Dragonshade (The Secret Chronicles of Lost Magic Book 2)

by Aderyn Wood

  They cheered once more, their fear, for the moment, forgotten and Heduanna lowered her arms. She stepped off the dais and walked the short distance to the platform to take her seat next to her father and brothers.

  The high priest gave his own short sermon, reiterating Heduanna’s words for couples to offer their lovemaking to the goddess, and reminding all to give a benefaction, an offering of grain, lapis or gold to the temple, before he also left the stage. The temple bell chimed one more time, and a group of musicians stepped onto the dais and struck up a primal rhythm. A cheer went up and the crowd began to dance.

  Heduanna watched from her seat. People were dressed in provocative clothing, to show their respect to the goddess and their intentions for lovemaking. Tonight, of all nights, many children would be conceived, and they would prove a boon to Azzuri’s future. Any child conceived during the festival was blessed.

  The men were dressed in nothing more than a patterned loincloth and sandals. Some wore a chain of gold or silver about their neck. The women wore skimpy dresses made with the finest linen they owned. Displays of the flesh were not uncommon in a land where the midday heat could melt stone, but tonight a different style of attire dominated. One of intimacy, lust, and love.

  Heduanna cast an eye over her own dress. Her skirt made of two gold panels, each the width of her hand, one at the back and front, left her bronzed legs on display. Her top was nothing more than two narrow strands of gold cloth that just barely covered her breasts. She wore her favourite turquoise earrings and necklace with matching arm-ring. Her hair had been smoothed with rose oil and braided in the style favoured in Urul. It had drawn a raised eyebrow from her father, but she’d ignored him. He’d had short words with her that morning about her treatment of Kisha. Of course Qisht had told him. Heduanna wasn’t proud of her actions, and the guilt still cut deep inside. She’d sent a platter of honey cakes to Kisha that morning who dwelled in the temple while her injury healed. It was a start, and Heduanna had more to do to rebuild her servant’s trust, but Kisha was her slave, not her friend, and Heduanna would not tolerate any false gossip about her future husband. She would be the queen of Urul. She was probably just a vision away from Phadite revealing such, confirming her predictions.

  A servant walked the dais refilling cups of wine and serving honey dumplings. Heduanna leaned forward and glanced to her left. About five paces away sat her future husband. He was bare-chested with a thick gold band around his neck. His makeup accentuated his lion’s eyes and rouge defined his full lips. His hair was pulled back into a single tight tail. He looked more handsome than any man she’d ever seen. But he also looked angry.

  She glanced at her father, who’d dressed just the same as he always did. A thin stroke of kohl lined each eye and he wore a simple linen tunic with plain leather sandals. He almost passed for a slave only his lush hair fell past his shoulders. Her father-king was deep in conversation with Uncle-Commander Ru. The nobles were mingling now.

  She’d heard all about the negotiations that day from Sargan, and her father’s desire to wait a year before he acceded to King Amar-Eshu’s request for her hand. She feared, once he did agree, her father would push for a long betrothal. She had little doubt as to why father was reluctant to let her go. He needed her for her direct access to the goddess. He’d grown reliant on her messages.

  Heduanna understood, but what if the Urul king grew tired of waiting? What if a better offer came along? Azzuri wasn’t the only city with bargaining power. There were others with their own cast of eligible princesses, and ambitions.

  She took a sip of wine. She mustn’t allow that to happen. She knew enough of the epics to understand the only promise of marriage worth anything was a formal betrothal. She must push her father to that end. She would ask the goddess for guidance, but there was something else she could do to ensure her future husband didn’t forget her. And tonight would provide the perfect justification.

  Enlil had given her sweet entertainment the night before. But like a light appetizer, his love-making had made her and the goddess ravenous for more substantial fare. She’d had her fill of boys, it was time to make love to a man, and a king.

  Heduanna stood and carefully arranged her outfit insuring everything sat just so. She brought her wrist to her nose. The perfume of lotus flower still wafted pleasantly. She’d done everything in her power to make herself as alluring as possible, and eyes followed her wherever she went. It was time to assure her future. Azzuri’s future.

