part0022

Tolnain leaned back in his seat, propping his feet up on the table. Pulling the balaclava up higher over his face, he adjusted his cowl, eyeing the boisterous crowd.

Most of the men were laborers, or vagrants passing through town. He’d familiarized himself with the usual patrons of the Mane and Tail, and ensured they knew him as well. In order to achieve his goals, he needed the right men under his command.

When he noticed a new serving maid, he sat up, leaning forward on the table. Tolnain grinned, inspecting her from toe to head.

“You’ll do quite nicely, Dearling,” he murmured, gesturing to the man behind the counter. After setting a gold coin on the table, he leaned back again, pulling his cloak around him.

“Ya need’n me, milord?” Imryl said, wearily approaching the table. He knew enough about Tolnain to offer the proper respect. Imryl had seen many of his patrons at the end of the volatile man’s sword.

Tolnain gestured to the coin, and then to the bottle Imryl held. When he reached to take the gold, Tolnain’s arm shot forward, stabbing his dagger into the table. “Tsk…tsk…tsk. Surely, you haven’t forgotten our arrangement.”

Imryl glanced around, wiping the sweat from his upper lip. “Par—pardons, milord. I ain’t forgot.” He sat the bottle down, pouring Tolnain’s liquor.

“One of them brothers ya asked ‘bout was here not long ago.”

“Only one? Which was it?”

“I ain’t know’n no names and such. But…but it weren’t that one with them things on the side of his head. It—it was that shorter one with the eyes.”

“Déshì Tân,” Tolnain said, nodding. “What did he want?”

“Ain’t sure. He come in with that Chosen. You know’n that big one up in Nazil. They drank a bit and he give him somethin’. Didn’t even have a meal, just drank and left.”

Tolnain sat up then. “The First Chosen? The one with the markings and braid?”

“That be the one. Ain’t seen him in here much, though. The Zaxson’s brothers come through from time to time, but they don’t bother comin’ in here. They go on over to the citadel mostly.”

“That’s interesting. I’ll be certain to pay the Caretaker a visit soon, and inquire about his most prestigious guests. With the difficulties I’ve heard the Zaxson is facing, I’m surprised he’d send his brothers here.” He grinned. “The roads have become unsafe for the Benoists, it seems. Was there anyone else with him?”

Imryl looked around again, leaning in closer. “I hears Joseph been ask’n fer more guards. Been ‘bout a dozen new ones comin’ in here.”

“Truly. Well, I’ll ensure to introduce myself. Now,” Tolnain said, removing the dagger. “What did Déshì give the Chosen?”

“Ain’t know’n that either. Whatever it was, he had it wrapped up in some kind’a cloth.”

Tolnain considered that, glancing around the common room. When he saw the young maid again, he gestured in her direction. “Who might that be?”

“That’n there? She come ‘round here a bit ago, looking fer a place to stay. Used to be up in Yarah ‘til the Zaxson freed them slaves. She works well ‘nough, but ain’t been broken in just yet. B’sides, ain’t no one ‘round here got ‘nough coin to pay for fillin’ that one up. I’m save’n her special.”

“See that you continue to do so,” Tolnain said, jiggling his full coin purse. “She’s half-human?”

“She is at that. Don’t no one care ‘bout that, though. They’s save’n their coin to be the first to git ‘tween them thighs. They some nice thighs, too. Hells, I’m tempted to do so m’self.” He looked at her again, calming the rise beneath his apron. “But I’m need’n the coin more’n I’m want’n to open up that hole.”

Tolnain smirked, adjusting his balaclava. “I’ll need my usual accommodations for the next six suns. Have a meal sent up and water heated for a bath.” He stood, grabbing up the bottle. “I’ll be sending more men here soon. Take care of them, and keep your eyes open. If everything goes as planned, you won’t need to choose between satisfying your cock or filling your pockets. You can have both in abundance.”

Zeta gazed down at Ihnat, rocking him in her arms. They sat alone in the carriage, awaiting Danimore’s return. She hadn’t realized how being in Noraa would affect her, but she knew that she had to come. Though she worried about leaving Raithym in Nazil, she could no longer ignore this part of her life—of her past.

