Ten

 

When Anahita lifted her gaze to survey the open city gates, she nearly wept for joy. Never had she seen anything so beautiful as that dusty portal. And yet...a princess did not weep before her people, so her tears died the dry death that befell all who did not know the ways of the desert.

"Stop," she commanded, and Asad and Haidar did. More than that, they stared at her in surprise. She summoned the same courage that had driven her to seize the knife that set her free, and said, "This is my father's city. The people must make way for his daughter. One of you must go before me, and the other behind, as befits a princess." She moistened her lips. "All the way to the Sultan's palace. My home."

Haidar coughed, but Asad laughed outright. "Do you truly expect us to believe that? The Sultan would not sacrifice his daughter to an animal like Sheikh Fakhri! Tell us the truth, now, Ana. Which house really belongs to your father?"

If they didn't believe her, who would? "My father is the Sultan, and you will address me as Your Highness Princess Anahita. At least until you are free, and our bargain is fulfilled."

Haidar wouldn't meet her eyes. "And if the guards do not let us into the palace?"

She had not come this far to be denied her home. "Then you will tell them to fetch Princess Maram. My sister will recognise me, and take me to my father."

Haidar grasped her arm. "What will you tell the Sultan?" Panic widened his eyes.

Anahita shook off his hand. "I will tell him the truth. That Sheikh Fakhri is dead at my hand. My father sent me to forge peace with the sheikh, and so I have. He will never attack our people again. Now, please pretend you are my official guards, and make the people make way for their princess."

Haidar grinned. "Never thought I'd get to meet the Sultan. Go on, Asad. You heard the princess. You lead the way, shouting orders to her people. I'll keep watch from the back."

"And if the Sultan has us killed?" Asad hissed, not convinced.

Haidar's grin never wavered. "It is a better death than what we faced in the desert. We should have died with our people. The only reason we're alive now is because Ana stole your knife. She's not afraid of the Sultan. How are you going to live out the rest of your life, knowing you have less courage than that girl?"

Asad glared at his cousin. "If this is a ploy so that you can see Nasrin sooner, I will torment you in the afterlife. I swear it. You will never know a moment's peace." Then he took his place before Anahita and drew in a deep breath. "Make way for the princess!" he bellowed. "Make way for Her Highness Princess Anahita!"

Anahita straightened her shoulders, wishing she was taller and more impressive, and followed Asad into the city.

The palace gates presented no problem, and they walked straight in. It wasn't until Anahita reached the audience chamber that she realised today must be a public audience day, for the hall was packed.

"Now what?" Asad whispered.

Anahita unfasted the straps that held Vega to her. "Fly home, and see that the falconer gives you a good dinner," she said, lifting her arm high so that the bird might fly. Vega did not hesitate, soaring over the palace to where her meal awaited. If everything went well, Anahita would hunt with her again on the morrow. If not...

"We seek an audience with my father. Make the crowd part," she said, praying they would. The rest of the city had responded as though she was Maram, and not some forgotten concubine's daughter.

A path opened, and Anahita plunged ahead, her men trailing behind her. When she reached the foot of her father's dais, she threw herself down on the floor, blessing the cool marble beneath her forehead. She raised her voice, "Father, I bring news. Sheikh Fakhri is dead."

Silence fell over the hall, stretching for an eternity. Anahita didn't dare look up.

Then she heard the rustle of her father's robes. "Today's audience is at an end. Return tomorrow."

The sounds of a herd of grumbling, shuffling people echoed off the arched ceilings, so only Anahita and those closest to the Sultan heard his words: "Have refreshments bought to my private chambers. I will speak to her there."

Servants helped Anahita to bathe and dress in finer clothes than she'd ever worn before. Long silken sleeves hid her bandaged arm, now wrapped in fresh linen, as gentle hands combed and oiled her hair. It was like being a bride all over again, but there was no fear in her belly this time. Only determination.

When she reached her father's chamber, Anahita prostrated herself again.

"When I announced I was sending one of my daughters to Fakhri to be his bride, I was advised that I was sending the girl to her death. I was begged to reconsider, for the only language the Sheikh understood was violence. But I kept my word, and you were sent. Now, you return, bringing word of the Sheikh's death. Such a thing is impossible. Therefore, I ask you to explain how it is possible."

"A miracle," Anahita said weakly.

The Sultan sighed. "Get up, girl. I can't hear you when you talk to my rug. Now, tell me everything. Did you marry the man?"

Anahita rose and met her father's eyes. The eyes of the man who had sent her to be beaten to death by Fakhri.

Haidar was right – she'd faced death in Fakhri's eyes, and she had no fear left for her father, the man who'd sentenced her to that fate.

She settled herself on a cushion and poured herself a cup of whatever her father was drinking. She drank half of it down, barely tasting the cold juice, for there was not enough sweetness in the world to dull the bitterness on her tongue.

Anahita took a deep breath, and told her tale.

She left nothing out. Not one blow, or the trials she and her men had endured in the desert. Until, finally, she was done.

Her father opened his mouth to respond.

Perhaps she was not done, after all.

