I was just gaining confidence, however, when everyone stopped dead, stomped, raised their hands and clapped twice, then shouted “Jaaneman!” at the ceiling. It was deafening. I staggered, then twitched when Rajak clapped and shouted right behind me. Then he stepped forward and took my waist again. I shied away from the scowl I could not see, but I knew it had to cover his face.
Five more short steps, and everyone halted, clapped, and shouted again. I did not. Rajak swung me around, five steps, then we halted, and he prodded my back. Hurriedly, I threw my hands up, clapped, and tried to shout “Jaaneman!” with the rest of them. I thought it was stupid. I did not know what it meant, and I was not about to ask.
I stole glances at the other women. They were watching me, studying me. I could feel it. And they did not try to pretend otherwise. Their dark eyes, sometimes surrounded by flowery henna, found me wherever I was. I gritted my teeth. I would not make any more mistakes. I would not let their superior attitude be proven right. I determined to dance better than any of them.
The dance went on and on, each shift of music bringing a different set of steps I had to learn, just when I had almost mastered the ones before. It got warm in there, but the wedding guests only danced with more vigor, the singers raised their voices, and the musicians played louder. The clapping and shouting continued in the same pattern, however, for the music signaled when it was coming, and so I got better at it.
By the end of the dance, I had not quite lived up to my earlier expectations, but I was breathing hard, and almost hoarse from the shouting. Rajak only nodded at me, and then guided me back toward where we had said our vows by resting a hand on the small of my back.
All at once, I did not want him touching me. I pushed his hand away—not so anyone could see, but enough so he knew. He released me, and took a step back.
“We will move to the feast hall now,” he said, just above and behind my head. I wanted to roll my eyes. Their idea of a feast was probably having more scorpions than usual…
But I walked with Rajak as the rest of the teeming crowd followed, because I could do nothing else. I belonged to him.
For now.
LLL
We stepped through open doors that led into another hall, just as great as the one before. It looked to be the size of our feasting lawn at home, and as tall as the afternoon sky. It was teeming with people. They were men, wearing only trousers, carrying large trays of food and jugs of water. Very long, low tables covered in white linen lined the hall, adorned with brass vases filled with red flowers. Gleaming silver plates glittered on the tabletops like scales on a fish. Woven rugs of brilliant colors lay between the tables, as did thick, square pillows. Torches burned and smoked here, too, as did an alien, herbal incense that threatened to make my eyes water.
Off to my left stood a raised stone stage draped with red silks, and flanked by two broad pillars hung with banners. A set of stairs, covered in an ornate carpet, led up to the front of the stage. A short table stood on this stage as well, surrounded by plush pillows, draped in embroidered cloth, and loaded with all sorts of fruits, strange meats, and heaping plates of insects.
Rajak touched the side of my hand. I turned to him. He held out his hand toward the stage, and waited for me. I bit my lip, but strode toward it. Careful to pick up the front of my skirt, I ascended, feeling him just behind me.
The rest of the guests flooded in, laughing and talking. I turned around and watched them file down between the tables, find their places and kneel on the pillows. I cast my gaze far upward. Even the ceiling had been done in a mosaic designed to look like a cloudy sky streaked through with a rainbow.
“Princess.”
I turned. Rajak, seated behind the table, raised his dark eyebrows at me. I let out a short sigh, then stepped around the table and sank down next to him on a flat pillow.
“What now?” I asked, casting my eyes over the hall.
“We eat,” Rajak said, reaching for a jeweled goblet and taking a sip of wine. I looked down at our table. Scorpions, beetles, locusts, red glazed meat, and hard-crusted bread all in a row. I winced, and pointed at the meat.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Jurad,” Rajak answered, taking up a piece of bread and tearing it in half. I waited. He glanced at me.
“Desert rat.”
“Rat?” I yelped, pulling my hand back. He nodded, taking another sip.
“They are about two feet long—hunted with bow and arrow on horseback. It is quite a sport.”