This was only the beginning if she wanted to truly heal. Her heart still mourned what had been lost. As she watched her son age, her mind wouldn’t calm. It was time to face her past in order to embrace her future.

At the same time, she was afraid. This was no longer her home, and yet, it was. Nothing and everything seemed familiar. Even the smithy’s smell was the same.

It hadn’t changed.

She gasped, hearing Jansen’s chuckle. The tears spilled down her cheeks as the memories of that sound caused her heart to ache. She was both terrified and heartbroken at the same time. Zeta wanted to rush from the carriage and wrap him in a crushing hug. But she remained tethered to her cushioned seat, unable to move.

“Gods,” she murmured, peering out the narrow slit of the carriage drapes. Jansen stood next to her husband, wearing the same heavy apron that she remembered. The black soot from the metal stained his cheeks, intermixing with his fire-red hair. Hair that was beginning to thin, she noted.

Jansen was still tall and slender with the same large, green eyes. She smiled then, knowing that he was well. Although she’d been enslaved, and his brother killed, Jansen had survived. That, at least, brought her some peace, as she dried her eyes, peering out the window again.

An immediate smile found her face, watching Danimore test the sword’s balance. “Noraalian steel,” she muttered, noticing the intricacies and patterns in the blade. Only here could such fine work be crafted.

She stared at them for a few moments more before reaching to close the drapes. But when a figure emerged from the smithy’s side, she opened them wider instead.

“Radich,” she breathed, leaning closer.

Zeta’s tears began anew, observing the young man feeding the forge. His corded arms bulged and glistened as he continued to complete his chores.

“Radich,” she said again, moistening her lips. The sight of him still excited her, just as it had in her youth. Years of working as a smith had toned his body even more than she’d remembered. Radich’s long, dark hair was bound, hanging down the middle of his back. Though his eyes were shielded, Zeta recalled how she’d loved their rich honey coloring, deep-set and round. How she loved his eyes. At that moment, she imagined a life with him, a life that could no longer be.

“Does he yet love me?” A wistful smile formed on her lips, that didn’t reach her eyes. The pain she’d suffered the past years beset her mind, stealing all the happiness from it.

“Does he yet love me?” she said again, feeling those past emotions resurrecting. Not until that very moment did she realize the love she felt for him. Radich was her promised, and he’d loved her above all others. If not for the Nazilian ambush, they would’ve already been married. How her life would’ve been more joyous had she’d stayed in Noraa.

When Jansen chuckled again, she released the drape, staring at the child in her arms. More than ever, she noticed his Nazilian features. Zeta’s fingers caressed the wisps of white hair atop his head. As she withdrew her hand, she paused, noting the stark differences in their tone.

“You’re my son. Just like Godfrey, you’re my son.” She repeated those words, desperately attempting to convince herself of their veracity. But as she spoke them again, looking down at him, her heart felt contrariwise.

This was not her son. No matter how much she loved his father, Ihnat was not her son. Nikolina d’Garrion was his mother, the woman who’d ravished her husband and caused Godfrey’s death.

With that thought, she moved Ihnat further from her, seeing only the face of his mother. “Nikolina,” she sneered, turning away from him.

Zeta leaned forward again, staring at Radich pounding the steel on the anvil. Memories of their time together sent a warmth through her. She couldn’t stop her mind from wondering what could’ve been…what should’ve been…what could still be.

Zeta gasped, wide-eyed, as Danimore climbed in beside her, showing her the sword. “It—it’s beautiful,” she said, feigning the best smile that she could manage. The ictus of her heart rang in her ears while she tried to exude calm.

“Indeed,” he said, leaning to kiss her. “It was the finest that he had to offer. I’ve commissioned two more.”

“Yes, for Raithym and Ihnat. Both shall wield the swords crafted by the hands of a true master…by their grandfather.”

Zeta couldn’t respond. She nodded, lowering her gaze.

“Zeta? What’s wrong? Is it Raithym?” he asked, caressing her face.

“No. No, Dani, I know that Ceron is taking the greatest care of Raithym. I—it’s difficult. I just—”

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t consider how much seeing your father would affect you. You haven’t seen him in years, and I can’t fathom how you must feel. Mayhaps you should go to him.”

“No, I couldn’t. Not now.”

