She paused for a moment, and Willow had the feeling she was offering her the chance to speak, but interrupting her seemed impossible. “It custom is that the new Prince spend a night with each of his wives, in order of seniority. That does not mean sex, always, if a wife does not choose, and I was determined him to reject. The idea of being touched by another sickened me. I junior then was, and it the fourth day was when Salveri entered my chamber. But he did not give me the opportunity to speak. He saw that I grieved and told me it was for me to decide when he might share my bed. Then he left.
“It was…astonishing. More astonishing that in the days that followed he did not court me, merely treated me with friendship and respect. I grew to admire him and eventually to feel love for him, though it the same as what I felt for my beloved Lukan is not. Now Salveri my dear friend is, and I have given him two children and take joy in them, and in him. My love for him, and his for me, a warm and wonderful thing is, but our closeness is not that of two who burn for each other.”
She paused again, and this time Willow said, “So that’s why you don’t mind about Alondra?”
Janida shook her head. “It the whole of the story is not, Willow. Each of us loves Salveri in our own way, except for Giara who feels only indifference to him. Maitea does not have sex with him and sees him as a younger brother. Catrela a passionate woman who loves physical affection is, and she and Salveri have a very free relationship. And then there is Alondra.”
“Who adores him.”
“You think it disgusting is, that he loves so young a woman.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did not have to.” Janida was smiling a little, though. “Alondra an accomplished artist is and well-known throughout Eskandel. Many principalities wanted her, but ours old and venerated is and we have acquired much political power. The way in which women join a harem complicated for you to understand is, but the least of it is joinings between the woman and the principality, for understanding and…compatibility to have. There many such meetings are, some formal and some not, before an offer made is. Alondra much liked from the start was, and not for her artistic talents but for her kindness and beauty of spirit.
“The night after the third joining, Salveri came to me in much distress and asked that we withdraw our offer to Alondra. He would not give a reason except that he believed her a poor match to be.”
“I bet you didn’t let him stop at that,” Willow said.
“You very observant are. He resisted my questioning, but in the end broke down and confessed with many tears that he falling in love with Alondra was in a way he had never before experienced, as if he a youth in the throes of his first passion were. He thirty-four years her senior is and knew that he a suitable lover for a young woman was not, and could not bear the thought of imposing his feelings on her when she could not return those feelings.
“‘I am old,’ he said to me, ‘and were I indifferent to her, we might find a common ground. But it shames me that I should feel this way, as if I taking advantage of her belonging to this principality to force myself on her were. I cannot do this thing to her.’”
The idea of Serjian Salveri, so physically imposing, displaying his weakness to anyone shifted Willow’s perception of him. “So what happened?”
“It broke my heart to see my husband so in pain, and to remember that I too had once loved in this way. So I told him he should Alondra court, to show her the kind of man he is. That love need not bound by age be. I told him if he decided she would not come to him willingly, I would withdraw the offer and give my sisters a suitable lie. But it was Salveri I lied to.”
Janida’s smile became smug. “A woman considering a harem to join looks at its Prince in speculation, considering what union they might make. What kind of bed partner he will be. But when Alondra spoke to Salveri, she looked at him with shyness and with hope. It the look of a woman considering where she will trust her heart was. Salveri fell in love with Alondra because she first fell in love with him. It took not long for him to realize she did not see him as a…a lecherous old man who looks only at young women to recapture his lost youth, but as the man she loves, body and soul. And then there no question was that Alondra would our sister be, and Salveri’s wife.”
Janida put her hand over Willow’s and squeezed, gently. “Every time I look at Salveri and Alondra, I remember my joy in Lukan. I love my husband. How can I not wish him the same joy?”
“I understand now,” Willow said. “I’m sorry I thought so poorly of you. Of all of you.”
“It is not an easy thing to understand, when one must share her heart,” Janida said, and withdrew her hand. “I had in mind to offer to negotiate on your behalf with a harem. You would strong be and make a principality stronger. But I think such a sharing in your nature is not.”
“It’s not, but I’m honored by your offer. Besides, I’m not sure Eskandelic royalty is ready to welcome a midnighter into their ranks.”
“You are more than your profession, Willow North,” Janida said. “You hide by training, but you were born to lead, to stand out and draw all eyes to you.”
“By heaven, I hope not!”
“It is not a joke, Willow. When you spoke to the vojentas they heard what I did—confidence and power and the will to show others where truth lies. If you choose not to take up that role, it will not be because you incapable of it are.”
Willow gaped at her. “I think you’re wrong.”
“No, you wish me wrong to be, because you fear my words. And you should. Becoming who you are meant to be means leaving behind who you were, and that never painless is. But I think the bird never regrets learning its wings to use.”
“But there’s no point! Even if you’re right, and I’m not agreeing that you are, who would I lead? It’s not like you wake up one morning, decide you’re going to be in charge, and go out and find something to be in charge of.”
Janida shrugged. “If you do not take the opportunity something greater to become, you will certainly never discover the answer to that.” She stood, then offered Willow her hand. “We will yet win, Willow North. Control your passions, and I think there little you cannot achieve is.”
