In the next panel of the mural, three giant figures representing the Triad of Heaven—An, Enlil, and Enki—were depicted behind the walled city.
“Enki intervened on behalf of our people and pled to An and Enlil to help Zhobghadi. So, Enlil sent the Easifat that blew away the oubour.” The next panel depicted swirls of sand surrounding the city, and the shadow monsters being tossed away.
“But the sand storms could only shield us, not destroy our enemies. And so An, the supreme god, sent his greatest weapon—The Great One.” That portion of the mural showed the said god pointing to Zhobghadi and the form of a giant dragon flying toward them.
“The Great One is a spirit, but could not exist without a body. Prince Hammam, the oldest son of the king, volunteered to become the bearer of The Great One, and so he went through the ritual.” The next panel was quite gruesome. It showed a man—Prince Hammam—strapped to a table as a priest in brown robes stood over him. The priest held up a curved knife in one hand that pierced Prince Hammam from left ring finger to his heart—the vena armoris. In the other hand, he held a jar where he poured a liquid over the wounds. “For thirty days and nights, the prince endured the ritual as his body and blood were infused with the spirit of the The Great One. After the ritual was completed, he became one with The Great One and defeated our enemies.”
“Wait, let me tell the next part.” Amaya interrupted. The last panel showed a giant dragon breathing fire and destroying the oubour. “And ever since then, the Easifat comes once a year and the bearer of The Great One flies over the entire nation to protect it.” She brushed her palms together. “The End.”
“That was a lovely story,” Desiree said. “Well done, Your Highnesses.”
“Indeed, a nice story,” Zafirah agreed. “Now, how about dessert?” She stood up and took a silver tray from a table in the back, then lay it on the table.
On it was a baked pastry made of honey and nuts, a delicacy that was Karim’s favorite. Of course, he could hardly concentrate on it when Desiree finished hers and licked the leftover honey from her forefinger. He groaned inwardly. Marduk’s beard, did she have any idea what she was doing to him?
Finally, as they were having tea, Amaya let out a yawn.
“I think it’s time for bed,” Zafirah commented.
“But, Aunt Zafirah—” Amaya’s eyes drooped as she let out another yawn.
“You need to be up early tomorrow for lessons,” Karim said.
“Lessons?” she whined. “But I wanted to spend the day with Deedee again.”
“Oh no, little one,” Karim said. “Tomorrow is the start of the school week. So, lessons it is for you.”
Amaya let out a cry. “Please, please, can I not have lessons just for tomorrow?”
“How about you come after lessons?” Desiree suggested. “And I can tell you more about those Aztec mummies then.”
Amaya looked up at Karim with those big camel eyes, and before he knew it, he said, “Of course you may.”
His sister let out a whoop of triumph. “Can you tuck me into bed, Karim? Please.”
“Of course.” It had been a long while since he had done that. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time Amaya asked to be tucked in. Probably before Father died. Nassir had doted on her as much as he did, after all.
“I’ll take Deedee back to your rooms,” Zafirah said.
“Thank you.” He nodded to both women and then took Amaya’s hand as he led her back to her quarters. Her room was all the way at the other end of the residential wing, and she was getting so sleepy that he carried her in his arms all the way. Again, he couldn’t remember the last time he had done this, and of course, she was much bigger and heavier now.
He supposed for now, it was all right if she didn’t brush her teeth before bed. He pulled back the covers of her bed, took her shoes off, then covered her with the blankets. “Good night, little one,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead. Deep in sleep, his sister didn’t stir.
Quietly, he crept out of her bedroom so as not to disturb her. As he made his way back to his rooms, anticipation thrummed in his veins. Was Desiree still looking forward to it?
The answer, perhaps, came in the form of the woman in question, who lay invitingly on top of the bed, still dressed in her alluring yellow gown. She was holding a large, leather-bound book, but as soon as he entered the room, she quickly put it down on her lap and looked up at him, those light eyes piercing right into him.
