Chapter 4
The mare snorted and pranced at the end of the lead-rope, kicking up clouds of dust and tossing her head about. Zafirah cooed soothing words in the Jaharri tongue and pulled firmly on the braided rope that was attached to an elaborate, tasseled halter, bringing the headstrong animal to rein. Dae, standing several paces behind her, hesitated when she gestured for her to approach.
“Have no fear,” Zafirah reassured, keeping her voice steady and even. “Simhana has seen too little of the horizon these last few weeks, so her spirits are high…but she will not hurt you.”
Dae regarded the horse apprehensively, eyeing the sharp hooves and twitching ears. “Are you certain?”
“Of course. Here…try giving her this.” Reaching into a pocket, Zafirah retrieved a thick slice of apple and presented it to Dae.
Simhana stilled instantly when she caught scent of the offering; though bred for war, she was apparently not above accepting friendly bribes. Nostrils flared, the mare took a step closer to Dae, who held the treat out nervously.
“Like this,” Zafirah instructed, showing Dae how to properly offer the apple. “Keep your palm flat or she may accidentally take your fingers. Perfect.”
Dae smiled when the horse nuzzled her hand and gingerly accepted the offering. She kept her hand out while Simhana’s thick velvety lips searched for more, wonder replacing fear. Slowly, Dae moved her hand to the mare’s neck and stroked the animal gently, marveling at the sleek, powerful muscles that rippled beneath her palm. Simhana’s coat was almost as white as the desert sands, except for four black socks and a dark grey shading about her muzzle. “She’s magnificent!”
“Indeed, and as loyal a comrade as I have ever known. Simhana was presented as a gift to me by the Biverak tribe after I took the title of Scion. She has carried me through more battles and skirmishes than I can recall, and would lay down her life to defend me if I fell. No finer horse has ever been bred in all the desert.”
Dae giggled when the mighty war-horse gave her an insistent head-butt the moment she stopped petting her. “Lucky for you you’ve never fought an army wielding bushels of apples. Her loyalty seems easily corrupted.”
“Perhaps you have simply charmed her…as you have her mistress.”
Dae offered her a flattered smile before turning her attention back to the mare. Simhana was far different from the horses raised in the Heartland. Where the destrier chargers were large, solid animals bred for strength and raw power, the desert horses were smaller, lighter, and far leaner. They could carry a rider quickly over vast distances without rest, or strike with agile swiftness during a battle charge.
They were also, Zafirah had assured her, more intelligent—a trait which gave them their headstrong and willful temperament, but which also created far superior war-horses capable of fighting on even if their rider was unhorsed. Even when standing still, Simhana’s muscles twitched continually along her flanks and hindquarters, as though she were barely able to contain her restless energy.
“I always loved horses,” Dae commented, running a hand over Simhana’s pale coat, absolutely enchanted. “I must have begged my father a dozen times to let me have a pony of my own, but he strictly forbade it. Riding was no activity for a young lady, he said, especially one born to noble lineage. Still, I used to watch his cavalry run their training drills every morning when the weather was fine; Gods, how I wished I could join them.”
“Which brings us to the very subject I was hoping to discuss with you,” Zafirah said. “As we will soon be journeying out to the camp of my mother’s tribe, I thought a few lessons in horsemanship might be in order.”
“Oh, I…I’m not sure I could—”
“It would be a useful skill for you to acquire,” Zafirah urged. “Since our earliest days, the Jaharri nomads have been a horse people. My father had me in the saddle before I could even walk. Learning to ride would earn you much respect.”
Eyeing Simhana, Dae considered the offer seriously. “You really think I could do it?”
“Of course. The spahi are the finest equestrians in all the world, and I would be honored if you would permit me to teach you.”
Dae beamed a smile at her taller mate. “Okay…I’d like that.”
“Excellent. I have not had an opportunity to ride lately, so I thought you might prefer to just watch our practice session for today— Easy!” She steadied Simhana when the mare pranced suddenly to the right, adding, “We shall have to find a more sedate animal for you to start with. War-horses like Simhana do not heed the orders of inexperienced hands.”
