by Megan Derr
"I doubt that," Meltem demurred, but Euren caught the wistfulness in her voice, the flash of challenge in her eyes.
Euren smiled, slow and mischievous. "Well, I think the matter will have to be satisfied with a contest once we are safely in the palace. The crown princess is allowed to call for a knife throwing contest, yes?" She looked to Asli.
Lifting her eyes to the sky, Asli said, "I think His Majesty might have something to say about the matter, my princess."
"Only if he acknowledges my existence, and I'm not convinced he will." Euren made a face. "As I said before, I will be grateful to arrive to find Ihsan not in chains. We have been gone a long time, and I may not have been raised to politics, but even I know that a powerful person returning after a five year absence upsets many ambitions and carefully laid plans."
"Saa, you people make the Desert seem so relaxing," Emre commented. "And I was eager to leave it because I found the constant warring exhausting."
Euren's mouth twisted. "I will take open combat over underhanded politics any day. I am sorry your visit to Tavamara is not a happier occasion. Will you stay a time once we arrive at the palace? I would like to show you the better parts of it, and there is no better place than the royal city: the ports, the market."
"The baths, the wine, the food…" Asli added. Beside her, Gulden sighed in agreement, and Canan nodded vigorously.
"Do not speak to me of baths," Meltem said. "I have been traveling so long, I cannot remember when last I had a proper bath. I fear I will always smell like horse." Emre rolled his eyes, and she gave him a shove. "You might enjoy smelling like horse, but I promise that you will never convince a woman to marry you."
Emre shrugged. "I am Amir, I don't have to convince anyone, just show up for the ceremony." He dropped his folded arms. "The horses are suitably rested, I think. We should be on our way." Turning on his heel, he departed as abruptly as he'd arrived.
"Did we say something to upset him?" Canan asked.
Meltem shrugged, exactly the same way Emre had, and Euren almost smiled. She'd always wanted siblings, but her mother had absolutely hated being pregnant and refused to do it again, and then her mother had died. "I said something to upset him: he does not like being reminded that soon he must marry and focus on his duties as Amir. Emre and I have never been very good Children of the Sands. We like wandering a little too much, and never pay as much attention to our duties as we should. He wants to see the world, not settle down." She looked at Emre where he was fussing with the horses. "I expect he will not be returning to the Desert. I think my father knew it too, though of course neither of them would sit down and discuss it." She shook her head. "We should go before he starts barking at us."
Euren nodded and helped the others clean up their lunch leavings before leading the way across the pavilion to the horses. Swinging up into the saddle, she pulled up her head coverings, grimacing at the smell of sweat and horse and dust that seemed permanently sunk into them.
Just a few more days and she would be home—perhaps not safe, if someone was willing to pay for assassins, but she would be home. That was enough all on its own, and the rest she would face as it came.
Seven
"Thank you," Demir said as Ruth set a tray of tea and food on the corner of his desk. The smell of it was nauseating, but if he did not put something on his stomach, the council meeting would be even more torturous.
Ruth frowned at him. "You need more rest, my lord."
"Alas, I've far too much to do," Demir replied. "I have been personally summoned to attend a council meeting today. I can hardly tell them I am too weak to attend. The tea and food will help."
"Yes, my lord." Ruth hovered a moment longer, scowling disapprovingly, but when Demir pointedly returned to his paperwork, he finally left, the door closing with a muted click.
Demir slumped over the table, keeping his head up only by bracing it in his hands. The dizziness was the hardest to ignore. Everyone else seemed to have recovered just fine from the poison, but he still felt weak as a newborn babe. Kitt had told him some were more sensitive to the spider venom than others, but Demir was not certain why he was supposed to be reassured by that. He was the Harem Master; he could not afford to be oversensitive, could not appear weak, not when so many were depending on him, when others were just waiting for that single crack in his wall that would let them tear him down.
