Chapter 9
From a discreet vantage along the eastern tree-line, Richard observed the Jaharri campsite with speculative eyes, watching the spahi train. The day had dawned clear and mild after raining for most of the night. Though the skies were almost devoid of clouds, the air was still heavy with the moist smell of rotting leaf-litter. His spahi guard stood watch nearby—Richard was only left in privacy when he was in the large tent Zafirah had assigned him when he first came into the camp—but from the way they were scanning the perimeter of the forest and the field below, they seemed less interested in ensuring his good behavior than in keeping him protected. Richard had come to suspect the Scion had assigned them chiefly as his body-guards, and wondered again at her motivations for leveraging him as a hostage.
In the training circle below—a patch of ground churned into mud by the feet of the spahi as they sparred—Richard watched Zafirah face off against two opponents armed with spears. She wore a ragged leather tunic over a silk shirt, the sleeves cut high to expose her muscular upper arms and shoulders, and flowing cotton trousers that were spattered with mud past the knees. Armed with a curved scimitar, the woman moved with feline grace and lightning speed to fend off the attacks from the longer weapons, constantly seeking to close the distance on one of her opponents so she could strike at him more effectively.
Richard’s father had instilled in him a deep respect for the warrior’s code of duty and honor, always reminding him of the proud military lineage that had founded the House of Everdeen. Although advancements in firearms over the last few decades had made such weapons an indispensable asset to the noble Houses, traditions died hard in the Heartland. Every army of every noble House still wielded blades and bows to compliment the more modern weapons, and skill in swordsmanship continued to be highly prized among the elite. Though he’d never fought in any true battle, Richard considered himself a more than competent bladesman…but it was obvious these Jaharri lived and breathed the warrior arts.
The fighting style of the spahi was unlike anything Richard had seen before, and he could understand why his own troops found these training drills so fascinating. Where the longswords and shields favored by his own men utilized direct, powerful attacks while maintaining a strong focus on defense, the Jaharri wielded scimitars and sabers, blades with sweeping single edges better suited to use on cavalry. On foot, their battle style was almost like a dance, relying on nimble footwork and a fluid, flowing use of both body and sword. Richard could not deny it was impressive to watch; whatever his personal enmity toward her, he could admit that Zafirah was clearly a formidable warrior.
Watching the dark-haired woman swing her blade to deflect a thrust from one of the spear-wielders, knocking his weapon to the side and then twirling her entire body around to keep his companion from closing in on her, Richard found himself considering her with shrewd eyes. Zafirah dipped and twisted between the jabbing spear tips, moving with the sure agility of a hunting cat, striking out with her blade as swift as a striking woodsnake. These people didn’t seem to believe in sparring with dummy swords, yet for all the ferocity and speed of their duels, every blade that met flesh always struck with the flat, and Richard hadn’t seen anyone suffer serious injury. A few bruises and shallow cuts, but nothing more.
Over near the tents arrayed along the north-western edge of the camp, Richard noticed a small contingent of his own troops gathered to watch the display of Jaharri battle prowess…though a few of the men seemed more interested in conversing with a slender, fair-haired woman who stood out distinctly among the darker forms of the spahi. Richard knew of this girl—Nasheta—from conversations overheard from his troops. Many of his men had remarked on the young woman’s charm and grace, and on their own surprise at how cultured and well-spoken she was, considering her bondage to the Jaharri.
Richard continued watching Zafirah’s sparring session, impressed when the tall woman deflected a spear-thrust from one adversary while spinning her body around the other’s attack, the move enabling her to lift her leg in a sharp, swift kick to the man’s chest. Using the momentum of her turn, she completed a second revolution and drove the same foot behind her remaining attacker’s right knee. A final hip thrust into his side as he fell sent him sprawling. The two spahi, knocked into the mud, cursed lightly at their defeat. Zafirah helped them to their feet as their audience offered light applause for the display.
Glancing back to the group of his own soldiers, he saw they were walking with Nasheta out of the camp, heading in the direction of the estate gardens. Richard tracked their course curiously; he was tired of arguing with Edmund about the negotiations, and since coming to the Jaharri camp he’d exchanged few words with any of the desert people. But this young woman, with her pale skin and fair hair, seemed a more appealing sounding board for his mounting frustration.
