Thierry recalled them all. “They went to Khanbaliq,” he said.
“So far as that,” Kira murmured, turning pale.
Did she think he meant to ride there next?
Eustache impaled Thierry with a glance. “How is it that you do not know your own tale?”
It was Thierry’s turn to look away. “My father and I argued more vehemently as I grew to manhood. He saw me trained in the skills of a warrior, and my mother taught me to read. Connor, the priest, provided me with texts to read, at least until he passed of an ague. I suppose my father had a plan, but I had plans as well. I had dreams and ambitions. My father insisted he would share the full tale of my lineage when I was a man in truth, twenty summers of age by his reckoning. I was long gone by then, seeking my fortune elsewhere. I did not share his patience once I learned the great khan’s blood was in my veins. ’Twas when Kado died and others came to pay their respects.”
“Your father is hale?” Eustache asked.
“He was, when I left, but it has been years.”
“And your mother?”
Thierry nodded. “But Iolande passed before Kado. I missed her ferocity and her conviction.”
Eustache chuckled softly. “Aye, I was surprised to find that I missed it as well. May her soul be blessed.” He drained his cup and set it down on the board. “And so, now, you know the tale. What will you do?”
“I have no wish to be a khan and less to be a Frankish king,” Thierry said. “My ambitions are more humble.” He took a breath and gripped Kira’s hand. “What of Montsalvat?”
Eustache sobered. “Your father surrendered it to me. It has been my holding since he left.”
’Twas clear he did not mean to relinquish it.
Eustache rose and spoke more loudly. “I expect you prepared to ride at dawn, Thierry de Havre.” He drained his cup and set it down on the board. “Now let me find a room for your pleasure to leave you securely in my debt.”
Thierry had no need of the reminder that he was in Eustache’s debt in more ways than one. He would do whatever was necessary to see that obligation repaid.
But first, he would talk to Kira.
Thierry was born to be king by two bloodlines.
And born of a noble family who arranged the marriages of their children at birth.
Eustache’s tale meant that Kira knew why Thierry possessed the aljofar, but she did not have to be pleased by the revelation. At the very least, he had known that his parents’ match had been arranged, and he knew he carried the blood of the khan. Men of such lineage did not wed a merchant’s daughter with no dowry.
How dare he seize her, seduce her and destroy her own chances of marriage?
She seethed as he led her to the chamber Eustache offered to them, not meeting his gaze as he opened the door for her. Her ears burned as the men hooted behind them and her blood fairly simmered that he should imagine she would welcome such treatment.
’Twas a small rough room, with a straw pallet on the floor and a single oil lamp on the floor in the other corner. At least it had a door, though Kira was certain any might hear their words. ’Twas impossible to evade Thierry in such a small space but she would do her best.
His hands landed on her shoulders, curling around them to draw her closer. He breathed her name into her veil, his voice low and filled with such relief that she could easily have leaned back against him. Fury kept her back straight, though, and she would tell him what she thought, regardless of what the repercussions might be.
“You!” Kira said in a whisper, spinning to confront him.
“Aye, me,” he acknowledged with a crooked smile and reached for her again. “Come to me, Kira. I have missed you.”
’Twas not that simple.
“Missed me,” she echoed, her voice low and hot. “Did you not have sufficient coin for another whore? Or did they not please you sufficiently?”
“Kira!” He looked to be surprised by her words but she dared not soften before all was said between them. “I have been with no whore. I have feared for your welfare...”
“And well you should. Look at this garb! ’Tis indecent for a woman to so appear in company.” She lifted her skirt, revealing that she wore no chalwar and blushed even though Thierry had seen her legs afore. “’Tis the mark of their trade, but—oh!” She dropped her skirts and turned away, pacing the room quickly in her agitation as she sought the words.
“Surely, Eustache did not demand that you share your favors with others,” Thierry asked, his tone too temperate. Kira risked a glance his way to find his gaze simmering. “That was not our agreement,” he said with heat. “He gave me his vow.”
“Eustache did not err. I was offered to none, until this night.” Kira exhaled. “Until you.” The confession relieved Thierry far more than it did Kira. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “How long will you remain?”
“I believe there is no longer a reason for my absence,” he said, looking wary. “Unless you would send me away.”
Kira had to know. “Do you ride for Khanbaliq?”
Thierry shook his head. “’Tis so far.” He frowned and ran a hand over his cropped hair. “I thought to stay here, perhaps at this Montsalvat.”
Kira was not appeased. Did his bride await him there? “Who is she?” she whispered, feeling her tears rise and hating that she should show her weakness so.
“Who?” Thierry looked to be confused.
“Play no games with me!” Kira shook her head, then dug in the small purse tied to her belt. She removed a small sack and dumped the aljofar into her hand. She held it up, the gem swinging from the chain, and glared at him anew. “’Tis an aljofar,” she said with heat. “And ’tis yours.”
“Aye.” Thierry’s features lit with relief as he stepped closer and lifted his hand to the gem. “I feared it might be lost, as well.”
“I would not cast aside such a gem!”
