12
To Try
Kartek didn’t know how long they held one another and cried. At some point after dark, though, she awoke on her sleeping mat. She still wore her dusty, bloodied dress, but someone had drawn the curtains, extinguished the lamps, and washed her hands. How had she gotten here? She didn’t even remember falling asleep. In fact, where was she? But when she tried to roll over to look around, she couldn’t. Something was pinning her hand to the ground.
Her panic faded, however, when she squinted in the light of the single candle to realize that it was only Dakarai. From the sound of his slow breathing, he was asleep as well. Her panic faded even more when she realized her jewel was once again around her neck.
Her first instinct was to wake him and ask what had happened since Ahmos had died. Had the monster killed anyone else? Was Ebo safe? Had Oni found somewhere safe to hide? And . . . where were they? She didn’t think they were in her chambers. The air felt too cool for that. But then, she was too tired to trust her senses completely.
Still, something made her wait. Deep in her bones, she felt the desperate need for a few moments of peace. A few moments without war or blood or danger or suspicion or secrets.
Kartek just needed a few moments to exist.
She would never have imagined it two nights before, but the sensation of having Dakarai in the room with her somehow felt . . . natural. His presence had not only ceased to alarm her but even felt comfortable. Try as she might to search her heart, she could find no trace of fear for the man holding her hand.
What was it that Oni had asked her earlier? If the prospect of marrying Gahiji had ever frightened her? Well, if she was honest with herself here in the dark cushion of the night . . .
Yes. Yes, the thought of marrying Gahiji had frightened her. For though she had trusted her parents implicitly in their choice, there had always been an undertone of danger lurking within the man himself. Her argument with Dakarai the night before seemed to have reawakened memories she’d managed to forget, and as she considered the times she had spent with Gahiji and his family, she wondered at the fact that she hadn’t before admitted as much to herself. For as Dakarai had said, Gahiji had always been exactly what an emeeri should be, someone who could unite the ten tribes of the Megal Desert. He had been commanding in a way that demanded the attention of all in the room. When he spoke, people listened. When he raged, people cowered. His muscles had been like those of the men in legends, and his dark eyes had glinted as hard as any diamond.
But now that Dakarai had reminded her of the day she’d stolen away to the river, Kartek could recall wondering if there was any room in such a commanding man for tenderness. Would Gahiji ever look at her with that gentle contemplation with which her father often gazed upon her mother? For whenever she had turned to find Gahiji gazing at her, it was more with a glittering pride, the way a hunter might gloat over his prize trophy.
As the time of their wedding had neared, Kartek had satisfied herself with assurances that he was simply contented with the match. And really, what more could she have asked for? She was getting a husband of renowned strength and skill, one that could command over a thousand men. His leadership skills had been praised throughout the land, and his face and body had often driven young women to giggle as they’d yearned after him for their own.
But now, as Dakarai held her hand, Kartek realized just how much doubt she’d withheld from the world and even from herself. For in all the time they had spent in public or even in supervised private settings, Gahiji had never once offered to simply hold her hand.
Was it possible that perhaps . . . just perhaps, Dakarai, with his sickly pale skin and bony limbs and strange green eyes, might hold something precious that the great Gahiji had never owned?
“Oh, you’re awake.” Dakarai’s voice was thick with sleep. In the light of the single candle that burned from a sconce on the wall, Kartek could see him freeze as he looked at their hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
But Kartek squeezed his hand as he tried to let go. “It’s alright. And . . . thank you.” She gave him a weak smile in the dark. “It seems I needed it.”
“You fainted.” Dakarai sat up and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Oni said something about you not eating enough. I . . . I wasn’t sure what to do, so I called a local healer.”
Kartek let out a humorless laugh. “That must have surprised him a bit. I’ve never needed to see a physician in my life.”
“He was more than a bit surprised. He was almost too terrified to even look at you. But after talking to Oni and a few of the other servants, he said you simply needed food and rest.” Dakarai paused. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard over the last few days.”
“I haven’t had much choice.” She swallowed and closed her eyes. “What happened? And how did I get my necklace back?”
“One of the children found it after the fight. It seems the creature broke the chain when it struck you.”
Kartek couldn’t speak for a moment. She could only thank the Maker as she squeezed the jewel in her hand one more time. Her joy dissipated, however, as he went on.
“Two more men died, unfortunately, before Ebo was able to kill the beast.”
“Were any more bitten?”
“No, but . . .” His voice trailed off into the empty darkness.
“But what?” Kartek took her hand back to run it through her hair. Oni must have loosed it, for it cascaded down her shoulders and back.
He stared at his empty hand. “We still haven’t had any word from Commander Fadil. Not even a smoke signal.”
“I need to go.” Kartek began to untangle herself from her blanket, but Dakarai placed a hand on her wrist.
“And what will you do? It is late, and Fadil has most of your men and those of the tribes.”
“I will summon the alders. They will help me decide what to do.”
“I met with them while you were sleeping,” Dakarai said quietly, not looking at her.
