Elanath remained silent, her gaze downcast. The auburn lashes shadowed her eyes. Then she looked up, rage and pain mingled in her eyes. “I was a virgin. I had saved myself for marriage to my beloved Cihkel.” A sob burst out. “My body hurts. My heart hurts. My soul hurts.”
The veil protecting Jasmine from her own rapes tore enough for her feelings to leak through. Shame froze in her stomach, turning her torso to stone. She fought back tears, trying to seal up her protections. If she allowed her own trauma to overwhelm her, she wouldn’t be able to help Elanath. She inhaled and exhaled, striving for her center, trying to focus on her healing power.
A few minutes passed in silence, as Jasmine brought herself into balance. She took Elanath’s hand and squeezed, sending tendrils of healing energy into the woman’s hand and up her body. It’s working. In relief, she closed her eyes for a brief few seconds.
Elanath began to speak. “I could bear what they did to me if only Cihkel were still alive. If only I could come home to his loving embrace. Even if home were just a tent.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Although if he’d been captured, once he saw what they intended, he’d have gone for them barehanded and been killed. Perhaps it’s best that he died in defense of Seagem, instead of in defense of me.”
“He did die in defense of you, Elanath,” Jasmine said, her tone gentle. “He loved you and wanted to protect you. Have you lost the feeling of his love? Do you feel numb?”
Surprise crossed Elanath’s face. “How do you know?”
“Numbness is a common reaction to trauma. It’s the body’s way of shutting down the overwhelming emotions of the horrible experience.” Jasmine continued soothing the woman with her othersense. “And you haven’t had a chance to grieve. You’ve continued to be traumatized—kidnapped, enslaved, raped, made captive to Ontarem. Even now you are not completely safe. You haven’t had a chance to process your feelings about everything that’s happened.”
“Process?”
“Think through what happened and how you feel about it and start the healing.”
Elanath nodded several times, a slow bob of her head.
“Plus,” Jasmine continued. “Everyone here is also traumatized and dealing with their own grief. So, you have no one to turn to for support.”
Elanath tightened her grip on Jasmine’s hand. “But I do now. I have you. And I have Indaran.”
Jasmine choked back a spurt of shame about her earlier feelings toward Elanath. She released the last vestiges of jealousy, sending a final burst of healing energy to surround and penetrate the woman.
But the cost to her was great.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The morning after their arrival in Ocean’s Glory, Daria strode down the corridor leading to Besolet’s chapel. Unlike the last time, when she’d traversed the hallway with awe in her heart, curious to meet the Goddess, this time anger propelled her. Besolet had betrayed Yadarius, and Goddess or not, Daria was about to spar with Her. And not only spar with Her, bend Her will to their cause.
She yanked open the golden door of the shrine, stepped through, and slammed it closed behind her. The morning sunlight gleamed on the jeweled walls dazzling the room into sparkling rainbows of color. The sweet fragrance from the crimson tashalilies clutched in Besolet’s hand floated toward her.
Besolet’s other hand fluttered, in welcome or distress, Daria couldn’t be sure. The painted statue lifted her chin and looked down her nose. “Princess Daria, or should I call you Queen Daria? Counselor Ogan has given me an interesting report of your…activities.”
The sarcasm fueled Daria’s rage and her focus. “Counselor Ogan has also given me an interesting report of Your activities,” she bit out. “How dare You betray Yadarius, betray Seagem!”
Besolet ruffled up, looking, in spite of Her beauty, like a disturbed chicken. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner.”
“I dare much, Goddess.”
Besolet waved her hand, obviously about to inflict some kind of punishment.
Daria braced herself.
Nothing happened. A startled expression crossed the Goddess’s face.
“Still powerless, Besolet?” Daria taunted in a sardonic tone. “This is what You did to Yadarius. How does it feel?”
“My power will return.” The words sounded haughty, but a quaver betrayed the Goddess’s fear.
