by Diana Green
As if hearing her name, the Falcon strode over, grinning. “This looks like a happy reunion.” She glanced from one to the other. “Can I assume Saba will be staying with you, Mari, for the length of her visit?”
“If she wishes.” Mari turned to Saba. “I’ll gladly make room for you. My house isn’t large, but it’s comfortable, and you’ll be safe there.”
“That would be lovely.” Saba could hardly contain her emotions, more tears welling in her eyes. “This is all so unexpected. I never dreamed…” She moved closer to Jehan, lightly touching her arm. “Thank you for bringing me here! This is the best gift I could ever receive.”
“I…it’s nothing.” Jehan looked away, seeming uncomfortable. “I should go tend to the horses. I’ll see you both later, at the feast.”
“What feast?” Saba’s question hung in the air, as the Falcon strode away.
“People will want to celebrate,” Mari explained. “It’s been almost a month since Jehan and the others left. Their safe return is a blessing.”
“But not everyone survived. A man named Dabir was killed.” She paused. “At my father’s hand.”
“Ah. That is unfortunate.” Mari frowned. “He’s one of Jehan’s informants who lives in the city. We don’t see him often.”
“I’m sorry he died.”
“It’s certainly not your fault.” Mari gave her a sharp look. “Don’t pick up burdens you have no need to carry.”
“But my father…”
“Your father is an arrogant ass and completely responsible for his own actions. You are not to answer for his crimes.”
“Some of the bandits don’t agree.” Saba’s voice came out small and strained, the old worry returning. How would she be treated, here in the outlaws’ encampment?
“Ah.” Mari patted her shoulder. “There are always a few sour grapes in every bunch. But you mustn’t fret about them. They won’t challenge Jehan’s protection…or mine.” She gave Saba a wink. “I have quite a reputation as a witch. People try not to cross me.”
“You don’t have to hide your magic?”
“No. We’re already outlaws, and my magic helps shield us.” Mari spread her arms to indicate the surrounding valley. “With my concealing spell, no one can find this place. They’ll stumble about, lost in the hills, and never see what’s here.”
“How marvelous!”
“Indeed. It has become a sanctuary for Tarjene’s cast-offs…and some from farther away than that. Otenyo came to us from Nissia and Maib all the way from the Garai Empire.”
“And now I’m here from the pasha’s own palace.”
“Yes!” Mari’s broad smile returned. “And if that’s not cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.”
Saba followed her friend through the settlement, to a little stone house set back in a semicircle of almond trees. Comfrey, yarrow, and other medicinal plants grew in carefully tended beds along the front path, while wild carnations bobbed their pink heads on either side of the door. A desert swallow, nesting in the eaves, chirped cheerfully as the two women entered, seeming to welcome Saba from her long journey.
Inside were two rooms, dividing the house equally. The front room served as a space for healing and spell-work, with shelves holding dried herbs, powders, tinctures, and salves. Mari also kept various divination tools and magical implements locked away in a sturdy wooden chest.
People from the settlement came to Mari with injuries, illnesses, life questions, and troubles. She could often help them, and in return they shared their food and other resources with her. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement—especially out here, so far from other villages.
The back half of the house contained Mari’s living space, including a sleeping area and small hearth for inside cooking during cooler weather. Her home was humble but comfortable, with simple furniture and a hard-packed earthen floor. A colorful woven hanging graced the eastern wall of the living area, rich in the colors of sunrise over the desert.
“Why don’t you rest,” Mari suggested, pulling a second sleeping mat from a storage cabinet. “There will be time before the feast, and I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”
Saba couldn’t deny her fatigue and fell asleep almost as soon as she lay down. It seemed only an instant later when Mari gently shook her shoulder.
“I’ve brought in water for bathing,” the older woman said. “And there are clean clothes, if you want them.”
“I do!” Saba sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I’ve been wearing the same things over a week now. They desperately need washing.” A thought occurred to her. “I don’t expect you to wash them, of course. I can do it…if you’ll show me how.”
