part0023

Guards pressed themselves against the walls as Pentanimir and Symeon ran past. They continued their rapid pace, with Symeon glancing at Pentanimir from the corner of his eye.

Ever since they’d received the missive from Yarah, the Zaxson hadn’t been himself. Symeon had seen a range of emotions from him since his time as First Chosen, but never anything like this.

Anger or despondency, he could understand, but this was something more. Symeon feared that Eithrig’s attack had penetrated too deeply. Not due to any affinity Pentanimir held toward the man, though Eithrig was certainly respected. It was more the escalation of events that Pentanimir felt helpless to prevent.

Nazil needed a great leader, but Pentanimir’s empathy was beginning to supersede his perspicacity. In this, both were needed, and Symeon had to discover a way to remind Pentanimir of the same.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed your time,” Pentanimir said, taking the steps three at a time.

“This takes precedence, Zaxson. We’ll need to plan a strategic response to this latest attack. However, we must be sagacious. Molag is certainly expecting some response. If not, he wouldn’t have abducted someone who openly supports you, and is a friend to your family. Moving with haste could be detrimental.”

Pentanimir paused, catching his breath. “You may be right, but we must act. Molag isn’t merely a danger to my family, he’s a threat to all Faélondul. This attack was deliberate, and I’m going to ensure that he answers for it.”

“On this, we both agree. Urdan Swayne has assigned most of his guard to locate and apprehend Molag.”

“He has, but they haven’t been successful. People are protecting this murderer because of their disdain for me. They don’t understand what Molag is or the evil that’s inside of him. Mayhaps if I traveled to Yarah myself. I could—”

“I can’t allow that, Zaxson,” Symeon said, respectfully. “As head of your personal guard, I’d have to advise against it. That might be exactly the response that Molag hopes to provoke in you.

“Your greatest strength doesn’t lie in your prowess as a Chosen, your integrity, or your leadership. None of that would matter if your mind and heart weren’t aligned. Listen to your heart, but use your mind to consider all your options. What could be gained by your presence in Yarah?”

Pentanimir took a deep breath, meeting Symeon’s eyes.

“Now consider what could be lost.” Symeon rested a hand on his shoulder. “Everything.”

“All right,” Pentanimir relented. “But we must respond. First, they attacked my family, then the d’Garrions, Nigel and the Cha. It’s too much, Symeon. Nikolina was no less than murdered by this—this creature. Molag must be found, and soon.”

“I agree, but there are other ways to proceed. We know that he has some powerful allies, correct?”

“Yes, but that means little. Without knowing who they are, we’re no closer to apprehending him.”

“I’m not suggesting that we search for his allies, I’m suggesting that we appeal to his common followers. These are the men he uses as fodder for his attacks. And these are the men that could be persuaded to betray him.”

Pentanimir’s eyes narrowed, darting back and forth. “How so?”

“A reward. We could post some proclamations asking for information. I’m certain that at least a few of these men would gladly trade their allegiance for gold.”

Pentanimir nodded. “I agree. From what’s been reported, these men are probably from the lowers. We need but one to provide us with useful information.”

“Indeed, but I feel we’ll have more than one wanting to claim the reward.”

“That would solve one issue in Yarah, but what about Nazil? Ladir is the only guard that we know who’s in league with Molag. He insists that he’s not aware of any other, but the word from Yarah speaks to the contrary. There are guards here in the citadel plotting their treachery.”

“Mayhaps Nigel will be more forthcoming,” Symeon said. “He was the Cha’s main liaison, and recruited Ladir to his cause. He could be persuaded to supply a list of the guards who were receptive to his rhetoric.”

Pentanimir grinned, continuing down the hall. “He could, at that. Do you know his current status?”

“Temian reported that Nigel has begun eating solid foods. He’ll be well enough to be released soon, but it wouldn’t be in our best interest to do so.”

“No, I have no plans to release him now. Not only could it jeopardize our efforts, but his safety is in question. If anyone learned of his assistance to us, he could find a sword in his back. Nigel was a swordsman of some skill, but with his injuries, he couldn’t defend against a child.”

“You speak true,” Symeon said, pushing open the doors of the meeting hall.

“Forgive our tardiness,” Pentanimir said. “We have some pertinent business to discuss.”

“That’s all we’ve had of late, Brother,” Thalassa said, filling their cups.

“It is, and I’ve grown weary of it. However, we knew that this transition wouldn’t be immediate or simple.” Pentanimir sipped his wine, and then brought the meeting to order. “Temian, how’s the construction of the new towers proceeding?”

“Slowly. The ground is beginning to thaw, but the cold season isn’t at an end. We’ve followed Nzuri’s map and found the openings, but the snow was deep in most of the locations. The men managed to uncover and locate the entrances, but I wouldn’t recommend surveying them until the cold has passed.”

“I tend to agree. Once the towers are in place, I’d like the Jasiri to man them. Is that acceptable, Uzon Osei?”

“We’ve come to assist, Zaxson. If you feel the Jasiri a better choice for the towers, it will be so.”

“I do. Your men are invaluable to Nazil. If they man the towers, they won’t miss any coming threat. In fact, they’d quell the threat before it could even manifest.”

“You honor us, Zaxson.”

“I speak only the truth. This, I must remind my First Chosen of often,” Pentanimir said, glancing at Symeon.

“Uzon, Ahvixx mentioned an elixir of sorts that you administered to Ayrmeis.”

“I did. It’s the essence of the isle. All warriors partake of it in their youth. Ayrmeis might appear mostly Nazilian, but his heart is that of the Jasiri. If he’s to be trained as a warrior, so must he partake in the rituals associated with it.”

Pentanimir looked bemused, turning to regard Symeon.

“It’s from the natural spring of the Xatari Mountains,” Symeon said. “The waters there are blessed by the eldest priest, Drah’kuu Malachi, and combined with various herbs and roots. Each year, barrels are buried in the sacred temple grounds and remain for four seasons. Only then may one partake of the essence. We do so during our rituals until reaching the age of amzi . All warriors ingest the essence, just as we now receive the nectar of the beasts.”

“Will there be enough for Ayrmeis to continue?”

“Yes,” Uzon Osei said. “I’ve brought enough for the next three seasons.”

“I’m grateful, Uzon.”

“Nzuri,” Pentanimir continued. “I’d like you to send a message to Yarah on the morrow. We are offering five-hundred gold pieces for information leading to Molag’s capture.”

“Five-hundred?” Danimore asked. “A third should be more than enough.”

“Perhaps, but we need to convey the seriousness of his apprehension.”

“I’ll make it so,” Nzuri said. “There have also been several men asking to join the temple. They’re Nazilian.”

“Nazilians would join the temple of the Guardians? What are their names?”

“That, they didn’t share with my helding. They should return at midday in two suns.”

“Keep me informed, Nzuri. There are many moving parts, and we can’t afford to overlook even the smallest detail.”

“Yes, Zaxson. We also received a bird from Noraa,” Nzuri said. “Aizen and Droxahn plan to visit Nazil.”

“At the first full warming. They’ll be traveling with Emet and his promised, Maisha.”

“Your brother’s getting married?” Temian asked.

“Indeed. They plan to do so during the planting season.”

“This is much welcomed news.” Pentanimir smiled. “I’ll look forward to celebrating their bonding.”

“How are Allister’s and Perrin’s transitions?” Pentanimir asked.

“They’ve done well,” Temian said. “But for reasons I’ve yet to discern, both men spend far too much time in my mother’s company.”

“I think you know full well why.” Thalassa chuckled. “It would seem Mother has admirers here in Nazil.”

Temian nearly scowled, causing more than one in the room to snicker.

“With that, I think we should adjourn for the day,” Pentanimir said, still chuckling. “I’ve promised my First Chosen some much-needed time with his wife.”

“Thank you, Zaxson,” Symeon said.

Symeon was the last to exit the hall. Although he wanted to be with Sarai, he was apprehensive about what to say to her.