“Your power comes from Your people, whom You’ve also betrayed. You have no royal family left. Do You think Your priests and priestesses, Your nobility, will worship You now? After what You’ve done to Seagem?”
Besolet’s big blue eyes widened in shock. “Of course they will do me homage. They have no other deity.”
“Withea.” The power of the name echoed through the room.
The Goddess shrank back. “Withea wouldn’t interfere with my realm.”
“Oh, would She not?”
“No, of course She wouldn’t.”
“Didn’t You interfere with Hers?”
Besolet dropped her gaze. “Not interfere, precisely.”
“But You didn’t help either. You let Ontarem take Her down, destroy Her city and Her people, and You didn’t lift Your hand to help her.”
“I, I—”
“This time You’ve gone too far, Besolet. Your people have turned against You. Withea is a wise and caring Goddess. They will be relieved to worship Her, instead of the capricious, vain, silly Goddess they’ve been stuck with until now.”
A petulant expression marred Besolet’s beauty, and She threw Her bouquet. The flowers missed their target and landed at Daria’s feet.
Daria raised one eyebrow. “That is exactly what I’m talking about. Instead of taking responsibility for what You’ve done, the untold pain You’ve caused, You throw something at me as if You were a two-year-old. The people of Ocean’s Glory deserve better.”
Besolet stomped her foot. “Don’t you speak to me this way. I won’t have it.”
Daria couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ahead, have a two-year-old tantrum. While You do it, I’m inviting the priests and priestesses so they can be amused, too.”
“They wouldn’t dare.”
“There’s that dare word again.” Daria hardened her expression. “They are almost as disgusted with You as I am. They’ve lost a king…no, two kings due to your entanglement with Ontarem. The unnecessary battle with Seagem cost them husbands, sons, brothers, friends. Even Your Archpriestess, Tranca, lost her sister’s son. With that death died much of her love and respect for You.” Daria stopped. “But that is her story to tell You. And she will.”
Besolet tilted her chin at a haughty angle. “She is welcome to speak with me, as are all my people.”
“All Your people. Only as long as they are the nobility. When was the last time a humble fisherman wandered in here to honor You?”
Besolet wrinkled Her nose. “Fisherman smell of fish.”
“They smell of honest labor.”
“They can worship me from afar.”
“They will not worship you at all. Not unless you change.”
Besolet looked bewildered. “How can I change?”
“You can start by hearing the true feelings of Your people.”
Daria pivoted, prepared to stalk out. Then she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “I believe you will find the experience a fitting punishment.”
~ ~ ~
Jasmine carried the last blanket left over from the stacks brought by the soldiers. They’d been following her orders, bringing food, medical supplies, and blankets and leaving them in piles at the gate. Jasmine had commandeered several men to help her carry them inside, but only after ordering the guards to keep their distance to avoid infection. She’d been pleased at their alacrity in obeying her.
After the evening yah-dar-net everyone in the camp had lined up to receive a blanket. Now she was so exhausted after the long, emotional day that she felt cross-eyed from tiredness.
People nodded in acknowledgement as she moved through the darkened c
amp, lit only by a few metal lanterns burning the firerocks. Some of the sleepy children, clutching an adult’s hand, sent her shy smiles. In spite of her tiredness, Jasmine made sure to smile in return, wanting to appear friendly. The extra food and blankets she’d procured had been enough to overcome the people’s instinctive fear about her dark coloring. But they would still need time to come to trust her.
When she reached Anza’s tent, she called out a greeting. The flap flipped open, and Indaran stuck his head out. By the dim light of the lantern planted on a pole next to the door, she could see him grin when he saw her. “Come in, Jasmine. Anza and I have finished our discussion.”
“I have an extra blanket to spread underneath us.”
His face sobered. “I have no need of that. Give it to someone who doesn’t have one.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Everyone has blankets, Oh King. And, as the camp’s healer, I will not allow you to make sacrifices that might jeopardize your health.”
“A king is expected to make sacrifices for his people.”
She softened her voice. “That is the difference between a good leader and a bad one. However, such a large sacrifice is not necessary today.”
