by Zoe Saadia
“Well, I suppose I should wish you well,” he said, lips clasped tight.
Kuini’s stomach turned. It was difficult to see the hurt in the familiar face. Coyotl was a friend of so many summers, maybe the only friend he had. The boys from the town and the villages of his homeland were never anything but playmates, never close enough to share more than some rough jokes and messing around.
He dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it this way.” Clenching his palms together, he looked at the groomed paths and the carefully planted trees swaying ahead, seeing none of it. “I’m just tired of being tossed around. Tired and confused. I need to go home and think about all of it. Then I can decide.” He looked at his friend searchingly. “Will you understand?”
Coyotl’s face changed. “Yes, of course. I still wish you would come to fight with me.”
“Maybe I will. I do have some time, don’t I? The Tepanecs are not here yet.”
“They are on their way.”
He hated the small wave of fear that rushed through his chest. “Are they?”
“Well, yes. It’s a secret yet, so don’t tell anyone. But they will be crossing the Lake soon.”
He remembered the map, the bright brown drawing of the Great Lake, the symbolic altepetls.
“I’m to go out, to rush around the provinces, to gather the promised warriors forces,” he heard his friend saying. “The Tepanecs should be here in a market interval or two. At long last! So I’ll be heading out of the city tomorrow, and I’ll be able to smuggle you along. Then you’ll go home with no trouble.” His friend's smile widened. “Or you could stay with me, and we’ll gather those warriors together, to rush back, maybe straight into a battle.”
“How will we explain my presence there?”
“Oh, we’ll find a way.”
He watched his friend’s glowing face, cheerful once again, full of its usual lighthearted confidence. It could be a great adventure, he thought. Just one single battle and then he could be off home, with no one the wiser.
“If you think it’s possible…” He frowned. “The Aztecs are leaving too. So I suppose I can sneak out with you tomorrow with not much trouble.”
“The Aztecs won’t leave anytime soon,” said Coyotl abruptly, his frown startling in its suddenness. “So don’t count on it.”
“No, they are definitely leaving. They are …” Something in his friend’s face made Kuini bite his tongue. “Oh, well, maybe I got it all wrong.”
“No, you didn’t get it all wrong. They may be thinking they’ll leave, but they won’t. Not anytime soon. Their filthy manure-eater of a leader needs to be taught a good lesson in manners and politics, and the Acolhua Emperor is just the man to do that.” Coyotl’s pleasant face twisted and lost any trace of its usual pleasantness. “I wish I would be here to see it, but neither of us will be in Texcoco by that time. So be ready tomorrow, through the first part of a day. All right?”
They saw a spotted cloak rushing toward the staircase. “Speaking of demons,” murmured Coyotl. He peered at Kuini. “So be ready, all right.”
“Yes, I will be.” Kuini smiled. “Thank you. You are a great friend.”
“Wait and see until we fight together. It will be tremendous fun!”
He watched Coyotl’s tall, lean figure rushing down the stairs, his thoughts scattering in disarray. The glance of the passing Aztec warrior made him uneasy. What a mess, he thought, grinding his teeth.
Chapter 9
It was already well past midnight, when he managed to sneak out, having waited for the Aztecs to fall asleep. The warriors were not a problem, but the Warlord turned out to be difficult. The man seemed as though refusing to submit to tiredness, although, he obviously hadn’t slept much through the previous night with that attempt on his life.
Kuini was exhausted, too. He found it difficult to stay awake, the afternoon of intense training with the Aztec having taken much of his precious energy. Grinning, he recalled the feeling of holding a real obsidian sword for the first time in his life - a heavy, uncomfortably long affair of solid wood, adorned by viciously sparkling, razor-sharp obsidian on both sides. He had a difficult time just trying to hold onto the thing, let alone thrust and parry the blows. But the Aztec was relentless. Pushing and demanding, he made Kuini work hard, expecting his pupil to excel from the very beginning, indifferent to the fact that he had never dealt with a real sword before.