Recently, they hadn’t had much time together, and with his extended duties, they’d have even less. He continuously weighed what he needed to say against what he wanted to.

The more the thoughts cascaded through his mind, the slower his pace became. Soon, he stopped, looking down the long corridor. After a few moments, Symeon turned, heading in the opposite direction.

When he entered the nursery, his suspicions were confirmed. Sarai sat holding the now four-year-old Ayrmeis. When he giggled, kissing Sarai’s cheek, Symeon stepped forward, staring down at them.

Although most of Ayrmeis’ features were Nazilian, it didn’t seem to matter. When he was first born, he’d looked much like his mother. Now, with the age progression, his features began to change. But Symeon didn’t register those changes, not internally. When he looked at Ayrmeis, he saw only the son that he should’ve had.

“First Chosen,” Hushar said, shaken. “Uhm…I didn’t know that you were coming.” She looked at Sarai, reaching for Ayrmeis’ hand. “Please excuse us,” she continued, ushering Tardison and Raithym along to the adjoining room.

“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Sarai. Ayrmeis is your son, and you love him. Your heart cannot withstand such a separation, and I felt this from the beginning. He’ll always be a part of you.”

“Not any longer,” she lamented, accepting his embrace. “Can’t anyone else prepare Ayrmeis? Is this a burden that you alone must bear?”

“This is no burden to me. I was honored when the AsZar asked me to prepare Ayrmeis. We do share a connection, Sarai, just as he shares with you.”

“But what about this babe?” she asked, resting his hand on her rounded womb.

“I’ll love it just as I love its mother. When will you believe? My obligations to Ayrmeis won’t hinder or change the love of our coming child. How could you think so?”

“I—I’ve seen you with him, with Ayrmeis. It’s not merely his preparation. There’s something more between you.”

“I won’t deny that, but neither can you.”

“You’re not angry that I spend so much time with him?”

Symeon couldn’t help but laugh, scooping her up in his arms. “Ayrmeis is your son. Had circumstances been different, he’d be mine as well. Whatever bond you share with him should be nurtured and cherished. There’s too much hate surrounding us to not allow true love to flourish.”

Hushar smiled, overhearing their conversation. As she knelt in front of Ayrmeis, she gently stroked his cheek.

“Sarai loves you very much.”

“Yes, little one. Momma.”

Allister removed his spectacles, setting the parchment aside. He appreciated his new position in the temple, although the work was tedious. He needed something to keep his mind off Nikolina and how she’d looked when last he’d seen her.

The images disturbed his sleep, and Allister’s appearance spoke much of that. His only joy was visiting his grandson and spending time with Hushar. He was beginning to heal, but much lay ahead.

“Are you certain, Dalinda?”

“But you said that she was from Yarah?”

“That’s what she said.”

Allister shook his head, moving toward his wardrobe. “A human? From Yarah?” He sighed. “All right, show her to the solar, and bring a tray. I’ll be there shortly.”

Once she’d left, Allister changed his tunic, and brushed his thinning hair. After glimpsing himself in the mirror, he went to meet his guest.

When Allister entered the solar, he was surprised. Not only was the woman human, but also familiar to him.

“Sir d’Garrion.” She curtsied.

“Yes. Nena? Is that correct?”

“It is, milord.”

“Please, please sit, Nena. Or should I address you as ‘my lady’.”

“No, milord, I’m no lady. I used to serve in Yarah.”

“For whom did you serve?” he asked, motioning to the divan.

“I served the home of Lady Rosemary Blalock.”

His eyes widened, scrutinizing her closely. “Rosemary?”

“Yes, milord. For the past fifteen years.”

“This is why you seem familiar. You served my daughter’s home?”

“I did, but no longer. Twice I’ve served you in milady’s home.”

“Is she doing well, did she send you?”

“Lady Blalock is quite well, but she didn’t send me.”

Allister took a deep breath, trying to hide his apprehension. After Nikolina’s death, he’d sent a message to both his daughters, but neither had come to visit. His eldest, Catherine, had sent a message, but he’d heard nothing since.

“Why then have you come?”

“After the laws were in place, I decided to end my service,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “Lord Blalock’s attentions have been aimed toward me of late. I felt it would be better to find another home to serve.”

“What’s that to mean?”

“I just thought it best to leave. Your daughter spoke about you often during my time in her service. Both times you visited her home, you were courteous to the servants. That isn’t something easily forgotten.”

“I see, but I fail to understand what this has to do with me. I’d think you’d want to rejoin your family. I’m at a loss as to why you chose to come here.”

“I lost my mother many years ago, and have no other family that I know of. I’ve only known Yarah, milord.”

Allister considered that, finally understanding. “Nena, I already have an attendant for my home. It’s only me here, and Dalinda has served my family for years.”

“I—I don’t need any coin, milord, only a place to sleep. I’m able to do more than just tend the house, and even know how to read. Your daughter ensured that we learned how to communicate proper.

“I could even help in the stable or go to the market. I know that I can help here if you’d allow. Please, I don’t have any place, and used all my coin to buy passage to Nazil.”

He sighed. “Have you thought about the temple? They’re in need of attendants to cook and clean for the priests. When I take leave on the morrow, you can accompany me. The High Priest, Nzuri, might be able to find a place for you. For now, I’ll take you to the kitchen. Dalinda will show you to a room and a place where you can bathe.”

“Thank you, milord.”

Nena folded and stacked the linens, gathering them up in her arms. As she continued down the corridor, she thought about her conversation with Allister. He’d ensured her that she was his guest, but she didn’t feel comfortable sitting idle.

As she passed Allister’s study, she paused, hearing a soft groan as he massaged his temples. She started away, but then stopped, tapping on his open door.

“Beg pardon, milord. I don’t mean to interrupt, but it looks like you’re having some pain,” she said, stepping into the room.

“It’ll pass. Dalinda has gone to fetch what I need.”

Nena set the linens down, taking a position behind him. “Allow me,” she said, gently massaging his scalp. Before he could protest, he moaned, his head lolling as she deftly continued her work.

Nena’s fingers glided over his temples, and then down his neck before sliding up to his scalp again.

“Oh, that’s divine, Nena. Your fingers work miracles,” he murmured, feeling the pain ease.

“When I was young, my mother suffered from horrible headaches. At times, I’d have to massage her half the day. When I was older, I started using oils and extracts that aided in her relaxation. I have some in my bag. If you’d like, I could get them for you.”

Allister’s eyes blinked open. “Oh…well…no. I appreciate it, Nena, but you’ve done quite enough. The pain is all but gone, and Dalinda will return soon. You don’t serve here, and I—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “But you’ve given me a place for the evening. The least I could do is to help relieve your pain. Please, I’d like to help.”

Allister sighed, nodding reluctantly.

“Thank you, milord. I’ll put the linens away and then get my bag. Which bedchamber is yours?”

“Bedchamber?” His head snapped up.

“Yes. You’ll need to remove your top and lie down on the bed. The massage works best if I can move down your shoulders and lower back. You’ll see. After I’ve begun, you’ll never want it to end.” She smiled, moving out the room.

Allister stared out the door, shaking his head. As her footfalls became distant, he pushed up from the chair, and headed to his room.

After opening the door as wide as it would go, he removed his tunic, and sat on the edge of his bed. He wasn’t certain what her motives were, and grew more anxious with each passing moment. He hoped that this wasn’t some attempt at seduction in order to gain his favor. He’d been manipulated and used enough, and his relationship with Hushar was too important to jeopardize. Although neither of them was ready for a permanent situation, he valued their friendship and the time they spent together.

“Milord,” Nena said, approaching the bed. “Do these hurt?”

Allister flinched, feeling her hands gliding over his chest. He’d forgotten about the scarring still present from his past abuse.

“No. Not anymore.”

“I could mix a salve for you. It would take some time, but the scars will begin to fade.”