“You did?” She frowned. “Why not wake me up?”
“The physician was examining you, and the alders wished to meet immediately.” He shifted in the bed, looking uncomfortable. “They requested that I join them, as I am now the emeeri.”
Kartek thought about this. Her initial reaction was anger, frustration at being replaced. But what he said was true. Planned or not, he was her husband, and he was now emeeri. It was just as much his place as hers to meet with the alders in a time of need.
“So . . . what did they say?”
“We had the city evacuated as well as we could. Then we sent out the warriors to help the remaining people hide.”
“Why?” She looked around once again, her eyes now better adjusted to the dark. Though the sleeping mat beneath her was familiar, the room they occupied was small. It couldn’t have been even as large as Kartek’s dressing room. There was no furniture inside, nor were there windows. “Where are we?”
He paused. Even in the darkness, she could see the reluctance in his face. “I believe the enchantress has most likely beaten Commander Fadil. And I believe she will come here next.”
“What makes you think that?” Kartek did her best to sound confident and rational, but in her head, she felt as though one of the giant desert sandstorms was starting to whip up all around her, blowing up the dust and shredding her reality to pieces, leaving nothing but dirty chaos in its wake. “This has something to do with the Warrior Song, doesn’t it? The enchantress coming here, I mean.”
His head snapped up from whatever he was examining on the mat. “How do you know about the Warrior Song?”
“One of the tribal heads first spoke of it. Then a child at the tents told me you’ve been singing to the warriors, not whispering as I’d believed.” She paused, sifting through the fuzzy memory of Ahmos’s final moments. “And you were singing during the fight weren’t you?”
He stared at her for a long time. “The child spoke truth,” he finally said in an ancient
voice.
A reckless impulse took Kartek by surprise, and she found herself scooting closer so they were face-to-face. “That means that you are the Rayis!” She let out a burst of surprise laughter then clapped her hand over her mouth before letting out a strangled chuckle again. “Jibril has been searching all this time, and there you were—”
“Wait, Jibril told you he didn’t know who the next Rayis was?” His voice darkened.
“He said he would need to check bloodlines.”
“Oh, how very considerate of him.”
Kartek thought about asking more about Jibril, particularly considering the acidity of his last comment, but she had more important questions to ask, now that she’d possibly found the salvation of the tribes and her people. “Who are you?” she whispered. “and why won’t you just tell me?”
“Kartek, I—”
“I know you’re more than you say you are!” She leaned forward and gripped his hand again. “You know too much about me. About the palace!” She gestured to the single door at the end of the room. “About the tribes and the enchantress! If you would only tell me, we might be able to figure this out together!” She leaned forward. “You can sing the Warrior Song! This changes everything!” She ran a hand through her hair, her mind working frantically. “If you have any essence of the song at all, that means you must have some of the bloodline within you! Maybe not to the extent of what Gahiji had, but enough to—”
“It’s just as I said last night.” He shook his head. “I wish I could tell you. But I can’t.”
“It surely can’t be impossible.”
“No, it’s not impossible,” he said, his green eyes suddenly wary. “But it would require something of you.”
Kartek paused, not sure she was ready for any more requirements. But as the seconds passed by, an animal cried out from somewhere beyond the walls around her. The sound was mournful and lonely. Most likely the way Kartek’s people were probably feeling right now as they hid and waited for the enchantress to descend.
“If it means telling me everything, then let me know what I must do.”
He eyed her carefully. “Anything?”
She nodded, though not without caution and a little bit of fear slithering up within her chest.
He drew in a deep breath. “Kiss me.”
“Kiss you?” Kartek blinked. That was all? “I kissed you the night we were wed.”
But he shook his head. “That was as good as forced, something you did because it was expected of you. I mean . . . a real kiss. One given of your own free will.”
“You mean . . . a kiss of true love?”
He nodded.
The requirement was simple. Really, the simplest thing she’d been asked to do since the tribes had come to her desert valley. And yet . . .
Kartek stood up and walked over to the farthest wall to lean against it. Just like everything else about him, the requirement was so strange. But then, she had kissed him two nights before. Surely she could do it just as easily now. Kisses were simple, weren’t they? A man and woman coming together, the lips of one briefly brushing against those of the other. He hadn’t said it need be a long kiss.
But a kiss born purely of love?
Did Kartek even know how to love? She had loved her parents, of course. Ahmos. Oni. Even Ebo. But those were different kinds of love, nothing like what this would require of her. How could she kiss Dakarai without knowing how she felt about him and expect it to change anything? If she could remove her heart and examine it, Kartek was sure she would find a massive tangled knot with a thousand different threads. Over the last few days, she had struggled with hatred, anger, confusion, rejection, curiosity, and even a foreign kind of affection. But love? She wasn’t even sure if she would know it when she felt it.
“You said yesterday that you loved me,” she whispered. “How do you know you love me?”
He was quiet for a moment. “It began as respect,” he finally said in a low voice. “But the more I saw you, the more I realized you were consuming my thoughts. I would often wonder how you were spending your days, or if you were sad or happy. I began to think of your welfare more than my own.”
