Chapter 14
The trek through the Northern Pass took Zafirah’s army three days and nights; their ride was slow but methodical, allowing for only sporadic rests when the night was at its darkest. Everyone seemed to share Zafirah’s aversion for the narrow mountain passage, where the sheer granite walls would loom overhead and induce a persistent, claustrophobic sense that they could be crushed at any moment. It was a relief when they finally emerged from the Pass, and Zafirah heard the whispers among her soldiers grow more excited; all that lay before them now was a mystery.
All she could think was that she was another step closer to her Consort.
The hilly grasslands beyond the mountains quickly grew tamer, grazing plains for sheep and horses tended by outlying communities of the eastern kingdom. The empty cerulean skies became overcast with clouds and the temperature grew rapidly colder. They encountered few buildings and fewer people, and Zafirah assumed the farmers had taken to hiding as they rode past. Even here, far from any cities or large townships, the wilderness felt ‘civilized’; fences of wood and stone were seen more and more, keeping livestock from wandering far, and the spahi found themselves traveling along rutted dirt paths rather than open terrain. Naturally cautious of roads to begin with (as far as Zafirah was concerned, any predictable path was an invitation to an ambush), the Scion learned to avoid any paved roadway, for these seemed to lead to more populated regions.
The further they ventured beyond the mountains, the colder it became. Winter in the Jaharri was a season of dry heat and endurance, when most tribes spent their days wearily preparing for the rains of spring and enduring the sandstorms that swept the land in blistering, unpredictable waves. Zafirah quickly realized it was a very different story here; at first the gentle rain showers were welcomed by her troops, but as they marched over ground that grew heavier with moisture, their horses’ hooves churning the ground into a muddy quagmire, the rain became a nuisance. Before long everyone was wet and shivering, splattered with mud and grime, and it became clear to Zafirah that their desert garb was unsuited to this bleak, chilly weather.
At Hazim’s suggestion, Zafirah sent Nasheta, guarded by a small cadre of Falak’s scouts—heavily clothed to disguise their features—ahead of the army and into one of the larger townships they were trying to avoid. With her pale skin and fair hair, the young woman didn’t raise any alarm among the local population, who were doubtless on edge about the army moving across their lands. Imitating Dae’s accent, Nasheta managed to purchase a wide assortment of warmer clothing from the townsfolk, not enough to outfit the entire army, but sufficient for nearly a hundred troops. The locals were a bit surprised—even suspicious—when she paid for the items with a fistful of diamonds, rubies and other precious stones, but they accepted their good fortune without objection. The success of her mission raised the spirits of the grateful warriors, and over the course of the next few days Nasheta managed to acquire more warm cloaks and thick woolen shirts until all the troops had been appropriately outfitted.
Their horses also struggled to adapt to their new environment. More accustomed to a drier diet of oats and chaff, many spahi mounts found the lush grasses difficult to digest. The abundance of food tempted the animals to gorge themselves, leading several to suffer from colic. Zafirah’s horse-masters began to take stricter measures when letting the animals graze, trying to restrict their access to the tempting bounty.
They pushed on, day by day, their pace slowing dramatically as the environment around them changed further. In many places the grasslands gave way to mountainous forests, and the Jaharri moved with caution now. These were alien landscapes, unimaginable to people accustomed to endless horizons that allowed them to see for miles in all directions. Rivers emerged, snaking across the lands in fast flowing torrents and further hindering their progress. Falak’s scouts realized quickly that any large river would lead inevitably to a city or large settlement, and Zafirah tried to avoid them as much as she could. Sometimes the army was forced to double back along their path to find safe bridges to cross the dangerous waters.
All this water supported an astonishing abundance of plant and animal life. The trees that rose around them were no longer scraggly or stunted; they were towering monoliths of incredible height, with trunks so thick a dozen men could not link their arms around the base. The ground they walked over was also different—no longer sandy or rocky dirt, but rich, dark loam. Everything here was heavy with moisture—the ground, the plants, even the air itself. The clouds in this land seemed enamored with the ground, kissing the mountaintops and even swirling about in the valleys and on the plains, particularly in the early mornings. While Zafirah had witnessed sea mists several times in her life (they formed occasionally in the bay outside El’Kasari, if the winds were still enough), it was an eerie experience to actually walk through the foggy vapor of such a low-flying cloud.