“Mayhaps,” he said, forcing the best smile that he could. Talking about his scars, brought forth memories that he didn’t want to think about. He was finally starting to mend, and wanted to focus on the future. Not the past.

“Where do you need me to be?”

Nena pointed to the middle of the bed, removing supplies from her bag. Once Allister had lain down, she raised up her dress, straddling his waist. He tensed, staring up at her until she rubbed oil into her palms, beginning his massage.

“That smell,” he said, inhaling. “I know that smell.”

“Yes. I boil many herbs and roots for the oil. Mainly, there’s lavender, citrus, and geranium. That’s probably what you smell.”

“Yes…yes.” He smiled. “The lavender is my favorite. My late wife scented her water and hair. Our bed always smelled of lavender.”

“I can prepare some lavender essence to use in your wash and bath. Your linens would smell of it, and relax you into sleep.”

“I’d like that very much. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she said, moving to his side. “I need you on your stomach.”

Allister said nothing, turning over in the bed. He closed his eyes, enjoying the scented oils and her relaxing massage.

When his eyes opened again, he was alone.

“Nena?” he said, wiping the weariness from his eyes. Allister rose up, looking around the empty room. Noticing the position of the sun, he quickly dressed, rushing to his solar.

“Pardons, Hushar,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek. “Forgive my tardiness.”

“It’s all right. Nena has been keeping me company. She mentioned that you were resting after your massage. Are you feeling better?”

He chuckled, nervously. “I am. I certainly didn’t intend upon falling asleep. I must’ve been more tired than I thought.”

“You needed the rest, Allister. I’m glad that she was able to assist you. Even your coloring looks better.”

“I feel better, too. Much stronger than I have in several full moons.”

“Will Nena be staying here with you?”

“No, I’m taking her to the temple on the morrow to meet with the High Priest. He might have a position for her there.”

“What about you?”

“Me? I have Dalinda. I don’t need another attendant.”

“I’m not talking about Nena staying as an attendant. She could remain here as a companion. From what she says, she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and she speaks very fondly of you.”

“She knows little and less about me, I assure.”

“Not true. You’re the reason she came to Nazil, Allister. She recalls how you treated the attendants when you visited Yarah. The way you dealt with them displeased your daughter, and she hasn’t forgotten that. Nena knows your character, and she admires that in you.”

“Rosemary’s mother didn’t approve of my acceptance and familiarity with humans, this is true.”

“Listen to me,” she said, taking his hand. “Allow Nena to stay for a while and learn more about her. She seems like a lovely young woman, and may be able to fill a void that you’re not even aware of.”

“I don’t know. I have no need—”

“The need is there. At least wait a few suns before escorting her to the temple. Having someone here to talk with could be beneficial. No, you don’t need another attendant, you need another friend.”

“The Associate Chancellor’s wife and son, and Lord and Lady Ahllendale,” he repeated.

Jarin’s eyes widened as his heart raced. “Please, show them in,” he said, standing and checking his appearance.

“Mayhaps I should meet with the envoys in private,” Urdan said. “Aren’t you supposed to accompany Gwendolyn to the gardens?”

“Gwendolyn can wait. The Zaxson doesn’t send emissaries to Yarah often. Would you have me offend our distinguished guests in order to placate my wife?”

“Jarin, you know that isn’t what I meant. This meeting with Lord de Braose and Lord Ahllendale is of great importance. However, Lady Ahllendale is where your interest lies. If you don’t want to escort Gwendolyn, so be it. Either way, I’d rather meet with the emissaries myself. Please send word for Aronin to join me.”

“You’d forbid me from attending this meeting?”

“And you’re aware of my reasoning. I’ll be sure to inform you of what we discuss. The Zaxson has a plan to capture Molag. That is our focus, not fawning over a lost love.”

“A lost love? She was stolen from me!” He was livid, wanting to say more, but the light taps on the door interrupted him.

Jarin greeted Beilzen and Ahvixx, though he no longer cared for Sahma’s dear friend . She was the last to enter the room, and he smiled, feeling a warmth consuming him.

“Lady Ahllendale,” he said, kissing her hand. “It’s been too long since we’ve been honored with your company.”

“Thank you, Lord Swayne. I’m pleased to be back in Yarah.”

Jarin nodded, leading her to a seat at the table. When he noticed his father’s stare, he quickly pulled out a chair for Dalia as well. “Lady de Braose, you’re looking beautiful as always.”

“Thank you, Lord Swayne,” she said, taking her seat.

“Chancellor, Lord Ahllendale—” Urdan gasped, wide-eyed.

“Forgive me, Caretaker,” Ahvixx said. “Please do not fear. It’s through the Guardians that I am as you see me now.”

Urdan nodded, trying to keep the fear from his visage. Swallowing hard, he shifted toward Beilzen. “Ch—Chancellor, the message we received was vague. The Zaxson has a plan to capture Molag?”

“He does,” Beilzen said, handing him the scroll tube. “Everything you need is there. The Zaxson will leave the implementation to you and your guards.” He paused, noticing Fáelán yawn. “If it’s no trouble, can our wives be shown to our chambers? Dalia would like to freshen and Fáelán tires.”

“Yes…yes, forgive me, Chancellor, of course. Allow me to call for our attendant and he—”

“I’d be happy to show you to your chambers,” Jarin interrupted.

“You’re not staying for the meeting?” Beilzen asked.

“No, Father asked me to inform Lord Thaon. After escorting our guests, I’ll have the guard retrieve him.”

Urdan flushed, doing well to mask his anger. He feigned a smile, offering a nod of assent. Though, the smug smirk Jarin wore didn’t escape Urdan’s notice.

“Are you certain that it’s no trouble?” Ahvixx asked.

For a moment, Jarin’s breath caught in his throat, feeling almost naked before the suddenly imposing man.

“It—it’s no trouble,” Jarin stammered.

Ahvixx smiled, taking Sahma’s hand. After leaning down for a kiss, he walked her to the door. “I promise to be with you soon.”

Jarin gave orders to the guards before escorting Dalia to her chamber. Once she was comfortable, he extended an arm to Sahma, leading her down the corridor.

“Would you like to visit the gardens?” he asked, waving his guards away.

“What about the snow?”

“When last you visited, you only saw two of our gardens. My mother has a private one on the upper level, and it’s as warm as it is beautiful.”

Sahma smiled. “I’d love to, Jarin.”

When they neared the citadel’s roof, he opened the door wide, allowing the fragrance of flowers to waft into the hall.

“This is gorgeous, Jarin. Your mother tends the garden alone?”

“The attendants assist at times, but this is my mother’s haven. She enjoys tending the flowers and bushes.”

“And the smells, it’s wonderful. To create such beauty.”

His heart beat quickened, watching her spin around the room. She appeared more a child at play than the woman that he loved. No, it wasn’t merely love, he was in love with her. His father was wrong. Sahma would’ve made a wonderful wife. Gwendolyn was beautiful, but she wasn’t Sahma.

“That beauty is only enhanced by your presence,” he said, closing the doors behind them.

She giggled, giving him a tight hug. “Thank you, Jarin, you always know how to make me smile.”

“There’s nothing more beautiful in all of Faélondul.” He gently slid a ringlet from her face, fighting the urge to kiss her. “We can stay as long as you’d like.”

“When you’re with me, Lady Sahma, all your desires will be met.” He bowed.

“I’ve missed you so much, Jarin. It seems like years since I’ve been able to see you.”

“It does. I remember the first time that I saw you. We were across from each other in the dining hall. I couldn’t stop looking at you then, just like now.”

“I noticed you looking at me. Couldn’t you tell?”

“I did. That’s why I asked to escort you to the garden. I wanted to learn everything about you, Sahma, and I didn’t want that night to end.”

“Neither did I. It was such a wonderful night.” Her smile grew, stroking the golden clasp on his cloak. “You looked quite handsome, Lord Swayne. Every detail was perfect: your trews, waistcoat, and cloak with black leather accents and gold piping. Even your hair was flawless. It’s grown longer now.”