He pulled the tea tray close, ignoring his churning stomach as the smell of it wafted over him: grassy with faint citrus notes. Wrinkling his nose, he took a cautious sip. His stomach growled at the intrusion but did not cast it out. Demir took another, and then another, slowly finishing an entire cup. By the time he set the empty cup down, his stomach had eased slightly.
Pouring another cup, Demir tore the chunk of crusty bread into pieces and dipped them in the tea before eating. He felt a long way from normal, but at least he no longer felt like he would fall over when he stood. He stared at his paperwork, then sighed and pushed it away.
He was not going to be able to focus on anything until the meeting was over. One would think the council would be more concerned with trying to figure out who was responsible for the poisoning that had killed Lord Jove, a concubine, and nearly killed His Majesty. Instead they seemed wholly content to leave the problem to unspecified others while they argued over different matters. Between them and His Majesty, Demir marveled that anything was actually accomplished.
By contrast, Ihsan had done nothing but work since the day he'd returned, even when his own father, the council, and the court seemed disinclined to help him. They should be happy and grateful to serve and assist someone like Prince Ihsan, but instead they acted like petulant children.
Demir's stomach knotted in a whole new way, causing an ache that spread into his chest. The rest of them might be unhappy, but he was enjoying having a worthy prince to serve far too much. He pinched his eyes shut as he willed the fruitless longing away. He was Harem Master. His duty was to guide and protect the harems, assist all in the palace who came to him for advice and help. Neither lord nor concubine nor servant, but some strange combination of the three. And always set apart because of it.
Waking up in Prince Ihsan's room, being watched over by a fierce-eyed Kitt and concerned Ihsan… It had only been a moment before he had woken completely and hastened to return to his own rooms, to propriety, but for that fleeting moment he'd had the barest taste of what it might feel like to be truly part of something, to belong to a harem, to be wanted rather than coveted.
Demir scrubbed at his face, banishing foolish thoughts, and slowly rose. When the dizziness did not immediately overwhelm him, he walked slowly to the door and left his office, slipping through the door several paces down that led to his private chambers.
It was a modest suite: a front room to receive guests that never came and a bedroom that never saw more than servants and scared or sick concubines in need of privacy. Though many assumed he brought concubines there for training—and oh, how they loved to wonder how often he expected concubines to train—the truth was he'd never used his bedroom to please anyone but himself. The sexual education of concubines was done elsewhere, and all his own education had been done in the city or in the rooms of retired concubines happy to train the new harem master.
He padded across the soft, colorful rugs that covered the white and green tiled floor of his front room and stood in the entrance to his bedroom. Like the front room, the floor was made of smooth, seamlessly connected white and green tiles in a geometric flower pattern. The far left wall was made mostly of green glass doors that let in light and led to the harem gardens. The opposite end of the room was blocked off by a white and green tiled wall that hid the bathing area. One of the many perks of being Harem Master was that he had his own bath, a luxury not afforded many.
The bed took up the center of the room. It was set against the back wall and surrounded by gauzy green curtains that at the moment were tied back with gold cords. On either side of it were large
trunks holding his clothes and jewels. A dressing table against the washroom wall held his make-up and more jewelry, and there was a row of hooks beside it for his dressing robes and a spare set of clothes should he need to change quickly.
His clothes for the council meeting had already been laid out on one of the trunks, the jewelry he'd requested for it ready on the dressing table. Since it was a simple matter, he had told the servants that assistance would not be required. He hardly needed elaborate make-up to listen to people destroy his world.
Demir sat down on the edge of his bed, rested his head in the palm of one hand, and let the dizziness ease off. All the arguments he had been preparing for the meeting tumbled through his mind. He still found it hard to believe that the council was considering abolishing the harems. The harems needed help, not to be thrown out.
At least Prince Ihsan would be presiding in his father's place; he did not think Kagan would tolerate the abolishment of the harems, but he knew Ihsan would not tolerate it.
His chest gave another twisting ache at thoughts of Ihsan, but he shoved them away. It was not Ihsan he wanted—well, he did, but it was the idea of belonging to a good man, a good king, that appealed the most. Merciful Divine, he hoped Ihsan could fix everything Kagan had destroyed.