“But I failed to tell you of it, and Eustache said all items that hinted of my past had to be burned. I feared the purse would be burned before you looked within it.”
Of course, he was glad to have his property restored and Kira supposed she should be glad to have been useful.
His tentative smile startled her. “Is it a good one?”
“You know ’tis,” Kira said gruffly, retreating a step.
He frowned, watching her as if she was the mystifying one.
“Who is she?” she repeated with rising impatience. “I am no fool. Your family arranged the match of your parents, and they must have arranged yours as well. Did you flee from your betrothed? Or did you come here, to these lands, to take her hand in yours?”
“I have no betrothed,” he said with conviction. “What has this to do with the gem?”
“’Tis an aljofar,” she repeated.
“Aye. I know what the gem is called.” Now, Thierry looked impatient. He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her sternly. “What is amiss, Kira? Tell me.”
“Do you know the gem’s import?”
“What import?” he demanded. “’Tis a token for a woman, evidently. I know only that. Kira, why are you so angry with me?”
“Because ’tis far more than a token,” she retorted and his brows rose. “An aljofar is a traditional gift from man to wife on their wedding day, a gift to celebrate their vows and bless the match with good fortune.”
To her dismay, Thierry smiled. “Then ’tis an apt gift indeed.” He claimed the chain with his fingertip and held it toward her so that the pearl swung between them. “Would you value the gem for me?”
Kira was livid that he would even suggest as much. She had never imagined he was such a cur! “I will not value the pearl you would grant to your bride!”
“You would wear it, then, without knowing its worth?”
She eyed him warily then, wondering at his teasing tone. Thierry might jest and he might err, but he was not cruel.
“In truth, Kira, I do not understand your objection,
unless ’tis not sufficiently fine. I bought the aljofar for you, but I do not have your knowledge of pearls. I hope I did not waste the coin.”
Kira’s mouth opened and closed again without her emitting a sound. She blinked back her tears and swallowed, then reached to touch the gem with a fingertip. “Do not tease me,” she whispered and saw his eyes darken.
Thierry stepped closer and put a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face so she was compelled to meet his regard. She found only sincerity there and her dismay faded.
“This is no jest,” he assured her. “I wanted to give it to you sooner, but did not find the right moment. You were so ill on the ship.”
“I thought you were to wed another,” she protested, but Thierry shook his head.
“There can be no other, Kira,” he said with resolve. “Though I have little to offer you, save myself.” She parted her lips to argue, but Thierry let that finger rest gently against her lips. “Kira, will you accept my aljofar?”
“Was it part of some Mongol tribute?” she asked, but there was no accusation in her tone. “I was taught that no Mongol buys what he can steal.”
“I did not, until I saw this pearl in Constantinople,” he confessed. “I knew I had to see this grace the lady who holds my heart, regardless of the price.”
Kira supposed she was ungrateful, for she heard only the omission in Thierry’s words.
“’Tis but a token Kira, and little compared to what you give to me, should you consent to take my hand. I know you have not been loved as you deserve, but I would spend my life ensuring you know how you are treasured.”
She swallowed, overwhelmed by his words yet hearing the one that was lacking. “We will wed?”
He was impatient with the notion. “You are my woman. You would wear the aljofar as a mark of that.”
He did not speak of love. He did not speak of marriage. Kira told herself to be content with the security he offered.
But she could not be.
Kira took a step back. “But you would not pledge to me before a priest?”
He flung out a hand. “Whatever for? Is my pledge to you not sufficient?” He dangled the gem. “Is this gift not sufficient?”
“Nay, ’tis not,” Kira said with resolve, feeling her heart break when Thierry’s lips set in a stubborn line. “I would be honorably wedded, not chattel who can be mistaken for a whore.”
“Kira, the words matter little. A man’s deeds are of import...”
“To exchange vows of fidelity is a deed.” Kira took a breath. “Should you refuse to do as much, you are no better than the barbarian I first believed you to be.”
He glared at her then. “You think so little of me, then?”
Kira shook her head and felt her tears fall. “Nay, Thierry, ’tis you who think so little of me.” Her throat was tight and her hands were shaking, but she knew she was right to request this of him. She asked for herself and she asked for her child, to ensure the child’s protection. She wondered whether he would wed her if she confessed her pregnancy, then bit her tongue.
Perhaps she was proud, but Kira wished to be desired for herself.
She turned away from Thierry and wrapped herself in his cloak, then laid down on the pallet, her back toward him. She marveled at her conviction that he would not injure her or otherwise retaliate even though she had denied him. He was not the barbarian she had believed him to be that first day in Tiflis, but she hoped her words had stung.
She hoped she could change his thinking before the babe’s arrival.
Marriage.
Kira wished to wed.
Thierry watched her as she huddled beneath his cloak, clearly too cold to fall asleep. He muttered a curse, then shrugged off his tabard and hauberk, letting the chain mail fall to the floor with a clatter. He set aside his belt and his boots, placing them behind the door so they would make a noise if any entered, then took his cloak. He had bought one lined with fur with Eustache’s coin, determined never to be cold again. He blew out the lantern, then laid down behind Kira, pulling her back against his chest and tucked the cloak over them both. She held herself stiffly, as if she feared he desired more from her, and Thierry’s heart clenched.