Mari chuckled. “One task at a time. Right now, let’s focus on getting presentable for the feast.”
How sublime, to wash away the dirt of seven days’ travel and slip on clean clothes! The garments were simple, faded from long use, and lovingly mended. The red skirt didn’t quite reach her ankles—Saba being several inches taller than Mari—and the indigo tunic was far too loose. But the fabric felt wonderfully soft, smelling faintly of wild mint and sage.
“Oh dear.” Mari tugged at the tunic. “It hangs like a tent on you. Perhaps a belt would help.” She rummaged through her things until she found a multicolored scarf, sewn with tiny copper bells. “This will be perfect.”
Smiling, she twisted the scarf around Saba’s waist and tied it, letting the feathery ends drape down over her left hip. The effect was pretty and comfortable both, allowing complete freedom of movement.
“Now for your hair. Sit down here, or I’ll never be able to reach.”
Saba gladly did as she was told, relishing the familiar comfort of Mari’s brushing and braiding. It took her back so many years, to a younger self, still innocent and hopeful about the possibilities life could hold.
The moon had risen by the time they left Mari’s house and walked to the center of the settlement. There a large fire had been lit, and around it platters of food lay spread across eating mats. This was not the heavy sugary fare of palace banquets but simpler dishes that made the most of local resources. Saba’s mouth watered as she inhaled the scent of fresh baked bread, herbed mutton, sweet potatoes, and sliced melons.
Mari found them a place to sit near Makeem and his family. With obvious pride he introduced his wife, Adiva, and their two daughters, Bibi and Manar. The warmth and ease with which the family interacted—the elder girl leaning against her father, while the younger clambered over him like a bear cub—gave evidence of the trust and love between them.
Zaki trotted up grinning and plopped down beside Saba. “Kateb’s latest batch of arak is ready. I’ll bring you some, if you’d like.” He tilted his head, puppy-like, eyes bright. “Jehan says I’m still too young for it, but you can give me just a little sip.”
“The women here drink arak?” Saba looked to Mari for guidance. In the palace ‘the milk of lions’ was deemed too strong for women.
Mari nodded. “Oh yes. Kateb’s is especially good, with dates added during the distilling, to soften the bite. You should give it a try, but not on an empty stomach.” She passed Saba a fried potato pocket, fragrant with ground meat and garlic.
Not to be outdone, Zaki grabbed a fist-sized bread roll from a nearby platter and pressed it into Saba’s free hand. She laughed.
“Very well. Go fetch me some arak.”
The boy leapt up and bounded away through the gathering.
“I believe he’s smitten,” Mari observed. “And no wonder. You’ve grown into a beauty, like your mother…only with kindness in your eyes, where I remember hers being hard as glass.”
“It can’t have been easy, marrying my father at fifteen,” Saba countered. “I try not to judge her coldness. She has endured much.”
“You’ve always had a sweet forgiving nature.” Mari spoke fondly. “I’m glad the palace hasn’t robbed you of it.”
“I’ve mostly kept to myself, away from all the gossip and
infighting. But that may not be possible once I’m married to Lord Sallizahn. I honestly don’t know how I’ll bear such a life.”
“Lord Sallizahn?” Mari’s brow furrowed. “That name sounds familiar to me.” She tapped a fingernail against her teeth, pondering. “Isn’t he the one who became a sorcerer?”
“Yes, and he’s horrible!” Saba shuddered at the memory.
Before she could say more, Zaki returned with the arak. Mari promptly sent him off to bring them slices of lemon barley cake.
“We’ll speak more of Lord Sallizahn later, in private,” she told Saba. “There may be ways I can help, but for now, try not to fret. He’s far away, and you’re here feasting with us. Let yourself have a good time.”
And Saba did. Between the delicious food, Mari’s reassuring presence, and the effects of the strong licorice flavored arak, she relaxed and found herself laughing and chatting with the surrounding people.