Dae spent the rest of the afternoon taking her first lessons in horsemanship. Zafirah first showed her how to fit and adjust the lightweight saddle and bridle, then led Dae and a handful of spahi out of the city and on to the barren, rocky wasteland beyond. It was the first time Dae had stood on the blistering desert flats since coming to El’Kasari, and she repressed a shudder as memories from her time with the slavers sprang from the deep recesses of her mind. She joined a small group of other spectators who had followed them to watch while Zafirah and her troops began running their practice drills.
Zafirah had once told her the spahi were the finest light cavalry troops in all the realms, and after witnessing their demonstration of equine mastery for only a few minutes, Dae knew she hadn’t spoken out of misplaced pride. She had never dreamed that horses could move the way Zafirah and the other spahi moved them, or that a rider could perform such feats of athleticism or daring at such speeds. At a full gallop, one man slipped his feet from the stirrups and, with an ease that defied belief, deftly sprang up onto his horse’s back, where he balanced with a scimitar spinning in each hand. Another group armed with light spears charged a row of wooden dummies, flinging the weapons with deadly accuracy and then, to Dae’s astonishment, leaning out of their saddles almost parallel to the ground and retrieving them as they swept by their targets.
Watching their exercises, Dae recognized a friendly spirit of rivalry among the riders; they traded jibes and colorful insults freely, even laughing at their Scion when Zafirah failed to execute a particularly difficult maneuver and was thrown from Simhana’s back to land in a less than dignified sprawl on the rocky sands. Before Dae could rush forward to make sure she wasn’t injured, Zafirah was on her feet and dusting herself off, giving a mock bow to the amused spahi before mounting Simhana again.
“She is unhurt, effendi,” said one of the children gathered beside her. Dae glanced at the boy. He couldn’t have been older than twelve, but he carried a wooden scimitar and was dressed in clear imitation of the soldiers. “Learning to fall is part of it…although truthfully, I think perhaps she might have been showing off a little.”
“She does that sometimes,” Dae smiled, shaking her head scoldingly at Zafirah when she caught her eye.
The horses themselves seemed every bit as competitive as their riders…only they weren’t so gracious in defeat. More than one animal lost its temper during the exercises and threatened another with flattened ears and lashing hooves. The spahi took it all in stride, however, controlling their high-strung horses with firm but calm authority.
It was nearing sunset by the time they returned to the stables. Dae helped Zafirah strip Simhana’s gear and wash the lathered sweat from her flanks, noticing that several of the spahi were watching her with expressions of approval. She returned their respectful nods with the easy courtesy of one raised in a noble household. It was strange to think that very soon these soldiers would look on her with the same obedience and loyalty as they did the Scion…that they would die to protect her. Their obvious acceptance of her as Zafirah’s mate was a comfort, and Dae vowed she would work hard to be a worthy Consort.
Leaving Simhana in the care of the stable hands, Dae took Zafirah’s hand in hers and together they headed out into the crowded city streets.
Zafirah had been busy with affairs of state most of the last week, so this was their first opportunity to be together in four days. Dae had spent her time in the seraglio with the other pleasure-servants, enduring their lighthearted teasing about how little they’d seen of her lately. They had Dae blushing furiously with a game they concocted, seeing who could come up with the most creative—not to mention lurid—description of how she and Zafirah might have been occupying their nights. Strangely, none of their flirtations ever led to more intimate offers, and Dae had been finding it surprisingly difficult to sleep alone. Since becoming intimate with Zafirah she’d grown accustomed to resting in her lover’s embrace, so even this brief period of abstinence was enough to put her libido on high alert.
“You know,” Dae said, pitching her voice deliberately low so Zafirah was forced to lean closer to her, “I’ve missed you these last few nights.”
Zafirah smiled and squeezed her smaller hand. “As I have you.”
“Do you have any ideas for us tonight?” Dae asked, using the new ‘Seductive Voice’ she’d been working hard to perfect. “Perhaps we could try out something new from your collection. I’m feeling particularly…energetic.”
