But now what would she do? Would she leave Kamen to be unhappy without her? That he would sorrow over her loss she was sure. He loved her.
That thought was the only one in her mind that was not pain and misery. She loved Kamen, and he loved her. But she was to be the wife of another man.
Another man would touch her. Another man would taste her body. Another man would have rights to her.
Another man would fuck her.
Ajalira's stomach roiled, and she leaned over the balcony to vomit.
It would be just as it had been in the guildhouse with Evix. She would be with a man who had no rights to her, and he would take her body.
Ajalira sank down to her knees, wiping futilely at her mouth. How can it be that I should be married to a man and think he has no rights to me? Ajalira knew perfectly well that, though he was nothing compared to Kamen, at least she had not felt guilt when Evix had, after swearing a marriage oath, taken her. So why should she feel guilt when another man, who would marry her, would take her? For guilt racked her, and horror brought the bile again in her throat.
She was Kamen's, always. She was Kamen's concubine. How could she be anything else? She heard her own words in her head, and she heard them this time with Kamen's ears. She heard herself speaking words of duty and honor, of needing to redress the shame she brought on Kamen by offering him a former Lotus. But Kamen did not hear that. Kamen heard her prattle on about needing to redress a shame he did not see. He heard her speaking of honor, but it meant only that she would leave him. That she would go to the Ausir and be their Queen. She heard herself, and she hated what she heard.
Kamen would think—for how could he think otherwise, not seeing her shame as she did?—that she wanted to go, that being Queen was more to her than being his.
Too late she heard the light footfalls. She could not count the numbers, for she had been too absorbed in her own tears to note them in time.
She slid her hand up her thigh, pulling out the blade she had strapped there. Kamen's blade, his gift to her.
This at least was clear. This was of a piece with what had happened before, with the attack on Kamen. She whirled around to face her attackers, not surprised to see the curving Ausir horns of the men who set upon her.
Chapter Fourteen
Was it honorable for Ajalira to leave Kamen? Did she want to? Would the very thing Kamen loved her for—her pure Tamari nature—drive them apart? Kamen growled and punched the wall as he stormed down the torch-lit corridor. Just thinking about it boiled his blood. He had no desire to return to the main hall to sit and talk and listen to the Ausir lords prattle on about their pedigrees and how well they were suited to rule. Someone had assassinated the Ausir King, and Kamen suspected that some horned devil who shared the festhall with him was responsible.
A stack of metal basins towered near some closed door at the top of the stairs. Kamen swerved to kick the pots down the steps, and the crashing sound silenced the sound of distant voices raised in excitement. Were the Ausir playing a game? At a time like this?
Banar, the festhall master, met him on the stairs. “My lord?” He was all jowly smiles.
Kamen wanted to punch the fat man in the face, but he checked his anger. Banar looked at the scattered basins only for a moment, snapping his fingers and setting his slaves to cleaning up the mess.
“A thousand apologies, Your Grace.” Banar stood on the steps and bobbed his head several times in small bows. “I'll have my servants beaten for their laziness.”
Kamen's anger dissipated. “It's nothing.” He felt bad that the slaves would be punished for his outburst, that they would be blamed for having left something to obstruct a guest's path. No matter what he said now, Banar would have his slaves thrashed. A loud communal cheer rose up, surprising Kamen. “What's happening?”
“Quoits, out on the lawn.” Banar's grey eyes danced. “The lords grew agitated in your absence, and I thought a game might divert them.”
Meaning the Kimereth and Seranimesti factions might have come to blows had they been left to their own devices. Kamen should not have stormed out and left them alone in the hall together. But what else could he have done? They wanted to take Ajalira away from him.
“Will you join them, Your Grace?”
Kamen nodded once. He was the arbiter, the Regent of the Sunjaa, mightiest nation of men and masters of the sea. He could not afford to lose his temper again; he could not be seen to sulk.