“You remember what I was wearing?”

“I remember every detail of our first night together, and our time since.”

“I thought that only I looked fondly upon our time together. It’s precious to me, Sahma, just as you are.”

His eyes spoke much more than his words conveyed. Sahma knew he found her attractive, but she was sensing more now.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Jarin smiled, kissing her hand again. “I’m much better now. Your visit has helped me forget some of our troubles in Yarah and focus on the beauty of it.”

“There’s so much beauty here,” she said, looking around and missing his point.

Jarin never released her hand, leading her to the rear of the room. “Do you remember telling me about these?”

“The butterfly bush,” she said as a smile took in her entire face. “Of course, I remember, Jarin. Oh, they’re lovely, just lovely.”

“Not nearly as lovely as you,” Jarin said, moving her against the wall. “The night we met changed everything for me. I wanted to tell you how I felt, what I wanted, but I couldn’t. I’ve never met anyone like you, Sahma. Please, I’ve dreamed about this since first we met.”

Leaning down, he drew her in closer, covering her lips with his. When she pushed away, he met her eyes, caressing her cheek.

“Please, Sahma, just this once,” he said, kissing her again. She permitted the kiss for a moment, but when his tongue encircled hers, she gently pushed him away.

“I had to know. I had to.”

“Now do you see? I’m like any other woman. There’s no difference.”

“No. There isn’t anyone else like you. Never will there be,” he said, attempting to kiss her, but Sahma leaned away.

“Jarin, you have a beautiful wife, and I have Ahvixx. You’re dear to me, and I’ll always love you, but I’m in love with my husband. If things were different, I’d love you endlessly. But that isn’t the way.” ]

Jarin shook his head, kissing her again.

“Jarin?” Gwendolyn gasped, dropping her basket.

As Jarin spun around, his arousal was evident.

“Gwendolyn!” He glanced at Sahma, and then back to his wife. “It—it isn’t what you think, truly.”

“Your father said that you were escorting the guests to their chambers,” Gwendolyn said, as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I—I went looking for you and—and saw your personal guards. They said you were coming here. I thought you were waiting for me like you promised. I thought—”

“Beg pardon, Lady Swayne,” Sahma said, stepping forward. “Jarin was waiting for you. When he told me he was to meet you here, I asked if I could accompany him. I love the gardens, and with the cold season, I haven’t been able to visit.

“My husband is meeting with the Caretaker, and all of us are the dearest of friends. I was hoping that once you arrived, we’d finally be able to meet.” Sahma smiled, trying to remain composed. “I hope that you and I will become friends, too. Mayhaps we can dine together this evening. I know my husband is eager to meet you as well.”

Gwendolyn shook her head, looking at Jarin. “You were embracing her. I saw it.”

“Of course,” Sahma said, drawing her attention. “The fault was mine. Even the Zaxson can tell you about my propensity for hugs. It was merely a greeting for a friend that I hold dear to my heart.”

“A kiss of welcoming, nothing more. Just like this,” Sahma said, softly meeting the lips of the stunned woman. “Now, I should leave you to your privacy. Jarin mentioned how much he was looking forward to spending this time alone with you.

“Thank you again for sharing your mother’s garden with me, Lord Swayne. It’s beautiful.”

Pentanimir rose up in bed, feeling the place beside him empty. Wiping the weariness from his eyes, he looked across the room, seeing Brahanu standing in the entryway of the adjoining room.

Pentanimir slipped from the bed, enfolding her in his arms.

“They’re fine, Brahanu,” he said, kissing her neck. “I understand why you want to visit Cazaal, and it’s all right. We’ll take care of them in your absence. I understand, truly.”

“I don’t want to leave them, but I can’t bear it,” she said, turning to embrace him. “They’re our sons, Pentanimir, and yet not so. They should be at my breast, not in the practice chamber.”

He pulled her in tighter, understanding her grief. They didn’t have sufficient time to enjoy their sons as children, and soon they’d be men grown. He could offer nothing to ease her pain; he felt it too.

“I know, and I don’t blame you. After what you endured to bring Tardison forth, it’s understandable for you to feel a greater sense of loss with this acceleration. We’ve had him such a short while as a child, and now, he’s nearly a man grown.”

Pentanimir lifted her face to his, kissing her brow. “He’s still our son, Brahanu, regardless of anything else. He’s here with us. Both he and Ayrmeis are our sons.”

“I know, and my love for them hasn’t faded. We’ve overcome so much since first we met. All the lives that were lost and the suffering we’ve endure.” She shook her head. “Did I cause this? Did my choices, my selfishness bring us to this point?”

“No, Brahanu, no.” Pentanimir closed his eyes, holding her close. “Our love wasn’t a mistake or a curse. It was the catalyst for Faélondul’s liberation. Yes, we’ve lost those we loved and suffered through this war, but we’ve been blessed, too. We have our sons with us here. There are many others who can’t speak the same.”

“I just feel as if our happiness will be forever tainted.”

“I love you, Brahanu, and knowing that you return that loves brings me more joy than I’d ever hoped to experience. Whatever might come, that love will persevere.”

He led her to their bed, drawing her down on his chest. Not everything she’d said was wrong, and he lamented those truths.

As she wept in his arms, he thought about the attack on her caravan, and what the AsZar had revealed. He couldn’t bear the thought of being without her: in either life. The love they shared was everlasting, and it appeared that the turmoil in Faélondul would be the same.

After wiping away her tears, he kissed her tenderly. “I love you, Brahanu. Our sons have a purpose beyond our understanding, but the Guardians are here with each of us.

“I’m the Zaxson, but Tardison will be Faélondul’s true leader. We must prepare our children for what’s to come.”

“Yes, but they’re not children anymore. They’re almost men grown.”

“Whether eight and ten or one-hundred and ten, they’re still our sons. You need time away from Nazil, and I understand that. You’re not merely mourning due to our sons, you’re mourning the loss of your parents and Itai as well. I do understand,” he said, kissing her again.

“I—I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you from my side, but it’s needed. Being in your home will help with your healing, and I’ll ensure that you’re safe. Upon your return, I’d like us to take a trip together. We need this time, too, Brahanu.”

“How, Pentanimir? You can’t leave Nazil.”

“I’ll explain everything in time. I want to visit the Dessalonian Falls again. I want it to be like it was in the beginning. Do you remember?”

“I do. But how? How would it be possible?”

“Temian has agreed to help. We need this time together, time to reclaim what’s been lost. I love you, Brahanu. No matter what happens, that love will always be.”

“I love you too, more now, than a season ago. Always, I’ll love you.”

Pentanimir reached the clasp on her robe, sliding it off her shoulders. “As I’ll always love you,” he said, moving over her.

As Wosen approached the stairs, he halted, rethinking his actions. The guilt began seeping into his consciousness, but he managed to silence the warnings urging him to turn back.

Taking a step down, he shook his head, still moving toward the practice hall. Images of Hibret entered his mind, but even that wasn’t enough to quell his irrepressible need to continue. The ache he felt was almost debilitating, and his thoughts repeatedly returned to this. He had to go.

Wosen’s love for Hibret was never in doubt. They’d made love numerous times not long ago, and talked about their future children. His steps slowed then. He pictured Hibret’s beautiful eyes and soft, curly hair. A smile creased his lips, remembering their lives in Bandari.

For a moment, his motion ceased altogether. Wosen raised a hand to his lips, recalling the kiss he’d stolen from her on the banks of the Raphar. “I do love you,” he murmured, gripping the balustrade. “I can’t—”

A loud shout echoed down the corridor, wrenching him from those recollections, and causing images of his wife to diminish.

Wosen had learned the training schedules of most of the guards, and Symeon and Ayrmeis’ sparring chamber was at the far end of the training hall, isolated from the others. There could only be one person using the facilities now, and she was the reason that he’d come—the reason his mind continued to search for answers and his heart seemed divided.

