Chapter 26
A fine shower of misty rain began falling over the camp at midday, but Zafirah barely registered the wet. Inaya had been gone a lot longer than expected, and Zafirah had chosen to distract herself with some vigorous sparring. She’d been drilling for hours, pushing herself harder than she had in months. The chill was starting to gather painfully in her shoulder, and the muddy ground made for tricky footing, but it cleared her mind to focus on the challenging fight.
Facing two of her more experienced spahi, she parried and dodged in a retreating dance to keep them from flanking her. Her opponents worked well together, coming at her in complimentary high-and-low attack sequences which forced her onto her heels. Ducking one blade as it dove toward her neck, she simultaneously brought the back edge of her sword up to deflect a cunning thrust to her heart. Her scimitar wove through the air in a silver blur, and the air rang with the clash of steel against steel.
She felt nearly back to full strength after the injury sustained in her battle with Shakir, though her breaths were starting to come more labored. Out of the corner of her eye, Zafirah noticed Falak approaching the sparring circle with a purposeful stride.
Finally, she thought, feeling an excited burst of anticipation…and for a split second, her focus slipped.
Her opponents didn’t miss their opportunity; the first gave a loud war cry and charged her directly, bringing his sword down in a powerful, overhand chopping motion, while the second maneuvered behind her to the right. Cursing, Zafirah raised her scimitar to block the first attack, leaving her back exposed. Improvising at the last second, she dropped her sword and caught it with her left hand, shifting her stance to present her shoulder to the charging man. With her right hand still raised, she hopped forward a step and caught his wrist before he brought his blade down. Bracing her stance in the slippery mud, she used his momentum to flip him over her shoulder, hoping he would collide with his partner.
A stinging slap from the flat of a blade struck the back of her leg just behind her knee. Zafirah winced; her opponent hadn’t moved as far behind her as she believed. In live combat, his cut would have neatly severed her hamstrings.
Winded from the challenging training, Zafirah called a halt to their session and shook her long, dripping wet hair from her face. She tossed her blade to one of the spahi watching the display, accepting a flask of water and taking several gulps before turning to where her chief scout stood, recurve bow draped over her neck.
“A worthy attempt, my Scion,” Falak complimented her. “Few can stand long against those two. Your form has recovered, as has your endurance.”
Zafirah rubbed her collarbone, watching the next pair of fighters step into the circle. “The damp still digs its claws into my shoulder, but at least the temperature here allows one to fight without fear of heatstroke.” Catching her breath, she fixed her friend with an intense look. “I take it your scouts have reported?”
“They have, Scion. Inaya is returning.”
“And have they determined where Dae is being held?”
“Indeed, Scion. Lord Everdeen's guards escorted Inaya to a building there.” Falak indicated the hill which overshadowed the opposite end of the estate. “They believe it to be a temple of some kind, but a patrol of Everdeen’s soldiers stand guard over it. My scouts did not encroach too close.”
Zafirah looked where Falak indicated, barely able to make out the shape of the building from this distance. It blended in with the mottled forest surrounding it. “A temple? I suppose that makes sense. The followers of Tarsis view love between women as a grave sin; Everdeen must be growing desperate, turning to his God to change Dae’s heart.”
Something across the camp caught Falak’s attention, and she nodded for Zafirah to follow her gaze; Nasheta stood among a group of Lord Everdeen’s soldiers who had gathered to watch the sparring. She was waving her hand to attract their attention, and when she saw she had it, she gestured to herself, then to the men, then used two fingers to mime a walking figure.
Falak gave an amused snort. “As one of your bedmates returns, the other seeks to leave.”
“Nasheta has a great love for all that is green and growing, Falak,” Zafirah said, indicating to Nasheta that she could go with the men. “How can I ask her to stay in the camp, bored to tears, when there are magnificent gardens to explore not a stone’s throw away?”
“Not to mention lonely hearts to tempt.”
Zafirah shrugged. “It has always been her nature to seek attention from her admirers…men or women, it makes no difference to her. But Nasheta’s charm offensive serves a tactical purpose, as she understands very well. She walks with her escort through the gardens, enlightening their curiosity with tales of a world they have only ever heard to be primitive and uncultured. We are trying to be diplomatic with Lord Everdeen, after all.”
“And she is certain none of the men suspect her true nature?”
“Nasheta is a clever girl, Falak. She can play demure when the occasion calls for it, and Richard’s men seem utterly enchanted by her. She only had to voice her admiration for the garden plants and they procured an assortment of seeds and bulbs for her to take home. She even told me the outlanders keep the most marvelous decorative fish in their fountain ponds. It was obvious she had dreams of adding a few to the seraglio pool, and I had to point out that the creatures would surely perish on our return journey.”
A lull in the sparring made them turn back, and they watched as Inaya effortlessly cut a path through the busy camp, soldiers and servants alike moving out of her way. Adept at reading the mood of all the women in her harem, Zafirah could tell from her gait and the sated smile on her face that Inaya had enjoyed more than conversation while visiting her Consort.