"Sheikh Fakhri deserved his fate, and if you marry me to a pig like that again, I swear I will gut him like the animal he is, too," she said fiercely, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Father."

"Ana!" a female voice shrieked, and a flash of silk and gold flew across the room to embrace Anahita. "You're alive!"

Anahita wanted to warn her sister about her broken arm, but despite Maram's apparent excitement, she had taken great care not to touch Anahita's right arm. Realisation dawned – Maram knew all that had been said and done since Anahita entered the palace, and she'd chosen her time of arrival perfectly.

Maram's tone was one of girlish delight. "Father, you must give her the apartment beside mine. The harem is for virtuous wives, not the likes of us. What reward did you offer the two heroes who carried her home to us?"

If Anahita had not known before, now she was certain Maram's spies had told her everything. For she had not seen Haidar or Asad since the throne room.

She opened her mouth to ask, but both her father and Maram seemed to have forgotten her. No, not Maram, who broke from her chatter to say, "Oh, you must be exhausted! Go and rest – the chambers beside mine, mind, not in the harem. I must discuss my new jewels with Father, but when we are done, I will come to you directly."

Dismissed – by her own sister! – Anahita was too tired to protest. She followed a servant to her new chamber, only to find it larger than the one she and Maram had shared in the harem. But the size didn't matter – all she cared about was the bed, that heavenly soft surface that embraced her as it promised rest.

It seemed but a moment since she'd closed her eyes, but the stiffness of Anahita's limbs told a different story. It was Maram's voice that had woken her – her sister sounding annoyed, which didn't happen often.

"Don't be ridiculous. She is my sister. You wouldn't deny me the chance to be reunited with my dearest sister, who I thought I would never see again?" Maram wheedled.

Haidar sounded chagrined. "No, mistress, I mean, Highness, but our job is to protect Princess Anahita, and unless she says she wants to see you..." A long pause, and Anahita imagined he shrugged. "My deepest apologies."

Anahita staggered to her feet. "Let her in," she said hoarsely, then swallowed and repeated the words.

Haidar stuck his head through the doorway. "Are you sure? I think she's trying to cast some sort of spell. She's bitten her lip bloody. I wouldn't want you to come to harm. First day officially on the job and all, but I'm not that stupid."

Spells. Maram. Seduction spells, surely. Would they work on a eunuch? Anahita was one of the few who knew of Maram's magical talents, for she'd seen her use them often enough.

"Maram, stop. Boys, please let her in. She's telling the truth. Maram means me no harm," she said.

All three of them entered the room, to Maram's obvious annoyance.

"I will not tolerate the presence of that man's sworn men," Maram said loftily, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. "Begone."

"We are sworn to the Sultan now, more than ever before. The only oath I swore to that whoreson was that he'd die screaming, drowning in his own blood. So when Princess Anahita here delivered the blow that fulfilled my oath, we became her men. Until death." Haidar bowed in Anahita's direction, and Asad did the same.

Only then did Anahita realise they wore guard uniforms, instead of the clothes they'd arrived in. "But you're free...aren't you?" she asked.

Asad laughed. "Free as we ever were. But oaths are tricky things, best not broken. Our village is gone, and we have nowhere else to go. Palace guard seemed like a good idea. Especially if we're to protect the princess outside the harem."

Maram gasped. "They're common desert herders? And your lovers? Are they any good?" Her gazed raked over Asad, then Haidar.

It was Anahita's turn to gasp. "Surely you haven't taken a lover. Not after your mother..."

Maram smiled. "Ah, you haven't heard. Of course I have. While you were off adventuring in the desert, I have been training to become a courtesan. The best the world has ever known. For it will soon be my turn to travel, as Father's ambassador to far-off lands. I would have gone sooner, but Father hesitated, doubting my advice. Now you have returned, he will not doubt me again. I told him Fakhri could only be stopped with weapons. He should have believed me. Sent an army instead of you..." Her hands fluttered in genuine distress. "Is it true that he broke your arm? Where else are you hurt?"

Anahita waved her away. "I'm healing fine. Besides, you don't want to hear about my blisters from walking across the desert. Instead, tell me about your travels. Will you go north to where ice falls from the sky?"

"I hope so." Maram's eyes lit up. "Oh, you would not believe half the things Mistress Kun has taught me. A thousand ways to seduce a man, and a thousand more to enslave him without his knowledge."

Asad hurried out of the room, followed by Haidar.

Maram smothered a laugh. "There. It is good to have you home, Ana. I thought I'd lost you forever. Now will you tell me about your lovers?"

Anahita shook her head. "Asad and Haidar aren't my lovers. They're eunuchs, men Fakhri enslaved from the camps he slaughtered. I've told my tale to Father, and I'm sure you heard all I have to tell. But you have done so much since I left. What of your lovers?"

Maram blushed. "Well..."

Anahita listened, entranced, as Maram spun a tale that seemed like an airy fantasy, of men who could make her body sing, as she learned the arts to bring a man pleasure in equal measure. Yet even as Maram spoke, Anahita fervently wished that such men did exist. Somewhere.