“Is she asleep?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Thank you for indulging her today.”
“My pleasure,” she said. “Amaya is a bright child, so curious, and very mature for her age. You should be proud of her.”
“She is used to the company of adults, and I do not think she has had a chance to be with other children. I sometimes wonder if I’m keeping her too sheltered.” He drew closer, watching her face and enjoying the way her eyes subtly changed shades. “However, she still plays with toys and dolls. Surely, girls her age don’t do that anymore?”
She let out a delicate snort. “If you ask me, kids these days are growing up way too fast. You’d be doing her a favor by letting her hold on to childhood for as long as possible. You should think about—”
“Desiree?”
“Yes?”
As he came nearer, he began to unbutton his tunic. “I don’t really want to talk about my sister anymore.”
“What—” Her eyes drew down to his chest, which was now exposed as he shrugged off his tunic. “Oh.”
A delicious blush grew in her cheeks, and he wanted to see more of that. Everywhere. He knelt on the mattress and crawled over to her, stopping as he loomed over her prone body. “Are you still looking forward to this?”
“Oh.” The redness deepened. “Yes.”
That was all the answer he needed. He swooped down, cupped her chin, and took her mouth with his. The urgency to have her was driving him to the edge, and he may have been too rough, but she didn’t protest. Oh no, she kissed him back eagerly, met his lips with as much passion as he did. When her lips parted and he tasted her sweetness, he thought he would expire then and there.
His hands moved down the slim column of her neck, moving lower to the tops of her breasts. Reaching around, he fumbled, looking for a zipper or snaps, but there were none. How in Nabu’s name did she get into this thing? And more important, how was he going to get her out?
She let out a needy moan, and so, unable to wait any longer, he ripped the damned thing right down the middle.
“Oh no!” she gasped, clutching her hands to her chest, attempting to put the torn cloth together again. “Your aunt will—”
“Shh.” He put a finger on her mouth. “I told you, no more talk of my family.”
Her mouth clamped shut. Good. He didn’t want to hear her make another sound unless it was, yes, Karim; more, Karim; or harder, Karim.
He leaned back and pulled her hands away from her chest. That beautiful blush tinted her cheeks again, but he couldn’t make himself turn away from her. The tanned skin ended just below her neck, and the rest of her was untouched by the sun. And her breasts … they were generous, and he knew they were more than a handful for him, but he didn’t realize how gorgeous they were or that her nipples were so large and pink.
Adorn her. The beast inside him said. Claim her.
Yes, gold and jewels would look good against her naked skin. Rose gold, maybe, to match those delicate nipples. A delicate chain with pink diamonds between her breasts. He traced a finger down between them, imagining it.
“Karim,” she whimpered. Gods, his name on her lips—not Prince Karim or Your Highness, but just Karim—was like music to his ears.
“You are so beautiful,” he said as he leaned down to capture a nipple in his mouth. The shiver she gave from such a simple touch made him preen like a peacock. He licked at the sensitive nub, feeling it harden. She squirmed underneath him, and her hands slid up his chest, fingers teasing him as she moved higher, digging her fingers in
to his shoulders to pull him closer. With a groan, he straddled her, capturing her thighs between his knees. His cock strained against his trousers, and so, to give himself some relief, pressed against the apex of her thighs. However, there was something else between them. Something else that was hard.
A protesting moan escaped her lips when he released her nipple. Looking down, he saw the book that was on her lap. Grabbing it, he had meant to toss it aside but then he froze when he saw the coat of arms embossed on the cover.
His blood cooled, and all thoughts of lust washed away. He didn’t know how long he’d been staring at it, but it must have been long enough because she wiggled underneath him. “Is, uh, everything all right.”
Is everything all right? How could she—
“Where did you get this?”
“Karim?” Her voice trembled. “What’s wrong?”
He rolled off her and got to his feet, holding the book up. “I said where did you get this?”