  King Amar-Eshu was talking to one of the nobles. The king seemed only minimally interested in the conversation. His gaze remained distant, bored even. Heduanna stood in front of his table. The king's gaze found and lingered over her attire, his expression softening. He excused himself from the noble and stepped around the table to stand with her. “Princess, your beauty is beyond imagination. Are you the incarnation of the goddess herself?”

  Heduanna smiled. “I understand we are to be betrothed next sommer.”

  A flicker of anger creased his brow. “I was hoping to have your hand much sooner.” He looked her in the eye. “Do you not agree a year is too much?”

  Heduanna licked her lips. Sargan told her the king had taken their father’s stalling as an insult. And indeed, in all likelihood, that was exactly how her father intended it. But she needed to carry the pretense that it was done respectfully. “It is a long time,” she acknowledged. “And my heart already aches. However, my father wishes only to show you courteous regard.” She gave him a wide smile. “I have told him of my consent to marry you. Your are meant for me, the goddess has shown me.”

  “I am pleased to hear it, Princess.” He stepped closer.

  Heduanna’s heart raced. Her plan was working, but she must tread carefully. It was time to lay the trap. “It would be a great honour, my king,” she said, bowing her head just a touch. “If you would meet me tonight. I would like to show you a sample of what you can expect once we are married, so that you may cherish the memory in your heart while we are apart. We should offer our gratitude to the goddess on the very night she demands it from her people.”

  The king’s mouth went slack and his lion eyes filled with desire. He took her hand and raised it to his lips caressing it with a light kiss. “It would be my greatest wish to praise the goddess in such a way.”

  She nodded, and as he went to release her hand, Heduanna tightened their hold and brought his hand close. She spread his broad palm and placed it beneath the golden strands of her dress, and held his touch to her breast. “I will spend tonight in the goddess’s temple atop the palace. I want you with me. I will leave now. Enjoy another cup of wine, then come to me.”

  The king’s mouth opened slightly as he nodded.

  Heduanna lightly kissed his cheek and turned to go. Various gazes danced away. Heduanna smiled. She’d caused quite the scene but it was Phadite’s night, and she was the goddess’s hand. She hoped the gossip would spread all over Zraemia, then every soul would know he was hers.

  She stepped down the dais steps and to the line of guards that stood to attention on their watch. They would have their fun at the shift change at darknight hour. She found Addu, one of her personal guards, and a favourite lover.

  “Come with me, Addu.”

  The guard’s eyes coveted her as much as the king’s had and the thrill of it excited her further. But she’d had Addu countless times and she knew his heavy-handed approach to lovemaking. “No, Addu, you will not join me in praising the goddess tonight. I need you only as my guard. Come.”

  “At once.” A flicker of disappointment flourished on his face, but he swiftly followed her instruction and accompanied her to the palace.

  Once inside the gates, she led him to the topmost terrace and the small blue temple.

  “The Goddess’s temple? Does the high priest allow it?” Addu said as he eyed the blue walls.

  “He has no authority over the goddess’s wishes,” Heduanna replied, slightly irritated, as her eyes assessed th
e inner space. The servants had lit the sconces and lamps. The only furniture inside was Phadite’s seat, so large it could be used as a bed. It was covered in rose petals. A tray holding a jug of wine and cups had been placed on a table at Heduanna’s request. “Leave me now,” she told Addu. “You may stand by the steps. Let no one past aside for the Urul King.” She smiled. “Enjoy the sounds of my lovemaking.”

  Addu maintained a serious expression and bowed before turning to do the princess’s bidding.

  Heduanna returned inside and poured two cups of wine. She raised a cup and looked up to the light sky that could be seen through the opening in the ceiling. “May you favour what I am about to offer you, most noble Phadite.” She sipped the wine, then slowly paced the room, checking on her dress and jewelry and waiting as patiently as she could for her future husband.

  Finally, she heard deep voices on the terrace below. The king and Addu exchanged a quick word and a moment later her future husband appeared.