He remained a while sitting on the damp ground, fighting the urge to give in to his curiosity…but eventually he rose and wandered back through the camp, his escort trailing behind. He worried the guards would stop him leaving the perimeter of shield-walls and trenches around the encampment—he was, after all, their hostage—but they did nothing to discourage him as he made his way out onto the manicured lawns of the estate gardens, merely followed placidly in his stead.
Richard found the young woman sitting beside one of the fountains in the garden, trailing her fingertips across the surface of the water to tease the brightly colored koi swimming about beneath the lilies and lotuses. She was alone, her admirers apparently busy with other duties, though she seemed quite at ease in her solitude. Curious despite himself, Richard moved closer to the girl, and when she glanced up to consider him with fearless, verdant eyes, he was struck by just how much she reminded him of his daughter.
Nasheta considered Richard a long moment, her lips curving slightly into a smile. “Good morning,” she greeted, and her heavy accent reminded Richard that, despite her appearance, this girl was of the desert. She glanced behind him to his spahi escort and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Looking over his shoulder, Richard saw Rafir and Sadiq bow and move away at the gesture.
His eyes widened a fraction, surprised the men appeared to accept her subtle command to give them space as though it had come from the Scion herself. When he met Nasheta’s gaze again, he saw her smile more broadly and say, “It is a beautiful day, is it not? Finer than most I have seen since coming to these lands, and a welcome respite after that storm. Would you care to join me?”
Richard hesitated, wondering why he suddenly felt a need to retreat. “I…I don’t wish to disturb you.”
“Not at all, your lordship…I would be delighted of your company. Please, sit.” She looked into the water and giggled at the fish nibbling her fingertips. “These are, after all, your gardens. Who has more right to enjoy them than you yourself?”
Richard cleared his throat and took a seat a little apprehensively beside the amiable girl. He watched her play her fingers over the surface of the waters, creating a merry dance of ripples…and his throat constricted at the sight of her. Nasheta really did resemble Dae strongly. Her complexion was perhaps a little more sun-bronzed, her figure leaner and more athletic, but they shared a similar cast of beauty…sweet and beguiling. She was watching him with a frank and interested expression, but seemed content to let him initiate conversation.
“Where are your admirers?” he asked after a long period of silence.
Nasheta lifted a shoulder in a dainty shrug. “A few were called away by other duties, and a few others offered to bring me fruit and drink while I waited. They have been most accommodating.”
Richard raised an eyebrow, impressed by how completely at ease Nasheta appeared, considering she was alone in the gardens. “You’re not worried about assassins lurking in the shrubbery?” he asked. “After all, an attempt was made on your Scion’s life…and she seems to feel my own men were responsible. You make a temptingly vulnerable target.”
Nasheta glanced up from her play with the fish, her sea-green eyes sparkling. “I am a pleasure-servant of the Scion,” she said, clearly amused by his suggestion. “Though you may regard my position with disdain, it is one held in the highest esteem by my people. Zafirah would never allow me to be placed in danger.” With a gesture and a look, she led Richard’s eyes to the forest line a few hundred paces behind them; in the high branches he could make out several Jaharri scouts perched on their lookout platforms, watching them intently. Their bows were nocked. He looked back at the girl and found her watching him with amusement. “Many times have I seen Falak’s scouts thread an arrow through the eyes of rabbit from such a distance. I can assure you, I am well protected.”
Skeptical as he was of her claim, it took a moment for Richard to register her initial statement. “You’re a pleasure-servant?” His back stiffened slightly as he regarded the young blonde, astonished. From what he’d overheard from his men, this girl was demure and chaste, had never given any indication of wantonness. The tone of his voice became a fraction colder. “So…you’re one of the Scion’s whores? A harem girl?”
“Harem girl, yes, but hardly a whore. If you hope to offend me by terming me thus, I fear you will be disappointed. The ignorance of outlanders cannot belittle one of my station.”
It was a gentle rebuke, but Richard was surprised by it nonetheless. He was not accustomed to being spoken too in such a manner by a commoner…but from her expression and manner it was clear Nasheta did not consider his lordly title in any way intimidating. “I suppose you must know my daughter well then?”