There was another reason for this particular training session, Kuini had discovered, while not busy trying to survive. From time to time, the Aztec would let his trainee rest, going to the other warriors, conversing with them, seemingly idle. Yet, Kuini could not help but notice the alert, tense bearing of people trying to concentrate, making sure not to miss a word of what was being said, but afraid of being overheard. The shreds of conversations would reach him sometimes, so toward the later afternoon, exhausted and scratched all over, Kuini had gathered that the Aztecs planned to leave on foot, just like the man had told him earlier, but probably unannounced. And unauthorized - was Kuini’s conclusion.
But why? Well, he didn’t have to think hard to figure out the answer to that. Coyotl had said the Emperor wanted to teach the arrogant Aztec Warlord a lesson, and clearly the Warlord was too wise of a man, and not that arrogant, to stay and face that particular battle.
So, the Aztecs were about to sneak away, thought Kuini, rushing toward the protection of the dark trees, retracing the way he had gone last night. The evening was pleasant, even chilly, and the moon shone more strongly than it had the night before. He shivered. It would be difficult to climb that tree under her window in such illumination. But maybe she’d be waiting outside. His stomach twisted with anticipation. It was she who had told him to come. He hadn’t asked her. Or had he?
He glanced at the sky, hastening his step. If she was outside, she would be mighty upset with him being so late. He shrugged. A few more of her breathtaking kisses, and then he would go back and think about what to do. His stomach twisted again, but this time uneasily. The Aztec had counted on him, Kuini, to guide his people through the Lowlands, at least part of the way. Could he disappoint this man by leaving with Coyotl? To go with his friend, the boy he had known, the boy he had trusted for summers, was the most appropriate solution. He owed the fierce Aztec nothing. He had known the man for a few dawns only.
He frowned. Yes, he did owe this man something. He owed the Aztec his life. The man had undoubtedly saved him that first time, and he had been kind to him ever since, all things considered. Short-tempered and rude, but kind and well-meaning nevertheless. They kept saying the man was a ruthless, cruel, heartless bastard, but he, Kuini, had seen another side of that man so far. Why, he had actually come to like this formidable Aztec Warlord. How bizarre!
He reached the opposite wing of the Palace, and his heart twisted with disappointment. The window above the jacara tree was as dark as the rest of them, looking blankly into the silvery night, its shutters half-closed. He bit his lips, trying to contain his frustration. So, there would be no silly talk tonight and no kisses. She might have not been able to make it for a number of reasons, he thought, but his anger grew, thinking that maybe she had just gotten enough of adventures with foreigners and commoners.
He stood there, undecided. Maybe it was for the best. This girl, while being exciting and fun, had brought him nothing but trouble. He was really better off without her wild, pretty, untamed presence.
Carefully, he sneaked out and crossed the moonlit ground, heading for the protection of her tree. He could just take a look; see if there was a way to climb it. Maybe she did wait up there and was just afraid to light a torch. Or, maybe she had fallen asleep, and he could still wake her up by throwing something into her window.
A shadow separated from the thick trunk, and his heart missed a beat, then burst out into wild unrestrained pounding. The familiar slender form pounced on him, grabbed his arm.
“What took you so long?” she whispered angrily. “I waited
for ages. This is no midnight!”
“Calm down,” he breathed. “You’ll wake them all with your shouting.”
“I’m not shouting, and you are late.”
He watched her animated, defiant face, hard put not to laugh. “All right,” he whispered. “So I’m guilty of being late. What now?”
She shrugged, glaring at him from under her brow like a petulant child. He pulled her closer, and she resisted, but only a little.
“So, am I kissing you right here in the moonlight for the whole Palace to see or will we go somewhere quieter?”
She giggled. “I suppose somewhere quieter would do.”
Her nearness made his head swim. His nostrils took in her scent - some sweetmeats and another something, belonging only to her. His hands told him she was wearing a different gown too, the warmth of her body reaching through the thinner material.