He nodded and took the blanket. “Gray. Don’t these people know how to dye wool any other color?”
“Perhaps it is what they chose. Maybe they have colors in their homes where we can’t see them.”
Anza shrugged. “You could ask around. Some of our people must work in the homes as house slaves.”
Our people. Jasmine liked how readily Anza included her.
Anza stepped over to Indaran and took the top blanket from the stack he bore. She held up the blanket. “A course weave, but it will be warm.” Her gaze swept the space in the tent. “At least there’s enough room for the three of us to lie down. We managed fine last night.”
Indaran handed Jasmine one blanket, then shook his out. “Same arrangements as before. I’ll stretch out by the door. Jasmine, you lie next to me, and Anza can be on your other side.”
They spread one blanket over the seaweed flooring, then lay down, each curled into their own cover. The seaweed crunched as they settled. Indaran kept his unsheathed sword near his hand by the entrance.
Despite her tiredness, Jasmine had a hard time falling asleep. Her awareness of the man beside her kept her awake.
She listened to his irregular breathing, suggesting his own unease, smelled his man-scent, and wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart.
Regrets ate at her. If only…I was still a virgin, innocent. Eager to be with the man I loved, instead of never wanting to be touched by a man.
Every day, she learned something new that Amir and Moussad had taken from her. This was one more thing she’d lost—the possibility of any future with the man who slept next to her.
Finally, sheer exhaustion sent her under.
A few hours later, a sound pulled her out of a deep sleep. She drifted awake, her body tucked next to Indaran’s arm, her cheek pillowed on his shoulder. For a few minutes, she rested there, sleepy and content.
Then full alertness hit her. Jasmine’s heart jumped, and her muscles stiffened. She scooted away from him, moving as close as she could get to Anza without disturbing the other woman. Thank goodness Indaran hadn’t woken and found her snuggled up to him.
The seaweed crackled underneath her, and Jasmine froze, lest she awaken the others. She made her breathing shallow and tried to still the thumping of her heart by listening to the calm breathing of Anza and Indaran.
The darkness pressed down. The cry of a baby in another tent broke the silence of the night. The wails lasted for only a few minutes before being stilled.
She sighed and turned onto her side, curling into a ball. Gradually, she relaxed, settling back into sleep and slipping into a dream.
Jasmine strolled with the Baker children, Jonathon and Amelia, through Hyde Park along the path bordering the road. She stopped frequently to admire the clumps of yellow daffodils growing in the flowerbeds, resisting the temptation to pick some. The children, impatient, skipped ahead.
A black Mercedes screeched to a halt next to her. Moussad, Amir Laenser’s bodyguard jumped out of the back door.
Jasmine whirled, preparing to run toward the children, but Moussad pounced, grabbing her arm. She screamed to the children, “Run! Run for help!”
The children stood frozen, staring at her with fearful blue eyes, their ruddy faces paling.
I must protect them! Jasmine slapped Moussad’s face with her free hand and saw the anger spring into his normally-dull eyes. She tried to kick him in the groin.
He dodged, grabbing her with his other arm and wrapping her close. “If you don’t want us to hurt the children,” he growled in Arabic, “You’d better come with us. Quietly.”
For an answer, she elbowed him in the stomach.
He grunted and bent her arm back until she cried out in pain, surrendering.
The children began to scream; thin, high shrieks pierced the air.
Moussad dragged her toward the car and shoved her into the back seat, pushing himself next to her and slamming the door.
She scrambled to a sitting position, edging away from him.
Moussad whipped a knife out of the pocket of his trench coat, holding the edge to her neck.
Amir, at the wheel, turned to watch, a triumphant smirk on his face. “Jasmine, my dear. How wonderful to run into you again.” His insolent gaze traveled over her face and down her body. “You’ve grown into such a beauty. This is going to be a very pleasurable evening. But not, I think, for you.”
