Itai gently cupped her chin, lifting her face to his. “Why? Why wouldn’t I want to marry you? From the very beginning, there’s only been you. I’ve worked to build a home for us, and saved what I could to buy the silks you love. If I didn’t want to marry you, why would I work so hard to please you? I don’t care what happened, Brahanu, I love you. You’re going to be my wife, only mine. You’re home with me now, and I won’t let you leave again, not without me,” he said, drawing her in for a kiss. He held her close, fighting the emotions welling inside of him.
“You’re the only man I’d want as my husband, and I’m warmed by your words. But you offer them without knowing everything.”
“Look at me, Brahanu. Look at me and tell me if I truly need to know anything else? Can’t this be enough? I don’t care about anything that happened before this very moment. Nothing matters except the love that we share and the life ahead of us. I love you. I am in love with you. Please, isn’t that enough?”
“In any other circumstance, it would be. I love you too much, and I won’t deceive or dishonor you. You deserve a wonderful wife. And—and one who is yet maiden.”
Itai blanched, contorting in both confusion and anguish all at once. When he reasoned through her words, his eyes widened, as he leaned away from her, shaking his head.
Brahanu reached out to him, and he jerked back, leaping down from the cart. He paced, his fingers clutching tuffs of his hair while he muttered curses.
“Why, Brahanu? How could you do this? Is my love not enough for you? Why?” he shouted, lifting a branch from the ground, slamming it against a tree. He yelled again, sending splinters flying through the air as he battered the branch to nothing.
“I’m sorry, Itai,” she shrieked between sobs. Tossing her hands up, she slid down from the cart to avoid the wooden shards flying toward her. “I’m sorry! Please forgive me!”
She cried out, twisting her ankle, and plummeting to the ground. Itai ran to the side of the cart, consumed with grief and rage.
“Please don’t hurt me, Itai. I love you, only you. I didn’t know…I didn’t understand.” She cried, burying her face in her hands as he reached down to her.
Itai lifted her up gently, setting her on the bench. As he met her eyes, he could no longer stop the tears from falling from his. Walking away from the cart, he stood motionless, looking down the long path, trying to remain upright on weakened knees. He couldn’t think, and the stabs of heartache threatened to consume him.
After wiping his face, he took several deep breaths, expelling them slowly. He couldn’t look at her, not now. He wondered if he ever could again. Could he ever look at her and not see him?
“I would never hurt you,” Itai said, barely over a whisper, climbing into the cart. “I don’t ever want you to fear me, Brahanu. I love you still, and more than yesterday,” he said, his voice cracking.
“I don’t deserve your love, not after what I’ve done.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You were afraid and manipulated by this…this ghost. You are for me, Brahanu, and I am yours. Nothing or no one will ever change that. Nothing.” He gripped the reins, releasing the break. “I want to wed now. I’ve waited long enough to have you as my wife, and I’ll wait no longer. No one will ever know what you just told me. It’s for us alone, and we’ll wipe it from our memories. I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
“But Itai. There’s more. I—”
“I don’t want to hear anything else, Brahanu.”
“Please, Itai. I must tell you the rest of it. An Elder named Olam—”
“I said no more!” His deep voice echoed around them, causing Brahanu to shrink away. He sighed, taking up her hand. “I don’t care about anything else. Nothing else matters but right now. Do you understand? You’re going to be my wife, mine. If your love remains for me, you’ll say no more.”
Brahanu only nodded, continuing to cry.
“This ghost of Nazil has no place in our lives, and I won’t allow his evils to take from our happiness. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Itai.”
Without another word, he flicked his wrist, moving the cart forward. The road appeared less colorful and vibrant as it once did. Gradations of grey filled not only the skies, but also their hearts.