Later someone began playing an oud. Others joined in with drums and zurna. Voices lifted in song, young and old rising to dance a circle around the fire. Saba joined in, delighted to fill up with the music, to think of nothing but rhythm and soaring melody, starry sky and flickering flames.
Once, in the dancing, she came face to face with Jehan. Their gazes locked, bodies drawing closer, like plants leaning towards the sun. For a few precious seconds the Falcon’s mask of indifference slipped. She reached out, fingers lightly caressing Saba’s cheek, her eyes ablaze with unspoken emotions.
The space between them crackled, sparks of desire careening along Saba’s skin. How could such a simple gesture feel so intense, so laden with potential?
The moment broke, as Otenyo spun past, grabbing Saba by the arms and whirling her back into the movement of the circle. For an instant she wanted to slap him, but he laughed joyfully, immersed in the dancing. He meant no harm, oblivious to what he’d interrupted.
Saba allowed the music to carry her along, as she wove in and out of the dancers, swirling like a flock of birds. But the memory of Jehan’s touch—and that flash of yearning in her eyes—remained branded into Saba’s heart.
Chapter Nine
Next morning, Jehan woke to sunlight pouring in the open doorway of her house. She must have left the door ajar when she arrived home—beyond tired—the night before. Hopefully no desert scavengers had made mischief while she slept.
Her head ached from the arak, but not so much as sometimes. She’d been comparatively moderate in her drinking, and a good thing to—or she might have done more than merely stroke Saba’s cheek. Gods! How she’d wanted to take the princess in her arms and kiss those soft inviting lips, to answer that melting gaze with all the passion igniting within her.
Jehan groaned, rubbing her sore head. Of all the frustrating situations! Here she was, wildly attracted to the very person she couldn’t have. And the feeling was clearly mutual. She had enough experience to know when someone wanted her, and Saba showed all the signs. It would be so easy to just give in and...
“No. Absolutely not.” Jehan spoke aloud, rising from her sleeping mat and trying to push thoughts of the princess from her mind. Nothing but heartbreak would come of their union. Right now Basim sat rotting in the pasha’s dungeon, and Saba provided the only hope of freeing him. She’d have to go back to the palace eventually, to a life as far away from Jehan’s as the ground was from the stars.
If Jehan thought she could manage a casual fling with the princess, things might be different. But there was something about Saba that called to her, affecting her more profoundly than she liked to admit. Beneath the princess’ beauty there lay quiet strength, intelligence, and genuine kindness. She was a lovely woman, who deserved better than to be taken hostage, seduced by her captor, and then thrown back into her old life.
There was nothing Jehan could do to make things equal between them. And she couldn’t risk growing too attached. There had been so much loss in her life already. If she cared deeply for Saba—and then had to give her up—it would be devastating. Better to maintain a safe distance.
Feeling out of sorts, Jehan threw on some clothes, ran a comb through her short hair, and prepared breakfast. Despite her best intentions, images of a dancing Saba ran through her mind. What a vision she’d been last night, face lit with joy, lithe body tuned perfectly to the beat of the drums. There was an irresistible fire in the princess when she danced, as if her spirit shone through, illuminating her physical form.
“May I speak with you?”
Jehan jerked her head up to see Saba standing silhouetted in the open doorway.
“Of course. I have breakfast almost ready, if you’d like some.”
“Oh…no thank you. I’m not hungry.” Saba seemed nervous, twisting her hands in the fabric of her skirt. “I don’t want to keep you from—”
“Nonsense. Come in. Have a seat, and I’ll get you tea.”
“Thank you.” Saba sat with her usual grace, tucking a loose strand of ebony hair behind her ear. Despite being up late for the feast, her face looked fresh in the morning light, with skin smooth as rose petals, eyes soft and deep as midnight.
Damnation! Why did she have to be so enticing? Jehan could hardly think straight when she was near.