There were other things that slowed their progress. Falak’s scouts, elite troops who could move across the desert sands in stealth, unhindered by the lack of hiding places, now found themselves having to adjust to a sudden overabundance of cover. The dense forests were alive with the sounds of small animals and birds, so much so that the scouts were constantly pausing, alert, hesitant to push too far into the wilds where they found it frighteningly easy to lose the path back to the main forces. Every shadow in the undergrowth seemed to hide potential enemies, every rustle in the leaves sounded like a furtive footstep, and the scouts took care not to leave any ambush undiscovered.
Zafirah knew their presence in these lands had been well and truly noticed by now; such a large force was not exactly difficult to spot. Though they had slowed their pace to enable her scouts to guide the army around the more heavily populated areas, Zafirah felt eyes upon her, watching from higher, distant vantages, monitoring her progress. No-one challenged them though. The common people seemed to vanish at their approach, and apparently had no interest in approaching to learn the reason for this incursion through their lands. With the roads and the rivers dictating so much of their course, it felt strange to Zafirah that no-one had taken advantage of this fact to intercept their march.
Hazim, however, seemed unsurprised.
“These lands are populated by farmers and craftsmen, not fighters,” he told Zafirah when she expressed her concerns. “They are simple people who desire no conflict with us. After all, they have been raised on tales of the merciless, blood-thirsty desert barbarians since infancy. If we are willing to pass through their lands peacefully, why should they do anything to anger us?”
“But we are being watched,” Zafirah insisted. “I can feel it. There are people hiding out there…marking our passage.”
“No doubt. But so long as we avoid passing anywhere near the estates of the powerful nobility, I think we should be safe enough. It is they who govern these lands in the name of the King, and it is they who command the soldiers. Likely they are prepared to face us if we should attack the common people…but if we remain peaceful, they will not risk the lives of their men to engage us in combat.”
“Not unless King Gerald orders them to do so?”
“Precisely.” Hazim watched her as she processed his words, adding with a smile, “I imagine the King has deployed his spies to keep careful track of our movements. It will not be long before he sends an emissary to determine our intentions. When he does, I suggest you permit me to do the talking.” Zafirah gave him a skeptical look and he continued. “Part of why you brought me along on this adventure was to handle negotiations. I will make it clear that we are here for only one thing…and once we have it, we shall return to the desert without bringing any harm to the people.”
“Be certain you also make it clear we will not leave these lands without my Consort,” Zafirah said, “and if my will is opposed, we are prepared to fight.”
Hazim nodded smoothly. “I shall ensure your resolve on the matter is conveyed most forcefully, Scion.”
Though it was cold and damp, the spahi and scouts were in high spirits, excited to be a part of what they now considered to be a grand adventure. They had all heard tales about the watered lands since childhood, and were wide-eyed and curious at the wonders around them. Zafirah had made it very clear that they were all to be on their best behavior while riding through these lands, and however easy it might have been to indulge in a little plundering, they obeyed her order.
But though they did nothing to pillage or loot from the commoners, these were still rich lands to the Jaharri, brimming with more water and life than any of them had ever seen before. This was fortunate, for the army was still moving at a pace that pushed them ever-further from the supply trains they needed to continue on. But there were plenty of streams and rivers from which to fill their water-skins, and the forests were populated with game animals—mostly deer and shaggy-haired goats—in numbers so great that Zafirah saw little harm in hunting them. Several reports came in of larger and more predatory beasts roaming the woods—great silver-backed wolves and other creatures they could not name—but there were no instances of any attacks. The scouts, most of whom had grown up as hunters in the desert tribes, found their prey almost laughably easy to bring down.
“One would think these creatures had never seen a bow!” Falak chuckled over the campfire one night, tearing the cooked meat from a haunch of venison with her teeth.
Inaya—who was handling her separation from the comforts of palace life better than Zafirah ever imagined she would—chewed her own food slowly, savoring the succulent meat. “It is indeed an amazing land,” she concurred, licking the juices from her fingers one by one. “And yet I still prefer the warmth and majesty of the desert. The air is so cold here, and everything is covered in moisture. I have not felt truly dry since we crossed through the mountains.”