Zafirah took a deep breath and released it as a long sigh. “You know I would love nothing more than to help you release your…energy…but alas, I fear we cannot.”
Dae’s eyebrows shot up. That wasn’t the response she’d been expecting. Zafirah had never refused her affections before. “W-we can’t? Why not?”
“It is a requirement of our joining,” Zafirah explained. “The ceremony shall be held three days from now, beginning at moonrise. Tradition dictates that, as part of our physical purification, we must both remain celibate for the seven nights prior to the ceremony.”
“A week? Wait a minute.” Suddenly Dae understood. This at least explained why none of the other pleasure-servants had taken advantage of their opportunity to press a seduction home. “So…you’ve been avoiding me?”
Zafirah had the good sense to look chastised. “I thought it best for both of us to avoid any temptation,” she offered apologetically.
“I see.” Dae treated Zafirah to a few moments of reproachful glaring before allowing her gaze to soften. “You should have told me.”
“I know. But I feared the knowledge would only sharpen your awareness of the fact we could not be together…that it would make our time apart seem harder.”
“Mm.” Considering this, Dae realized how valid her reasoning was. “I guess you’re right. I probably would have lain in bed awake, thinking of all the things I wasn’t being allowed to do with you.”
“Then I am forgiven?”
“You’re forgiven,” Dae allowed, “on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“I want to lie with you tonight.”
Zafirah looked conflicted. “We cannot. As I told you, we must remain cele—”
“No.” Dae pressed her fingers gently against Zafirah’s lips, silencing her protests. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just…I want us to be together, even if we can’t make love.”
“Oh. You mean…just to sleep?”
“Yes.” Dae marveled at the slightly perplexed expression on her lover’s face. She’s probably never had a woman ask to share her bed and not her passion before. “Would that be alright? It’s just that…I think I sleep better when you’re near me.”
Zafirah cocked her head and raised an eyebrow in a question that didn’t need to be voiced.
Dae smirked. “I can control myself if you can.”
The hint of a challenge in Dae’s tone seemed enough to spark Zafirah’s competitive spirit. “Then of course you may share my bed.” With gentle fingers, she pushed a lock of golden hair back from Dae’s face. “I love you.”
“Mm, love you too.” Dae pulled Zafirah down for a sweet, lingering kiss, conscious of the bemused eyes watching them. When they parted, she batted her eyelashes girlishly at her mate. “But I’d love you even more if you told me something about the ceremony taking place after we get back from visiting your mother…?”
Zafirah laughed. “You are persistent, Tahirah, I must say!”
“Well?”
“Sorry, but it must never be said that Scion Zafirah Al’Intisar ever spoiled a lover’s surprise.”
“Hmph.” Dae pouted, though she knew it was hopeless.
“Come.” Taking her by the hand again, Zafirah led the way through the market stalls. “There is still enough time before full dark for us to explore the souk’s a little. Let me see if I can restore a smile to your lips.”
They spent the next few hours wandering through the marketplace, watching the street performers and acrobats practice their craft and browsing through the incredible array of stalls which sold everything from the mundane to the mystifying. Dae loved the atmosphere of the port city…so very different to the cities she’d seen in her homeland. Children continued to play safely through the streets even after nightfall, the darkness kept at bay by the light of hundreds of torches. The sound of lively music and laughter spilled out from open taverns and what Zafirah referred to with a sly wink as ‘pillow-houses’.
Enticed by the smell of cooking food, they paused at a vendor’s cart where Dae was coaxed into trying some of the local delicacies; she was particularly delighted by the rice and goat-cheese filled pastries they had for dessert. Only when the stalls began to close did they finally turn their footsteps back toward the palace.
Looking back over her shoulder as they passed beneath the great domed archway leading into the marble hallways, Dae promised herself she would ask Zafirah to take her out into the city more often.
* * *
Zafirah found that her attentive servants had lit several shamedan throughout her bedchamber in anticipation of her return. She took a moment to go around the room and extinguish all but a few of their flames before turning back to her bed. When she did, a bolt of arousal lanced through her; the remaining light played over smooth, alabaster skin as Dae stripped out of her soft cotton paranja and shirt. Zafirah froze, mesmerized, wondering if she had the strength to resist succumbing to carnal temptation.
