“Captain Libluth isn’t going to like that,” Hunzuu said slowly.
“I don’t care if Libluth likes it or not.”
Both guards bowed. “We will see that it is done.”
“Good.”
While they went to carry out her orders, a servant returned.
“Your bath is ready, my Lady.”
“Thank you. You may go now. Tell the others they can go as well, but to return just before moonrise to help me get ready.”
“As you wish, Crown Princess.” The girl bowed and then swiftly retreated.
Asharru started forward and realize Tirigan wasn’t following. She glanced over her shoulder to find him speaking with Bashaa and Laliya.
Seeing that she was waiting for him, he quickly returned to her side and bowed. “Forgive my tardiness, Crown Princess. I simply wanted Bashaa and Laliya to remain alert for dangers, not that they needed to be told…”
“But you wished to confirm that your friends are indeed fine after what transpired earlier. It’s not every day one crosses swords with an immortal Anunnaki.”
He bowed. “Thank you for understanding, Crown Princess.”
“Enough of that. There is no formality within these chambers. I’m simply Asharru here, not Crown Princess of the Realm or whatever other title the council might dream up. Asharru. Say it.”
Humor glinted in his eye a moment before he chuckled. But he did say her name, drawing it out like he savored it, his deep voice giving it a vibrant, exotic flare.
She liked how it sounded on his lips.
She wasn’t the only one. Her gryphon sat up and took notice.
Asharru turned away before the astute male read her as easily as a clay tablet.
Entering her inner chambers, she skirted the large bed and made for a second curtain-covered archway. She only slowed her steps after she’d crossed into the empty bathing chamber. Within, the steam and scented oils wove their magic and helped relax the tension filling her body.
She hadn’t realized how much tension she was carrying within her until then.
“It’s been a stressful day. You must be tired.” Tirigan stepped up behind her and gently unclasped the chain at the back of her neck. He had already removed the heavy bejeweled necklace by the time she thought to speak.
“Tirigan, you’re no longer a slave. You do not need to wait upon me. I lied to the servants, so they’d leave us in peace.”
His fingers stilled against the soft inner skin of her wrist where he’d been about to unlatch a bracelet. He drew in a deep breath. “I can assure you, I haven’t forgotten for one moment that I am free. However, I can help you without risking my new freedom, I’m sure.”
His humor warmed a cold part of her soul, and she merely laughed her agreement. She nodded for him to continue. When he’d divested her of her breastplate, sword, harness, belt, and assorted trinkets, he paused at her dress. “I have bathed women before.”
She grinned at his tone. He was trying to soothe her.
“I am not shy if that’s what you’re worried about.” To prove it, she shrugged off the garment and let it fall to the ground, where she stepped out of it and then turned to help him loosen various buckles and closures.
There was something incredibly intimate and yet comforting about being close to him. It wasn’t desire. Her gryphon’s admiration hadn’t advanced far enough for that yet, but there was just something so very right about being near this male.
Again, she entertained the idle fancy that he was a Blade. Her Blade. The chance of that was slim. Someone would have seen his mark. And yet she found her hand reaching almost eagerly to remove his robe to look for her self.
He stepped back then, a guarded look entering his eyes.
It surprised her until she realized he thought she was after something else, something every other female he’d ever interacted with must have demanded without a care for whether he wanted to give it or not.
“Tirigan, I’m sorry. I’m not like those other women who… I’m not like them. I’m might only be half gryphon, but she is very strong in me and hasn’t yet felt desire for another being. Nor have I. You are safe. I only wanted to look at your back.”
“Kuri mentioned it to you?” he mused softly. “I hadn’t thought she’d seen it.”
Seen what?
Goddess, are you hiding the mark of Ishtar?
No. That couldn’t be it. Kuri would have come to her at once with the news.
Tirigan had been a slave. He may have been whipped at some point. “If you have scars and are ashamed, you need not worry, I have seen and healed some grievous wounds before. Perhaps I can even help?”
