his own gate. Celia had taught him that a woman with instructions could carry out a mission with more ease then a man. Especially when the mission involved poisoning the guard’s wine.
A woman wrapped in a heavy shawl waited for them beyond the wall and she waved. “They are just ahead.”
She stepped back into the darkness and in an instant she was gone. Hadrian said nothing in return because he knew they didn’t want words. They wanted him to free them and kill The Commander. Hadrian had a plan but its success was dependent on those The Commander kept around him.
Javis stood beside him, stubbornly insistent that he come with. His sister had not been happy, but Javis had not listened. Hadrian had decided to keep the young man close and those who were his original Saviors on his ship.
“When we penetrate the city you know what you must do,” Hadrian said to Javis.
Javis nodded and said, “I will not fail you.”
When they came upon the group of men waiting in the shadows, Javis jumped from the ship. When the second ship passed by, more jumped onto the dock and hurried to join the group. It was Hadrian’s experience that having more than one plan increased the odds of one of them having a successful outcome. All of the plans he had devised ended with The Commander’s death.
The city was hushed, oppressed by new laws and curfews. Every once in a while, a group of men would jump from the ship and vanish into the depth of the city. Hadrian continued to ride their flagship into the heart of Ostapor’s occupied city.
A horn sounded, long and loud; har-roo! Hadrian pulled the sword from his sheath, holding his indestructible blade at his side. Tonight, before the sun rose, one of them would be victorious. Either Hadrian would have ended The Commander’s reign or died himself.
For a moment he looked to the west and thought of Lorian. Once he had traveled there, to find faith and purpose. Instead he had found a lippy girl with ideals and belief in justice. He hoped thinking of Vica would give him strength.
The horn sounded again and the shouts of men grew loud enough that Hadrian could hear them. The wave of defense would soon crash down around them. Hadrian lifted his sword above his head. A man raised a white flag and the ships behind him halted. The last of the men abandoned the empty ships and moved off in packs, into the city. The best of his warriors were leading each party while his
boat continued through the dark buildings.
His men would keep them busy on Eswan’s side as a messenger went to the Queen of Sylon. She had not been quick to join any side and that told him she wanted nothing to do with war. He had given her an offer; stay out of the fighting and he would not send men to attack her.
“Our cause is worthy,” he whispered and sent a single prayer to the Eye of Sadar.
Hadrian caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see it. Someone jumped from the wall onto the boat. They rolled and came up on all fours. Hadrian lifted his sword until they threw back their hood.
“Vica?” Hadrian said and she turned towards him.
“We need to go back,” Vica said coming towards him as he sheathed this sword. “The Commander has too many men here.”
He grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook her. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to save your life!” She shot back as she tried to wretch herself free of his hold.
“You need to leave,” Hadrian insisted letting her go and turning away from her. “This is something I have to do.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Vica insisted, coming to stand beside him.
“I can’t have you here,” Hadrian shot back pushing towards the edge.
She batted his hands away. “Why?”
“If you’re here I won’t be able to do this without being distracted,” Hadrian said harshly. “I am distracted people will die.”
“I won’t get in your way,” Vica said sticking her nose up. “I have learned how to defend myself since that day in the woods.”
He shook her again. “You mattered then and you matter now.”
She jerked her head back as the horn sounded for a third time and the roar of warriors filled his ears. He let her down slowly, trying to contain himself. Vica had brought clarity to his life and in a way she had become this shining light in his old heart. She had taken a wanderer and made him a savior.