Crawling onto the bed, Dae glanced back to regard her with a look of sultry amusement. “Is this going to be problem?” she asked, indicating her nudity. “I prefer not to wear clothes to bed.”
Zafirah stood frozen for a long moment before giving a shaky nod. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her libido. “I-I shall endure.”
“Good.” Slipping under the silk sheets, Dae raised an eyebrow and patted the bed invitingly. Zafirah managed to tear her gaze away and began to disrobe.
Despite the simmering warmth stirring between her legs, Zafirah was glad that Dae had suggested this. These last few nights she had found herself plagued with restless thoughts, missing the feel of Dae’s warm body wrapped around her…the lullaby of her heartbeat and her peaceful breathing. In the past she’d always preferred to sleep alone after her trysts—she often found it difficult to relax and drift off when sharing a bed—but since falling in love with Dae, Zafirah had started craving such intimacy in the aftermath of their passion. Although Dae still insisted on maintaining her separate bedchamber in the harem, it was Zafirah’s hope that after their joining ceremony she would feel ready to make a more permanent transition to sharing her personal space.
She experienced an uncharacteristic moment of awkwardness when she joined her mate beneath the sheets. Dae immediately wrapped her in a snug embrace, and though she relished the skin-on-skin contact, Zafirah couldn’t help but tense up, knowing they wouldn’t be able to indulge in more intimate activities.
“Relax,” Dae whispered, laying her head upon Zafirah’s breast. “I’m not going to get you all worked up. Just hold me…feel me. Relax.” Zafirah shifted her position slightly, allowing Dae to snuggle closer. “There. This isn’t so bad, is it?”
“Mm…not so bad at all.” Once she relaxed, Zafirah was pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t such a challenge to sublimate her desire. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the clean scent of her Consort-to-be—vanilla and wild rose—just absorbing the younger woman’s presence and affection in silence for long minutes. “It has been many years since I last did this,” she commented quietly.
“What? You mean, just holding someone?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Zafirah combed the fingers of her left hand through Dae’s silken hair lovingly, trying to recall. “I think since I was probably…sixteen years old.”
“Sixteen?” Dae chuckled. “My my…you have been a busy girl, haven’t you?”
Zafirah was surprised to feel her cheeks growing hot. “Can I help it that my bed mates usually find more vigorous activities for us than sleep?”
“It’s difficult to imagine you at sixteen. And it’s impossible to imagine you sharing a bed with anyone who didn’t want to get frisky.”
“Ah, but you must remember, Tahirah, at that age I was many years from becoming the woman I am today. At the time I lived with my mother and her tribe in the deep desert, far from the indulgences and luxury of the palace.”
Dae leaned into Zafirah’s caresses, sighing. “Did you know right away that you liked girls?”
“I was young when I realized, yes. My mother…” She chuckled quietly. “she had already guessed from the way I watched the older girls play that I would never bear her a grandchild. Still, simply accepting my desires did nothing to placate them.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed. At sixteen I was…” A long pause. “…somewhat shy.”
Emerald eyes shot wide. Dae started laughing and had to sit up. “You? Shy? Zafirah, they write songs about your seductions, and I don’t recall any of them ever describing you as ‘shy’!”
“It is true,” Zafirah insisted. “The first woman I ever shared pleasure with…it took the poor girl days of persistence before I began to return her flirtations. And when she finally managed to entice me into her yurt, I was hopelessly confused! I knew nothing of pleasing another woman.”
“That sounds familiar,” Dae said quietly. “Though I can’t quite picture you as the naive virgin I once was. Were you afraid?”
“Terrified! Yet…it was exciting, also. We met during a spring festival, at a gathering of tribes. She was a hunter of the Herana, and though only a few years older than I, she had far more experience at carnal sports. But she was very patient with me—she spent a long time touching me and allowing me to explore her body, kissing me, telling me how beautiful I was. It was reassuring. She showed me how she liked to be touched, and demonstrated how best to bring her pleasure by pleasuring me.”