“But ever since meeting you—well, being aware of having met you—I’ve been suspicious, angry, and belligerent toward you, even though you’ve worked hard to help my people and protect me.” She shook her head. “I don’t even understand the love you decided to give. How can I expect to give it back when I don’t comprehend it?”
“When we look deep into our own hearts, do any of us understand love on our own?” He leaned toward her just a hair. “And yet the Maker gives it.”
Kartek turned to face him, a dangerous churning in her stomach. There was no name for the sensation that swirled about inside her now. It certainly wasn’t the excited admiration she had once held for Gahiji, nor the intense adoration she’d seen shining in her parents’ eyes for one another. But it was something. A desire. She might not love Dakarai passionately now as she’d imagined doing for her husband. But did that necessarily mean she might never know love as she’d hoped?
“I think . . .” she whispered. “I think I would like to try—”
“Break it down!”
Kartek whirled around to look at the door, but Dakarai was already out of bed and in front of her, his sword drawn. As he held it ready, the door burst open.
A young woman who looked to be near Kartek’s age stood on the threshold.
“Marid.” Dakarai said the name like a curse.
The young woman merely smiled at him. “It is good to see you again, too.”
13
The Best Revenge
As the stranger spoke, Ebo appeared in the doorway behind her. Splatters of blood covered his arms and face, but he raised his arms, his eyes filled with bloodlust. Before he could strike, a serpentine creature latched its teeth into his shoulder and dragged him out of sight.
Kartek screamed.
“Take them to the throne room,” the woman said, turning and walking back out the door.
“This is between us, Marid!” Dakarai shouted as more of the serpent creatures entered the room and surrounded Kartek and Dakarai. “She and her people have nothing to do with our quarrel!”
But the strange woman, Marid as Dakarai had called her, was already gone, gliding out of the room with an air of ease.
“You know the enchantress?” Kartek turned to Dakarai in horror, but before he could answer, he was prodded by one of the horrible diamond-shaped heads toward the door. Another prodded Kartek.
Servants screamed and the few warriors who had been left behind scrambled to fight the dozens of creatures as they marched Kartek and Dakarai down the halls. But Kartek could only watch in agony as the home she loved so much was ravaged by the monsters, and the people who tried to protect it were punished. She could do nothing to stop it. The monsters’ screeches echoed down the halls from every direction. Kartek prayed that Dakarai and the alders had hidden her people better than they had hidden her.
The throne room had always been a place of order and ceremony to Kartek. Even as a child, she’d felt at home in the great hall of white sandstone walls decorated in their colorful frescoes and mosaics. But now the room felt cold and empty as the enchantress took her place in Kartek’s seat at its head.
“What do you want?” Kartek shouted as she and Dakarai were forced to their knees before the throne. “You attack my people and my allies, and yet you make no demands?”
But the stranger only fixed her dark almond eyes on Dakarai. “I must congratulate you on making it this far. I really wasn’t sure you would survive the heat, particularly at this time of year.” She gestured to the windows as though they were merely discussing the weather. “And it seems you not only found someone willing to share her bed, but she’s not put you to death yet, either. How did you do it?” The words were spoken casually, but there was a fierce undertone to them.
“I had no choice,” Dakarai said though his teeth.
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“But you did!” The young woman stood, all patience fleeing her face. She might have been pretty had her scowl not been so deep.
“Killing my family and forcing me into wedlock isn’t exactly my idea of a choice,” he shot back.
Marid smiled again, though the expression looked even more menacing on her young face than the glare had. “You mean the same way you gave the jahira the choice of marrying you?”
Pain flashed across his thin face, followed by anger. “None of this had to happen. You were the one who decided to begin the violence.”
“You were the one who was unfaithful!” Marid screamed. “You abandoned me! And for who? Your cousin’s betrothed?”
Kartek turned to stare at Dakarai. His cousin’s betrothed? Did she mean Gahiji?
Dakarai was shaking his head. “I warned you that if you chose this path, I couldn’t follow. I don’t know why you were so surprised when I kept my word.”
Marid stepped down from the throne, her strides wide and purposeful. “So you chose her?” Marid turned to glare at Kartek. “I see nothing extraordinary about her.” Flipping her many braids, the seashells and beads woven into them clinking against one another, she walked in a slow circle around Kartek. Then she reached up and fingered Kartek’s necklace.
“Don’t touch that.” Kartek tried to draw back.
“Or what? Legend says that without this jewel, your power is nothing.” Marid grasped the jewel and yanked.
Kartek wanted to crumble when she heard the chain snap. Again.
“Well,” Marid said as she turned back to Dakarai, still holding the jewel, “what do you have to say for your gifted jahira now?”
Dakarai said nothing, but his lips were white as he mashed them together and stared at the wall behind the thrones.
The Green-Eyed Prince: A Retelling of The Frog Prince (The Classical Kingdoms Collection Novellas Book 1) Page 10