My hollow stomach ached. I had eaten nothing the day before, and only a piece of bread this morning. Surely I could force myself to eat rat meat before I would try the beetles…
I reached out and picked up a piece of meat. It dripped red sauce back onto the platter. I lifted it over to my plate quickly so it would not stain the linen—then rolled my eyes. Why did I care if the Badi had to throw away their linen?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rajak watch me as he slowly chewed a piece of bread. Making a face, I brought the meat to my lips and took a bite.
I flung the meat down—it splattered on my plate. The sauce had already begun to burn my fingertips, but I hardly noticed. My lips and tongue were on fire. My eyes watered as I tried three times to swallow without being able to. I wanted to spit it out, but a thousand Badi were watching me, not to mention the prince. I forced the piece down my throat. And then I coughed. It was like I had swallowed a rock of hot charcoal. Tears brimmed over and I swiped them away with my clean hand, then almost knocked over my wine glass in an effort to snatch it up. I took one big gulp, and was nearly sick.
This wine was so rich, so strong that it soured my stomach as soon as it hit. My hand flew to my throat. I had been poisoned—
“Not used to the spice,” I heard Rajak mutter. Then he snapped his fingers and called out: “Milk, here.”
“I want water—” I rasped.
“It will not work,” he shook his head. “It will make it worse, just like the wine did. Cold milk is best.”
My throat spasmed and I stared straight ahead, trying to calm my stomach. Just when I thought I could not bear it for one more moment, Rajak pushed a cold cup into my hands. Without looking at it, I put it to my lips and pulled in a long draft.
Cool, soothing milk—perhaps goat milk—filled my mouth and slid down my throat. It softened the ache that the wine had made, and banished the fire of the spice. I drained the cup.
As I lowered it, I took a deep breath, my eyes still watery. Rajak was regarding me.
“What?” I croaked. He reached up and brushed my upper lip with his thumb—wiped away a drop of milk. My cheeks flamed, but he turned back to his food. He snatched up two scorpions, three locusts, a handful of beetles, and a spoonful of jurad. And he ate the insects as if they were carrots or sweets. I could not watch it. And though the milk had helped, I still felt sick.
I did not speak the rest of the day, and I did not eat, though I felt Rajak’s eyes on me. I watched as the rest of the people finished the feast, and then brought gifts to the foot of the stage and piled them high. Treasure upon treasure gleamed in the torchlight, and I knew I would never see any of it. It was all intended for Rajak, I was sure. Not some foreign, captive princess.
As the day drew to a close, Rajak gazed at me where I sat, and finally said,
“I will call Ayah to take you to your room.”
I did not look at him. My gut twisted, and all my nerves thrilled. I knew what came the night of the wedding.
In minutes, Ayah arrived, and while Rajak was speaking with Commander Hashim and Steward Jahin, she guided me out of the banqueting hall and into a small, quiet, darker corridor.
“You looked beautiful, even in that dress,” Ayah said. “But now we have a few hours, and we will get you ready.”
She led me back to the chamber where I had slept last night, and shut the door behind us. Sick shivers of hot and cold raced over my skin. I stared at the bed. Ayah bustled to the vanity and picked
up that same wooden box of henna things.
“Take off your clothes,” she said. “And I have something better for you to wear for the prince. And we will do your hands—”
“Leave me alone,” I snarled, my voice savage and shaking.
“But the prince—”
“I said leave me alone!” I roared, whirled and knocked the box from her hands. It crashed onto the floor, and dark liquids spilled. Ayah pulled back. My trembling hands clenched into fists, but I did not break her gaze. She nodded once, left the box where it was, turned and left.
I put away my jewelry, pulled off my dress, folded it neatly and laid it in my trunk, stripped off my undergarments as fast as I could and put on my trousers and sleep shirt. I then reached in the wardrobe, fumbled through my old blue dress and found that little knife my mother had given me. I then crawled into bed, threw the covers over myself up to my shoulders, and leaned back against the pillows, gripping that knife as hard as I could. I did not care if it was suicidal—if that Badi prince dared to come within five feet of this bed, I would stick him right in the gut.