“What was her name?”
“Karida.”
“She was beautiful?”
“Of course!” Zafirah assumed a playfully offended look. “I had excellent taste in women, even then.”
Dae laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you did. And I’m sure you made an eager student.”
“Once I relaxed, yes.” Zafirah searched Dae’s sparkling eyes, worried for a moment that the story might be making her young lover uneasy or jealous. She was pleased to find only honest curiosity in Dae’s open expression, and continued. “It was a night of many firsts for me, and I was in something of a daze the next morning. Karida and I were occasional lovers during the gathering, but she and I shared much in common, including a wandering eye. I was not offended when her attention turned to new conquests. But it was a long time before I worked up the courage to test my new skills on another.”
“But you must have had a lot of offers, right? I mean…” Dae traced a finger intimately down Zafirah’s face. “…you’re gorgeous!”
“Back then I was all legs and hair. But as I matured my beauty became more evident…and yes, I had my share of admirers. But it had already been determined that someday I would assume my father’s place as the next Scion of El’Kasari. I think some were intimidated by that fact, and others who might have desired a more committed relationship with me avoided forming bonds that would be broken when I came to live in the city.”
“How long did you live out in the desert?”
“Many years. My parents knew how important it was for me to learn the ways of the desert and earn the respect of the tribes. I was eighteen when my mother and I returned to live in the city permanently; before that, we would visit for periods of a few months, then return to the Herak, where my father would visit us whenever he could. My mother…she loved my father with all her heart, and still does though he is dead, yet the lure of the open plains always drew her from the city.
“By the time I made El’Kasari my home, my confidence with women had grown and word of my exploits was spreading. Much of my time was spent training with the weapon-masters alongside the spahi, so I often took a lover from among the soldiers.” She shook her head ruefully. “When my father fell ill I spent most nights at his side…but his sickness worsened and eventually claimed him, and I was forced to take over his title not four months after my twentieth spring.”
Dae covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, Zafirah. You don’t have to talk about this if—”
“No, aziza, I remember my father fondly. I grieved for him…but he was a fine ruler, and I have worked hard to honor his memory. Not long after I became Scion my mother returned to her people to mourn, while I began cultivating the skills of diplomacy and leadership I needed to rule. Then one day, a young woman came before me and requested that I allow her to serve as my pleasure-servant. I was still bedding with the soldiers and commoners; in truth, I had paid little mind to the empty seraglio gardens. But the girl was quite insistent she could serve me well…and I reluctantly agreed to let her demonstrate her talents.” Zafirah waggled her eyebrows at her grinning mate. “She was extremely persuasive.”
“Who was she?”
“You do not know her. She stayed with me for three years before returning to her people after her sister was injured in a raid by the renegade tribes. But others followed her example, coming to me in different ways. Suhayla climbed the palace walls and snuck into my bedchamber one night; I woke to find her tongue demanding entrance to my mouth and her fingers already at work between my legs. Ever has she been the bold one! Nasheta was purchased from slave-traders by the Calif of the Geranda tribe on the western fringes of the desert; after I had opportunity to get to know her better, I offered twenty times what he had paid for her, and she returned to the palace, happy to have a more appreciative mistress. Hayam was offered as tribute by pirates who needed a safe port to make repairs to their ship; I think the foolish men had tried to rape her, but found the task impossible to accomplish without losing certain vital parts of their anatomy. She fought like a fury at first…but calmed once it was explained that no man would ever lay hands upon her again.” Zafirah’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “And no man ever has.”
“What about Inaya?”
“Inaya was born in the palace, and once served as a cleaner. Needless to say, she was not greatly enamored of her station, and it was discovered that she was bribing other girls into doing her work for her.”
“Bribing?”
“Inaya’s beauty has always served as her greatest wealth, pleasure her preferred currency.”
“Ah, I see.” Dae smirked, obviously having no trouble at all picturing a young Inaya seducing some sweet, innocent girl into ‘helping’ her with offers of sexual favors.