Desiree scrambled to sit up on her knees, her hands crossing over her chest. “What do you mean? That?” She nodded to the book in his hand. “It was in your father’s library.”
“And you just took it?” He could barely hold on to the rage wanting to escape.
Her expression faltered. “Yes. I mean, you said I could borrow any book.”
“But not this!” He wanted to toss the damned thing away. “How dare you?”
“I didn’t know,” she cried. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have—”
He turned on his heel, the blood roaring in his ears blocking out her pleas as he slammed the door behind him when he flew into the living room. This damned book. The silver embossing of the crest seemed to wink at him in mocking. He knew what this was of course. What it really was. It wasn’t Desiree’s fault, but he couldn’t stop the anger or the memories from flooding his mind.
The darkness of the room.
Moonlight pouring in through the balcony doors.
Fabric whipping in the wind.
Mum … Mum … please. No.
He closed his eyes, trying to block it all out. He tossed the book against the wall and dashed toward his balcony. The tightness in his chest was threatening to consume him, and he had to let it out.
He wasn’t angry at Desiree. No, he was angry at himself. For taking things too far with her, letting his feelings run away. There was no way he was going to … he just couldn’t let that happen to her. To have her meet the same fate as his mother.
He called on The Great One. It wasn’t happy with him; he could feel its displeasure. He knew what it wanted. Who it wanted. But he couldn’t bring himself to give in.
“Go,” he shouted into the wind. “Just go.”
As the flames devoured him, he closed his eyes, allowing the beast to take over and take control of their body and mind, letting its fire devour his memories.
Chapter Nine
Dear God, what have I done?
It took Deedee a moment to process her thoughts, but when the door slammed shut, she jumped out of bed and followed Karim out the door. When she saw the door to the balcony open and the loud roar that made her chest constrict, she knew that he was gone.
Sinking down to the carpet, she tried to make sense of what happened. One moment, they were in the throes of passion, and the next, he was hightailing it out of the room.
And all because of that book.
Because that had to be it, right? Karim wanted her, he was touching and kissing her all over until he saw that darned book.
Dejected, she marched back into the bedroom. She looked down at the tattered remains of her dress, wondering how she was going to explain it to Zafirah.
Her heart ached as she went to Karim’s closet, trying to find something to wear for bed. Everything here reminded her of him, of course. And it smelled of him in here too. All masculine musk and warm sand. Her wolf yowled with unhappiness. She could sense its confusion too, and she tried her best to calm it. I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened either.
She slipped off what remained of the dress and hid it under the growing pile of laundry in the corner. Then, she picked out a shirt and pair of boxers to wear and trod off to bed. Not that she could sleep, because all she could do was stare up into the empty ceiling.
No matter how much she thought about this whole thing, examined it, turned it around to look at every angle, she still couldn’t figure out what happened. Why was it so bad she read that text? Were they really that xenophobic here that they didn’t want anyone to know about their history and people? As far as she could tell, there was nothing about dragons in the manuscript.
She stayed up waiting for him. Lying on her side, she kept her eyes on the empty space next to her on the bed. Hours passed, and her eyelids grew heavy, but she fought sleep.
When dawn came and there was no sign of Karim, she just didn’t have the energy to fight sleep. She woke in the same position some hours later with the sunlight streaming through the windows, and the empty spot next to her undisturbed. Regret weighed in her stomach like a heavy stone, but she forced herself to get up.
“Karim?” She padded out carefully into the living room, just in case he’d decided to sleep on the sofa. But, no, the living room was empty. As she sat down at the low tables, she saw that food had been set up, but the pot of tea had gone cold, so it obviously had been in there for a while. Not that she wanted to eat, because the thought of food made her stomach turn.
“Deedee. Finally, you are awake.” Zafirah stood in the doorway, teapot in hand. “I brought some fresh tea.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock.”
That late? Well, she was up until dawn after all. Zafirah sat next to her and poured some tea into a cup. “Thank you,” she murmured as she accepted the drink.