He moved forward, running his fingers through his hair. His breaths were heavy, as an intoxicating heat surged through every part of him. For a moment, he leaned against the wall, trying to compose himself.

Taking a deep and steadying breath, he straightened his posture, knocking and entering her practice room. When Thalassa noticed him in the doorway, she immediately ceased her training.

“Why are you here?” she asked, setting her weapons on the table, and wiping the sweat from her face. Her hands trembled, feeling her arousal peak.

Wosen took in all of her: his eyes following the glistening sweat rolling down her face, to her neck, her chest, and ending between her breasts. The leather vest she wore teased him, exposing her toned arms and back while allowing him a glimpse of cleavage.

Wosen licked his lips, continuing his examination. Thalassa had always had a sinewy, yet feminine build. He’d loved that about her. Her ferocity as a warrior didn’t detract from her beauty as a woman. In fact, that ferocity enhanced her beauty, and as he admired her body, he hoped such ferocity extended beyond her fighting prowess. With that thought, his eyes moved down to her waist, past her round, shapely hips, to her toned thighs. A twinge erupted in his groin, imagining himself between them.

“Wosen?” she said, yanking him from his fantasy.

“Pardons, I—I just wanted to apologize for my recent behavior.” He lied. “Not only was it unbecoming of a Chosen Guard, it was disrespectful to you.”

“You’ve already apologized, Wosen, and we don’t need to discuss it further. It was a momentary weakness that won’t be repeated.”

Thalassa meant those words, but continuously fought to control her thoughts and the febrile desire swelling inside of her. She didn’t understand why or how this was happening, but her body ached to join with Wosen, and that escalated her fear.

“Yes,” Wosen agreed, watching longingly as Thalassa tossed her braid over her shoulder, lifting the waterskin to her lips. He licked his lips again, imagining her full lips enwrapping parts of his body.

“If this is why you’ve come, it isn’t necessary.”

“It is to me, Lady Ishida. I needed to apologize, but I also wanted to ask if you’d like to practice?”

“You want to spar?”

“If you’re agreeable, yes. Our contest wasn’t at an end when last we sparred. I’d like to know if my skill has improved since our time in the Dessalonian Mountains.” He smiled, seductively, feeling the throb increase. “I wasn’t well-practiced then. However, I think you’ll find me a satisfying partner now. That is, if you’re willing to try.”

Thalassa’s heart raced, knowing she should decline his request and leave. She attempted to speak the words, tried to urge her legs to move, but she could only stare at him, envisioning him entangled in her whip. She fought against the raging ecstasies in her mind, feeling an eruption of heat in the pit of her stomach that intensified those images.

Thalassa looked at him from toe to head, grazing her lips with the tip of her tongue.

“You want me?” She teased, bringing forth her whip.

Wosen was certain that she meant more than what she said. He wanted her, but now, he knew that she wanted him, too. He tossed his cloak and belt aside, slowly unclasping his tunic. As he slid it away, Thalassa’s pleasured expression confirmed what he’d already surmised.

The last time she’d seen him unclothed was in the Dessalonian Mountains. Then, his body was emaciated and scarred from his torture. Much was different. After the Guardian’s healing, Wosen had regained what he once was, and with his training, he’d become muscular and overwhelmingly appealing.

He grinned, noticing her enamored stare.

“I do,” he said, walking to the weapons wall. As he tested a sword’s balance, Thalassa lashed out with her whip, wrenching the blade from his hand.

Wosen opened his mouth to protest, but she was coming on in a fury. She punched left and then kicked out with her right leg, contacting his thigh, side, and then his shoulder before he could even hope to respond.

“Do I even have the opportunity to arm myself?” He asked as she spun away. “Or will we practice without swords?”

“Do as you please, Sir Neufmarche,” she said, slashing out with her whip. Wosen reached for the leather strap only to have it enwrap his wrist.

She crouched, delivering a sweep kick that sent him crashing to the floor. When he tried to disentangle himself, she dove forward, pinning his arm to the floor while drawing her dagger, positioning it across his throat.

“It isn’t honorable to disallow me an arm.”

Thalassa grinned, standing and retracting her blade. As he reached for his ensnared wrist, Thalassa pulled hard, spinning around a wooden beam before entangling his free wrist in her whip, and then twisted, securing his arms over his head.

“Thalassa?” he said, struggling against the tight bonds. “What is it you do?”

“Only what you wanted. Isn’t this why you’ve came?” she asked, unclasping the fasteners of her vest. As her breasts burst free from the confining leather, Wosen’s mouth gaped, and the rise in his trousers was intensified.

“Lady Ishida—”

“Thalassa,” she corrected, gliding the tip of her dagger down his bare chest and torso. Wosen sucked in his breath, feeling both excitement and fear simultaneously. He struggled against the straps, but stopped, feeling the tip of her dagger tracing his groin.

“Tha—Thalassa?”

She tossed the dagger aside, falling over him, and pushing a breast to his lips.

Wosen didn’t argue. He took all that she’d allow, wanting much more.

“Is that the extent of your skill, Sir Neufmarche? Mayhaps I was wrong to think that you could satisfy me,” she said, forcing both forward at once.

A guttural growl escaped his lips as he increased his efforts, biting as well. He moaned, his eyes rolling back as the unexpected sweetness of warm milk streamed into his mouth.

When she felt her excitement peak, she rose up, removing the rest of her clothes and bestriding his face. Thalassa called out, pressing herself lower as Wosen’s unrepressed intimate kiss sent surges of escalating pleasure throughout her entire body.

“Gods!” She said, stunned by his ability to deliver exactly what she needed.

“Why do I hunger for you so?” she said, untangling his wrists and allowing him to stand.

Wosen didn’t respond. The draw was all that mattered, as he released the ties of his trousers, turning her around. With a powerful thrust, he joined his body to hers.

“Thalassa,” he moaned, sliding a hand around to stimulate her more.

He relished each brutal thrust, strengthening his effort with her every command. Clutching her braid, he pulled hard, wrenching her head back, while biting her neck.

Once her moans joined his, he allowed his completion, savoring the warmth of her release.

The explosion of pleasure was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced. It suffused them completely, removing all else from their minds.

After several moments, Wosen continued: gently at first, until Thalassa commanded it otherwise. For several turns of the glass, they didn’t relent, both satisfying the other’s commands, and relishing both the pain and pleasure of their joining.

With a final release, he slid out of her warmth, kissing down her back. “Since first I saw you, I desired you.”

She turned, kissing and biting his full lips. As her breathing calmed, she stroked his face, moving from his arms. “We—we must dress,” she said, reaching for her clothing. “I have to meet with my brothers soon.”

Thalassa shook her head, trying to clear the dizzying haze from her mind. She was aware of what had happened, but couldn’t understand how.

“I don’t think you should come again, Wosen. Regardless of our desire, we can’t do this anymore. Jahno is my husband, and I love him. Please.”

“That didn’t matter earlier. If your love is so profound, how could you make love to me?”

“The same way that you did to me. Has your love for Hibret faded?”

“No,” he admitted, after several silent moments. His love hadn’t changed, but neither had his hunger for Thalassa.

“Please, for both our sakes, don’t come again. Jahno will be returning in a few weeks, and I need to concentrate on my husband and our family. I need no further distractions.”

“Am I a distraction?” he said, grabbing her wrist, and resting her hand on his groin. For a moment, she enjoyed the feeling, yearning to taste of him.

“You—you are,” she said, snatching her hand away.

Wosen stepped closer, pushing her hard against the table. He clutched her wrist, twisting as he roughly kissed her lips and neck. When she moaned, he released her arm, forcing his hand into her trousers. His fingers moved with precision as he kissed her again, biting her neck and shoulders.

Thalassa’s knees trembled, the explosion of pleasure nearly causing her to fall against him. When her motion calmed, Wosen retracted his hand, licking the fingers clean.

“Are you certain that you don’t want me to come again?”

“I—I’m certain.” She lied, still catching her breath as she hastily dressed. “I need to go. My brothers are expecting me.”