Willow clasped Janida’s hand. “Thank you for having faith in me. In our cause. Felix appreciates it.”
“It is not Felix I concerned for am,” Janida said cryptically, and then she was gone.
Willow stared at the door for a few moments, mulling over those words, then walked to her own bedchamber to undress and settle in for the night. What greater thing could she be than she already was?
Chapter Twelve
A chill wind blew the morning’s overcast ahead of it as if herding dark gray sheep, and Willow wrapped her light shawl more closely around her head to keep her hair from blowing wildly with it. Almost everyone she passed on the narrow residential streets had their heads down and moved quickly, racing the storm. The dirty yellow light turned the bright doors strange colors, green becoming blue and red turning dusky orange. High above, a man opened a window and took a pot of red trumpet-flowers inside. Willow quickened her pace. If Imara wasn’t at the place she’d met Pieran before, she’d have to hurry to Rafferty’s and hope to find shelter there against the storm.
She casually ran her finger along the leather cord around her neck, not touching the gold pendant that hung from it. Wearing the assassin’s bird of prey pendant—or, rather, the pendant of the man who’d hired him—in the hope of drawing him out was probably pointless. There had to be at least a million people in Umberan, most of whom were innocent of malice toward Felix. Still, the idea of someone lunging at her screaming about being found out amused her enough to try the experiment. And it was pretty, even if it did make her neck feel hot with burning gold.
She turned onto the street where Imara had gone to meet Pieran, sparing a thought of gratitude that Amberesh wasn’t around. She hadn’t sensed him at all on her journey through the city, and figured he must be at least smart enough t
o stay out of the weather.
Willow knocked at the blue door. No one answered. She knocked again, harder, though she had a moment’s thought about how pointless it was to think a louder knock would somehow fill an empty house. The wind picked up again, blowing dust into her eyes. As she rubbed them, muttering curses under her breath, she heard the door open. She blinked away tears and saw the blond man looking at her in puzzlement. “Yes?”
“Is Imara here?”
His puzzlement deepened. “Who?”
So he was going to play that game. “Serjian Imara. Your lover? Look, I’m not here to drag her back to the Residence. Her parents just want to know that she’s safe.”
“It is all right, Pieran,” Imara said, emerging from behind Pieran. “Willow. Come in.”
Willow entered and wiped the dust off her sandals on a mat by the door. The room was divided into two unequal sections, one of which had a couple of cupboards and a sink with a water pitcher beside it. The other was covered with floor pillows in unattractive shades of pink and green. Stairs led up to the next floor where Willow knew the bedroom was. She removed her scarf and wrapped it around one hand. “Very cozy,” she said.
“We will not live here long,” Imara said, rather defensively, Willow thought. “Once we are married, we will return to Gibrelt, where Pieran’s family lives.”
“Or I will find work at a scholia,” Pieran said quickly. “It is not yet settled.”
Imara hooked her arm through Pieran’s and smiled at him. “So long as we are together, I do not care where we live.” She looked at Willow, and her smile disappeared. “You can tell my mother that.”
“I didn’t tell Janida or Salveri where this place is,” Willow said. “And when I go back, the only thing I’ll say is that you’re safe. Unless you want me to tell them something else.”
“They will only make me leave, and I swore not to leave Pieran.” Imara’s grip on Pieran’s arm grew tighter.
“They care about you. They won’t—” Willow cursed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but could you try to see it from their perspective? All they know is you’ve suddenly declared you’re in love with someone they don’t know, you haven’t given them any opportunity to learn what you’ve been feeling and thinking, and then you ran away to heaven knows where. That’s a lot to take in all at once.”
“Mother knows of Pieran. We have communicated since many years ago.”
“That’s not the same as knowing him as your potential husband. It was clearly a surprise to her.”
“They will try to talk me out of this, as if I were a child. I know what I want and I mean to have it.”
“If it’s truly what you want, they shouldn’t be able to talk you out of it.”
“I have said to Imara, we must speak to your parents,” Pieran said. “I do not like this subterfuge.”
“Imara, do you really want to cut off all ties to your family? To your majdrani and siblings? Because if you can’t make this right with your parents, that’s how it’s going to be.”
Imara’s face was still set in a stubborn frown. “They will not listen.”
“Then that’s their problem. But I think they will, especially if you’re as eloquent as everyone keeps telling me you are. I’m not saying they’ll be happy about it. But they really do want you to be happy.”
“Imara,” Pieran said, “it is right.” He held out his free hand to Willow. “You did not say your name.”
“Oh. Willow North. I’m…” She mentally examined a dozen responses, and went with, “a friend of the Serjian family.”
Imara snorted an indelicate laugh. “She and my brother are one, or should be.”
“That’s not important,” Willow said, managing not to blush. “Can I tell Janida you will be coming back to talk? You and Pieran?”
Imara sighed. “I will consider it.”
“We will come,” Pieran said. “And thank you.”
“Will you—I am sorry, I should have offered you refreshment,” Imara said.
“That’s all right. If I hurry, I can get back to the Residence before the rain comes.” Willow shook Pieran’s hand, nodded to Imara, and let herself out.