I waited a long time. Perhaps two hours. My muscles tightened down, and my eyes locked on the door, warning myself to be ready for anything. And I was. Except a knock.
I jerked back against the headboard, and squeezed the knife.
“May I open the door?”
That was Rajak’s voice. My teeth clenched and a shudder ran through me. What could I do? This was his house…
“Yes,” I said, though I could not summon much volume. A key worked in the lock, and then the door swung open. Rajak stood there. He looked at me, and tucked the key back into the pocket of his cloak. For a long moment, he studied me. In this half light, with the khol around his eyes, his eyes smoldered the way I had always imagine a dragon’s would. He then turned sideways and leaned back against the doorframe. He barely lifted an eyebrow.
“You do not have to be afraid. I have no intention of forcing myself upon you.”
I blinked. He glanced around the room before addressing me directly again.
“Henceforth, these caverns are your home, and this is your room. You will no longer be locked inside. And I will not cross this threshold unless you say I may.”
My shoulders began to relax, and I started breathing again—I had not realized I had been holding it.
He reached in his pocket again, and pulled out the key, and something else. I leaned forward, watching. His eyes met mine for a moment before he studied what was in his hand.
“Here is the master key to this room—it is yours. It will also open several other chambers in Nazre, such as the kitchens, linen room, storehouses, guest rooms, wardrobes and stables.” He bent down and set the key on the stones with a click. He rose up again, scrutinizing the other object. “And this is your wedding ring. I meant to give it to you after the feast, but you did not look well.” He paused. His brow furrowed. “It was my mother’s. And my grandmother’s. And my great-grandmother’s. It has belonged to the queen since the days of King Harith and Queen Kanta. You may wear it on any finger you wish.” His eyes flicked to mine. “But I would like you to wear it.” He bent, and set that on the floor next to the key. He arose, and moved to go. He stopped, and glanced back. “Please forgive Ayah. She is so used to dealing with children—and she is so old, she still thinks of you and me as children.” He almost smiled, and half shrugged. “She has none of her own, you see.” He held my gaze for a bit longer, then inclined his head. “Goodnight.” And he shut the door.
For about ten minutes, I just sat there, staring at the two things he had left. Then I sprang out of bed, darted around the broken henna box, and dove for the key. It was only the length of my middle finger, but it was brass, with many teeth, and a metal scorpion for the handle. I put it in the same hand as my knife, then regarded the ring.
Frowning, I picked it up. It was a band of silver, elegantly crafted to look like a snake forming a circle, with its head turned to the side so only one eye showed. The eye was a large ruby, and glittered—almost glowed—in the lamplight. I narrowed my eyes at it, got up and put it on my vanity, then climbed back into bed.
I could not sleep. Why should Rajak keep his promise about not coming in here? Who could keep him accountable should he change his mind?
But the hours dragged on, and when I had almost dozed off, Ayah came in and extinguished all the lamps, leaving me in the dark. But at least this time when she closed the door, I was satisfied to hear nothing but the latch, rather than the click of the lock.
Chapter Six
I twitched, and woke up. Nine lamps burned in my room. For a moment, I did not move, just gazed at the little tray standing beside my bed. I sat up, my eyebrows raised. No scorpions today. Instead, there was bread, cheese, and milk. I eyed it sideways, then slid out from under my covers, sat on the side of the bed, picked up the cheese and took a bite.
It was good. And before I knew what I was doing, I wolfed all the food down and then gulped the milk all at once.
Letting out a huge sigh, I flopped backward onto my bed. I stretched, rubbed my eyes and tried to awaken my thoughts. But when I did, my stomach sank.
I had gotten married yesterday.
I rolled over on my side on the thick blanket and curled up, trying to remind myself of the advantages I had, instead. Firstly, Rajak had not forced himself upon me last night, which had allowed me to sleep well for the first time in a while. Secondly…
I was now a Badi princess.