The knowledge sparked a fire in the pit of her belly.
“That was a rather lengthy visit, Inaya,” Falak scolded lightly as Inaya reached them. “The Scion has been restlessly awaiting your return. I trust you spent you time productively…perhaps gleaning insight into how best to set Lord Everdeen on a path to compromise?”
“I am not restless, Falak,” Zafirah said before Inaya could respond, “and I would never wish to hasten a parting between reunited friends.”
“Thank you. Scion,” Inaya said, “and my visit not only confirmed that Dae is unharmed and eager to return with us, it also allowed you to identify her location on the grounds…or were those not your eyes I saw trailing us from the tree line, Falak? In addition, Scion, your Consort bid me return with a message conveying her love and devotion to you.”
“I am eager to hear it.”
Inaya hesitated, glancing at Falak and the others around them. “Better you receive her message back in our tent, Scion. Though few in words, it was rather…personal in nature.” Stepping closer, Inaya pressed herself against Zafirah’s body and gazed up at her with carnal, ravenous eyes. The chill in Zafirah’s skin seemed to thaw in a heartbeat; that look promised only one thing, and the scent of sex clinging to the girl overpowered her perfume. Taking Zafirah by the hand, Inaya whispered, “Come,” and began tugging her back toward their tent.
Zafirah was vaguely aware of the amused looks being exchanged among her warriors as Inaya led her through the camp, but she was far too distracted by thoughts of what Dae’s message might entail (not to mention the languid sway of Inaya’s hips) to care.
“I only hope you have not exhausted your strength on swordplay, my Scion,” Inaya commented, flipping her shimmering black hair over her shoulder to look back at her. “Dae was quite determined to send as lengthy a message as possible. She will be so disappointed if you beg for a reprieve before I can impart every carnal delight she longs to share with you.”
A flood of arousal weakened Zafirah’s legs, but she returned Inaya’s sultry look with a smirk. “How many times did you come while she related this ‘message’?”
Inaya laughed. “I think telling would spoil the game, Scion. Dae gave me full authority to act in her stead, and I intend to honor her instructions. You shall just have to endure for as long as you can…but I will say she has grown much bolder since the last time we played.”
Zafirah found herself wishing she hadn’t devoted so much of her energy in sparring; she didn’t want to disappoint her Consort, and Inaya would tease her relentlessly if she tapped out too quickly.
* * *
Sitting with her knees drawn tight under her chin, a thick shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Dae looked out of the monastery’s window and watched the distant twinkling of the Jaharri campfires. By her reckoning the hour was approaching midnight. Father Douglas had a strict rule against wandering about after lights’ out, and it was one his priests still tried to enforce. The reformatory exits were locked and barred at sunset, but they checked the rooms every few hours in an effort to discourage any amorous antics. Dae wasn’t concerned about being caught, knowing the worst she would face if they found her was a scolding.
Her father had assigned a company of soldiers to patrol the monastery grounds, but this late at night there were only three unfortunate men still walking the soggy, cold perimeter. Dae had been observing them from the cover of darkness as they strode past the window, paying attention to the time it took them to complete each circuit. Inaya’s visit had inspired a plan: it occurred to Dae that the soldiers must work the night watch in shifts, and she wanted to learn their schedule. Perhaps there could be an opportunity for Zafirah to sneak a face-to-face visit.
Despite the cold, she was enjoying the peace and solitude of the moment…a chance to watch the camp without her friends all asking a million questions she didn’t have answers to. She didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to let this day end.
Inaya’s visit had left her feeling rejuvenated. After their adventure in the storeroom, Dae insisted on introducing Inaya to Cass, Tricia, and a few of her new friends. There had been some initial awkward staring—not surprising, given Inaya’s skimpy outfit and the fact that her jewelry alone probably represented more wealth than any of the women had ever seen—but after a while their mood relaxed. They spent hours chatting and laughing beside the fire in the dining hall, Inaya relating the tale of the Jaharri march and all the wonders they had seen along their journey. The fact that Inaya’s escort never intruded seemed to suggest they were more afraid of offending Zafirah than they were disobeying their own lord.
Dae leaned closer to the window and breathed against the glass, fogging it, then used her fingertip to clear spots over the lights of the distant campfires. She studied the pattern, imagining the lights were a constellation of stars, then traced connecting lines between them to form the rough figure of a bird with spread wings.
A falcon, she decided, remembering Kalid and his feathered companions.
Imagining Zafirah sleeping in the arms of her two pleasure-servants, Dae recalled the vows they had exchanged at their joining and released a longing sigh. She whispered to her absent mate, watching her words form wisps of mist in the wintery chill.
“Our hearts are still bound, my love, and our souls entwined. I may not be able to hold you tonight, and the season may turn before we can be together again…but at least we’re breathing the same air.”
For now, it was enough.