The streets were packed with hurrying people, silvery streaks of belt knives jostling with the brass studs of dog collars and fizzing silver and itching copper bouncing along in pouches at nearly every waist. Willow bumped into someone and apologized. The person shrugged and hurried away. She discreetly checked her purses, both the obvious one and the hidden one, accidentally touched the pendant and swore as her fingers burned. The pendant was becoming uncomfortable. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so cavalier about wearing it.
She cut across to a side street that wasn’t nearly so busy. Arched doorways led to quiet courtyards, most of them empty of anything except the occasional bench or fountain. The sound of running water was drowned out by the rising wind, which gusted and then died away briefly before rising once more. Willow wrapped her scarf across her face to keep out the dust carried by the wind. When the rains came, they’d be falling nearly horizontally if the winds stayed this strong.
Something struck her hard across the back of her head, sending black and yellow lights flashing before her eyes. A hand covered her mouth, pressing the scarf firmly against her lips. Dizzy, she staggered, and an arm snaked around her waist and half dragged, half carried her through one of the arches into a courtyard and flung her to the ground. She caught herself with both hands, scraping her palms on the rough stone of the courtyard, and struggled not to throw up from the pain in her head.
“Now we see you, you are not strong,” Amberesh said in a voice barely loud enough to hear over the rising storm. Willow cried out as he kicked her hard in the stomach. She rolled away from him, fetching up against a marble fountain. “I strong am.”
Willow managed to stagger to her feet just as Amberesh aimed another kick at her stomach, and he caught her shin instead. She groped for the fountain and put it between them. Why hadn’t she sensed him? Her addled brain fought for control. Use your eyes, damn it. He wore no sword, and his shirt fit him closely—no room for a mail shirt underneath. “Lose your sword, Amberesh?” she said.
Amberesh’s face became furious. “I to eat must sell,” he shouted. “You do this to I. You I make suffer.” Then his eyes widened. “You to steal it?” he said.
“Steal your sword? You’re out of your mind.”
Amberesh pointed at her throat. “He say, lost is.” He burst out laughing. “He not to say, is steal is. He…embarrassed is, a woman to steal is.”
So the ploy actually worked. Too bad I might not be around to appreciate it. Willow risked a quick look around. The courtyard was mostly concealed from the street, which wasn’t very busy. Screaming would be pointless. And Amberesh was drawing a wicked-looking long knife from his belt. Willow let her forearm blade fall into her hand. “A friend of yours?” she said, taking a few steps to the right. “Son of a principality, is he?”
Amberesh mirrored her, a cruel smile on his face. “I take it him to give, when you dead are.”
“You’re awfully cocky about that.”
“I fight good. You woman are, fight bad.”
“You are going to get a nasty surprise, Amberesh.”
He was between her and the street. She just had to get past him…he outweighed her, his knife was longer by a few inches, and he’d no doubt had the same martial training Kerish had, which meant Willow and her street fighting skills were probably outclassed. She had to get away, and quickly. She might be able to hold him off for a few exchanges of blows, but too long a fight would mean her death.
She took another step, away from the shelter of the fountain, and Amberesh lunged at her. She brought her knife up to deflect the blow and snatched her belt knife out of its sheath, brought it around and had it deflected in turn. It was shorter than her other blade, but she was grateful for any advantage, two blades to his one. She struck at Amberesh’s chest, then had to leap backward to avoid
his hand, groping for her shoulder to bring her in close for the kill.
“Women dance,” Amberesh said with a nasty grin, and thrust for her stomach. She brought both her knives down to catch the blade and was forced back again. She had no idea what was behind her and prayed she wouldn’t trip.
Amberesh lunged again, and she tried to block his strike. She felt a sharp, burning pain as he feinted left and scored a deep line across her left arm. She cried out, and his grin broadened. “Hurt you first,” he said, “hurt you much.”
“Big talk,” Willow gasped, and swung at his face, too wildly, because he dodged easily out of the way without giving up any ground. Willow darted to the left, putting the fountain between them again. It was about four and a half feet tall, scant cover, but her heart was racing and she would take whatever shelter it offered.
“Taking your revenge on a woman?” she continued. “Very noble of you. Very brave. Do you think if you drag my body back to your family, they’ll be grateful? Or will they just spurn you again for a coward?”
Amberesh roared and ran at her, leaving himself open, but Willow wasn’t interested in continuing the fight. She darted around the fountain and made for the street, then screamed as pain lanced up her left leg and it buckled under her. She fell, rolled again, and landed in a one-legged crouch with both her knives held before her. Amberesh’s knife was dark with blood. Her blood. He came toward her slowly, no longer grinning.
“I not you care for family,” he said, “I not you be Serjian.”
“That makes no sense,” Willow said. “You should work on your language skills.”
Amberesh roared and thrust for her throat. Desperate, Willow brought both knives in front of her, blades crossed, and caught Amberesh’s knife between them. It kept driving toward her, and in desperation she twisted, forcing the knife to the right so it plunged deep into her shoulder instead of her neck and threw him off balance.
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