“So, should I come at the same time on the morrow, then?”

She turned, admiring every part of him, and wanting more. Before she realized, she nodded, and then rushed out of the room.

Thalassa waved away the guards at the end of the corridor, feeling ashamed of her behavior, and continuing desire. Even as her thoughts turned to her husband, the memory of Wosen caused her knees to weaken. She steadied herself against the wall, taking a deep breath.

She shook her head, rushing to her chambers to wash the evidence of her indiscretion away. For the first time in many seasons, she let her long raven hair remain loose. Donning a beautiful amethyst gown, she smoothed her hair, applying some oil to her wrist and neck.

When she entered Pentanimir’s solar, the meeting was already in progress. Thalassa curtsied, taking a seat next to Temian.

“Pardon my tardiness,” she said, taking her seat.

“We’ve only just begun,” Temian said, smiling. “Seeing you like this is well worth the wait. You look beautiful with your hair down, and I can’t remember the last you’ve worn a dress. I’ve missed seeing this side of you.”

“Indeed,” Danimore said. “Your skin glows.”

“Thank you. It must be my training. With Jahno away, I’m spending more time in the practice chamber,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Temian winced, reaching for her neck. “Certainly, not alone. Whomever you were sparring with left some painful marks. You must take care.”

“Mot—mother will tend me soon, don’t worry. The—the Jasiri are well—skilled and offer a great challenge.”

“They do,” Temian said. “Mayhaps I could join you on the morrow. We haven’t sparred together in a while. You’ve been so busy training the new guards, the time has gotten away from us.”

“No,” she said too quickly. “I’m not practicing on the morrow. Mayhaps soon. I’ve missed our sparring, too.”

“I’ll join you, Brother,” Pentanimir said. “With Symeon preparing Ayrmeis, I’ve neglected my own training. Would you come, too, Dani?”

“I’m afraid that my prowess has never matched any of yours.”

“You fight well, Dani, and always have,” Pentanimir said. “Practice will hone your skills. We can meet before noon meal.”

Danimore nodded reluctantly, sifting through the parchments on the table.

“Beilzen and Ahvixx returned from Yarah yesterday,” he said.

“Did they have any trouble on the road?” Thalassa asked.

“No, nor did they have any issues with Urdan. He was receptive to our proposition, and will be making an announcement soon.”

“We’ll do the same, and Nzuri sent a message to Spero, as well. It’s our hope that Molag’s associates will prefer gold to allegiance,” Pentanimir said, looking curiously at his sister. “Are you all right, Thalassa?” he asked, noticing her sniffing at the air.

“What? No. I—I’m fine. The oils, I—I was enjoying the oils Jahno brought from his last trip to Noraa. I hadn’t used them until now.” She lied, afraid that the scent of her encounter with Wosen reeked from her body.

“The aroma is divine.” Temian leaned closer, inhaling. “Jahno must share this merchant’s name. I’d love to acquire some of the same for Arianna.”

“I’ll make sure to ask upon his return. If we don’t have any more to discuss, I need to retrieve Suravi. I promised your wife that I wouldn’t be late, Temian. She mentioned that you have a romantic evening planned.”

Temian’s face flushed. “It’s been far too long since we’ve done so. We’ll dine in our chambers this evening, and spend the remainder of the night alone.”

“Indeed.” Pentanimir winked.

“Speaking of, when is Brahanu taking leave?” Danimore asked.

“She needs this time, and I understand that. Besides, Brahanu will inform Julaybeim and Gali of everything that’s happened. We might need their assistance before the end of this.”

“Kaleo’s, too,” Thalassa said.

Pentanimir nodded, moving ahead with the short meeting. “Nakaris and Ephron are leaving for Rhoyden soon. When Symeon last visited, they were making excellent progress. With everything we’re facing now, we’ve become remiss. Other than assigning some guards there, we haven’t maintained an adequate presence. Many new families have settled in Rhoyden, but the encampments in the Dessalonian Woods continue to concern me.”

“Agreed,” Temian said. “Symeon visited the inn and citadel when he escorted the new guards. He didn’t report anything unusual, and Joseph’s updates on their progress come each full moon. “Have you decided who’ll oversee it?”

“Not as yet. Joseph has done well thus far, and he’ll be rewarded for his service. We’ll need to assign him and his sons promising positions once the new Caretaker is selected. It’s essential to choose people we know. People that we can trust.”

“Agreed. The farms are needed to supply not only Nazil, but also Yarah. We need no further opposition,” Danimore said. “Even though there’ll eventually be humans in the village, it would serve best to have a Nazilian Caretaker.”

Pentanimir offered a nod. “We’ll conclude for now, but there’s much to attend to on the morrow. “Rest well.”

Urdan drained his cup, glaring.

“You’re my son, Jarin, and I’ve always been proud of your accomplishments and the man that you’ve become. At no time in all your years did I know that you were a fool.”

“Is there another label you’d prefer?” Urdan asked, opening his arms wide. “How would you refer to a man displaying such behavior?”

“Speak your mind, Father. I’m in no mood to guess at your words.”

“Don’t speak of moods to me, not after what you’ve done. Are you truly this naïve or do you do these things merely to vex me?”

“I’ve done nothing to you.”

“No?” Urdan’s brows raised. “Mayhaps I should’ve spoken differently. What about the dishonor you’ve shown your wife?”

Jarin sprang from his chair. “Why must you continue to talk about Gwendolyn? I’ve done what you commanded. I’ve taken the wife you selected, and now there’s a babe growing in her womb: a babe from my loins. You’ll have your heirs, as you’ve had your marriage. What else do you want from me?”

“Getting your wife pregnant doesn’t end your responsibility as a husband. Gwendolyn loves you and works tirelessly to make you happy. Why would you cast her aside sniffing behind Sahma Ahllendale? She’s married, Jarin, and will soon have a child, too.”

“Sahma’s pregnant?”

“Her husband mentioned it, yes. Allow them their happiness, and start enjoying your own.”

“You understand nothing,” Jarin spat, pacing the room. No one could understand the love that he and Sahma shared. He’d nearly lost hope, but hearing her speak the words when she visited, confirmed what he knew in his heart. Jarin didn’t want to hurt Gwendolyn, but he wouldn’t forswear his relationship with Sahma.

“I understand that you were kissing another man’s wife in your mother’s garden,” Urdan said, not hiding any of his displeasure.

“Who told you that?”

“Does it matter? What’s important is that your wife believes the lie Lady Ahllendale concocted. At least one of you kept your wits about you.”

“Gwendolyn came to you with this?”

“Gwendolyn is young. She mentioned it to your mother, as she cried in her lap. She doesn’t understand why you don’t love her as she does you.”

“I can’t! I told you as much when you forced this on me.”

Urdan’s eyes narrowed. “You can and you will. The circumstances are dire, and you’ll do what’s needed for this family and for Yarah. I don’t care if you need to close your eyes the entire night and imagine Lady Sahma. You’ll share a bed with Gwendolyn and love her like none other you’ve known.”

He glared at his father, retaking his seat. “Is this what you did when you married Mother?” Jarin asked, coldly.

“I did what was necessary to please my wife. I love your mother because I allowed myself to see the beauty within her. You must do the same. Gwendolyn loves you, Jarin. I understand that you love Sahma, but is it not fair to reserve some love for your wife?”

Jarin’s gaze lowered, finding some truth in his father’s words. Gwendolyn was innocent in all this. Their fathers arranged this bond. It’s possible that she’d had a love in Nazil, and then was forced to marry him. Never had he thought about it in that manner.

“The fault doesn’t lie with Gwendolyn,” Jarin said. “She’s been a good wife, and I know that she cares for me. I don’t despise her, Father. I find her quite pleasant and charming.”

“Then allow her to feel what you speak. Saying a thing isn’t nearly as powerful as showing it. She must feel your love and desire. Is it such a difficult thing to make love to a beautiful woman?”