“He loves you, Zeta. You’re his daughter…his only daughter. Do you know how joyous he’d be learning that you’re alive?” Danimore cupped her chin, kissing her softly. “He’d thank the gods for bringing you back into his life.”

“No, Dani, not now. I wanted to see him…to know that he was all right. For now, that’s enough. We must return to Nazil, and if I went to my father, I’d need to stay here with him,” she said. “In time, I will return, and greet him properly. For now, my place is in Nazil, at my husband’s side.”

When the two men approached the doors, six Jasiri stood guard in the corridor. Perrin swallowed hard, nervously glancing over at his son.

“Lord de Braose,” a guard said. “The Zaxson, First Chosen, and High Priest await you.”

“Thank you,” Beilzen said, respectfully inclining his head.

When they entered the solar, Pentanimir gestured for them to sit. “Perrin,” Pentanimir said, addressing him in the familiar as not to confuse the two. “I’m glad that you could come on such short notice.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Zaxson. When Beilzen informed me of the meeting, I was definitely intrigued.”

“Then, I’ll come right to the point. I have a proposition that I’d like you to consider.”

“A—a proposition?”

“Yes. As you’re aware, we’ve been implementing numerous changes in Nazil.”

“Yes, Zaxson,” Perrin said, glancing at Nzuri and Symeon. The two were stark reminders of merely a few of those changes.

“We’re still working to fill integral positions in the citadel and the temple. Now that the Jasiri have arrived to assist with the citadel’s protection, we must focus on other issues that have yet to be resolved.”

“What issues, Zaxson?”

“Now that the temple’s restoration is complete, we can begin populating the offices and dorter.”

“The—the dorter?”

“The dorter is for High Priest Nzuri’s new heldings. I’m pleased that two dozen have arrived from the cities and villages.”

“Yes,” Nzuri agreed. “Lord de Braose, you previously held a position in the temple tending the Cha’s financial records. From what I’m told, you held this position longer than anyone else. Both the Zaxson and his brothers have spoken highly of your character and your competence. With such high praise, I believe you’re the best candidate to fill this unoccupied position. You can select the office of your choosing and hire an assistant, if need be.”

Perrin was astonished. “You’re offering me a position in the temple?”

“Why would we not?” Pentanimir said. “Never have your abilities or integrity ever been in doubt. My father respected you, and I’ve never forgotten that you challenged Draizeyn’s ruling when he’d thrown Jabrail Qureshi in the cells.”

“What say you, Father?” Beilzen asked when Perrin didn’t respond.

“Yes,” Perrin said, barely containing his surprise. I—I’d be honored. Thank you for this opportunity.”

“I thank you for your acceptance. Loyalties are in question, and it’s difficult to find those we can trust. Just as with your son, I’m pleased to count you among them.”

“Thank you, Zaxson,” the men said in tandem.

“Now, if you’d excuse me, I’m due in the audience hall,” Pentanimir said.

Beilzen and Perrin stood, bowing as the men left the room. They exited behind them, starting toward the nursery.

Perrin smiled, glancing at his son. After his allegiance with Oxilon, Perrin thought he’d lost him. That fear was almost brought into fruition after his torture in the dark chamber. But with the Vereux’ fall, Beilzen began to truly live. Perrin couldn’t have been prouder than he felt that very moment.

“What has your mind, Father?” Beilzen asked, halting.

“I’m thinking of how proud you’ve made me. I’ve always been proud of you, Beilzen, but it’s even more so now. You’re again the man that I nurtured and raised.”

“Had I only listened to you,” Beilzen said. “I wouldn’t have strayed from the man you knew.”

“No, my son. Without experiencing some hardships, we couldn’t appreciate the enormity of our blessings. I never want anyone to suffer as you did, but the past cannot be changed. It was through that suffering, that you found yourself. I’ll think of only this, and not the cruelty that brought you to this point.”

“I didn’t forswear or disregard your advice and guidance, Father. You were right, and I regret the pain I caused you. When you visited the citadel as I healed, I couldn’t express the sorrow I felt at your grief.”

“Yes. Seeing you grieve for me caused more pain than I could ever fathom. Mother died when I was but eight and we only had each other. You continued being both my mother and father, putting all your energies into me.