They made it back into the darkness of the gardens, but this time she pulled him on, leading him deeper and deeper into the depths of the artificial forest as if following an invisible path.
“Where are we going?” he asked, having difficulty concentrating with her so near.
“You’ll see. The best place in this whole Palace.”
She refused to slow down until they reached a small clearing. The waters of the pond flickered in the dim moonlight, which didn't seem to penetrate the thickness of the trees around it. The large trunks guarded the pool like stern warriors, forming a circle around its stony borders. He gazed at it, appreciative.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” she asked. Her eyes flickered mischievously. “And very, very secluded.”
He watched her, suddenly dizzy with desire. She stepped closer, stood next to him, eyes black and gleaming, reflecting the sparse light. Her face seemed sharp and more defined in the darkness, a mask chiseled out of stone, or maybe out of solid gold. But a mask with warmth and a scent belonging to a young woman.
Unable to fight the temptation, he pulled her closer, kissing her forcefully, the way he had the night before, losing control, needing her badly. As she reacted, pressing against him, opening her lips to welcome his, he felt his head spinning, his limbs liquid and having a life of their own. The warmth of her body in his arms was intoxicating, making him mad with desire. The kiss was not enough.
He pulled away, breathing heavily.
“Wait,” he said, not recognizing his own voice, so strident and hoarse it sounded.
“What?” She didn’t make an attempt to move away. Pressing closer, she leaned against him, her face brushing against his, lips caressing, not kissing but only touching. It made his head reel. His legs had difficulty supporting him.
“Why no kissing?” she asked again, eyes glittering, openly teasing.
He swallowed. “Because, you know, kissing is not… not enough.”
She didn’t blink, didn’t move away. The same beautiful statue kept gazing at him, but something had changed. The look in the dark obsidian eyes deepened. “What else would you want to do with me?” she asked, voice calm, but low and throaty.
He took a step back, bumping his head against a tree. His heart made strange leaps inside his chest. She laughed, but it was a nervous laughter, and it did not break the spell.
“We can’t do this,” he said, gazing at her, his chest hurting.
“Why not?”
He swallowed again. “Because, you know… you are a princess, the first daughter or whatever. Princesses don’t do this.”
Suddenly, something in her face changed. Right before his eyes it hardened, lost some of its innocent, sweet, girlish look. All of a sudden, she looked older, more mature, not the mischievous girl he had known for two days. The dark eyes returned his gaze, suddenly empty, their unhappiness bottomless. The generous lips stretched into a mirthless smile.
“Yes, princesses are to be kept pure,” she said bitterly. “To be given and taken like pretty pottery or toys. To be sold for the convenience of their altepetls, like the last of the slaves.”
He stared into the depths of her eyes, now dark with anger, saw her lips quivering, her hands clenching into fists. His heart squeezed, went out to her.
“It may not happen that fast,” he said, helplessly. “There is no sense in thinking about it until it happens.”
She stared at him for another heartbeat, then turned around and went toward the stone adorning the pond’s edges. As she knelt beside it, her palm reaching the dark water, he watched her, his stomach hollow. She looked so fragile, so defenseless. Her sagging shoulders made his chest tighten, as did the sight of her gentle neck, unprotected, with her hair pulled up fashionably, in many elaborately woven braids. Only now he noticed the way her hair was arranged as if for a special occasion, her gown flimsy and prettily embroidered. He wondered how she had managed to climb down the wall without tearing the light material.
He came and squatted beside her. Watching her fingers making strange patterns on the transparent water, he tried to think of what to say.
“It will happen fast enough,” she said quietly. “I’m to be offered to the Emperor of Tenochtitlan.”
“Tenochtitlan?” He looked at her, wide-eyed. “Why Tenochtitlan? I've gathered that your royal house is rather displeased with the Aztecs.”
“Oh, yes, they are displeased with them. Mightily at that.” She sounded surprisingly calm. “But they need those ferocious barbarians all the same. Hence the marriage offering.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, helplessly.