Two hours until the meeting, two hours he should be using to further strengthen his arguments, steel himself for what would no doubt be a long, brutal meeting. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Maybe he could sleep for just an hour, tell Ruth to wake him...
It was too tempting an idea to resist. Leaving his room again, he found Ruth and made the request, then returned to his bedroom and stripped off his clothes before crawling onto the bed. The cool air felt good on his slightly too-warm skin as he settled on his stomach, head burrowing into his soft pillow.
He'd only been lying there a few minutes when he heard a strange sound, like stone scraping stone. A sound he knew very well from creeping around the secret passages… But that sound should not have been coming from his bedroom. Demir rolled over and sat up, watching in alarmed fascination as a part of his wall he hadn't realized was more than wall swung open. He was equal parts surprised and amused when it was Kitt who slipped out.
Kitt saw him and froze, eyes widening comically, mouth dropping. "Oh, my dragon. I didn't think this would lead to your bedroom. What in the name of the Holy Dragon is wrong with this country?" He dropped to his knees, bowing so low his forehead touched the floor. "My deepest and most abject apologies, Lord Demir."
Demir flushed hot. "What are you—I'm not a king, you don't bow that way to me! Stand up." He stood and strode over to Kitt, breaching etiquette to grab his arm and haul him to his feet. "What in the name of the Divine are you doing?"
"Apologizing," Kitt said, meeting his eyes, expression somber. "You never enter someone's bedroom without permission. That's such a gross breach of etiquette. I deserve a lashing."
Demir shook him gently, then let go. "It is not so great a violation you bow to me like I am a king—that is much worse."
Kitt's eyes narrowed. "It's worse to bow to you than invade your bedroom."
"I—" Demir closed his mouth, shook his head. "That is not what I meant. Never mind me, Lord Kitt, what in the Divine are you doing here? Give me back that key."
Kitt's frown turned into a sly grin. "No. I am trying to memorize these stupid passages and found a few that had been poorly boarded up. I can see why this one was blocked off now. I wonder if it was originally installed when the king or queen did not feel like keeping their harem master at arm's length." His brows waggled.
"You are incorrigible," Demir replied, a faint smile winning out.
"I try. I thought this would take me to your office, or at worst the general areas of the hall."
"It was probably boarded up when this became the harem hall; it used to be something else."
Kitt opened his mouth, then closed it, shook his head. "You know, I think I remember that now. Ihsan told me it was once the library, I think. I apologize again."
"No harm was done," Demir said. "I've had far greater shocks than a concubine accidentally sneaking into my bedroom."
"Indeed," Kitt replied, making a face. "But my purpose isn't solely to memorize secret passages. Ihsan wants a word with you, but he wants it kept secret. Can you come see him now?"
Demir nodded. "Only for a short time. I told a guard to wake me in an hour, and the meeting with the council is in an hour and a half."
"Go tell the guard you couldn't sleep." He paused, then grinned slightly. "I guess that means you have to put clothes back on."
"Incorrigible," Demir repeated. He walked over to the bed and picked up his discarded pants and skirt, quickly pulling them back on. He then slipped away to speak with the guards, adding that he was not to be disturbed before he left for the meeting. When that was done, he returned to his room and followed Kitt into the familiar musty dark of the secret passages. The walls were made of gleaming white stone with hooks set by the doors to hold lanterns. Kitt's sat on the floor, and he scooped it up as the door swung shut behind them.
The maze-like construction of the palace, the three-layer rectangle-within-rectangle heart, meant that weaving secret passages was remarkably easy to do. No doubt a sharp eye would pick out inconsistencies and possibly form a rough map of where they lay, but to Demir's knowledge, such a thing had never been done.
Though he had an increasingly strong suspicion that the man in front of him was capable of it. "Would it be inappropriate, Lord Kitt, to ask what you were before you joined Prince Ihsan's Harem?"