“Yet, neither my stature nor prowess matched the other boys my age. I was continuously belittled and mocked. Over the years, it festered, and I attempted to become something more, to alter who I was, who you’d raised me to be.

“I’m your only son, and I nearly lost everything ignoring your wisdom and guidance. Not until learning about Fáelán did I begin to realize the depth of your love and your pain. Like you, I didn’t inflict the harm upon Fáelán, but knowing that it happened and being powerless to stop it, grieves a father like none other. I’m sorry for causing such pain for you.”

“No, I should’ve been more understanding. You are my son, and I was proud of your accomplishments. However, I wasn’t the one enduring the slights and mistreatment. I wanted you to see yourself as I did, but it’s difficult when others constantly force you to see something to the contrary. Their words sting and linger like the bite of one hundred vipers. I should’ve been more sensitive to that.”

Beilzen nodded, biting back his emotion. “Would you like to join me for noon meal in the hall? I’d like you to stay a while longer.”

“Are you certain that the Zaxson would allow it?”

“I am. Fáelán enjoys dining in the hall anytime that we’re able. He’s in the nursery now with Dalia. In fact, Allister d’Garrion should be dining with us as well.”

“Yes, he’s accepted a position, too. He’s still mourning the loss of his daughter, and the Zaxson hopes that this interaction will help with his healing. Hushar has been integral with the furtherance of his recovery. In truth, she’s invaluable to everyone here, especially me. After some of my past behavior, I didn’t think she or any of the Benoists would be forgiving.”

“Hushar? The former citadel attendant?”

“Yes. Temian and Thalassa are her children with Manifir Benoist.”

“Oh, yes. Yes. I remember. So much has happened, Beilzen, and it’s difficult to recall such details.

“Hushar, I remember well from years past. She’s always been a remarkable woman, despite the atrocities committed by our former leaders.” He sighed. “I think I that I will join you in the hall. Mayhaps I’ll have the opportunity to speak with Hushar.”

“I’m sure she’d welcome that.”

Shyla couldn’t respond, collapsing into his arms, and crying uncontrollably. Aronin drew her into him, understanding that he alone held the woman upright. He moved to the divan, sitting down to console her.

“He’s resting now,” a voice called from across the room.

“Shyla sent a message to the citadel, too,” Jarin said. “Once Eithrig described his attackers, it was prudent for her to do so.”

“There were three, according to Eithrig. He’ll be able to tell us more once he wakes. After the healer tended his wounds, he gave Eithrig some dream wine to help him rest.”

“If he was attacked, what about Shyla and their son? What are you doing to protect them?” Aronin asked.

“The stationed guards will remain. Until we know more, we intend to keep them well protected.”

Aronin nodded, raising Shyla’s face to his. “We’ll find the people responsible. This, I promise.”

“Mayhaps Shyla should see the healer as well, Aronin. She needs to rest, and there isn’t anything more that we can do, for now. Besides, my father wanted to see you at the citadel.”

“He’s right, Shyla,” Aronin said. “Get some rest and I’ll return on the morrow. You can do Eithrig little good if you’re tired.”

She nodded, standing and then moving down the corridor.

After leaving instructions for the guards, Jarin and Aronin retrieved their mounts, making their way back to the citadel.

“What did Eithrig tell you about his assailants?” Aronin asked.

“Not much,” Jarin said. “Guards found him naked and trussed in the filth of the lowers. At first glance, they thought him to be a derelict, but as they approached, Eithrig was regaining consciousness. They immediately called for the cart and returned him to his home. After which, Shyla asked them to fetch you and sent a rider here.”

“From where was he abducted?” Aronin asked.

“They took him after he left the market. Once Eithrig was out of sight of the tower, the men abducted him and threw him in the cart.”

Aronin’s jaw clenched. “What men?”

“Apparently, they kept their faces shielded, and not even their voices rang familiar,” Jarin said. “But he did recognize one man. It was Molag, and he was ordering the others.”

“Molag?” Urdan and Aronin blurted in unison.

Jarin nodded. “Molag Bomgaard has returned to Yarah, it seems. He had his men torture Eithrig.”

“Torture?” Aronin said. “By the gods, Jarin, why?”

“Molag wanted information regarding the men seen moving toward Nazil,” Jarin said.