She turned and faced him so suddenly it startled him. Her eyes, darker than usual, peered at him, unsettling, making his stomach flutter.
“Will you make love to me?”
The sounds of the night around them disappeared all of a sudden. Even his heart, which was beating wildly, seemed to stop. He stared into her eyes, taking in the tension, the desperation they held. Also, the suppressed anger, the resentment. No. There was nothing enticing about that gaze. She had looked at him differently before.
“No,” he said.
Her eyes widened as the blood drained from her face. Even in the dim moonlight, he could see her paling visibly.
“Why not?” she asked gruffly.
He shrugged, shifted his gaze back toward the pond.
“You have to tell me!” Her voice rose, then shook. “I was good enough to kiss. Why not to make love?”
He clenched his palms so tight, he could not feel them anymore. “Because you want to use it as a way to get back at them. And that’s not why people make love.”
He peered at the water, following silhouettes of small fish darting everywhere. They looked so busy, so purposeful. He clenched his teeth.
Then came the chuckling sound. “Oh, you Highlanders are so proud,” she said, and her voice shook with laughter.
Startled, he turned his head. Eyes twinkling, she watched him, smile wide, face crinkling with mirth. There were no dark shadows anywhere in her face anymore, only the usual teasing, mischievous amusement. How quickly she was changing.
A slender palm came up, reached for his face, ran down his cheek, lingering, sending waves of excitement through his stomach. He didn’t fight his need anymore. Pulling her closer, he kissed her again, and this time with no misgivings. Her scent enveloped him, intoxicating, something sweetish and bitter at once, some sort of a flower maybe. His lips slipped down her neck, following that scent. She shivered and tensed, but relaxed when he pressed her closer. He felt her palms sliding along his back, caressing, leaving strips of warmth in their wake.
He didn’t remember how, but at some point they moved away from the pond, toward the welcoming softness of the full grass of early summer. As he pulled her gown up, she tensed again, and he stopped, but only to straighten into an upright position.
“No,” he said, pushing her back gently, when she tried to sit up too. “Stay like that.”
She complied readily, but shyly, her eyes enormous, shining more brightly than the moon. He remembered making love to that girl from his tow
n, the way he had pulled her skirt up, making it hastily to what was below.
But no, he thought. What was good for some girls was not good enough for her. His fingers found the ties of her gown, and it took him ages to untie them, but he didn’t care, not in a hurry.
“No,” he said, when she resisted him pulling her gown off. “You should let me see you.”
“Why?” she asked softly, helping him push the light material away.
“Because you are a goddess. I know you are a goddess, but I have to see it for myself.”
Her smile took his breath away. This, and the sight of her body, gleaming softly in the moonlight, slender and thin, but perfectly shaped, her breasts small and round, her stomach golden and smooth.
“You see,” he said, running his palms along her soft angular curves, liking the way her skin tensed under his touch. “My people worship the Moon Goddess. She is one of our main deities.” His finger encircled her breast, enjoying the way her nipple hardened, so dark it looked black, but not like her eyes. “I always imagined her slender and tall, but silvery. Yet, now I know I was wrong. The Moon Goddess is golden, and her eyes are as black as obsidian. But the rest is just like I thought.”
The look in her eyes made him forget the last of his qualms. He reclined beside her and let her body welcome his, confident in losing control, just as when kissing her. When he entered her she gasped and he stopped, but she clutched him tighter, her arms strong and demanding.
“Did it hurt?” he asked, but she shut his mouth with a kiss, and he let the wave of pleasure take him, confident and trusting, knowing it was the right thing to do.
Spent, they lay on the grass, ignoring the small rocks jutting against their limbs, floating in the silvery magic. When she moved, he pulled her closer, made her comfortable against his body, although the bruises on his ribs still hurt.
“You were right,” she whispered dreamily. “Now I know why people make love.”
“Why?” He opened his eyes, blessing the darkness around them. He didn’t want to see anything, not even the sky. It would take his attention away from the perfect world where there was nothing but them and the feel of her skin against his.