“The streams and waterfalls are so pretty though,” Nasheta said. “I had thought the gardens of the seraglio were lush, but there are so many plants here, and the birds never cease with their songs.”
“True…but tell me you are not weary of these thick, damp clothes.” Inaya plucked at her traveling cloak and pouted in distaste. “My skin craves the kiss of silk.”
“Your skin craves the appreciative gaze of many lovers upon it!” Falak laughed.
Inaya lifted her chin delicately. “Inshal did not grace me with this body only to see it hidden under furs and woolen cloth. I was made to feel the sun caress my naked skin…the air blow warm against every part of me. I have not worn my harem clothes since we left El’Kasari!”
“I know not why you thought to bring them,” Nasheta said. “Fine silk and sheer satin will serve little purpose in this climate.”
“How could I possibly foresee that the rains would fall unceasingly? I had never imagined such cold could exist! I thought they might prove useful.”
“Stop complaining, Inaya,” Zafirah scolded lightly. “You are well warmed in my bed with Nasheta and I…and though your beauty may be deprived of the sun’s adorations, I have heard no words of grievance at night when your wandering hands find wet skin.”
The others laughed when Inaya pouted girlishly at the tease, but Zafirah could see her dark eyes sparkling with inner merriment. Zafirah smiled to herself, grateful that Inaya had persuaded her to allow her on this journey…and Nasheta as well. Aside from the fact that she found sleep more restful in the arms of the two pleasure-servants, they were a constant and very welcome source of comfort in the absence of her beloved Consort. Though the soldiers and the scouts were all determined to see Dae returned to the desert, Inaya and Nasheta understood better than they ever could just how deeply her loss affected Zafirah. They knew Dae more intimately, cared for and loved her almost as much as the Scion herself. Zafirah also knew that Nasheta—who had been born in the empire west of the desert before being abducted as a child by raiders and eventually sold to the Jaharri as a body-slave—had always longed to visit the watered lands, and her joyous response to every new wonder they encountered couldn’t help but lift everyone’s spirits.
However long this journey took and whatever hardships lay ahead, Zafirah’s heavy heart was buoyed by the little piece of her harem that traveled at her side.
* * *
Dae had been home a week and a day when she was summoned to attend her parents once again in the formal audience hall. Upon entering she found them waiting for her with two other men; one looked to be a few years her senior, well-groomed, square-jawed and handsome…the other older, with graying hair and an enormous, flamboyant-looking mustache. The two strangers shared a strong familial resemblance, and she guessed them to be father and son. Her parents looked simultaneously anxious, excited, and smugly pleased with themselves—a combination Dae recognized from every time they’d been about to surprise her with a present they knew she would surely adore. Dae looked again at the young man standing at stiff attention and felt her heart sink wearily.
She had a feeling she knew where this meeting was headed.
“Dae! You’re here!” Her mother rushed forward and took her hand, tugging her over to the man. “Excellent. Your father and I would like you to meet Lord Avery of Blackwood and his son…Jonathon.” Simone stood her in front of the two men, who each gave her a rigid, courtly bow. Simone was watching her with a hopeful, expectant look on her face. “Jonathon has recently completed his studies and now oversees most of the operations of his father’s estate…isn’t that right?”
“Indeed.” Jonathon was still standing stiff-backed, but he offered a polite smile as he met Dae’s cautious gaze. “It’s a considerable responsibility, though one I’m honored to inherit.”
Dae remained silent and Simone continued. “Before you were…abducted…your father and I had agreed that Jonathon would make an excellent suitor for your hand, darling.”
This confirmed what Dae had already guessed. She considered her would-be paramour a long moment, unimpressed. “I see.”
Her father cleared his throat. “We had hoped the two of you could perhaps spend some time together…get to know one another a little better, and then…” He trailed off, but his eyes were hopeful.
This example of willful ignorance no longer struck Dae as painful…it was more pathetically comical. “And then…what? Fall madly in love?” She burst into a short fit of harsh laughter. Jonathon’s face reddened. “This is the man you chose to be my husband?”