Banar chattered at him the whole way, down the stairs, through more rooms than Kamen could count, and out onto the sunlit lawn. The festhall was as large as the Sunjaa palace itself, and Kamen could not guess at Banar's wealth. The Ausir stood on the lawn in two groups, the Kimereth at the far end and the Seranimesti the near. In the middle of the lawn stood five wooden pegs in an X shape. Their ends were different colors, the middle being bright red. Two metal rings lay around a green peg, and Ansim Kimereth was swinging the metal ring in his hand like a pendulum. He squinted at the arrangement of pegs some twenty paces from himself, clearly judging the force with which he would need to hit his mark.
“Quoits?” Kamen asked.
“Yes, my lord.” Banar prattled on explaining the rules, but Kamen only lent half an ear. His mind was still on Ajalira. The participants were supposed to get their metal rings around the pegs in order, the last being the red one in the middle. The first one to do that won. Simple enough, and the Ausir seemed to be having a great time. Here stood mortal enemies, locked in a mighty struggle of … quoits.
Kamen shook his head as Kimereth's men cheered. Ansim had ringed his peg, and Kamen wanted nothing more than to slap the smug smile off his face. It was Tivanel Seranimesti's turn now, and Kamen hardly cared. One of these horned bastards would take Ajalira away from him. If he could, he would murder them both. But the Ausir civil war would grow worse, pull other nations into the conflict, and leave everything in ruins. Besides, Ajalira saw it as her Tamari duty to bring peace to her people.
Cheers assaulted Kamen's ears again, ripping him once again from his painful reverie. Tivanel had ringed his peg.
“They're good,” Kamen said, trying to find relief in the game. There was none.
“Quite impressive for beginners.” Banar's chuckle was a low, jolly rumble buried somewhere in the recesses of his fat. “But from what I've seen of Ausir, they're quick learners, and they excel at physical sports of all kinds.”
“Indeed?” Kamen peered at Kimereth and Seranimesti. Were they good in bed? Would they fuck Ajalira the way she wanted to be fucked? He clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his palms. The pain kept him from flying at the Ausir and beating them all to death. Kamen's blood coursed like acid through his veins. He would see them all dead before they laid a hand on her!
“Lord Itenu.” Tivanel, upon turning around to be congratulated by his kinsmen, spotted Kamen.
Ansim made a move as if to approach, but Kamen waved him off. In a loud voice, Kamen called across the lawn. “Please, my lord. Take your next throw.”
Ansim smiled and readily did so. Truly, the Ausir loved sport.
Tivanel took the opportunity to approach Kamen, but Kamen could not speak to him. When he turned to ask Banar to have someone go fetch Saerileth, he found the Lotus at his elbow. He should have suspected as much. “Always in the right place at the right time.”
“You have known me too long to expect otherwise.” Saerileth spoke in a low voice, her lips barely moving. “I did not leave when you did but waited for your return.”
“You are wise, Regent,” Tivanel said, bowing. “I know you will choose right.”
“But what is right?” Kamen was in a contrary mood.
Tivanel smiled, his green eyes glittering in the weak northern sun. “I have presented my claim. The Seranimesti have always been close to the Tamari and to Kiltarin, as well.”
“And you'll need Ajalira to legitimize your crown.”
“She will smooth the rough way to peace.”
Ajalira considered herself worthless, and though Kamen loved her more than anything, he was still unable to convince her of her own self-worth. “But how much legitimacy can she bring? True, she is the last of the Tamar line, but on the female side, and she was trained as a Lotus.” Kamen trailed off, curious as to how Tivanel would take the bait.
Tivanel nodded. “Yes, she trained as a prostitute, and no Ausir of any worth would marry her under normal circumstances. These, however, are not normal circumstances. If a whore will bring peace, so be it.”
It took the very chains of Abrexa herself to keep Kamen from ripping that pretty little blond Ausir head off. And the only reason Kamen did not give the Seranimesti lord a thrashing was because of his surprise at how readily Tivanel agreed with Ajalira's own estimation of herself. Ausir sexual morality was nothing like Sunjaa's.