“The Zaxson hasn’t told us hardly anything about the warriors. Why, then, would they abduct Eithrig?”

“Because of you and your ties to the white city. It’s no secret that you and Eithrig are close. Molag must’ve believed that you were privy to the information.”

“What?” Aronin stood, exasperated. “Eithrig said this?”

“He did. They repeated the same questions, beating him when the replies weren’t satisfactory.”

Aronin lowered to his seat, shaking his head. His hands were balled into fists, digesting the new information and the possible implications. He never wanted Eithrig involved in this. Now, because of their friendship, he’d been brutalized.

Urdan poured some liquor, setting a glass down in front of Aronin. He gulped it down quickly, and then accepted another.

“What did that bastard do to him?” Aronin asked, finally.

“Would knowing make this any easier?” Urdan asked.

“I’m going to see Eithrig on the morrow. Before I do, I’ll know what that hedgeborn codpiece had done to him.”

Urdan sighed, motioning to his son as he poured another drink.

“Eithrig won’t be able to face you,” Jarin said. “The skin on his back is all but gone due to the lash.”

Aronin’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “He’s a highborn son of Yarah and that yaldson Molag dared to lash him?”

“That and more, I’m afraid. One of Eithrig’s eyes is completely swollen shut. The healer feels that the damage might be irrevocable.

“Four of his fingers are broken, and mayhaps, his leg. Until the swelling subsides, we won’t know for certain.

“Due to numerous contusions, the healer shaved Eithrig’s head. Thus far, there’s no permanent damage, but his healing won’t be swift. It’s a blessing that he survived at all.”

Aronin couldn’t stop his tears of rage. He pushed to stand, pacing around the room.

“Have you sent word to Pentanimir?”

“Not as yet,” Urdan said. “I plan to do so on the morrow once we’ve spoken to Eithrig. The Zaxson warned us about Molag’s possible return. Now, we know he’s here, and more dangerous than before.”

“No one has seen him?” Aronin asked, leaning on the table.

“No one who’ll admit it. One of the guards saw someone fitting his description entering the Wheelhouse not long ago. After Eithrig was discovered, the guards returned, but Molag wasn’t there.”

“Are they still searching for him, Urdan? He must still be in the village.”

“Of course. When he’s found, they’ll bring him to the citadel. But from what Pentanimir said, there’s some influential men aiding Molag now. He’s to be feared.”

“No,” Aronin said. “He’s to be found.”

Jarin moved between them, hoping to end the tension, but before he could intervene, a knock sounded on the door. He raised a hand to the men, moving to open it.

“Gwendolyn? Why are you here? I told you that I’d be in conference with my father.”

“Beg pardon,” she said. “I just needed to see you.”

Jarin pressed his lips together, stifling the coming retort. After learning about the attack, both his mother and Gwendolyn feared him going out. Coming here was a means for her to ensure he was safe.

After taking a steadying breath, he raised her hand to his lips. “Why don’t you wait for me in my chambers. Once our meeting is concluded, I’ll join you there.”

“Yes. I won’t be long. Have a bath drawn and await me there.”

“Yes, husband,” Gwendolyn said, moving down the corridor with her guard.

“Your wife worries, Jarin, and grows tired of being alone in her bed.”

“None of us are free from worry,” Jarin said, closing the door. “Molag is a maniac and must be stopped before anyone else is harmed.”

“Agreed. Even so, you can’t neglect your wife. She doesn’t deserve such treatment.”

“Conversation for another time, Father. Our focus is finding Molag and his men. They’ve grown bold of late, and we must increase the guard.”

Aronin nodded. “We can do more than that.”

“If you have thoughts, share them,” Urdan said. “This violence must be ended.”

“If the men who traveled to Nazil are aiding the Zaxson, mayhaps he could station some here, too. Our guards are overwhelmed, and some might agree with Molag’s position. If the Zaxson could send twenty guards, we could capture Molag and learn about the others who are in league with him.”

“Aronin, those men are human. Making such a move could cause more harm than good. Let us first learn more about this attack from Eithrig. If we’re left with no other choice, I’ll consider speaking with the Zaxson. For now, it’s too soon for such rash actions.”

“Too soon?” Aronin nearly shouted. “Would you think the same if it was your son who was attacked?”