Reclamation
Zeta placed the last dish on the shelf, wiping her hands on her apron. They’d shared a nice dinner before Pentanimir left for duty. She enjoyed the brothers’ company, finally feeling some of her humanity returning to her. Smiling reflectively, she looked around at the lavish home that she’d inherited. It did feel like a home, regardless of her classification. Danimore and Pentanimir didn’t consider her their property, and that made all the difference. Even so, she was still conflicted. The myriad emotions and memories besetting her were debilitating some days. At times, she could feel the violations as plainly as she did when they were inflicted upon her. Not this day. She felt herself again, if even for a short while.
Zeta took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she heard the rear door close, she sat at the table, smoothing her long, red hair. An honest smile found her face when thoughts of Danimore purged the violations from her mind. She couldn’t understand the feelings that he evoked. Not since her time with Radich did any man cause such a feeling within her. It was different, but no less real. That perplexed her even more. After being treated so cruelly, how could she allow herself to care about him?
“Zeta?” Danimore called from the corridor. “Would you like water for a bath?”
“Uhm…yes, thank you. I’ll add some wood to the fire.”
Danimore entered the kitchen and hooked two large caldrons over the fire. After pouring water in both, he filled the pail again. “I’ll boil a few more caldrons and fill the tub for you.”
“It’ll be nice to soak for a while,” she said. “My feet and back ache so.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Zeta? You do too much trying to make everything perfect for my brother and me. We need little. You must rest and take care.”
“I only do what needs doing. Someone has to make sure that you have a hot meal and clean clothes.” She smiled. “Besides, I enjoy taking care of you. You’ve done so much for me when you didn’t have to.”
“Well, I don’t want you to attempt too much. There’s no rush to clean and wash. Rest in between your chores and put your feet up. You can lay down if necessary. My friend Nakaris’ wife used to do the same when she was pregnant.”
The water began to boil, and Danimore grabbed some cloth, lifting a caldron from the hook. “I’ll pour this one and start another. Go ready yourself, it won’t be long. I put some oil on the shelf in your chamber. Bring that to the tub and it’ll help relax you.”
He boiled several caldrons of water, filling the tub. After testing the temperature, he added a small pail of cool water, testing it again. When he was certain that the temperature was perfect, he called for Zeta.
His mouth gaped when she entered the room. Zeta stood in the entryway, holding her arm across her chest. Other than the thin wrap around her waist, she was naked. His eyes eagerly searched up and down, taking in all of her. She’s beautiful , he thought, his eyes resting on the thick, red hair easily visible through the cloth.
“I brought the oil,” Zeta said.
“Yes, well—well, good, thank you,” he stammered, averting his eyes. After wiping the sweat dotting his brow, he took the bottle, adding a few drops to her water.
“That smells divine,” she said. “What is it?” As she approached, her hand left her chest, exposing what lay beneath. His eyes were fixed, and his body responded immediately.
“It’s the oil of various flowers,” he said, twisting away to hide his arousal. “After it’s extracted, I mix in some naja and bits of cedar for several suns. Then, I add a stick of cinnamon and leave it sit. When it’s ready, I strain it into a bottle. Only a small portion is needed to produce such an aroma.”
“It’s wonderful, Danimore. How did you le
arn to do this?”
He extended out his hand, helping her into the tub. “I—I learnt the method from Mithu. She would produce the most fragrant oils that my mother loved. Now, I use my favorite flowers and woods to do the same.”
Zeta inhaled again, laying back in the tub and closing her eyes. Danimore stared at her, taking in her full beauty. It was the first time that he’d truly seen all of her.
“Zeta, I’ll leave you now to enjoy your bath. Please let me know when you’re finished.”
“Wait, Danimore, please. You don’t have to leave?” She sat up then, the oils causing her body to shimmer beneath the torchlight.
“I—I—it’s not proper to be here while you bathe, Zeta.”
“All shyness has left me. When I first arrived in Nazil, I wasn’t allowed clothes. The more I begged, the more they took away, until I was left with nothing. They meant to take everything from me, and my body most of all. But you’ve given it back, and I can decide who I wish to share it with. The only person that I’d want is you, Danimore.”
He almost smiled. Thoughts of his conversation with Pentanimir replayed in his mind. He’d been right, not only about his feelings, but hers, too. His body urged him to respond, but his mind and heart wouldn’t allow it. Danimore refused to be yet another Nazilian to receive pleasure from her, no matter how much he yearned for their closeness.