  His face was flushed with yearning. He came to her in three swift strides and embraced her, lifting her fully and placing her on Phadite’s seat, stepping between her legs. “Oh sweet Phadite,” he said, as his broad hands lifted the golden straps off Heduanna’s shoulders to reveal her nakedness. “May we give you much pleasure tonight.”

  “So be it,” Heduanna uttered, before the king’s arms embraced her hard, his skin as hot as the desert sand. He kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts. Her face tilted up and she smiled as she spied the moon in the purple sky. Oh Phadite, this is what we live for.

  Sargan

  At this time of year, the river was at its fullest and water splashed up between the slats of the docks. Gulls squawked as a fishing boat, laden with a fresh catch, glided past. Sargan watched as he waited for the goodbyes to be done with. It was the day after the festival, and people were leaving in droves to return to their home cities.

  Sargan stood with his sister and brother. The enemy king had said his curt farewell to their father and now stepped toward them. He inclined his head to Sargan’s brother first. They clutched arms, and the warmth in the king’s smile left little doubt that Hadanash had struck a firm friendship with King Amar-Eshu during his time in Urul. Sargan glanced beyond the king’s shoulder to see his father giving Rabi little more than a casual nod.

  The enemy king stepped to Heduanna next and he drew her close for a long kiss. Sargan squirmed. His sister was casual with her lovers, but Sargan never knew what to do, or where to look when she kissed them in front of him. Or when anyone kissed for that matter. Thankfully, she mostly kept such romantic escapades confined to her suite.

  They drew apart and the king looked with lovesick eyes at Heduanna. “In one year, my family, my palace, my city will be yours. I will return next sommer to collect my bride and we shall have a royal wedding like none other.”

  Eshu stepped in front of Sargan who had to bend his neck back to look up at him and the bright morning sun made him squint.

  “Sargan, it was a pleasure to hear your poetry.” The king gave him a cursory smirk. “I expect your greatest work is to come when you recite a verse for your sister’s wedding.”

  Sargan forced a smile. “It would be my humble honour.”

  The king nodded and with another look cast at Heduanna, he turned to board the royal vessel and begin his journey back to Urul.

  Rabi approached and lightly punched Sargan’s arm. “Until next sommer, Sargan.” He smiled and Sargan scowled at Rabi’s overlarge front teeth. “Perhaps we could spar in the ring for old time’s sake.” Rabi laughed then turned and followed the last of the king’s retinue onto the galley.

  Good riddance, rat-Prince.

  One Urul slave remained on the dock. Her eyes, filled with tears, looked longingly at Hadanash, and then she also turned to board. In less than a hand of time the vessel had disappeared around a bend in the river. Hadanash was the first to turn, his steps heavy on the wood.

  But their father-king stalled his exit. “Sons, daughter, I wish to see you in my suite, directly. There is much to discuss.”

  Sargan had gone straight to his suite to retrieve his satchel of tablets, before making his way to the lower terrace. The heat was stifling today and he was glad to enter the cool retreat of his father’s reception hall. No one else was present yet. But Qisht entered after a moment, looking refreshed and carrying a tray heavy with jugs and cups.

  “You’ll be glad to get the palace back to normal, Qisht. Now the festival has finished,” Sargan said.

  The head-servant looked at Sargan with a start. “There you are. We’ll be meeting in your father’s office. Come, you can help me set up.”

  “In his office? A secret meeting is it?”

  Qisht gave him an admonishing look. “Don’t be slow now, Sargan. Keep your wits about you. And here, take a jug. They’re heavy.”

  “Of course.” Sargan took a clay jug of beer from the tray. It was cool and the yeasty scent of it made his mouth water.

  He followed Qisht through the door to his father’s office.

  Qisht got busy arranging the jugs and cups on the low table. “You can help me move the chairs. We’ll need twelve of them in the usual circle around the table.”

  Sargan began moving the heavy polished wood chairs into place.

  The door opened and Sargan looked up to see his brother enter the room. The kohl around his eyes was smudged. “What are you looking at?” Hadanash said, curling his lips.