“Be calm, Lord Thaon,” Jarin said. “Both your tone and demeanor are bordering on disrespect. We know how close you are to Eithrig, but that doesn’t negate the respect you’ll offer to my father.”

Aronin took a deep breath, tempering his tone. “You’re right, and I apologize,” he said, pulling on his gloves. “Thinking about Molag roaming free while Eithrig lies suffering made me forget myself.”

“It’s understandable,” Urdan said. “We’ll find where Molag is hiding, and once we do, he’ll be facing the headsman’s ax.”

Only if you find him first, Aronin thought. “Thank you, Caretaker, Jarin,” he said. “The hour grows late, and my wife will worry if I don’t return soon. I’ll come on the morrow after visiting Eithrig.”

“Yes. Be safe, Lord Thaon. The streets of Yarah have become dangerous.”

Aronin inclined his head, swiftly leaving the room. When Jarin attempted the same, Urdan stopped him.

“Father, Gwendolyn is waiting,” he said, not wanting to hear his chiding.

“Indeed, she is. From what I’m told, she’s been doing so nearly every night since your bond.”

Jarin rolled his eyes. “Again, with this? Now you believe whispers of the citadel?”

“Those whispers ring with more truth than the confessions in the temple,” he said. “Jarin, I know that you didn’t want to wed, but Gwendolyn loves you. She’s a beautiful young woman who wants nothing more than to please her husband. Why can’t you even try to return those feelings?”

“Just because I prefer my own chambers doesn’t mean that I don’t lay with my wife. I’ve gone to her several times and then returned to my bed. I’ve married who you wanted and the conditions in Faélondul have worsened, not gotten better. I could’ve wed Lady Voney, and the result would be the same. Instead, she married some lowborn ex-priest from Noraa.”

“Don’t speak so. The Four have blessed you with a wonderful wife. If you’d stop comparing her with Sahma Voney, mayhaps you’d realize this. You’re not a child, Jarin, not anymore. Had you wed Sahma, I’m certain things would be worse, especially in Yarah. Gwendolyn is a good match. Don’t judge her against the perfection you perceive in Sahma. It isn’t fair to her or to your marriage.”

Urdan rested a hand on his shoulder. “Jarin, there’s too much danger and uncertainty surrounding us, and I fear that more is coming before we see the end of this. Enjoy the love and comfort of your wife. Allow your heart to open and you’ll find yourself caring for her, mayhaps even more than you have for Sahma. Don’t continue in your misery.”

Jarin nodded, as they left the solar. His mind couldn’t stay on Molag or Eithrig. Sahma occupied his thoughts. And it was she that he would envisage as he made love to his wife.

Ceron chuckled, tossing the ball back to the boys as she leaned on her elbows. Spending this time with Raithym caused her to think more about her own son. It had been years since Draizeyn had forced him from her arms, selling him to the highest bidder. At that time, she didn’t think she’d recover, but her grief hadn’t mattered to the former leaders.

The same night they’d taken her son away, Draizeyn called for her and Symeon. The memories of those violations still haunted her at times, but it was comforting to walk the corridors now, knowing she was free.

She looked at the boys again, thinking about her son. Ceron recalled every detail of his face, and how he favored his father. A small smile creased her lips then. He’d been the only man that she’d loved…that she still loved, and he was forever gone.

Braydon , she thought, slowly closing her eyes. Ceron focused on that image, on the sounds that he made when he laughed. He was her only son, and she needed some way to find him. Even knowing where he’d been taken was little consolation. The slaves were freed after the war, but what about the children? If no one came to claim them, would they remain in servitude?

Ceron didn’t have any answers, but she intended to find her son. If Braydon was alive, she was going to bring him to Nazil with her.

“What has yer mind?” Micah asked, nudging her shoulder.

Ceron flinched. “No—nothin’ much. I’m just thinkin’ on some things.”

“I’m seein’ that. What things?”

“Nothin’ really, I’m just enjoyin’ playin’ with my boys.”

“You mean Raithym.”

She smiled, watching Raithym chasing Ayrmeis around the garden. “He ain’t the only one, but my Rai-Rai’s special fer sure.”