Making a valiant effort to hide her feelings, she passed the princess a cup of tea. Their fingers brushed, sending pleasant ripples of sensation along Jehan’s palm.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” She spoke brusquely, pulling away from the princess and focusing on her own cup of tea. One would think the innocuous liquid was fascinating, the way she studied it.
“I…was hoping to…” Saba paused, took a deep breath, and began again. “There are skills I’d like to learn during my time here. Adiva said she would to teach me to cook, and Mari wants me to learn more of her healing arts. Bennu might even show me a little about beekeeping.”
“So? You’re free to do as you please.” Jehan couldn’t let herself be drawn into this vision of Saba building a life with the outlaws. Their settlement wasn’t her home. It was only temporary, until she returned to the palace. That was the hard reality, and no one should forget it.
“It’s just that I’d like to offer something in return.” Saba, straightened her shoulders. “I have skills I can share.”
“Such as?”
“I could set up a school here, to teach the children reading and writing…the adults as well, if they’re interested. It would put my education to good use, to benefit someone other than myself and my future husband.”
Those words stung. Jehan knew few of the outlaws were literate—possibly only Otenyo, Mari, and herself—although her own reading and writing skills were nothing to boast of. Her father had died when she was still young. She’d had little time for schooling, before being cast out on the streets of Tarjene.
Did the princess see her as an ignorant peasant, neglecting the children of the settlement, by failing to organize their education? What arrogance! Jehan managed to keep them all fed and sheltered, didn’t she! Not that a privileged royal would understand.
“I could teach more advanced subjects too, like history and literature,” Saba continued with enthusiasm. “I realize you may not have the necessary books, but I’ve memorized many of the great poems and—”
“It’d be a waste of time,” Jehan interrupted. “We’re all too busy for such things. The focus has to be on survival, not pointless diversions.”
Saba flinched, the warmth draining from her face. Jehan hadn’t intended to speak so harshly, but she hated feeling inferior. She instantly regretted the look of hurt in the princess’ eyes. Dammit! How had this conversation gone so wrong?
Jehan gulped the last of her tea. “You can do as you like, of course. I won’t hinder you.” She stood. “Now, I’ve other matters to attend to.”
Saba rose, keeping her gaze lowered. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She turned quickly and hurried away, before Jehan could think better and apologize. It was probably for the best. She need
ed to keep the princess safely at arm’s length.
Despite having little appetite, she forced down some breakfast, relieved when one of her scouts arrived with news of a rich trading caravan approaching their territory. Even better, the caravan flew the banners of Yasir Kah Yaman, a particularly odious lord who engaged in the illegal slave trade. Jehan was all too happy to pluck his feathers.
The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Raiding a caravan would take her away from the settlement—and the heady temptation of Saba—for at least two weeks. Most of the men would need to go along, which was even better. She wasn’t fool enough to think they’d all ignore the princess’ beauty. Even under Jehan’s protection, Saba was likely to be the focus of much interest.
Makeem and Maib should stay behind at the settlement to keep an eye on things—especially as they’d been traveling with her this past month and deserved time with their families. The two of them and Mari were a match for any trouble that might arise. Saba would be safe during Jehan’s absence.
~*~
Shadows stretched along the western edge of the valley, as the worst heat drained from the afternoon. Saba stood slightly apart from the group bidding farewell to the departing bandits.
Despite their awkward interaction that morning, Saba didn’t want Jehan to ride away without saying goodbye. Raiding a caravan was bound to be dangerous. What if something happened and she never saw the Falcon again? The thought tightened like a fist around her heart. They had shared so little time together, and now it must be even less.
As if reading her thoughts, Jehan pushed through the gathering and approached the princess. Her expression was serious, her gaze piercing as she studied Saba’s face.
“I didn’t think you’d come to see us off,” she said. “Especially after my poor behavior this morning…for which I apologize.” She gave a rueful shrug. “I could blame it on a hangover. But that doesn’t change the fact I acted like an ass and hurt your feelings.”
The tension in Saba’s chest eased slightly. “I understand. You have many things on your mind, and my plans for a school seemed foolish.”