“I shouldn’t be with you when you’re naked,” he said. “I’ll help with your bath, but I won’t linger. You need privacy.”
“If you’re going to help with my bath, can you wash my back?” she asked, handing him the brush.
He should have spoken differently, but it was too late.
“All right, I’ll help with your bath, but that’s it. Once it’s done, I’ll leave you to relax.”
Zeta nodded, lowering back to the tub. He lathered the brush thoroughly, noticing the tremble in his hands as he did so. After another sobering breath, he leaned forward, gliding it over her back. Zeta’s subsequent moan caused him to jerk away.
“Danimore, what’s wrong?”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“No. It was soothing.”
Come on, Dani, it’s only a bath. Surely, a guard of Nazil can wash a woman’s back without fear.
“Well, let me know if I scrub too hard. I’m not use to washing such delicate skin.”
“It feels wonderful,” she said, closing her eyes again.
Danimore observed Zeta closely as he glided the brush across her back. Her soft sounds and subtle movements were stimulating, no matter how hard he tried not to notice. As the brush slowed, his other hand raised to her back. His eyes closed then, his fingertips tickling her supple skin. Danimore lowered the brush, using only his hands. They slid over her shoulders, gently massaging as they went. Her back arched when his hands moved lower, tracing down her spine, before gliding in a circle and back up again.
Licking the dryness from his lips, he imagined her taste, her warmth, and every part of her body that he longed to discover. Those visions consumed him as his fingers continued to work, her sounds and motions growing with each rotation of his hands.
Danimore’s eyes blinked open, as he sucked in a sharp breath. By the gods , he thought, unable to control the unexpected release. With a stuttered breath, he moved away from the tub, feeling the wetness in his trousers.
“I—I’m going to get a tunic for you,” he said. “Your water seems to have grown cold.”
This time, she did nothing to stop him. Zeta watched him flee the room, leaning back in the tub. As much as she wanted him to stay, she didn’t want him to think of her as a whore. She desired more from him, and she’d wait until he shared her feelings.
Zeta sighed, massaging her abdomen. When her babe began to wriggle, she giggled, continuing the motion.
“Is everything all right?” Danimore asked.
“Come, give me your hand,” she said, reaching out to him. Zeta smiled, resting his hand on her abdomen. As she moved it over her stomach, the babe kicked, wiggling beneath his hand. Danimore chuckled, lowering to his knees. Soon, her nakedness faded from his mind, and only the joy of this experience remained.
“He seems an active boy,” Danimore said.
“He? Am I to have a son?” Her giggle made his smile broaden. He loved to hear her laugh, and the way her entire face lit up when she smiled.
“He just seems a boy to me. It won’t be known until it is, but he’s a strong one, that’s for sure.”
“I’d like to have a son. A strong, handsome, and kind son, just like you.”
“Let me help you from the tub,” he said, unable to mask his reddening cheeks. “The oils make things slippery, and I don’t want you to fall.”
Holding up the cloth with one hand, he gripped her arm with the other, turning his head as she rose. “There.”
The wet cloth clung to every curve and protrusion, hiding little of the beauty that lay beneath. When he took a step back, Zeta moved closer, not allowing him to leave. She drew him into her, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Will you just hold me for a moment, please, just hold me,” she pled, looking up at him.
Danimore gazed into her eyes. So beautiful…so innocent , he thought, leaning down to her. He hesitated for a moment and she reached up, pulling him down to meet her lips. That simple touch left waves of shared pleasure in its wake. He kissed her again, whimpering against her lips. No other sensation had been as prevalent, awakening parts of his heart and body that he didn’t know existed.
Zeta pushed back gently, allowing the cloth to drift to the floor. “I want to share myself with only you, Dani. Does my body displease you?”
He searched every inch of her, feeling an eruption of heat pulsating throughout his entire body. “No,” he breathed, kissing her again. “Every part of you excites me.”