Tirigan relaxed. Turning, he pushed his robe off his shoulders. The fabric had only just pooled upon the stone tiles when a gasp escaped her. She looked on in both horror and pity.
“It certainly isn’t the prettiest thing to look upon,” he said with a shrug as he glanced over his shoulder at her, “but it doesn’t pain me and only hampers my flexibility a little. Though, if you’re concerned that I’m not in peak physical condition, I can see a healer priest or priestess regularly to apply a poultice to soften the skin.”
“By the great Goddess Ishtar, what kind of monster could do this to another?” She reached out to touch the melted and puckered-looking flesh covering his entire back. Her training as a priestess covered many types of healing, and she knew this was a burn from a fire.
“The gods, apparently,” Tirigan said softly. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember. When I was older, I came to realize I’d likely gotten it in a fire. I assume the same one that killed my parents. Or at least that’s what I told myself as a child, for surely my parents would have loved me enough to keep me if they could have.”
“Goddess, I’m so sorry, Tirigan.”
“Don’t be. There was nothing you could have done. Nor did you cause this. It simply is.”
“I’m still sorry. No child should have had to go through what you have.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Asharru gently touched the skin again as something else occurred to her. Fighting past a building excitement, she cleared her throat and strove for calm. “You’ve carried this with you since childhood?”
Tirigan nodded.
Her fingers probed along his spine. There was no evidence of a mark. No discoloration besides the pale scar tissue. When she would have allowed her hands to drop away, her gryphon stirred awake, urging her on.
Pushing aside his hair, she studied the base of his neck, but the scar went all the way up to his skull.
But what if there had once been a mark of Ishtar growing there, but a terrible fire had burned it away?
Forcing herself to calm, she asked, “Do you remember a time before the scar?”
“No. It has been there as long as I can remember.”
Her excitement swelled. If he couldn’t remember a time before the scar, that would mean if there had once been a mark, he would never have known.
“Tirigan, you trained as a priest. You know about Ishtar’s mark and her Blades…”
He stiffened. When he looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes were widened in surprise. “Ishtar’s Blade? But I’m not… If I were a Blade, I never would have been a slave. I’d have escaped.”
“The scrolls mentioned that Blade’s are vulnerable until the third Blooding Ceremony when the blood of gryphon royalty, at last, wakens their full potential.” Asharru paused and ran her thumb down his spine. “The Anunnaki said Ereshkigal’s agents had been hunting you. They wouldn’t do that for no reason. You were also able to sense the Anunnaki’s approach.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m a Blade.”
“And you can read people. You somehow know what we’re thinking. It’s more than just being able to read their expressions and body language.”
“I’ve been able to do that all my life.”
“So too can Blades, according to the ancient texts. It’s one of the first manifestations of t
heir powers.”
“It’s not…” He fell silent, his lips compressing. “There are other types of magic.”
Usually, a Blade was honored to be the chosen of the goddess. Tirigan looked more horrified than honored. But if Asharru was in his place and was only now learning she was a Blade, a chosen of their great creator goddess, then his shock, and horror might be understandable.
He’d been a slave most of his life. Whereas a Blade should have been living in the palace and growing up with the royal cubs, learning history and governance alongside the future king or queen.
Cold dread washed over her in a sudden wave of horrifying clarity.
Tirigan was older than her by a few years, putting him of age with Kadashman. While a Blade was usually the opposite gender of the royal they were born to protect, that wasn’t always the case. Only about half were ever required to perform the Sacred Marriage. Kadashman already loved Kuri and would have taken her as his mate.
Asharru’s mind played out the most likely scenario.
The gods would have foreseen Kadashman and Kuri falling in love and known a Sacred Marriage between king and blade wouldn’t happen so Ishtar might have decided a male Blade would better serve Kadashman.