“I don't mean to denigrate you, my lord,” Tivanel said, “but your ways are not our ways. We Ausir guard our women's chastity as a treasure secret and inviolable.”
In Kamen's experience, the worst sexual despots were usually the loosest sexual libertines behind closed doors. He would not be surprised to discover Tivanel a hypocrite.
Cheering. Ansim had pegged another ring.
“I will speak with Kimereth now.” Kamen did not bow to Tivanel but merely walked away, letting the Seranimesti know just how little he thought of him.
Kimereth was all smiles, and he toasted Kamen as he approached. “Come, Regent, and crush a cup of wine with me. The day is fine, and I shall win the wager.”
“Which one?” Though Kamen, as a politician, could appreciate Ansim's double meaning, he had no patience for it at that moment.
Kimereth was untroubled by Kamen's sour mood. “Why, this one, of course. Once I ring the red peg, I'll have the Seranimesti dog's ship.”
“You wagered your ships?” Fools.
Ansim nodded and then sent up a cheer. His men cried out with him, and they all drank.
“This wager is nothing compared to the other you vie for.” Kamen wiped the smile from Ansim's face.
“True,” Ansim said, sobering. “And what of it? Have you made your choice?”
“Not yet.”
Ansim took Kamen by the elbow and led him away. “Then let me tell you that the Kimereth is the mightiest of all Larenai houses. We control more cities in the Silbrios than any other, and it would be wise for the Regent to remember this.”
“A threat?” Kamen removed his arm from Ansim's grasp.
“Quite the opposite. Choose us, and Arinport will have a mighty ally. Our ports will build and launch a mighty navy no matter whom you choose, but wouldn't it be so much better to sail side by side? With us allied, the Fihdal, Vadal, and all the city states of the northern coasts would have to pay tribute to us. Bow to us.”
“And you can do this alone, without the Tamar heiress?”
“She is no heiress. We Ausir, even the Tamari, have never been ruled by a female.”
Kimereth did not consider the Tamari true Ausir, hence the qualifier. “But the Tamari train their women to fight and die beside them. Surely that shows some equality.”
“Savagery.” Ansim drained his cup. “No disrespect to you and your choice, but if it were not politically expedient to do so, I would never marry the Zomalin girl. I know you have no such scruples, but among the Ausir, Ajalira would never find a husband. She's lucky she's Tamar, or no one would look twice at her.” The Ausir lord shuddered, a distasteful bit of melodrama. “To be trained as a prostitute among people who see no shame in such a profession!”
Tivanel was right. All Ausir looked at Ajalira the same way. Now Kamen began to see a bit of Ajalira's own self-hatred, and though he understood it, he would not accept it. Even her concubinage sullied her in the eyes of her own people, though she was afforded the respect of a Queen among the Sunjaa. If Ajalira were made the Queen of the Ausir, those horned bastards would still despise her and mock her. Where was the honor in that? No, Kamen would not see his dearest love so abused. He would not give her to someone who would not respect her.
Kamen walked away after giving some vague assurances that he would decide soon enough, but he just wanted to be rid of all the Ausir. There was more cheering as he went. He did not care who won the match. In fact, he hoped one Ausir might throw his quoit too hard, hit another Ausir in the head and accidentally kill him, and set off a brawl that left them all dead.
Kamen could read in Saerileth's eyes her concern, and though they were friends, he did not want to talk about it. Besides, she already knew. “Not now, Saerileth.” He loved Ajalira, and he did not wish to give her up. The problem was that he would not keep her against her will. If Ajalira's honor dictated it, he would give her over, and his heart, which he had thought mended, would break and forever be broken.
Kamen put one heavy foot in front of the other as he mounted the stairs. He dreaded seeing Ajalira again, for he dreaded her answer. Did she prefer one of the Ausir lords? If she did, he would choose that one to be King.
Kamen was sick with hopeless rage.
Chapter Fifteen
Ajalira's eyes swept over her foes. Only five. She had a chance, albeit slim, of winning. After all, she was Tamari, and none of these other Ausir were. She kept her back to the balcony railing and waited for the first Ausir to come in at her. None moved. They stood there, fencing her in, but they did not raise their weapons. Then she saw the blow-dart in the mouth of one.
