“You will not order me in my own court!” the king roared.
Tahj felt Radeem’s hand cover his own as he unconsciously fingered the hilt of his sword. He knew it was Radeem’s way of signaling him they were too outnumbered. “I will not hear you speak poorly of my family. If this is all the discussion we can have, then perhaps I should leave. But I warn you,” he hastily added, “what I have to say will be to your benefit.”
Tahj glanced at Radeem and then around the room to take in the odds himself. He had an entourage of about sixteen, including Radeem, and there were at least three dozen guards in the room alone, not to mention the other half-dozen or so in the hall outside. He let his gaze fall coolly on the king again, who seemed to be considering his worth.
After a long, uncomfortable pause, the King cleared his throat. “You have spoken up to me, which speaks well of your bravery. You did not fly off of the handle when you were angered, which speaks to your self-discipline. You do not appear cocky, like your father, nor are you an arrogant, evil cur like Boltar.” He nodded his head. “Go on.”
Tahj relaxed; he knew he had his man now. “Lord Boltar—”
“He calls himself King Boltar now.”
“Whatever he calls himself, the fact remains he is extracting two times the tribute from you that my father did.”
“You are well-prepared.”
“Should you support me, I will cut that number in half.”
“If you win.”
“If I win.”
Qubad studied him again. “How many men do you need?”
“How many do you have?” Tahj asked with a grin.
Qubad chuckled and reached down to take Tahj’s hand. “You have my support. Bring us some wine to seal the deal.”
* * *
Bashea’s hand fluttered to her stomach. Why was she so anxious? Of course, she knew why she was nervous. In a short while, her family could be throwing her out in the desert all alone when they discovered what she had done, but she hoped and prayed they wouldn’t.
It was hard to judge which way it would go, especially now her father was gone. Although she wasn’t even sure what his reaction would have been to such news. But, with Bagrat in charge…she just wasn’t sure how temperamental he would be when he learned the truth.
“We’ll be okay,” she murmured, and stepped up to open the flap to Bagrat’s tent, where the family meeting had been called.
Laughter quieted as she entered, and everyone turned to look at her expectantly, but without tension. She fought an urge to turn around and run. Everyone sat on cushions in a semicircle, facing the door, where she stood. She chose not to take a seat. It would be easier this way.
“Bashea,” Bagrat prompted, “you wanted to tell us something.”
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
She looked at each of their loving, encouraging faces and found her throat had dried up. Her stomach did a wild flip, and she put a hand over it and took a deep breath.
“What I have to say will come as a surprise to you.” She looked around, hoping, somehow, someone would guess her secret, but they all just looked on curiously. How was she to say this? Best to get it over with quickly. “I’m…expecting a child. Tahj’s child.” She winced as she said it, and every muscle tightened as if expecting a blow.
All heads swiveled to Bagrat, whose mouth lay open. Slowly, the big man rose to his full height, and stepping over some pillows he scooped his sister up in his arms. “Congratulations!” Overwhelmed, Bashea could do nothing but cry. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” he asked, concerned.
“No,” Bashea blubbered. Bagrat’s wife, Dara, handed her a cloth to wipe her eyes, and everyone gathered around offering their congratulations. Bano and Bibi seemed especially pleased. “I was afraid you’d throw me out,” Bashea offered, laughing through her tears.
“Of course, not,” Dara answered for the group. “We know what you’ve been through, and how hard it was for you and Tahj to…work things out, when it was clear you were in love with each other. We don’t judge you, Bashea, and we’ll make sure no one else does, either.”
She knew they could not keep people from talking, but just knowing they were behind her made Bashea feel like she could handle whatever else was to come. “You all are the best,” Bashea proclaimed tearfully, stretching her arms out to pull in as many as possible. There was much laughter and sniffling within the circle, and much laughter about sniffling in the circle, and teasing, but finally Bagrat spoke again.