“I am not so savage as that,” he chided her softly. “Come and be warm, Kira.”
She hesitated only a moment before she did just that and he sighed with contentment to hold her close again. She gripped his dagger and his purse, a tension in her small form that told him a great deal.
“Have you slept well in my absence?”
“I feared to sleep deeply,” she admitted and he pressed a kiss to her temple. He felt her shiver and did not know the import of that.
“I am sorry, Kira.” In the darkness, it was easy to confess his culpability to her. ’Twas not like Thierry to admit a weakness or an error, for in Mongol society, that would be exploited. But here in the shadowed room, with only Kira to hear, the words slipped from his lips—and he felt lighter for it. To his surprise, her cold fingers closed over his as if she would console him.
“You had to go. Eustache was right.”
“And now what?” he whispered, giving voice to his fears. “What will be our fate, now?”
Kira turned slightly and he wondered if she was trying to see his features.
“I have no employ, Kira, and I have no coin. I have neither of my names. We survive on Eustache’s charity, which is born of his belief that he owes my father a debt. This will end. It must end. And I do not know what happens after that.”
She watched him, for he felt her gaze upon him, but did not speak.
“I was taught that a man must have security to offer marriage to a woman. I have none. I have only myself, and the aljofar, Kira.” He sighed. “You would do better to choose another.”
“What else were you taught?” she asked softly.
Thierry sighed again. “That my legacy was grand and that it was my obligation. When I learned of my lineage through the khan, I was told that it was my destiny to assert my claim. And now that I hear of these kings of Rhedae, I know that my father would assert the same. But I have no wish to fight his battle again, for I fear I would lose, just as he did. I have no desire to flee all that I know and journey to Khanbaliq or elsewhere. I like it here.”
“Aye. The people are kind.” Kira rolled over to face him and he held her closer, so that their faces almost touched and their whispers could be even softer.
“And I see a similarity in the Mongol desire to take what they desire of others or demand tribute in this quest of the kings of Rhedae to claim a kingdom they did not built. Aye, they might have the lineage, but that king and his kin built that palace. How could I justify claiming it as my own, even if the feat could be done?”
Kira’s hand landed on his shoulder as she nestled closer.
“What if there is another choice?” he asked. “What if another way can be found?” He kissed her brow again. “What if I found that way, Kira, or we found it together. What if I had a means to provide for us, other than selling my blade as a mercenary, and could give you a home? Would you wear my aljofar then?”
“Would you wed me then?” she asked.
He smiled in the darkness. “If it was of such import to you, aye, I would make my vow to you before a priest.”
“Thierry!” She whispered his name with heat, then he felt her lips touch his. He might have deepened their kiss but she took his hand from her waist and guided it lower.
He felt the curve of her belly and wondered if it was a little rounder than before. Perhaps Eustache had ensured that she ate well and she had regained some of the weight she had lost at sea. He had time to be glad before she whispered again.
“Eustache said you were two against the king’s men.”
“Aye, but we were three.”
“Nay. We were four,” she confessed and he heard the smile in her voice. “We were four, but one was yet defenseless.”
Thierry stared at her in shock, though he could not see her f
eatures. He guessed that she was smiling at him, for he was truly astonished. A child! Their child. That changed all.
“Kira!” he whispered and she touched her fingers to his lips. He rolled her to her back and braced himself over her, whispering in her ear so that she giggled. “Have you been well? Do we need a midwife? What can I do to ensure your comfort?”
“Let me ride with you on the morrow.”
“It shall be done.” He framed her face in his hands, trying to see her face and thought he discerned the glimmer of her eyes. “When?”
“Perhaps four months.” He felt her shrug and was aware again of how tiny she was. “Perhaps five.”
He rolled to his back and shoved a hand through his hair, his thoughts whirling. “I would wed you, Kira. I have lost what little I possessed. ’Tis no jest that I can offer only myself, but if my vow would ease your concern, I will do it and will do it now.”
“I should like that, Thierry.”
“And you will wear the aljofar?”
She laughed a little. “Aye, I will don it when we exchange our vows.”
“What do you desire? Would you return to Tiflis?”
She felt her shake her head. “I like it here as well, but I would live in one place.”
“Aye. ’Tis better for a child,” he agreed. “I would suggest we go to Montsalvat with Eustache, and if we like it, perhaps we could settle there. If it is an isolated fortress as he says, it might suit both of us well.”
“Wind and walls,” she teased.
“Perhaps Eustache will accept my service,” he continued, thinking aloud. “I can fight. We might not prosper, but we would have a home.”
“Do you think the king will still hunt you?” He heard her fear.
Thierry shook his head. “Time will tell, but I think Eustache schemed well. If we are dutiful vassals, I see no reason why he should turn against me.”
“So long as no one sees your mark.”
“’Tis our secret now, if you will have me.”
“Then let us wed,” she said quietly. “Kiss,” she demanded, reminding him of one of the first words she had learned in Frankish.
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