Jarin smiled, wistfully. Gwendolyn had learned to please him. It was difficult in the beginning, but she’d grown used to their lovemaking, and now desired it often.

The times he did venture to her chambers, he didn’t leave dissatisfied. Gwendolyn ensured his pleasure even above hers. His selfishness surprised him at that moment. It was not only placing the babe, but it was also the pleasure and closeness that came before. That, he’d never offered his wife, always rushing through their time together. He didn’t know if ever she was satisfied when he left her, nor had he cared.

The only time he knew he’d pleased her was during Sahma’s visit. That night, he saw her so clearly, and could still smell fragrant oils she used. It was as if Sahma was lying beneath him, moaning with his every motion. That made all the difference in his passion, and the enormity of his pleasure.

“No. It isn’t,” he finally admitted.

“Good, my son. I don’t mean to harp on such matters. Truly, what you do in your bedchamber is no business of mine. I only mention it to bring clarity to your mind. Both you and Lady Sahma are married. Enjoy the blessings before you,” Urdan said, raising his cup.

He joined him in the toast, still unconvinced. Jarin had decided to show Gwendolyn more compassion, but he didn’t intend on sharing a bed with her or denying his love for Sahma.

“Now, let us get to business, shall we?” Urdan said, sliding a parchment across the table. Jarin took up the sheet, reading it in full.

“Do you think the Zaxson’s plan will work, Father?”

“That’s my hope. No one has admitted to seeing Molag, and the expanded patrols haven’t been successful.”

“Could Eithrig provide any information about where they held him?”

“No,” Urdan answered, refilling his cup. “His face was covered when they abducted him, and he was unconscious when they threw him into the streets. Had we but one witness, it could make all the difference.”

“I find it hard to believe that no one in the lowers saw anything. There are always beggars and doxies littering the streets.”

“I agree, but they’re not being forthcoming. Mayhaps the gold will loosen their tongues.”

“Yes, and a healthy sum. The Zaxson moves with purpose.”

“He must. If what they’ve reported about Molag is true, he’s more dangerous now than ever before. I don’t doubt Lord Ahllendale’s accounting, either. He has a connection with their gods that’s somewhat off-putting, yet undeniable.”

Jarin scoffed. “Off-putting? He’s a freak. Did you see that—that mark on his forehead and those triangular shaped eyes? By the gods, Father, they’re violet and glow!” His face scrunched in disgust. “Were these different times, he’d be tortured and hanged as a creature of darkness, not revered as some divinely inspired priest.”

“Your harshness stems from jealousy over his wife, not his appearance. It’s past time that you held your tongue and respected all the members of the Zaxson’s council.”

“I offer respect where it’s due. Ahvixx is the low-born son of a bastard—a bastard that was sentence to death by the former Zaxson himself. Just because Sir Benoist hands out titles like sweets doesn’t mean I must respect them.”

“On the contrary, that’s exactly what that means,” Urdan said. “I wasn’t always Yarah’s Caretaker or resided in the citadel.”

“But you’ve always been high-born and held a great position in the village.”

“I was fortunate to have it so, Jarin. Ahvixx is a Lord as he should be. If you refuse to accept that truth, then you’ll have to accept that Sahma is no Lady.”

“Sahma has always been a Lady. Her father was a High Lord in Noraa before leaving for Bandari, and has reclaimed that title.”

“You speak true. However, her mother is Nazilian. Such marriages were illegal and not recognized at the time of Sahma’s birth. Therefore, following the logic you’ve assigned to Ahvixx, Sahma would also be a bastard.”

“Why do you wish to anger me, Father? Must it always return to this?”

“I’m not attempting to anger you. My hope is that you’ll realize the inconsistencies in your own observations. You mustn’t forget that Ahvixx is also Allister d’Garrion’s nephew.”

“How could I when you remind me continuously.”

“Well, enough of this,” Urdan said, standing. “Our wives are waiting, and I must speak with the Cha Asham, and arrange the announcement regarding this reward,” he said, clapping Jarin on the shoulder. “Come, my son. Gwendolyn awaits.”

“Don’t be deceived, Joseph. Do you truly believe the Zaxson will allow you to retain your position?”

“Why wouldn’t he? I’ve done well for our village, and he’s commented on the same. If not for my family and me, Rhoyden wouldn’t be thriving as it is. The inn was completed ahead of schedule and the citadel will be as well.”

“Indeed.” The man smirked, adjusting his balaclava. “But he doesn’t trust you, Joseph. Pentanimir Benoist has no qualms using you to restore the village. However, once you’ve succeeded, he’ll select someone else to oversee it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s another savage or abomination. You’ll see.”

Joseph eyed the hooded man, suspiciously. “Why should I trust what you say?” he asked, taking a step back.

He clasped his hands behind his back, beginning to pace. “Doesn’t our new Zaxson send his brothers and now these Jasiri to Rhoyden often? Ofttimes, they don’t even enter the village, they just spy on you from a distance. If he so trusted you and your capabilities, would such subterfuge be necessary?”

Joseph stared at the man, considering what he’d said. It wasn’t the first time that he’d visited the citadel, and given the influx of undesirables, he feared that it wouldn’t be the last.

Although Joseph had made some inquiries, few people truly knew who he was. It was certain after speaking to Imryl that he and those of his ilk were dangerous. Most gave them a wide berth, but those less fortunate died at the end of a sword.

The man appeared to be from nowhere and everywhere all at once: emerging like a shadow and then dissipating just the same. The fact that he always kept his features masked only served to intensify Joseph’s fear. He couldn’t help but wonder if this man was an accomplice, some sellsword in league with Molag Bomgaard.

“Why are you so concerned?” Joseph asked, finally. “What happens to me is of no consequence to you.”

“Why?” The man’s broad smile couldn’t be seen through his balaclava and cowl, but the amusement in his tone was unmistakable. “You should be grateful to have such a friend to warn you. I’m taking a great risk coming to you at all. However, for the good of Faélondul, I’m willing to do so.”

“How do I know that you won’t report me to the Zaxson? Mayhaps this is a ploy, a test of my allegiance.”

“Never would I mislead you, my friend,” he said, opening his arms wide. “Everything I’ve told you previously has happened. You need me, Joseph, and more than you know.”

“Are you here to cause division? We’re only just rebuilding what’s been lost. My family was scattered throughout Faélondul due to the war. Now, we have a place, a new start and a better life. I have no desire to be thrown in a cell or feel the headsman’s ax. I’m interested in taking care of my family and help this village grow and become productive.”

“Do you believe that I feel differently? I come to you to help you in your endeavors, not jeopardize your livelihood. What I offer would cause you to lose nothing.”

“Nothing?” Joseph scoffed. “It’s treachery. With Molag roaming free, the Zaxson is cautious. Rhoyden may be a new village, but we receive the news from Nazil. Molag’s men attempted to kill the Zaontras and her son. I don’t blame the Zaxson for implementing more restrictions. Had it been my wife and children at risk, I’d do the same.”

“And me as well,” the man conceded. “I’m only here to warn you of what’s to come. You receive news from Nazil, but you don’t reside there as I do. I hear much, my friend.”

“As do I.” Joseph’s brow raised. “From what I hear, your time in Nazil has been short. There isn’t much known about you, not even your name. That alone is worth my suspicion.”

“If it pleases you, you may call me Tolnain.” He bowed. “For now, that’s enough. Nazil may be new to me, but Faélondul isn’t. I travel much and hear even more. Both these things are to your benefit.”

“What would you have of me? We don’t even have a full contingent in the village. There are but twenty.”

“And we’ll take advantage of that fact. I ask little and it won’t be soon. Once my words are made real, you’ll see. At that time, I’ll call upon you. Not before.” He smirked. “Not every member of the Zaxson’s family travels with the Jasiri. At times, they do so alone.”

“I’ll make no move against the Benoists,” Joseph said.