“Bashea, I just want you to know, even though Tahj isn’t here right now, you are not alone.”
Bashea thought it was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard and started crying again.
“Oh, look now,” Dara scolded, “you’ve got her going again. She’s going to dehydrate that poor baby of hers.” Everyone laughed, and Bagrat called for a private celebratory feast to be shared in his tent.
As twilight passed into night, Bashea looked around the circle of faces lit by a small fire, animated as they conversed with each other, and felt the ring around her heart grow tight again, but this time because her heart was swelling with love. Later, she made her excuses and snuck out to the well.
It was a mild night, and the sky was full of stars, as if the gods had scooped up handfuls of sand and thrown them up against the black, radiant and glowing as far as the eye could see.
Bagrat’s gruff voice startled her. “You miss him, don’t you?” He put an arm around her shoulder.
Instead of answering, she laid her head down on his chest. They stood quietly. From a few feet away a cricket began to chirp, and beyond him they could still here the murmur of late-nighters around the central fire.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Bashea questioned, breaking the peaceful silence.
“Who? Tahj?” Bagrat asked, cricking his neck to look down at her. “Oh, yes. He’s fine. He’s a tough one, for a prince.” They were quiet for a moment longer, and then Bagrat started chuckling. “Remember when he hid those sheep on us? Heh, heh. That was a good trick.”
Bashea smiled and hugged herself tighter to his side. “Thank you, Bagrat. You are a good brother.”
“Ahh, now,” her brother countered, getting choked up, “don’t go sayin’ that. You know you’ll only regret it in the morning.” He sniggered and pulled her closer, protecting her from the night air.
* * *
Tahj took it as a good sign when Boltar did not kill his emissaries. He agreed to meet with Tahj to discuss his claim, but only if the prince was willing to come to him.
“You’ve got to be crazy. There’s no way I’m letting you go in there.”
Tahj strapped on his hard, leather chest plate. “If it will spare Avistad blood, then it is worth the chance.”
“What good will it do any of us if you are dead?”
Tahj smiled, picking up his sword. “But you will avenge my death, dear brother.”
“Tahj, do you think this is a game?” Radeem cried, exasperated.
“No, my friend,” he replied soberly, laying a hand on his captain’s shoulder. “I know very well the risk I’m taking.”
A head ducked into the tent, soon followed by the body of a handsome fifteen year old.
“Sarfraz,” Radeem asked with a scowl, “what are you doing here?”
The young man bowed politely to his father without answering his question. He then proceeded to kneel before Tahj, taking his hand.
“Oh, Mighty Prince Tahj, I have come to serve you. I wish to fight beside my father.”
“I thought I told you—” Radeem blustered, but Tahj waved a hand to silence him.
“Rise,” Tahj said to the boy regally. He stood thinking for a beat or two. “Sarfraz, you have proven yourself brave and true in your request, and I have need of such a man…but not at the front. It is for something very important, however. Can you be trusted with such a task?”
“But I wish to fight with my father,” Sarfraz responded, perilously close to a complaint.
<
br /> “A real soldier goes where his leader needs him without question,” Tahj stated sternly.
Sarfraz bowed his head for a second. “What do you need?”
“I will need someone to deliver a letter for me to Tamook. It is several days ride across the desert. I will send you with two others in case of attack or emergency. Will you do this for me?”
“Yes, Sire,” he answered at once, kneeling to take Tahj’s hand again.
Tahj grimaced at the title. When he looked up, Radeem was smiling widely, but as Sarfraz rose, he replaced the look with a frown.
“I don’t like the idea,” he growled, but when Sarfraz looked to Tahj, Radeem winked at the prince.
“He is fifteen. It is the boy’s choice.” Tahj looked down at Sarfraz. “I will prepare the letter. Saddle your horse.”