“We been knowin’ that from the beginnin’. You and Zeta was always close. It’s fit’n that the same would be with her son.”

“I guess so. I’m just hopin’ he’ll be all right. They ain’t told me much ‘bout anythin’ concernin’ these changes, but this ain’t natural. I’m just glad I get to spend some extra time with him since he’s growin’ up so fast.”

“I’m not knowin’, either, but he’s seems fine to me. Well, other than his age, that is. If’n he was ail’n, Zeta never would’a ask ya to watch him while she went to Noraa. All this gots somethin’ to do with them Guardians, I hear.”

“I heard the same. Still, folks been plenty worried ‘round here lately.” She turned on her side, propping up on an elbow. “You seen them new guards? Jasidri, I think they’s called.”

“You can’t miss ‘em. They just glare at ya when ya pass like they’re just waitin’ fer ya to do somethin’.”

She chuckled. “I like ‘em bein’ here. They remind me of Symeon, just not as handsome. They’s from the same place, you know? Symeon said it’s called K’ohshul.”

“Symeon? Ya—ya still, I mean, is he…” Micah sighed, trying to mask his disappointment. “I didn’t think ya talked to him much anymore.”

“I don’t get a chance to much. He’s been busy or gone somewheres, but I see him from time to time.”

Micah slid closer, clearing his throat. “Well, there’s some things I’d like to do if’n ya want. I—I been thinkin’ ‘bout what ya said a bit ago, and—and I’d like to take ya to that market. If’n they’s got that cloth yer wantin’ we can get some while we’s there.”

“Ya mentioned it afore and—and I didn’t have no coin then. But I’ve been savin’ up, and I’d like to get it if’n you’d like.”

“Really, Micah?” she said, sitting up. “That’s sweet, but I can’t—”

“Ceron!” Raithym said, running and ducking behind her. He dodged left and right, clutching onto her shoulders. “He’s trying to hit me with the ball!”

Ayrmeis laughed, running toward them. “You hit me first, Raithym. Come back over here!”

“All right, you two, that’s ‘bout ‘nough,” Ceron said, giggling as they circled around her, causing Micah to fall over.

She grabbed Raithym around his waist, tickling him into submission. Ayrmeis attacked then, pouncing on top of him.

“It’s not fair!” Raithym laughed. “It’s two against one. Micah, help me!”

Micah laughed, beginning to tickle Ayrmeis until he ceased his attack. As they rolled across the grass, Micah hit something hard.

“Sir—Sir Yego,” Micah said, struggling to stand. “We’s didn’t know ya was there.”

Ceron smiled, straightening her hair. “Symeon, did—did you need me for somethin’?”

Symeon returned her smile, inclining his head. “Ceron, Micah, I didn’t mean to interrupt your time. I came to retrieve Ayrmeis for his training.”

When Ceron’s smile faded, Symeon offered out his hand, helping her up. “However, if you’d like, I could meet you for a while after.”

“Come, Ayrmeis. We have much to do.”

“Yes, sir Yego,” Ayrmeis said, taking a place beside him. “I’ll get you later, Raithym.”

“Not if I get you first!”

“Excuse us,” Symeon said, leading Ayrmeis from the garden.

Micah stared at Ceron, watching the two leave.

“Ceron,” Raithym said, bringing her back to the moment. “Do you have any sweets for me?”

“Oh, Rai-Rai.” She smiled. “I’ll always have sweets for ya.”

“I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed walking in the garden, and I appreciate you accepting the invitation.”

“The pleasure is mine, truly. The citadel gardens are lavish, but I think I prefer it here. I love the peace and privacy.” She smiled. “And the company, of course.”

“As do I. In times past, I used to come here often, but with so much darkness surrounding us, it seemed to lose all beauty.”

“That’s when you should’ve planted more colorful blossoms: creating your own beauty in a land nearly devoid of it.”

“Mayhaps once the cold season is fully behind us, it’s a project that we can share, I mean, if you’d like to join me.”

“I would, Perrin. I love taking care of the children in the citadel, but having time for myself is much needed. Especially when the company is so pleasant.”

His smile grew. Perrin enjoyed her company, as he would’ve years past. In her youth, Hushar had been stunning. Her olive complexion, raven hair, and hazel eyes were beautiful. They were still beautiful. Howbeit, his attraction to her was far beyond physical beauty. Hushar had always been a special woman, and he realized that even more now. At that, he glanced over at her again.