“Nor am I asking for you to do so. I only ask that you keep watch, and learn of those we can…trust .” Tolnain adjusted his cowl, moving toward the door.

“I’ve taken a room at the Mane and Tail. If you have any information for me, tell Imryl, and he’ll ensure that I receive your message. More men will come in aid to the both of us. Mayhaps some will even join the citadel guard,” Tolnain paused, looking back at Joseph over his shoulder. “Much is taking place in Faélondul. Once Molag is captured, tensions will ease, as will the guards assigned to keep watch. Be ready, my friend.”

“Are you certain that we won’t disturb Dalia and Beilzen?” Hushar said. “With everything that’s happened, they’ll need time to adjust.”

“There’s been sufficient time,” Perrin said. “In fact, Beilzen would welcome the sight of his father entertaining such a lovely woman. It’s been so long, I feared I’d forgotten how.”

Hushar chuckled. “You certainly haven’t lost any of your charm.”

“From you, Lady Saussai, that’s truly a compliment,” he said, raising her hand to his lips. “So, you’ll join us for evening meal on the morrow?”

“I will, and thank you for the invitation. I mentioned Dalia and Beilzen needing to adjust, but I need to do the same. Not since Hyorin have I been shown such attention.”

“I plan to show you much and more,” Perrin said. “I’ve seen you for years, but I could never truly know you. In the past, I was pleased when you’d accept my kindness, or even allow me to offer it.

“You had no cause to trust me then, or even to befriend me now.” Perrin squeezed her hand, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to say it, Hushar, I’m just glad that things are different now. When I think back over the years, nothing makes sense to me. Nothing.

“What makes me different from you? What’s intrinsic to Nazilians, my appearance, my heritage that makes it better than yours?”

“The only difference festers in the minds of those coveting power to ennoble themselves to feel superior. You’re no different from me, Perrin. Both our hearts beat the same, and allow the same love to find it.”

Perrin stopped, taking her other hand. Despite their recent intimacy, he was still apprehensive. Hushar, however, showed no such restraint, drawing him down for a quick kiss.

After what she’d suffered in Nazil, Hushar hadn’t thought she’d ever desire such closeness again. It was a comfort to feel otherwise, not only the physical gratification, but more so, the emotional. She was reclaiming a part of herself that they’d stolen long ago. She was healing.

“Shall I send a carriage for you?” he asked, continuing down the hall.

“No, thank you. I’m certain that Temian will insist on escorting me.”

“Speaking of.” Perrin gestured forward.

Hushar smiled, watching Temian’s approach. His pearl and gold cloak flowed behind him, looking much like his father used to.

“Mother,” Temian began, and then peered down at Perrin with a questioning look. “Lord de Braose.”

“Yes, Temian,’ Hushar said. “Do you have need of me?”

“The Zaontras has asked to speak with you. I’ll escort you to her.”

“Well, I’ll see you on the morrow, Perrin.”

“The pleasure will be mine, my lady,” Perrin said, kissing her hand before turning to leave.

“What happens on the morrow, Mother?”

“I’m going to share evening meal with Perrin and his family.”

“To what end? First, this—this affair with Allister, and now Perrin. What are you doing, Mother?”

She stopped, turning him to face her. “You do realize that your mother is still a woman?”

“Of course, I do,” he said, exasperated. “You’ll always be a beautiful woman, but people will begin to talk.” He glanced around, leaning closer. “Is it true that you were lying naked with Allister?”

She chuckled, resting a hand on his reddened cheek. “Indeed, and more as well.”

“Oh, Temian, it isn’t what you think. I merely lay with Allister to provide additional warmth. I’ve done the same with Wosen, Zeta, Micah, Ceron, and Jahno alike. It was innocent, truly.”

He sighed. “I understand your need for companionship, but after what you suffered here…the Nazilians…I don’t…I mean…I can’t understand—”

“How I could ever want a Nazilian to touch me or feel any attraction toward them?”

“My son, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”

“That isn’t the same. I’m your son.”

“You are, and since your birth, you’ve always resembled your father. It wasn’t easy for us then, either, but I loved you just the same. Just as I loved Manifir.

“Don’t allow past evils to prevent your present joy, or taint your perceptions of all Nazilians for the misdeeds of a few. We are all the same, Temian. Every one of us.”

“We are. I just—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “Tell me: do you love your wife?”

“Arianna? Of course, I love her.”

“Despite the pain Nazilians inflicted on our family? You could still love a Nazilian?”

When his head lowered, she smiled, enfolding him in her arms. “I love you, Temian, and appreciate your concern, but I’m happier now than I’ve been in decades. Allow me to enjoy my children, my grandchildren, and my life.” She took up his hand, moving down the hall. “I’ll be pleased when you and Arianna bless me with a grandchild, too.”

“It isn’t from lack of trying, I assure.”

“In time,” she said, stopping in front of the Zaxson’s chambers. “I love you, Temian.”

“This, I’ve always known.”

Hushar kissed his cheek, before knocking and opening the door.

“You sent for me, Zaontras?”

“Please, Hushar, sit, and call me Brahanu. Such titles would’ve driven my father mad.” Brahanu smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Hushar asked, taking a seat beside her.

“Too many things to mention, and many more to come,” Brahanu said, glancing over at her sons.

“How can I help you? Would you like me to watch the boys while you rest?”

“Thank you, no. That isn’t why I asked you to come. You’ve done so much already, Hushar, and we’re blessed to have you with us.”

“I’m the one who’s blessed. This is where I belong, and this is where I’ll remain.”

Brahanu nodded, fighting to maintain her composure. “I feel much the same, but I can’t stay in Nazil. Not now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need a respite. I mean to visit Cazaal soon, and remain there for some time.”

“Wh—when are you planning to leave?”

“Three suns hence.”

“So soon? Is it safe for you to travel with Molag still free?”

“Kuhani and a dozen Jasiri will escort my caravan. Pentanimir is confident in their ability to protect Eytan and me.”

“Eytan? What about Tardison and Ayrmeis? Are you leaving them behind?”

“I must. No one in Cazaal, save my family, knows about them. Besides, Tardison can’t leave the citadel, and Symeon will resume Ayrmeis’ training upon his return. They’ll both have what they need.”

“They also need their mother, Brahanu. How long do you intend to stay?”

“One full moon, at least.”

“The cold season will be at an end. Your sons could be four years older when you return.”

“I—I know, and that’s another reason for my leaving. My love will be with them, wherever I might be.”

Hushar sighed, hearing in Brahanu’s tone what she refused to speak. “As you say, Lady Benoist, but may I ask something of you?”

“Would you be opposed to Sarai caring for Ayrmeis in your absence?”

“Sarai? I thought she didn’t want to see Ayrmeis. Isn’t this why he was brought to us?”

“That was true in the beginning, but not so now. Sarai’s been taking care of him more than anyone else. She was afraid to have it known, but it’s right that you should know. They’ve developed a bond, and I think it would be best if Sarai kept him while you’re away. He’ll be missing you, Brahanu,” she said, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “And Sarai loves Ayrmeis.”

“Love? Does she mean to take him from us?”

Hushar couldn’t discern if Brahanu posed the question out of concern or anticipation. “No, but she’d like to continue being a part of his life. Sarai realizes that she forewent the opportunity to be Ayrmeis’ mother. However, knowing that doesn’t change what lies in her heart, or his.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Hushar. I have no objections to her caring for him, but it would be prudent to ask Pentanimir the same. He sees Ayrmeis as his son,” Brahanu whispered so the children couldn’t hear.

“I’ll take care of it, my lady.”

“Thank you,” Brahanu said, detaching Eytan from her breast.

Hushar watched how she cradled him lovingly in her arms, and then looked over at Ayrmeis. Brahanu didn’t nurture either Tardison or Ayrmeis, not like she did Eytan. Mayhaps the acceleration of their youth, had shattered the bond between Brahanu and her sons. Hushar was saddened for Brahanu and Tardison, but for Ayrmeis most of all.