She leapt at him, giving her wordless battle-cry, and slashing with her dagger at his face. It was not the most conventional battle tactic, but she needed to get rid of that blow-dart. Her opponent had not expected either her swift movement or her aim for the dart, and she felt his hot blood spurting over her knuckles. He fell, screaming, and she realized she had cut right through his eye. As he continued to scream, holding his face, she switched to her favorite move and slit his throat. She did not wait for his body to still. She whirled to face the remaining assailants, lofting her dagger once again.
But at that instant she felt a pinprick at her ankle. She knew, of course, that it was poison, but she resolved she would go down fighting. She avoided putting any weight on the ankle that was pricked, hoping to delay the spread of the poison even if only for an instant. She had the satisfaction of feeling her dagger pierce someone's flesh before blackness overcame her. Her last thought was a hope that the dose of poison would be sufficient to kill her.
****
Ajalira opened her eyes. She was shackled. Heavy chains ran between the shackles, and she moved one foot ever-so-slightly, judging the weight. She was, apart from the chains, not in any way uncomfortable or hampered. She was half-reclining on a soft divan. She still wore the red silk she had donned for Kamen that morning. She closed her eyes again, taking stock of the room through the screen of her lashes.
She saw only one other occupant to the room. He was an Ausir, one of the ones who had attacked her, but he stood by the door, his back to her. The room itself was not one Ajalira had seen before, but the opulent furnishings and the tasteful arrangements told her she was still in the festhall. She inhaled slowly, and the scent of the sea reached her. So there was a window, probably behind her, but if she were on the third floor it would not help. If she were on the second, perhaps.
She hazarded a glance through her lashes, but through the window the sea was distant. She was on the third floor.
Ajalira let her eyes close completely, and she focused instead on the sounds. She could make out Ausir voices in the hallway beyond this chamber, but their words did not help her.
“When do you think she'll wake up?”
“Probably within the hour. If not, we can wait until she does wake.”
“Should we call the lord before then?”
“No, not yet. He will be here as soon as he can.”
Ajalira forced herself to remain relaxed, as though she still slept in the unconscious oblivion of her captors' poison. Why was she here? What purpose did her a
bduction serve? Who would benefit from this? Did this mean that Kamen had already named the Ausir to be her husband, and these were men from the opposite faction?
Surely Kamen had not had enough time for that before she was carried off?
Tears spilled from under Ajalira's lashes, tracing damp trails down her cheeks and into the mass of her golden hair splayed around her head. Kamen. He had left her to go to the Ausir lords, and he had thought—for how could he think otherwise?—that she wanted to be the Ausir Queen.
Ajalira could have laughed if it were not so painful. She did not want to leave Kamen. She loved him.
But if she were to fail in her duty, then how could she face Kamen? He deserved the best woman in Gilalion. To give him a dishonored woman would be to insult his own worth. She would rather be miserable than disgrace him. She was his concubine. She could do nothing to disgrace him, for all she did would reflect on him.
Ajalira's thought broke, shattered by the glorious realization. She could not go to any Ausir lord. They would not even have suggested it had she been Kamen's wife. Ausir did not recognize divorce. It was only because she was his concubine merely that they could suggest it. But Sunjaa law recognized concubinage as, if not equal to marriage, still as a legal union, one with exclusive rights. She had sworn herself to Kamen and sealed her oath with blood.
Sworn herself. It was almost more than Ajalira could do to keep from laughing through her tears. She could not be given to any other man. Even aside from the battles she owed Kamen, she had sworn herself his. That this oath would not be acknowledged by the other Ausir meant nothing to her. Reputation was nothing. Honor was everything, and if she had once sworn herself to Kamen, then she was Kamen's for as long as she lived. If the Ausir wanted her for a Queen, then they would have to take her as Kamen's concubine—making Kamen the Ausir King.
A Lotus for the Regent Page 16