Zafirah was obviously hesitant as she said, “I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but … did anything … significant happen last night after dinner?”
She stopped halfway as she was bringing the cup to her lips. “Huh?”
“It’s just that …” Zafirah folded her hands in her lap. “Karim … Karim has asked that some of his things be moved into one of the guest quarters.”
Her stomach lurched even more, and she put the cup down. “I … I don’t know, Zafirah.” What could she say? Did the older woman already guess something was happening between her and Karim? She didn’t seem surprised that they had been sharing his bedroom. Did she already think they were lovers?
“That’s not all.”
What more could there be? “What do you mean?”
Zafirah took a deep breath. “Karim said that no one was to see you except for Ramin, when he brings your meals. Not me. Not Amaya. She doesn’t know it yet, but I know she will be upset. And the only reason I am here now is because I browbeat Ramin into letting me inside. I told him I would accept the consequences for defying Karim’s orders.”
And so that was how it was to be. She really was a prisoner now. Her throat constricted, but she refused to cry. Not in front of Zafirah and certainly not for him. But she at least deserved some answers, right? This might be her last chance. “Zafirah, do you know a Lord Nigel Brandon, Earl of Crawford?”
Zafirah’s eyes grew wide, and she clasped a hand to her chest. “Where did you hear that name?”
Deedee told Zafirah about how she found the manuscript in the library and took it back with her to read. “And then last night when he …” Hopefully Zafirah didn’t see her blush, but she continued. “He saw me reading the book and he went crazy. He just … he kind of froze, and it was like he’d seen a ghost.” Her father had often described such a look as a “thousand-yard stare”. He said it was common in veterans who returned from war zones. “Then he ran out and shifted into his dragon, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“Oh, my dear, it’s not your fault.” Zafirah placed a hand over hers. “I just … I don’t know how to begin. And I’m not even sure if it’s my story to tell.”
She
could see the hesitation in Zafirah’s face. “Please … I just want to understand.”
“All right.” Zafirah looked around, as if there were other people she didn’t want to hear. “Lord Crawford is … Karim’s grandfather.”
Did she hear that correctly? “Grandfather?”
“Yes. He was an academic, just like you. Nassir wanted to learn about Western History, but our father, King Eshan, would not permit him to leave Zhobghadi to study it, and so he had Lord Crawford brought in. In exchange for tutoring Nassir, he was allowed to learn about our culture and possibly publish a book if my father was able to review his writing before final publication.”
“So, your father didn’t like what Lord Crawford wrote in his manuscript, which is why it wasn’t published?”
“Not quite. You see, Lord Brandon had been here a few months and he hadn’t gone back to England. He was missing his only family—a daughter, Grace. So she came to visit while she was on summer holiday. Nassir said he fell in love with her on the spot.”
“Oh.” She didn’t realize Karim was part English.
“Nassir wanted to marry Grace, but Father forbid it. He said that Zhobghadi could not have a foreign queen. They fought about it, screaming at each other so loud that it was a wonder An himself didn’t come down from above to complain at the noise.”
“But your brother got his way.”
Her face fell. “Only because our father died.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry.”
“It’s … it is what it is. But, anyway, since he was now king, Nassir could do whatever he wanted, and so he married Grace. Lord Crawford was ecstatic, of course, because now he had even more leeway to continue his research. They had Karim, and she was happy … for a time.”
Dread filled her. She didn’t want to know, but at the same time … “What happened?”
“They say … they say she hated being queen. She was a great mother and wife, but she despised the trappings of royalty. And Nassir wanted to accomplish so much to establish his legacy—expand the silver exports, and maybe even open up Zhobghadi to foreigners. Queen Grace was lonely. Lord Crawford traveled back and forth between England and Zhobghadi to meet with his publishers so he wasn’t around much. Yes, she had Karim to take care of, but even then, he was always going to various tutors so he could be prepared to be king. So, she sought comfort in the arms of one of her personal guards.”
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