“She is a valued friend, yes. And I know you, also, Lord Everdeen.” Nasheta smiled at his skeptical look. “Dae spoke of you often, especially during her first months in the harem. She missed you a great deal, grieved for your loss and the heartache she knew you must suffer after her abduction. Her love for you was obvious; she said you were a good man.”
Richard felt himself smiling; after so many heated exchanges with his daughter, it warmed his heart to hear words of affection from Dae, even from a second-hand source.
“So…exactly how personally are you acquainted with Dae?” he asked delicately.
Nasheta laughed lightly at his question, a pleasant, mellifluous sound. “I have not bedded your daughter, if that is what you are asking,” she said, adding with a grin, “though not for a lack of trying on my part. While it may offend you to imagine what sexual delights Dae shared with those in the harem, in truth, few of us have yet experienced the honor of enjoying true intimacies with her.”
“But you don’t deny seducing her to your perversion?” Richard challenged, part of him hoping the accusation would elicit a guilty response…one that would justify his continued belief that the changes in Dae had been forced upon her.
But Nasheta only shrugged again, unperturbed. “I respected your daughter’s wishes to remain untouched by the hands of another woman. But after it became clear that Dae felt desire for the Scion…that she was growing curious about the way her body responded to the attention she received from Zafirah and my brethren…I did not hesitate to offer my aid in satisfying her dawning interest.”
Richard felt his skin shiver with revulsion, but he could not reconcile the sensation with the sight of this strange Jaharri girl, who seemed utterly unabashed by her expression of desire for Dae. Still, he scowled at her darkly. “You corrupted her,” he stated harshly…but studying her passive, guileless expression, he sighed. “But I suppose I can’t really blame you, though, can I? You’ve probably spent so many years among the Jaharri, you don’t even realize the unnatural path they’ve led you down.”
Nasheta laughed lightly again, and Richard’s eyes widened in astonishment at her response. “You speak with the same ignorance displayed by most outlanders—as though a wink and a flirty smile can completely change a person’s disposition. Tell me, your lordship…if you were to find yourself in a similar situation, only with other men expressing desire for you, would you fall such easy prey to their attempts to woo you?”
“Of course not!” Richard flushed with embarrassed anger. “How can you even suggest such a thing?”
“I suggest nothing…but apparently, you believe that is precisely what would happen. At least, so it would seem from the way you are treating your daughter.”
“I think I know Dae’s heart better than you, child.”
“Do you? Because given your recent actions, I think she might disagree.”
“She’s young,” Richard argued, a slightly desperate quality creeping into his voice. If he could only make this girl—so physically alike to his daughter—see that he knew what was best for Dae, some part of him believed he would be able to achieve the same result with Dae herself. “She was confused and too naive to realize her emotions were being manipulated.”
“Manipulated? Dae is my friend,” Nasheta stated decisively, and Richard saw for the first time a slightly harder expression in her eyes. “I left the harem and all the comforts of the palace behind me, all my friends and my lovers and the world I know, to follow Zafirah through lands I had never dreamed I would live to experience…all to see Dae brought safely home.” Richard shook his head dismissively and Nasheta lifted her chin in challenge. “El’Kasari is Dae’s home now, however much you may wish to deny it. And doubting how much I care for your daughter only makes your ignorance appear willful.” She paused here, gazing at Richard steadily until he broke eye-contact and looked away. “Dae is a very special young woman, Lord Everdeen…and it would be a mistake to think you are the only person who cares for her.”
This rebuke was less gentle than the previous one, and Richard was again taken aback that this young woman would speak to him in such tones. Nasheta did not act as any servant Richard had ever seen before. There was an innocent grace to her demeanor that conflicted with the sensuality of her movements, and though she spoke in the same accent and manner as the other Jaharri, her eloquence suggested intelligence beyond what he would expect to find in a barbarian sex-slave. “You may care for her…but you’re not her family. Everything I have ever done has been to ensure Dae’s happiness and well-being.”
“And yet I understand you had arranged her union to a man she had never met…neither knew nor loved. Why is your choice better than her own?”