* * *
Bashea was bent over a pot in the fire when the three riders came charging into camp at a full gallop. She shielded her eyes with one hand in order to see them better through the late-afternoon sun, and stuck her other hand, involuntarily, into the small of her back, frequently sore now from the additional stress of her rounded belly. Bagrat and the rest of her family were constantly warning her not to overdo this close to her time, but she needed work to ease her mind.
The horsemen stopped some feet from her and dismounted. The tall one in the middle stepped forward. He looked somehow familiar. “This is Tamook?” he asked, and she could see now he was just a boy.
Bagrat stood up and strode over to meet him. “It is.”
The young man reached into a leather pouch tethered to his side, lifting the flap and bringing out a neatly folded piece of parchment. “I am looking for Lady Bashea.”
Bagrat’s eyebrows lifted at that, and he turned with a smirk. “Lady Bashea?”
Bashea straightened and strolled regally over to the messenger, swatting Bagrat as she passed him. “I am Bashea,” she said kindly.
The young man’s eyes opened wide, staring at her. “Th-this is for you,” he stammered, handing her the paper.
“You look familiar to me. Have we met before?”
“No, I am sure we haven’t,” he answered dreamily.
Bashea smiled and elbowed Bagrat, who she could feel behind her now, knowing he was about to laugh at the boy, who seemed taken with her. She glanced at the paper, tapping it against her palm, her curiosity over the boy superseding her interest in the letter’s contents at this point. “You are from…?”
Sarfraz shook himself. “I have come from Vadeed.”
Bashea was immediately keyed up. “This is from Radeem?”
“No. Prince Tahj.”
Bashea would have swooned, were it not for Bagrat’s thick arm.
“Let me get you some coins, lad,” Bagrat said quickly as he steadied his sister.
“No need. I am just following orders,” he answered smartly.
Dara put her arm around him and led him off. “A meal, then. Surely you are hungry…”
Bashea heard all this as if in a daze, a low, background buzz to the humming in her ears. She stared at the paper now as if it were a finely cut diamond.
“Bashea,” Bagrat said gently. “Are you well?”
“He’s alive! Oooh!” Her hand went to her stomach.
“What? What is it?” Bagrat asked in alarm, looking over his shoulder for Dara.
“It is nothing. The baby only kicked me hard.”
“Let’s get you out of the sun.” Bagrat led Bashea into her tent. “Water?”
“Please.”
When Bagrat returned with some, minutes later, Bashea was still sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the letter, wonderstruck.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” he probed gently.
“Read it?” she responded, as if a million worlds away. “Yes. I will read it.”
“I’ll leave you alone then,” Bagrat murmured with a smile, though it wasn’t even clear if she heard him.
Several minutes after Bagrat left her, Bashea looked up to find him gone. She rubbed her belly comfortingly. “It is from your father,” she told her constant companion, and she felt a sort of shimmery glow descend on her. “Your father.” Tears left her eyes now. She’d never known if her baby would have a father; now it seemed like there was a chance.
Slowly, as if it were the most ancient, holy epistle, she opened the folds and spread it on her lap.
My dearest Bashea—
I cannot think to start this letter without saying first how much I love and miss you. These many months have been an agony for me, and I could not go on if not for knowing it was all to win you over to my side, to prove to you my only happiness lies with you, to make you my wife, the mother of my children.
A small sob escaped Bashea. “He has no idea, Baby.” Her hands shaking now, she continued reading.
Except for this constant ache in my heart which comes from your absence, I’m doing fine. Radeem and I have been gathering quite an army. I am touched by the amount of support I’ve gotten, even from unexpected corners. Yesterday, three of Kadeesh’s old friends showed up in Vadeed to swear their allegiance to me. Men who were boys I looked up to as a child, kneeling at my feet. It is very humbling.
But throughout it all I think of you, and count on the promise we made to each other…though, truth be told, I often wonder if some man hasn’t come and swept you off your feet yet, and all this will be for naught.
