One Thousand Nights
Christine Pope
Dark Valentine Press
Contents
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
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About the Author
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ONE THOUSAND NIGHTS
Copyright © 2014 by Christine Pope
Published by Dark Valentine Press
Cover art by Nadica Boskovska.
Cover design and ebook formatting by Indie Author Services.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems — except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from its publisher, Dark Valentine Press.
Please contact the author through the form on her website at www.christinepope.com if you experience any formatting or readability issues with this book.
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Prologue
A desert wind blew, dry and hot, the last gasp of the ser-accar before the blessed rains of winter arrived to bring with them the short season of green, of growth. Beshalim Kel-Alisaad, Hierarch of Keshiaar, stood beneath the shade of a great canopy held up by four burly servants, but the cover it provided did nothing to keep the perspiration from sliding down his back beneath the heavy embroidered robes he wore. Still, he knew he could show no sign of discomfort, could do nothing but stand there, still as a statue, as she was brought out onto the flat, scorching expanse of the approach to his palace.
Ah, she was still so beautiful, hair whipping like black silk in the gusts of the ser-accar, profile pure and perfect. Her sojourn in the palace dungeons did not seem to have marred that exquisite face, just as the shapeless garments she wore could not conceal the lush curves of her body.
Besh wished he could close his eyes, could turn away so he would not have to see what happened next. But such weakness was not a luxury he could afford, even though otherwise he was the most powerful man in a thousand miles. His left fist knotted at his side, concealed in the folds of his heavy robes. It was the only expression of the agony he was now experiencing that he would allow himself.
The watching crowd was silent, but he sensed the hunger within the people who stood there. Not to see justice done, precisely, although that was part of it.
No, they were here to see blood.
The executioner was a great, bald man, holding the curved sword of his profession. He waited, scalp shining in the merciless sun, as the two guards brought her to the dais. Azeer Tel-Karinoor, the Hierarch’s chancellor, stepped forward. If the heat bothered him, he showed no sign of it as he lifted the scroll he held and read in his clear, ringing voice,
“Hezia Kel-Alisaad, for crimes of high treason and gross adultery, the sentence is death. The light of the sun will no longer shine on you, and your name will be spoken no more. The crimes you have committed against our sovereign have cast you utterly beyond redemption, and God himself has turned His back on you. You have indulged the flesh, and your flesh will be no more. So is the judgment of our great Hierarch. Stand now, and meet your fate.”
Those shoulders, once so proud, slumped a little. But then her chin lifted, and she cried out, “I am guilty of nothing but love! Besh, please — ”
At such a casual use of his name, the crowd began to murmur. It was not seemly to address the Hierarch in such a manner at any time, let alone in so public a place, by a woman who had no rights left to her, especially not those of a wife.
Tel-Karinoor’s lips thinned. “You are guilty of treason.” A curt nod at the two men flanking the condemned woman, and they thrust her to her knees in front of the executioner. “As the Hierarch wills it, so it will be done.”
No, he had not willed it. When she had been caught in her deceptions, had begged and pleaded for her life, for him to understand…even then he had not wished for her death. It would have been so much better to release her from the marriage, and banish her and her accursed lover — the one whose name Besh would never allow himself to speak again — forever from the borders of Keshiaar. But while the Hierarch had many powers, changing the laws of his land to accommodate an erring consort was not one of them. She must die, as any traitor would. All of her rank and titles had been forfeit once her adultery was discovered.
He stood silent, watching, knowing he could not look away, could do nothing to show any sign of weakness. If only he could forget the sound of her laugh, the sweet honey of her lips. It had been an arranged marriage, as such things always were, but he had loved her. That was why the betrayal cut even more cruelly.
She had not loved him, had instead loved the one person she should never have even thought of in such a way, the one man whose involvement compounded her transgression a thousand times and more.
The executioner’s sword flashed in the sunlight as he grasped it with both hands and lifted it over his head. It had to be a strong and sure blow, to make the cut in one sweep.
Besh pulled in a breath of the scorching air, then gave the barest of nods. This thing could not be stopped now, so best to get it over with quickly. He would not let himself think of her fear, of how her heart must be pounding in her perfect breast. To think of such things would rob the fragile strength that held him in place now, doing that which custom expected of him.
A glitter of steel. A faint whistle as the sword cut through the air. And then a thud as her graceful head was severed from her neck, followed immediately afterward by her body slumping forward and collapsing on the wooden dais.
It was done.
The executioner lifted her head by its gleaming black hair, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Besh swallowed the taste of bile in his throat, holding himself ramrod straight, and raised one hand, as if to acknowledge the skill of the swordsman.