“Mm. I had already heard whispers concerning her skills, so when she was brought before me for punishment…well…”
“Let me guess: she batted those doe-eyes at you, pouted her lips, and promised you she’d do aaaaanything if you’d forgive her?” Dae guessed teasingly.
Zafirah shrugged and pulled Dae tighter into their embrace. “She was younger than you are now and already an accomplished temptress. Her potential was…irresistible.”
“And so your harem grew.”
“Indeed. The seraglio that sat neglected during my father’s rule became a place of life and passion once more. I came to care a great deal for my pleasure-servants; they grew to be trusted friends and loyal confidants, respite from the demands of my position. I shared my body and my bed with those who came to serve me…but my heart always remained my own.” Zafirah turned her head slightly and pressed her lips to Dae’s temple. “Until I met you.”
Dae smiled dreamily at her but remained silent.
“It has been so long since anyone just…held me. Without the lust, without the need for sexual gratification. Just with this simple love.” Zafirah smiled, feeling calm with the warmth of her partner’s body pressed against the length of her frame, listening to the low, even sound of her breathing. “It is nice. Peaceful. I like it.”
“I’m glad.” Dae eyelids fluttered sleepily. “I love you, Zafirah,” she whispered.
“Sleep well, my Tahirah.” Zafirah caressed her lover’s face lightly, brushing the very tips of her fingers over her lips and up across her closed eyelids. Enjoying the look of innocent peace that graced Dae’s face in slumber, she was surprised to feel tears suddenly pricking the corners of her eyes.
“I promise I shall be worthy of you, aziza,” she whispered to her sleeping mate…a simple vow she intended to honor.
* * *
Light from the setting sun filtered through the ragged blinds of the arwat, catching in the smoke of pipe-weed that filled the air in the small, shabby establishment. The atmosphere among the clientele was boisterous; craftsmen and merchants mingled with sailors and the local city-dwellers, trading gossip from the city and stories from far afield. Although the Jaharri people were typically fiercely loyal to their own tribes and suspicious of all outsiders, those who made their home in El’Kasari were far less xenophobic than their nomadic brethren. Like the tribes, however, they were extremely sociable, enjoying nothing more than gathering together to laugh and sing and bicker after the heat of day cooled into night.
Jarod watched the goings-on from his seat at a table far in the back of the inn, where the shadows were deep and he could observe without being bothered. He listened to the tangle of voices around him, detecting a dozen different accents and speech-patterns mingling together. The desert city was a hub for commerce between many nations, welcoming everyone from the pirates of the Exile Isles to noble representatives from the northern realm of Ach’Shir with equal courtesy. Though most of the conversations held no interest to him, more than once he caught a few words that caused his ears to prick; it seemed his quarry was well-known among the locals, as was the joining.
He kept half an eye on the curtained archway that opened onto the street outside, sipping slowly on the cup of bitter coffee he’d ordered in preference of stronger drink. Oil lamps and torches made of everburn wood were lit to ward off the darkness as night fell, and several patrons began singing a bawdy song accompanied by traditional instruments. Jarod finished his drink and ordered another. He sat up straighter in his seat when four men—clearly foreign from their coloring and attire—entered the arwat and stood a moment looking uncomfortable in the doorway. They peered around, uncertain, then headed over to join Jarod when he raised his hand to catch their attention.
Jarod waved a barmaid away before she could take his companions’ order. “Well? What have you learned?”
The men exchanged brief looks, then Quinn confirmed, “She’s here.”
“In the palace?”
A nod.
Jarod scowled, his fingers curling around the cup of coffee in frustration. “No doubt well-guarded and beyond our reach.”
“I heard she sometimes ventures into the city streets,” Kolt offered. “She browses the market stalls and vendors around the palace. No guards protect her; it doesn’t sound like she’s being held captive against her will.”
“But the Scion is with her?”
A nod. “Always.”
Jarod shook his head. “She’s a fierce warrior and wouldn’t be easily fooled by a distraction. Even if we could get to the lady, we’d never make it out of the city. The spahi would be after us too quickly.” There was a moment of silence as Jarod considered his options. “What else?”