But I hold on to the hope we will be together again soon. When I miss you most, I hope you will forgive me for this, but I stole a volume of your poetry. I read it and it makes me feel close to you. So, I thought I’d try my hand at it, please forgive my inexperience—
When the sun’s rays are stretching across the Western sky—
And the night animals begin to wake,
It is then I think of you, far from my side,
And my heart begins to ache.
My lids cannot close without
The ghost of you floating before my eyes
And I’m tortured for want of you,
You’re the breath within my sighs.
For when the circle is done
And again the sun begins to rise
The pink edges melt with the blue
And become the swelling skies.
Then I rise to face another day,
A false smile upon my face
Duty drags me along
Though I see you with each reluctant pace.
The space between us is both great and small
The chasm insurmountable when you are not near
But, at times, bridged by my thoughts of you
I find that you are here.
Bashea, the time is nearing
When I’ll stand or when I’ll fall
But it’s not the battle which scares me
As I march through castle hall.
It is the thought of me returning to you
When all is said and done
To find what my heart’s longed for
With each rising of the sun
Is not what I imagined,
Or what is designed to be
Yet, I pray, somehow, you’ll
Accept my love and, finally, marry me.
Here the poem ended, but Tahj had added more.
Ahh, the joke’s on me, Bashea, for you made it look so easy, but I cannot make the words bend to fit my thoughts or show you the way I feel. I long for you to show me the way, even now.
Should I not return to you, and our upper meadow, know I loved you, and with the last beating of my heart, it beat for you.
—Tahj
“Oh, Tahj!” Bashea wept, imagining him in each stanza of the poem. She rose, but then a pain gripped her so hard she doubled over, letting the letter flutter to the ground. “No! Not now, Little One,” she ordered. She gritted her teeth and stood up, leaving the tent determinedly.
She rushed to the fire and found the boy where he was sitting spooning food into his mouth as if he hadn’t ea
ten for days. Just like his father. She quickly crouched in front of him, her hands on his knees. “Prince Tahj—he was well when you saw him?”
The boy’s eyes were wide with surprise, but he answered. “Yes, quite well.”
A smile warmed her face like a sunrise. She patted his knees. “Good! Good.” She rose, but then grabbed her stomach, bending over. “Ohhhhh!”
Immediately Bagrat was at her side, gripping her arm to support her. “Bashea, what is it?”
Dara hurried to her other side. “Is it the baby?”
“Yes, I think it iiiiissss!” She panted, her eyes frantic.
“Get her to our tent,” Dara ordered.
“But not now, Dara. Not yet.”
“I think the baby has different thoughts on the subject, Bashea.”
“Nooooo!” she screamed, the next contraction taking her by surprise.
“The tent, Bagrat!” Dara raced ahead to prepare the way.
Hours later, Bashea was crying out in pain. “I need Tahj! I need Tahj!” She sobbed.
Dara laid her forehead on Bashea’s, repeating reassuringly over and over, “I know, dear one, I know.”
And in the twilight hours, Bashea gave birth to a baby girl.
* * *
Tahj marched along, almost feeling claustrophobic in the circle of soldiers. Surrounding him was his entourage of handpicked men, sixteen of the bravest and strongest, including a handful of Kadeesh’s friends and, of course, Radeem. Surrounding them were men who had once been loyal to his father but now vowed allegiance to Lord Boltar—for he would always be Lord Boltar to Tahj. They were escorting Tahj and his men to the throne room for an audience.
It felt strange to be within the castle walls. Where once his family crest hung on the wall, there was a tremendous shield with a wickedly taloned, black eagle on a background of red. Overhead, where multicolored flags used to wave, were now row upon row of black and red flags. He watched them flutter a warning and snap with the breeze like so many dragons’ tongues. Where once he heard the chirp of the small birds who darted in and out of the sunny archways, now the only sound to accompany the steady and somewhat ominous marching of men’s feet was the sad cooing of a lone mourning dove, which could be heard, but not seen.
Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) Page 18