And now, custom satisfied, he could leave this cursed place, take refuge in his apartments. There was already talk of finding him a new wife, for Hezia had not given him an heir. He would let his advisors manage that. Let them find him a princess if they liked. He knew he must provide Keshiaar with a son, and perhaps some day he would force himself to perform the act necessary to produce the required offspring.
But he knew he would never love again.
Chapter 1
The ambassadors from Keshiaar appeared on a wet morning in Fevrere, their unheralded arrival sending the entire palace into a frenzy. Ashara had come to my chambers to tell me the news, although in truth she did not have very much to report.
“And Lyarris, almost at once they were closeted with Torric in his office, and not in the audience hall, so it must be some secret matter. I will have to pry it out of him whenever he reappears,” she added, green-gold eyes dancing.
I had no doubt that she would. They hid very little from one another
, my brother and this wife of his. “Good, for I will admit to some curiosity. It is certainly not a time of year to be traveling.”
“No, so it must be very important.” She paused, one hand going to her stomach, although it still looked flat as ever to me.
“Are you feeling quite well?” I asked. “I can call for some water, or cider.”
“Oh, no, I am fine,” she replied quickly. “The illness comes and goes, but today I am well enough. It is just — I am still trying to convince myself that it is all real.”
It would be very real some six months hence when that child entered the world — kicking and screaming, no doubt — but I thought I understood what she meant. After all, it had been quite the rapid progression for Ashara, from nobleman’s daughter reduced to scrubbing the pots in the house that should have been hers, to Empress, and now mother to the next Emperor. Well, if the child was a boy, of course.
“It is still new, I suppose,” I told her. “But of course everyone is very excited.”
As they should be. That the Emperor would wed such a girl at all, especially one whose family was tainted by magic, had been the subject of a good deal of gossip. But since she was such a good, sweet young woman, and because she had shown she understood her duty very well by getting with child only a month after her marriage, the populace was willing to forgive her somewhat questionable past.
“And I more than anyone,” she said, cheeks pink. After a pause, she lifted her hand from her stomach and went on, “That is, perhaps except for Torric. At any rate, I must go, for now Lord Hein is in quite the frenzy, trying to revise the plans for tonight’s feast and entertainment so that they will be suitably impressive. We can’t have the ambassadors from Keshiaar thinking we are hopeless provincials, after all.”
“I doubt very much they would think that.” True, Keshiaar was a great empire, the only one in the world to rival ours here in Sirlende, but provincial? No, I did not believe they would have that opinion of us. Then I added, “Well, I should not keep your from your appointment with Lord Hein. I am sure the two of you will concoct something that will quite turn the ambassadors’ heads.”
“Now you are teasing me,” she protested, but her eyes were dancing. “But that is all right, for I love you anyway. And you will understand me when I say I am somewhat relieved that your mamma is down with the ague, for at least I will not have to worry about her interference. It makes things so much easier. But now I must go.”
Which she did, after giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. Her two maidservants trailed after her and shut the door to my suite. I did not precisely sigh, but I did think of how much things had changed. Only a few short months ago, I would have been the one to consult with Lord Hein, if my mother was not well enough to manage the task. But while I was still the Crown Princess and accorded all the respect due that position, I was not the Empress.
And a good thing, too, because that is not something I would wish on anyone, I thought. Ashara has managed admirably, but the novelty of court life has not yet worn off for her. As for me, I will be glad when Thani and I are able to make our own announcement. I will press for a short engagement, so that we can be together and away from Iselfex as soon as is seemly.
Oh, how I wished my beloved were here with me now. But he had gone back to his estates for a fortnight, saying he could not utterly abandon Marric’s Rest for court. Though I missed him dreadfully, I understood his reasoning. He was fairly new to the management of his estate, and leaving it for too extended a time would not be politic.
In the meantime, I would have to revise what I had planned to wear to dinner. It was supposed to be a quiet evening, no more than fifty sitting down to table with us, followed by a harp concert in one of the smaller chambers, but of course that would not do to entertain the noble ambassadors from Keshiaar.
As I went to survey my wardrobe, my maid Arlyn at my side, I couldn’t help wondering again exactly why those ambassadors were here.
* * *
I had no chance of learning the true reason for their mission during the course of that evening, for the conversation was all light and inconsequential — discussions of the weather, of the next growing season, whether the price of silk would rise or fall. And although I shot a questioning glance at Ashara as she and Torric entered the dining hall, she only gave the slightest lift of her shoulders, followed by a shake of her head. Apparently her confidence in “winkling” those secrets out of my brother had been misplaced.