“Dae—” Her father looked highly offended at her mirth. “Jonathon has graciously agreed to overlook any past…‘indiscretions’ you may have committed while under the sway of Jaharri influences.”
“Has he?” Dae turned her withering glare on her ‘suitor’. “How accommodating of him.”
Jonathon appeared to quickly recover his composure and cleared his throat lightly. “My lady—Dae, if you will permit—I’m aware of your history since you were taken by the slavers, and I understand better than most how easily the minds of the innocent can be led astray by corrupting and lustful thoughts. My own cousin suffered much the same affliction, but she has made great strides to overcome those impure and unnatural impulses. I believe it will take time, but with help…I believe you can do the same.”
“Your cousin, you say?” Dae bit her inner cheek to keep a playful smile at bay. “I don’t suppose you brought her with you?” She heard her father’s gasp. The look of hopeful excitement fell from her mother’s face, and Dae waved her comment aside. “I’m sorry Lord Blackwood, Jonathon, that you’ve wasted the trip, but I’m afraid my heart is already quite spoken for.”
“Dae,” her father said in a calm and reasonable tone, “you need to put the past behind you. It’s time to move forward with your life and find a proper—decent—relationship. At least give this a chance.”
It was just so ridiculous, Dae fought the impulse to roll her eyes. But obviously she had failed to make her parents realize just how much she had grown. Perhaps she’d been too subtle, too willing to accommodate their continued belief that she would change her mind.
She decided it was time to give them a more explicit demonstration of her disinterest in their foolish plans to see her ‘recover’ from her experiences in the desert.
Turning back to the young noble, Dae lifted a coquettish eyebrow. “Well…” she said, dropping her pitch to a lower register while letting her eyes wander over Jonathon’s face and clothing in a seductive contemplation. “…you’re handsome enough, I’ll give you that.” She allowed her posture to relax, become something more languid, alluring. It felt like slipping into a robe of satin and lace, familiar and comfortable. She smiled lazily at him and took a gliding step closer. Her voice became a purr. “Tell me, Jonathon…do you find me attractive?”
Jonathon swallowed, visibly startled at the change in her demeanor, but he managed a nod.
“And would you like to kiss me…?” She stepped closer still, moving with the graceful eroticism she’d copied from the other pleasure-servants. “To feel my lips, soft and yielding, pressed against yours?”
Waves of raw, animal sensuality were rolling off her body now as she allowed that physically mature, sexual being she had grown into to emerge and dominate her movements.
“Does the thought of my body…naked, aflame with desire…arouse you?” With one hand she traced a path from her neck down the outer curve of her left breast over her shirt; her lips parted in a mockery of lust. “My flesh moving against yours…our skin growing slick with sweat as our passions mounted…”
Jonathon’s eyes were wide with shock, his face growing redder with every heartbeat. Dae was now standing extremely close to him, smiling up at him with hooded eyelids. Her voice was a caress. “My breath, hot against your neck…my cries of ecstasy growing louder…”
“Dae!” Her father’s voice, shocked, scandalized, furious.
She broke eye-contact and spun away, laughing. “Is this how you think you’ll coax me back to my former self, Father? Back to desires you consider acceptable?” She threw Jonathon a look of contempt. “Trust me, Jonathon, I’m not what you’re looking for in a wife. One night entertaining my passions would likely be the death of you. I’m more than a man like you could handle.” She looked to her father again, her expression stormy but still amused. “I’m more than any man could handle.”
“That’s enough, Dae!”
“Yes, it is! Stop trying to fix me, Father! Stop trying to turn me back into the child I used to be! Can’t you understand? I’m more myself now than I ever was before! This is who I am…and I won’t change back just to spare your feelings.” She turned and walked away, but as she reached the doorway she glanced back. “If you really want to see what it takes to spark my interest in a suitor, be patient. Soon enough Zafirah will come.”
Tossing Jonathon a final teasing wink, she flounced out of the audience hall and up the stairs to her bedroom. Behind her she could hear Lord Blackwood’s cries of outrage…and her father’s stuttering apologies.
Family dinner was a strained and awkward affair for the next few nights.
.