Kitt stopped and looked over his shoulder, the smile on his face as sharp as a blade. "Nothing good, but I think you've surmised that."
"I've surmised you are clever and dangerous, but so are many people in the palace."
A soft, cold laugh echoed through the dark tunnel, the gentle, muted glow of the lantern lending no warmth. "I doubt any of them were given over as babes and raised from childhood to be professional killers. That's what I was, Harem Master. There is a place in Rittu, a small island that is hard to reach because of the sharp-edged rocks in the water and the black crumbling cliffs from which those stones come, called the Shadow of the Dragon, and a temple carved from black stone called the Temple of the Shadow of the Dragon. It is where many orphans are sent, and they are raised to do dark deeds for the monarchs of Rittu. I did that for many years, until a pretty prince tempted me away."
Demir shivered. Who would inflict such a cruel life on someone? Who would make a practice of inflicting such a life on many? "Merciful Divine."
"I have never known gods to be merciful," Kitt replied.
"I hope that proves to be untrue, for it sounds like you deserve Their Mercy more than most. You did not have to share such information with me."
Kitt shrugged. "I am willing to trust you, Harem Master. I am trying to prove you can trust us."
"I do," Demir replied.
Smiling briefly, Kitt turned and resumed walking, and a few minutes later they stepped out into a small storeroom in Ihsan's chamber. Kitt blew out the lantern and put it on a shelf, then led the way out to the main room.
Prince Ihsan and his other concubines were sitting in the large nook piled with cushions and pillows opposite the bed. It was meant to be a place for relaxing, but they looked as though they would not be relaxing any time soon. "Good, you were able to come," Ihsan said, smiling when he saw them. "How are you feeling, Lord Demir?"
"Better, Highness, thank you."
"Sit with us, have some tea."
Demir wanted to refuse, because it felt far too familiar to sit to tea with His Majesty in his own room, but the barest touch of fingers to his arm and a taunting look from Kitt persuaded him. Kitt slipped away to take his seat beside Sabah, who sat on Ihsan's right. Haluk sat on Ihsan's left; he startled and hastily dropped his gaze when he met Demir's eyes. Strange.
Sitting in front of them, Demir shook his head at the offer of tea.
&nb
sp; "Drink it, Harem Master. It's strengthening, and we are all going to need our strength in that meeting," Ihsan said with a smile.
Bowing his head in concession, Demir accepted the cup that Sabah held out. "Thank you, Highness." He took a dutiful sip, then another, and a third, until Ihsan finally seemed to relax.
"I was hoping you might be able to help us with a question, Lord Demir," Ihsan finally said. "Kitt was able to find the man who poisoned the food and wine and learned who paid him. Are you familiar with Lord Arda?"
"Deputy Councilor of Agriculture. He is expected to be made Councilor soon as Lord Geye is too sick to perform his duties and Lord Arda has been filling in for the past seven months. He divorced his first wife early last year. Everyone anticipates he will be marrying Lady Sidika after he is promoted." There was plenty more he knew about Arda; his proclivities were not the easiest to accommodate. On the other hand, they were not the most difficult. "Lord Arda was responsible for the poisoning? He did not strike me as the murderous type."
"What about the desperate type?" Kitt asked. "Being blackmailed, say."
"Ah. Yes, that I could see." Demir frowned, thinking. "But blackmailed into doing what? And what would it have to do with Your Highness and the Ambassadors?"
Kitt gave a fluid shrug. "Blackmail is only a supposition, but I have watched him these past couple of days, as best I could without drawing attention myself, and he seems afraid. The councilors have all been fluttering like nervous birds, especially in light of Lord Jove's death and the new tensions with Havarin. But he is the only one who seems terrified, though he hides it fairly well. That and the information Sabah and Ihsan have gleaned make me think he was being blackmailed, and something spooked him, provoked him to rash action. He wanted someone, possibly more than one person, at that table to die. We do not know who, though. Knowing why he is being blackmailed might help, and Ihsan says nobody knows more palace secrets than the Harem Master."