During that dinner I caught one of the ambassadors giving me an oddly appraising look, as if I were a horse at a fair that he wanted to buy. Frowning, I glanced away from him at once, and told myself I must be imagining things. After all, he was a foreigner, of a different cast of feature than the people of Sirlende, and no doubt I was misreading his expression, although I thought he looked vaguely familiar, as if I had seen him before on a previous visit to the palace.
Even so, I was glad when the meal was over and we had all moved into the ballroom. Lord Hein and Ashara had apparently decided that dancing was a more enticing pastime than sitting and listening to music, and of course the members of the court had no reason to decline attending such a pleasant event. It was still a small enough affair, perhaps slightly more than a hundred people in attendance, but with them milling about, I was more or less shielded from the view of the senior Keshiaari ambassador.
Or at least I thought I was. As the musicians struck an introductory chord, he approached me and bowed deeply. “Your Highness.”
I curtseyed in return. “Ambassador Sel-Trelazar.”
“You would honor me, Your Highness, if you would be my partner for the padrane.”
Surprised, I could not help but ask, “You know our dances, Ambassador?” Yes, his face was somewhat familiar, but I could not recall him ever participating in one of our dances during one of his previous visits.
“Oh, yes, Your Highness. This is not my first journey to Sirlende, you know, and I have been to South Eredor as well, where the amusements are similar. I think you will not find me too clumsy-footed.”
There was nothing much I could say to that. Certainly I could not decline his invitation. So I smiled, and curtseyed, and allowed him to take my hand and lead me out to the dance floor, where we took up our positions directly below my brother and Ashara. Her eyebrows lifted as she took in my dance partner, but after Torric sent her a warning glance, she adopted a pleasant, noncommittal smile and looked away.
For myself, since Thani was not here, one dance partner was as good as another. And Ambassador Sel-Trelazar proved to be true to his word, light on his feet and making nary a misstep. He was not so very old as I had thought — perhaps in his latter forties. The beard made him seem older, I supposed; in Sirlende it was not the fashion for men to wear beards. Certainly it seemed rather impractical to me, as Keshiaar, lying far to the south as it did, was quite fiercely hot. But the one the ambassador wore was trimmed closely enough that I could see the clean line of his jaw underneath the beard, and overall I thought him a rather fine-looking man, with his strong dark brows and long, elegant nose.
The dance was a slow and stately one, the traditional opening for a ball before the musicians progressed to more lively tunes. Because of this, it allowed for conversation in a way that some of the other pieces did not. A double-edged sword, as it meant I would not be able to retreat into silence the way I might if I were dancing, say, the linotte.
“And did you have a good journey, Ambassador?” I inquired. “I have heard that the seas can be quite treacherous at this season.”
“As to that, God must have smiled on us, for the passage went smoothly enough, save for one stormy day as we came around the Melinoor Peninsula.”
“I am glad to hear it,” I replied. Yes, I had read that the Keshiaari people believed in one god, as did those in South Eredor, although it was not the same god. It was not something I had made much study of, preferring history and geography to religion, and I decided to let the reference p
ass. “Your business must be very important indeed for you to come to us at this season, though.”
His dark eyes twinkled. “Ah, Your Highness, I fear I cannot tell you more. That is something His Majesty will have to discuss with you.”
I found I did not much like the sound of that. My gaze slipped to Torric, who had seemed preoccupied all evening, and had done his best to avoid speaking with me. Not so difficult, what with the ambassadors to entertain and so many nobles of the court in attendance, but such behavior was unlike him. Perhaps he was doing his best to keep his distance because I knew him all too well, and might be able to guess at the ambassadors’ true mission here if I spent too much time in his company.
All this passed through my mind in an instant. Hoping my hesitation was not obvious, I told the ambassador, “As I’m sure he will, once he has a spare moment.”
An expression I couldn’t quite read passed over Ambassador Sel-Trelazar’s face. “Yes, His Majesty has many things to occupy his time. But I think he will make time for you in this.”
I could only nod, and soon after that the dance ended, and I was able to make my escape and have a servant bring me a much-needed cup of wine. There were undercurrents here that I did not quite like, but try as I might, I could not determine what could possibly be the source of my unease.
Except perhaps my brother, who smiled and charmed as he always did, and danced with his wife and many ladies of the court, but never me. He seemed to make sure he always had a group of courtiers around him, or at least Ashara and her dear friend the Lady Gabrinne, lately married to Duke Senric. It was as if Torric was doing everything in his power to put up a barrier between the two of us, and I found I did not much like it.
I did not like it at all.
* * *
The next morning rain pattered against the windows, and my chambers felt dark and dull despite the many candles Arlyn had lit to drive back the gloom of the day. She brought me my breakfast, which I only picked at. The unease of the evening before had not dissipated after a good night’s sleep. If anything, it had only grown worse.
One Thousand Nights (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6) Page 1