“When will Beilzen return?” she asked.

“Not for some time. He and Dalia should arrive before evening meal. Why do you ask?”

“Is Lydia on an errand or here?”

Perrin’s brow creased. “She’s here.”

“Oh. I thought that we were alone.”

He paused, trying not to misinterpret her statements. He didn’t want to assume anything, or allow his desire to taint his perception.

“There—there are some items we need from the market. Lydia could retrieve them now if you’d like some privacy.”

“I do,” she said, softly.

Perrin blushed, his body tingling with the vivid thoughts assailing his mind. Whatever she wanted at that moment, he’d willingly provide.

“I’ll send her right away,” he said, ushering Hushar through the doors and leading her to the divan. Moments later, both Perrin and Lydia entered. Hushar watched as his attendant donned her cloak, leaving them alone.

After latching the door, Perrin ran his suddenly trembling fingers through his hair.

“Is—is there something that you wanted to discuss privately?” he asked, taking a seat beside her. “I’ve given Lydia leave to visit with her family after retrieving what’s needed from the market. We shouldn’t be disturbed.”

Hushar slid closer, taking his hand in hers. She understood his reaction to not only her, but also the boldness of her request. It was obvious that he was attracted to her, and that was intriguing. Perrin was one of the few Nazilians that she’d ever consider pursuing a relationship with. After her recent breakdown over Manifir’s betrayal and her enslavement, Hushar hadn’t been certain that she’d ever be interested in such closeness again.

But Perrin was dissimilar from even Allister. She wanted to truly know him, and begin enjoying her life again.

Leaning in closer, Hushar softly touched her lips to his. Unlike Allister, Perrin appeared more diffident toward her advances. Hushar thought she understood why, and appreciated the restraint. The first intimacies she and Allister shared were more for comfort than satisfaction. However, those intimacies had awakened that part of her again, and she intended on savoring each moment, as she had in her youth.

“Perrin, I think you know that I’m attracted to you,” she began. “Neither of us is young nor naïve. However, I have to be honest with you. Allister d’Garrion and I have grown close, and I don’t intend upon discontinuing our relationship. Not now. He’s still healing, and needs me at his side.

“Know that when I’m with you, there’s only you. Allister is more of a special friend, but my attraction for you is much deeper.”

Perrin nodded, already considering that much to be true. In truth, he had no right to protest. He’d been aware of Allister and Hushar’s relationship when he’d contemplated his own.

“Do you love Allister?”

“I do, but not as you might think. Allister is special to me, Perrin, just as you are. Can you accept my relationship with Allister while we begin to build our own?”

Perrin forced a smile. “I—I wish your heart could be mine alone, but I understand that it’s too soon for such commitments. I’ve spent years considering…well, hoping…wanting.” He sighed. “Regardless of anything or anyone else, I won’t forswear any relationship that we might share.”

“Nor will I,” Hushar said, drawing him in for a kiss.

Perrin returned her affections, desperately trying to control the placement of his hands. As she slid her hand down his torso, caressing, he leaned away, meeting her eyes.

“My—my chamber?” he asked, hoping her intimate touch gave hint to her desire.

Hushar nodded, standing from the divan. Perrin accepted her outstretched hand, leading her down the corridor. Conflicting thoughts swirled through his mind, and he could barely contain his anxiety once they entered his room.

After securing the door, he turned, seeing Hushar approaching his bed. He swallowed hard, realizing what was to come and with whom.

“You—you’re certain?”

Hushar motioned him toward her, unclasping her top. He wouldn’t take the initiative, allowing Hushar to decide what was next to come. When she reached for his laces, that was confirmation of her desire…and his.

Perrin kissed her again before moving to her side. “I’ve desired you for so long,” he said, breathlessly. “Not just to make love to you, Hushar, but all of you. Every part that you’re willing to share with me.”

“Not since Manifir have I felt like this.” Hushar took a steadying breath, rising to an elbow. “How—”

“Because not since Manifir has anyone wanted to please you like I do.” Perrin gently pushed her to the bed, moving over her. “Or like I’m going to do again.”