Of course, who knew how many more of those there were in these caverns. However, I doubted Commander Hashim would still treat me with his earlier flippancy.
Which brought me to my third advantage: Rajak had given me the key to my room, and several others. He had also said that this was my home now—thus, I assumed I would be allowed to poke around a little bit, and I now bore a measure of authority. I gave the door a long, dark look.
I sat up. I pushed my hair out of my face. I had decided what I would do today.
I would learn every twist, corner and chamber of the Royal Caverns of Nazre—including the way out.
Quickly, I jumped out of bed and began to clean and get ready, making certain I wore a dark gown, and my quietest shoes.
LLL
I had always had a good sense of direction. No one ever believed me when I told them that, of course, because it was a common saying amongst my people: “If ye wish to know the east from the south, ask not a woman.” But it only took one time for me to get lost in a dark forest full of wolves for me to pay acute attention to where I had been and where I was going from then on.
I crept down the hall the same direction I had followed for the wedding, my master key in my pocket. I noticed for the first time that the sconces that held the flaming torches bore the shape of a scorpion. I frowned at the glimmering form of one of these as I passed it. There had to be something else to the Badi preoccupation with scorpions besides the fact that they were a favorite food.
I paused at the place where Steward Jahin and Ayah had stopped yesterday. I glanced at the floor, and pressed onward. I followed the gray corridor to the great double doors to my left. Straight ahead of me was the corridor Rajak had used to come to the wedding—his chambers doubtlessly lay in that direction. I would avoid them.
I glanced up at the ancient doors instead. I had not noticed the carved design yesterday, but now it stopped me. Upon the right side door had been carved the towering figure of a man clad in long flowing robes, with his back to me. His face was turned to his left, and his left hand stretched out to the place where the doors split. On the left side door stood a woman, clad in an elaborate dress and veiled. She also had her back to me, and held out her right hand to the place where the doors split. Their hands joined across the crack.
A breath of air touched my cheek. I turned. The draft had come from the small, dark corridor to my right. My eyes narrowed, and I stepped that way.
The moment I passed into this corridor, a gust of w
ind struck me, blowing my hair and skirt back. I blinked, and hesitated. It was warm air.
Eyes widening, I started forward again, my pace quicker. Could this be an exit…?
With a gradual grade, the corridor curved to the left, scorpion torches still lighting my way, the air growing warmer with every step. Several corridors branched off from this one, but they were very small—perhaps the width of a man’s shoulders—and dark. Mine was wide, and well lit. I kept to it.
Then I came to a staircase leading upward. I stopped, considering. Then, another feather touch of warm air found me, as did the distant sound of voices. Setting my jaw, I headed up.
The staircase wound around and around, its ceiling high, its walls close. I had to lift my skirt, for the steps were high and uneven. The loops threatened to make me dizzy, but I evened out my breathing and counted the steps, remembered them, and gave thanks for my level of endurance. The voices grew louder, as did the sounds of footsteps. I turned a corner, my feet hit a landing—
And sunlight almost blinded me.
I threw a hand up and halted, blinking fast. I pressed myself back against the wall. My eyes were dazzled, but noise assaulted my hearing.
Shouting and thuds filled what sounded like a large, stone chamber. Finally, I could lower my hand and see out.
My staircase let out into the far corner of a white room half as large as the one where the wedding had been. High in the ceiling on the opposite wall from me was a row of square windows. The sunlight streamed inside in sharp shafts, creating wide patches of gold on the white marble floors. On the wall just to my right, a huge stone snake head protruded from the wall, and crystal clear water gushed from his mouth. The water tumbled down into a shallow canal on the floor that followed the perimeter of the room, and flowed away from me, to my left. That was the place where the noise came from. My eyes followed it.
A group of a dozen men were there, within one of the patches of white sunlight. And they were fighting. Rather, eleven of them were fighting one of them. And the one was Prince Rajak.
Linnet and the Prince Page 7