“Jonathon is a good man. My wife and I spent many months seeking a suitable candidate for Dae’s hand…it was not a decision we reached lightly. He would have made her a fine husband, given Dae children and a good life.”
“A life you chose for her without consideration of her feelings?”
Unaccustomed to having his will questioned or challenged, Richard fought the impulse to raise his voice. “I am her father,” he said after a calming breath. “It’s my job to know what’s best for her, to protect her from those who would lead her astray.”
Nasheta’s verdant eyes considered Richard with a mild, sympathetic expression. “You speak of the things you want for your daughter, but I have heard few words expressing a consideration for the things Dae wants for herself. Does her opinion weigh so lightly on your scales of judgment?”
“Of course not! She’s my only daughter…I want Dae to be happy and loved.”
“And yet you refuse to listen when she tells you her life with Zafirah in El’Kasari makes her happy. That she is well loved by us all, is fulfilled by her bond with the Scion and the love and pleasure they share between them. Why turn a deaf ear to her words?”
Richard’s face reddened slightly. “What you’re talking about…what she shares with the Scion…that’s not love,” he said firmly. “It’s nothing more than carnal lust…animalistic and shameful. She never felt such things before she was taken into the harem. She was an innocent.”
“I realize you disapprove of Dae’s love for Zafirah…although I am honestly puzzled why that should be. What quality does this man Jonathon possess that makes him a more acceptable mate for your daughter? Zafirah’s wealth and power eclipse anything you could find in this entire kingdom. She is brave and honorable and a great leader of her people. And most of all, she loves Dae fiercely. What flaw in her character do you perceive that makes her such an intolerable partner?”
“She is a woman!”
“So what lies between her legs is of greater concern to you than what lies in her heart? Is a penis the only aspect of consequence you care about in a partner for your daughter?” Nasheta regarded him frankly. “I must say, you seem rather preoccupied with what Dae does in the privacy of her own bed.”
Richard flushed heatedly at the bland words. “It’s shameful,” he insisted harshly, “and I would have her pursue a decent, respectable union with a man.”
“Shameful? Why? Dae felt much the same way about her desires when they first stirred within her…but worse, she feared your reaction if you ever learned of her union with another woman. Over time she overcame her uncertainty and guilt, learned that what she felt was something beautiful and rewarding. As difficult as it may have been for you to learn of the changes in her, those changes are not a flaw in her character to be corrected…and your refusal to accept the woman she has grown into surely wounds her deeply.”
“She cannot feel love for another woman! We taught her better than to succumb to such unnatural appetites,” Richard insisted.
“It is not your place to tell Dae how she feels,” Nasheta countered, not at all perturbed by Richard’s words. “If I told you your love for your wife is based only on greed and self-interest, would you accept my words as truth? Of course not. Your heart is your own…and yet you would seek to dictate the terms of Dae’s love to better conform to your own standards of what is acceptable.” Richard looked away from the girl, but Nasheta shifted around on her seat to face him more fully. “You may be her father, but that does not give you the right to tell her what she may, or may not, find pleasing in a mate.”
“Yet she will never have children,” Richard said. “She’ll never have a family to carry on her legacy.”
“The entire Jaharri nation is her family now,” Nasheta argued softly. “She is Consort to the Scion…a title of tremendous significance and highest honor. Her legacy will be all the great things I am confident she will do on behalf of every man, woman, and child in the desert. You should feel pride, not shame, for the woman she has grown into.”
Richard looked away from the young woman’s intense gaze, turning back to the Jaharri camp, shaking his head slightly. He’d heard many of these same arguments before from his daughter’s lips, but his frustration had always led their conversations to become painfully hostile. Nasheta remained calm, resolute…and Richard felt himself faltering. “I…I just can’t understand what happened to my little girl,” he said after a long pause, his voice lost and choked with emotion. “She was always so innocent…so modest and virtuous. What happened to change her from the person I knew?”
“She is still that person,” Nasheta said. “But now she understands herself and what she wants. That is what happens when a girl grows into a woman; she has found herself, answered the call of passion and bound her soul to one she loves above all others. Can you not see that the disgrace you feel is your own…and that allowing it to burden her is not fair to either of you?”