  Sargan glanced at Qisht who rose a finger to his lips and shook his head. Sargan decided on the seat opposite his brother, as far from him as possible. He busied himself with his satchel and made a show of ordering his tablets. He wasn’t sure if his father required him to scribe or not, but he intended to be ready just in case.

  Qisht poured them a cup each of beer. Sargan glanced up and noted that Hadanash took his cup without a word. His drooping eyes and slouching shoulders looked as tragic as one of Olyda’s epics.

  Their father soon entered with Heduanna, their uncles and Grand Blessed Lipit. Sargan stood and bowed his head to the High Priest. “Grand Blessed.”

  The old man nodded and took a seat next to him.

  Qisht handed each of them a cup of the cool beer.

  “Let us begin,” Father called.

  Quisht took a seat with his tablets arranged on the table and took up his stylus. Sargan waited for instruction from his father, but none was forthcoming. He slipped his tablets back into his satchel along with his stylus, wondering if his scribing had displeased his father somehow. He’d spent most of the festival closeted away with the Urul scribe who produced the copy of the ancient agreement in which Eshu claimed the Sisters were to be given over to Azzuri’s enemy. Princess Adula had hovered like a little sparrow, quizzing him on his learning and enjoying the rare moment when she’d uncovered a gap in Sargan’s knowledge.

  Once completed, the copy had brought Sargan’s father little joy, for indeed it was true the Sisters had been promised and never given. The king had been forced to accede to the Urul king’s request, though he managed to stall an immediate surrender, claiming contracts and trade deals with the Sisters would take time to untangle.

  “It is time we turned out attention to the West,” the king said.

  Heduanna shifted in her seat. “You still intend to find our mystery ally?” She frowned. “Surely that is all redundant,now that I’m promised to King Amar-Eshu.”

  “Your hand is not yet promised. All I ceded was a year to consider it, and I will take every day of that year, every hour.”

  Heduanna squinted. “But, you as good as promised.”

  Their father glanced at their uncle-general.

  “Father?” Heduanna said.

  Father clenched his jaw. “My only concern at this moment is that which concerns the goddess. She has shown us our path, and it is time for us to set foot upon it.”

  “So you are intent on finding these elusive people in the west, who may or may not exist,” Hadan
ash said with clipped words. “Even though our most threatening foe has left with a broad smile on his face, thanks to my notion of marriage.”

  “I think I may have had something to do with it,” Heduanna chimed in.

  Hadanash raised an eyebrow. “It was convenient you forgot about your other scores of lovers while the king was here. Let’s hope you can do so for the year to come, lest the king hears of your flirtations.” He glared at her. “Such news would ruin everything.”

  “You roach!”

  “I’d rather be a roach than a heated jackal-bitch like you.”

  “Enough!” Their father’s voice elevated and the shock of it was enough to make both Sargan’s siblings shut their mouths tight. Sargan’s sister folded her arms and simmered in her seat, while Hadanash drained his cup of beer and held it out for more.

  Qisht had to put down his tablet to attend the heir-prince.

  “I mean to adhere to my agreement with King Amar-Eshu.” Father’s voice had softened once more and Sargan took a calming breath. “I fully intend to seek an answer from Phadite.”

  “The goddess has foreseen my path,” Heduanna mumbled, petulantly.

  Father held up his hand. “We shall talk of that another day, daughter.” He looked to the others. “What, exactly, the goddess has in mind in regard to this marriage, in my opinion, has not yet been revealed.”

  Heduanna tightened her folded arms and looked squarely down at the floor.

  “It is my intention to seek the answer from the Goddess about Azzuri’s future.” Father continued. “As you know, such answers take time. But the gods live in a different plane and are not bound by our blocks of time, our days. A year to them is perhaps mere moments, or perhaps an aeon. So, I shall give this its due contemplation. I will not give my daughter’s hand without serious consideration.”

  Hadanash slowly looked up at their father. “And if the goddess denies the marriage there’ll be war. The very thing Heduanna’s hand will help to avoid.”