“There was a good deal of talk about the joining ceremony. The people are excited; it seems they like the idea of their leader bonding with a foreigner.”
Jarod noted the look of distaste on Kolt’s face as he said this, and immediately hardened his expression. “You’ll keep your opinion on that subject to yourself,” he ordered sharply. “Remember that we are a long way from home, and the Jaharri aren’t known for their forgiving temperaments. Our assignment has become far more delicate and dangerous now that the Scion is directly involved. If we’re caught abducting Lord Everdeen’s daughter, however noble our intentions, I doubt we’ll be given time to explain ourselves before they execute us.”
Kolt looked away, his color high at the chastisement.
“When is the ceremony to take place?”
“Three days from now, in the Temple.”
“Will the common people be allowed entrance?”
“No, but the happy couple should present themselves after the ceremony is complete.”
“At which point they’ll no doubt return to the palace and be quite beyond our reach once more.”
“Well…” Oras raised his hand. “I heard talk the Scion is planning a journey into the desert, to the tribe of the Herak. She’s taking the lady to meet her mother.”
“No doubt they’ll travel with a detachment of spahi, not to mention scouts.” Still, Jarod considered this new information in silence for several minutes, pondering scenarios that might enable him to accomplish his goal. “The Herak are an isolated tribe, far from the usual trade-lines. They rarely see travelers pass through their territory. So far from the city, the Scion would be hard-pressed to organize an effective pursuit if we managed to get the girl.”
Quinn looked skeptical. “What about the troops traveling with her? Not to mention the warriors among the tribe.”
“If we could manage to get a head start on them, even just a few hours, we could outpace a larger force. The Scion would be wary of doing anything that might endanger her mate; she’d want to be certain she could strike fast and hard so we’d be caught unaware.”
Quinn hesitated a moment, then leaned closer and dropped his voice. “But Jarod, are you sure we should wait? If Lord Everdeen’s daughter is married to the Scion before we reclaim her, it could introduce certain…complications.”
Jarod took a slow sip of his coffee as he pondered the matter. In truth, this was an issue he’d been wrestling with since first hearing that Dae was joining with Zafirah and, by every indication, was doing so of her own free will. Beyond the simple fact that he would be engineering a kidnapping rather than a rescue—and thus having to deal with a reluctant and, in all probability, struggling Dae—there were subtle yet important issues of legality to consider. The Scion Peace was more than simply a unification of the Jaharri tribes; dozens of treaties had been arranged with their neighboring kingdoms, most concerned with trade, but anything which might upset the balance of power was a serious matter.
But Jarod pushed those thoughts aside, choosing instead to remember the crack in Lord Everdeen’s voice when they’d first met…that voice so obviously unaccustomed to forming sounds of grief. He recalled the tears that had ran down Lady Everdeen’s cheeks, though she’d tried to present a brave face to Jarod’s offer of aid. He had sworn to them he would return with their daughter, whatever the cost.
“This could be our only chance,” he said eventually. “Within the palace, the young lady will be too well protected. If we approach the Scion openly, we place all our hope in diplomacy. If she refuses a request to release Dae back to her father’s custody, we’ll be ordered to leave the city and any hope of using surprise to our advantage will be lost. No…we have to make this work.”
“But if they pursue us—”
“Out of the desert? Into lands few Jaharri have ever seen? Possible, but unlikely. The Scion has a responsibility to her people. More likely she’ll send a representative to speak on her behalf. Regardless, that will be a job for someone else. If Dae has been returned to her parents, they’ll at least be able to negotiate from a position of strength.”
He didn’t like it, but Jarod concluded this was his best course. He hadn’t expected any of this…had thought to find the poor girl sold into a brothel in the Tasurik Empire, traumatized and desperate for salvation. He felt a genuine sense of relief at discovering she’d avoided that fate—most of those he was sent to retrieve weren’t so fortunate—but it made his job considerably trickier. Taking Dae against her will from this life she had apparently—and surprisingly—embraced did not sit well with Jarod, but he reminded himself of the promise he’d made to the girl’s anguished parents.
Regardless of the complications, he would do what he must to see his mission completed.