Nasheta gently placed a single hand over Richard’s, and when he looked up he found her regarding him with kind, gentle eyes. “You must realize by now that you cannot stall Zafirah forever,” she said quietly. “Whether a month from now or a year, Dae will return with us to the desert. I witnessed their love come to bloom; believe me when I tell you the Scion will not leave this kingdom without her Consort.”
“And you would argue that I should simply accept this?” Richard asked, frowning helplessly. “That I should give my only child back to the heathen who stole her from me?”
“Zafirah stole nothing from you, Lord Everdeen,” Nasheta said. “She is not your enemy. She and all those in her army did not march into these lands to attack you, did not come to plunder your crops or steal your child. They came to see their beloved Consort returned to El’Kasari, where she belongs…and where she wishes to be.
“You have done all you can to convince Dae she will be better served by denying her love; have doubtless argued and pleaded with her to submit to your will, and now you lock her away with others you consider equally mistaken in their desires. But what has been the result? Your efforts have not bridged the gap between you…they have only driven her further away. From what I am told, Dae is still entertaining her attraction to other women…and if anything, she is doing so with greater enthusiasm than ever before.”
Blood rushed to Richard’s face again at the reminder of his daughter’s licentious activities in the reformatory, but Nasheta’s expression remained sympathetic and calm.
“Perhaps the time has come to set aside your wounded pride, and acknowledge the fact that Dae will never be that child you held so tightly to your embrace. She is her own person, and your disapproval does not invalidate her love of Zafirah. I can see that the idea of this is difficult for you to accept…but if you cling to your obstinacy, the cost will be higher than you can imagine. If you cannot reconcile with Dae, if you allow your stubbornness to drive this wedge deeper between you, what place will you ever have in her future?”
Richard looked away, moisture glistening in his eyes at the familiar rising emotions of aggravation and confusion. But somehow Nasheta’s words eroded his resolve…made the choice before him clearer, though no more appealing.
“Zafirah is not a monster,” Nasheta continued. “If you cannot see how deep her commitment to your daughter runs, perhaps the failing is your own.” When Richard met her gaze, startled at her blunt suggestion, she only smiled warmly and patted his hand. “Spend ten minutes with the Scion alone, with all your petty prejudices and foolish shame set aside, and speak with her as an equal. If you still believe afterward that her love of Dae is driven only by animal lust, then I would seriously consider having your eyes examined by a healer. Such blindness could be detrimental to your health.”
Richard heard quiet voices approaching and glanced around to see a small gathering of his own soldiers approaching, a few of them carrying platters of fruit and a crystal carafe of sweetened water. They were walking slowly, obviously not wanting to intrude upon their lord’s conversation with the charming young blonde. Richard cleared his throat and wiped the unshed tears from his eyes. He noticed Nasheta was watching the men with a coy, mischievous expression, and realized for the first time that the girl was only playing with the soldiers, teasing them with her act of innocence.
“If you will pardon me, Lord Everdeen, I fear my admirers have come to steal me from your delightful company.” Nasheta rose from her seat and offered Richard a graceful, courtly curtsy. “Consider what I have said; you may find my advice more useful than you believe.” She gave him a light, slightly caressing pat on the shoulder, then left him by the rippling waters of the fountain to rejoin the men. Watching her go, Richard was actually a little amused to see how his soldiers fawned over the girl, completely unaware of her true nature.
He remained by the fountain for a long time, watching the fish swim beneath the surface of the water and reflecting on Nasheta’s words. He could not deny the girl made some valid points; were it not for the issue of her gender, Zafirah was indeed everything he had ever wanted in a suitor for his daughter. She was strong, titled, and although a Jaharri, she possessed an inherent quality of nobility that even he could not deny. Richard conceded to himself that had she been a man, he surely would have agreed to terms by now and accepted Dae’s desire to return to the desert city.
Deep inside, he knew if he persisted in stalling the negotiations, he would only inflict greater damage on his relationship with Dae, and the result would be unchanged. But did he really have the strength to speak with the Scion—the woman who had lured his daughter to her bed, had parted her from her virtue—face to face, as an equal? Could he maintain his calm, look her in the eye, without imagining what terrible sins she had shared with Dae?
And worse, if he failed to find that strength, would he lose his daughter forever?