~ ~ ~
A moan and thrashing movement from Jasmine woke Indaran. Alarmed, he rolled onto his side and tried to see her in the dark. She whimpered and turned her head back and forth.
A nightmare. His heart stirred.
He reached out to shake her awake, but his hand hovered above her body. Instinctively, he changed his mind.
Go gently.
Indaran lowered his hand and touched her shoulder. Ever so slowly, he stroked her arm as if she were a child needing comfort. With his othersense, he probed, trying to see if he could penetrate into her nightmare and detach her from whatever monsters disturbed her slumbers.
Jasmine’s whimpering subsided.
Judging it was safe, he pulled her toward him, slipping an arm under her neck and tucking her firmly against his side. Tonight, in secret, he could let his longing for her slip out. Just a small bit.
He placed one tender kiss on her forehead, inhaling the scent of her skin, her hair. Jasmine.
She sighed and snuggled closer.
He rested his cheek against her head, the most content he’d been in years. If only….
There was no if only. But he could still steal a few moments to pretend she was his…that he was a normal man, without a horrible past…without the weight of shame that crushed him.
Just for a little while….
Indaran stayed awake, savoring the feeling of Jasmine in his arms. He stared into the darkness, keeping his othersense in touch with her dreamstate so nothing else could harm her mind.
Hours passed as he guarded his lady’s slumber.
~ ~ ~
The next morning, Jasmine stood outside the gate, reporting to Landers details of the mythical illness ravaging the camp. A second guard patrolled back and forth, and she wondered where the others were.
Today, Jasmine had less fear about talking to Landers, although nervousness still skittered up and down her spine. She, Indaran, and Anza had worked out the details of her plan. An epidemic should buy the people of Seagem some time and safety. She’d already sown the seeds of her plan. Now to water them into fruition.
“More people seem to be falling ill,” she said after exchanging greetings. “So far, none have died, however some are near to the end. I don’t hesitate to tell you, Landers, that I fear a plague could sweep the city.”
He blanched, stepped back a pace. “What do you s
uggest we do?”
“There is nothing more to do. The disease will have to run its course. The important thing is to protect Ontarem’s people so they don’t become sick as well.”
He ran a finger down the scar on his face. “The last thing we need is this illness spreading. The soldiers have received marching orders for tomorrow.”
“Marching orders?”
“We go to fight the nomads and recapture the escaped prisoners.”
Oh, no. I’ll have to find a way to warn Roe-al.
His broad brow pinched into several worry wrinkles, and he squinted against the rays of the morning sun. “This time we are not to stop until every last one of them is apprehended and all the nomads are captured or killed.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. A difficult mission. They are valiant warriors—both their men and their women. And stealthy. They appear and disappear like smoke.”
Nausea swirled through Jasmine’s stomach. “Even the children?”
“Our God wants us to capture them. No one wants to kill children. But…”
“You’re going, then?”
Regret tinged his voice. “No. But the rest of my halhore is. I hate to think of them in action without me, but I’m to stay at my post here. Some of the other guards are ordered back to their halhores.”
“Landers,” she said with quiet intensity. “Has the Trine told you what your soldiers will be facing with the God Arvintor?”
“Arvintor? What do you mean? There is no other God but Ontarem.”
Jasmine turned and paced back and forth several steps, pretending to be disturbed. “I can’t believe they are sending your comrades into danger without preparation.”
“Preparation for what?”
She stopped and shook her head. “It’s not for me to say. If the Trine does not want you to have the information….”
“What information? Tell me!”
“It’s dangerous knowledge. Even I wouldn’t know it, if I didn’t work so closely with the priests and priestesses in my capacity as a healer. I hear things. They don’t know I know.”
“I swear I will not reveal you as the source of the knowledge. Tell!”
She resumed her pacing, pretending to think, but she’d already chosen her path, even if it put her in danger. “Years ago, two Gods, brothers, twins, ruled the land of Louat—Ontarem and Arvintor.” Once again, she told Arvintor’s story, watching the expression on Lander’s face scroll from worry to disbelief to thoughtfulness.
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