Lowering to his knees, he kissed down her neck, chest, and lower. His movements were timid at first, but once he tasted her sweetness, he hungrily continued until her trembling legs and shriek caused him to stop.
“Did I hurt you?”
Zeta gazed down, trying to catch her breath. “No, no, Dani. I’ve never felt such pleasure. I didn’t want it to end.”
“It’s not ending,” he said, scooping her up in his arms. “It’s only beginning.”
No Honor in Truth
The warmth of the eternal fire did little to ease the chill consuming Hosdaq. He stared into the orange and yellow flares, swaying in the night wind. Each eruption was different, and yet, they were the same. He gazed into the symbolic fire, searching the recesses of his mind for answers to questions that he hadn’t even considered. Or, had he merely ignored the truths before him, clutching to a memory or ideal of what he wished was reality?
Closing his eyes, he offered a silent prayer. He needed not only guidance, but also strength. He was but a shell of what he used to be, a man pretending to live who’d died years past. At least, he felt that way. The best of what he was had been buried alongside his wife, and only remnants of the whole remained.
His heart ached when he thought about Wosen. That pain, that suffering were lingering vestiges of errors that he’d committed. Although he attempted to appear composed to the Bandarians, he’d grown weary.
Hosdaq smiled wistfully, envisioning his wife. He couldn’t help but wonder how much better their life would be had she lived.
“I miss you, Esme,” Hosdaq whispered. “Our children need you, and I need you most of all. I miss your arms around me and the strength of your love. I need you, my wife,” he said, taking a steadying breath, and moving toward his home.
As he opened the door, he paused, seeing Wosen in the middle of the room, thrusting with his sword. Sweat beaded his brow as he lunged, swiping out at his imaginary opponent. Hosdaq grimaced, observing his son’s clumsy movements while completing his practice routine. He wished that he could instruct him more on the proper use of his sword, but he dared not help further his hopeless pursuit. He conti
nued to watch until Wosen noticed him in the room. He grabbed up a wineskin from the table, taking a long drink.
“I’ve been training,” Wosen said. “Soon I’ll be able to match Pentanimir’s prowess.”
After wiping down his sword and replacing it on the stand, he took another drink. “Mayhaps we can train together on the morrow. It’s been long since we’ve sparred.”
“Firstly, you must master the bow,” Hosdaq said. “Your eye is keen, and we have much need of that skill. I promise to increase our sparring soon.”
“No. That’s what you always say. I’m the best archer in the village and still you won’t train me. A real Chosen doesn’t use the bow. The lower guards are tasked with such weapons. How can I earn my Xtabyren if I’m never allowed to even touch it? That’s the weapon of a Chosen, not some damn bow.”
“The Xtabyren requires elite training and discipline for a man to be even considered worthy of it. It isn’t a weapon that’s given, it’s earned, just as all things of great value are. Mastery of the bow and sword are a necessary first step before such consideration. After you’ve proven your proficiency, then you’re honored with the Xtabyren. Even then, everyone who completes the challenges don’t earn one. If your skill doesn’t match your master, the weapon is awarded to another. It takes many years to reach this level, Wosen. Your discipline must match your prowess, or you’d still be rejected. You must be patient and earn that which you seek.”
“Earn? How can I earn anything when I’m stuck here? I’ll never be able to prove my worth if I can’t leave this place.”
“We’ve spoken about this numerous times, and you know the why of it. It’s not safe for you to leave the village. What if you’re discovered? Everyone here would be in jeopardy. Is that what you truly want?”
“What I want is to be like you, Father. You are of Nazil. Our people are there. Why should we rot here? The Nazilians are no threat to us, it was mother they wouldn’t accept.”
Hosdaq stood, desperately trying to remain composed. “Don’t you ever speak about your mother in such a way. She loved you more than herself. It was the Nazilians who wouldn’t accept her, or any of us, not together. If it were possible, we would’ve lived in the white city. They don’t allow such bonds: not then and certainly not now.”
The Rise of Nazil- Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy Page 20