But then something happened to Tirigan—perhaps agents of Ereshkigal had set the fire that had killed his parents and scarred him. If the mark had been crippled, then High Priestess Diimeritia wouldn’t have sensed his existence.
If all that was true, then Kadashman was dead because Tirigan wasn’t there to protect him. Ereshkigal’s feud with Ishtar had stolen him from Asharru.
A sob built in her throat.
“Asharru, what’s wrong?” Tirigan stepped closer and then hesitated.
“I need to know if you were supposed to be Kadashman’s Blade and if the accident that killed your family and burned you so terribly was an accident or something more insidious. Because if our enemies somehow found out you were a Blade, your family’s death and all that happened after may have been set in motion by the same masterminds that were behind Kadashman’s death.”
Tirigan’s eyes widened slightly and his lips compressed in that way they did when he was unhappy.
“Goddess. What you say could be true. It feels true in here.” He tapped his chest, just over his heart. “My family…my life. Every miserable thing that happened. Your brother…”
Asharru nodded. “It’s a leap, but I need to know if you were supposed to be my brother’s Blade. If you were, I pray you will help me seek vengeance against the ones who tore our families apart.”
“Crown Princess Asharru, even if I am not a Blade, I will serve you and help you find the ones responsible for your brother’s death,” he said, his tone as serious as she’d ever heard it. “But how can we find out? Even if it’s true, I’m crippled without the mark.”
“Blade’s have an exceptional ability to heal and regenerate. They also react to royal blood.”
“You propose we complete a Blooding Ceremony?” He looked thoughtful. “But I still may not be what you hope.”
“I know, but we will know you aren’t a Blade at least.”
He nodded but looked a bit apprehensive. “Did you wish to do it now?”
“A full blooding ceremony? No. I had something smaller in mind. And if you were intended to be Kadashman’s Blade, your power might not rouse for my blood.”
“You are his sister, though and a royal in your own right.”
“Yes. I’m hoping that will be enough,” Asharru said with a little shrug. “Will you agree to this?”
“How can I not? I need to know if I was the reason my family died.”
“Even if you’re a Blade, it’s possible the fire was accidental.”
“Perhaps.”
She looked toward the cooling water of the bath. “Come, let’s clean up and then I’ll nick myself with a dagger, and we’ll see if you are a Blade.”
Even if he were a crippled Blade, she’d have someone to trust completely for the first time since her brother’s death.
Goddess, how she wanted that.
Chapter 16
Tirigan allowed himself to be led down into the warm water of the bathing pool carved into the floor. Nervous energy rushed through his body that had nothing to do with the fact he was naked in a hot bath with the future queen of New Sumer. Which, under normal circumstances, might elicit a hesitancy about his ability to entertain one such as her.
Though, his nervousness didn’t stem from that this time.
A Blade.
Could he truly be one?
Honestly, he hoped not.
While he was willing to serve Asharru, even die for her, being a Blade was something else entirely. His life, his very spirit, would be tied to her and the Goddess Ishtar. He’d lose his freedom. Become a vessel for the gods.
That thought had him scouring his skin a little harder than needed, but he kept up the scrubbing as he dwelled on the strange bond he felt for Asharru. If he were a Blade, then the bond was natural, and it would explain so much.
Their bond would only grow stronger, drawing them closer over time.
What if her gryphon chose him as her mate?
If he was honest with himself, that part of being a Blade didn’t scare him so much. He already found Asharru’s personality very desirable, dangerously so. She’d be far too easy to fall in love with.
And it would be allowed because as a Blade of Ishtar, he would be elevated to a rank nearly equal to the monarch of New Sumer. His background would become meaningless. Even the nobles of the oldest houses could do nothing if the gods wished he and Asharru to be a pair.
In certain events, such as her protection and seeing to the defenses of New Sumer, he could even overrule some of her decisions if they happened to disagree.
Such power would be a heady thing.
And yet he’d be trading his freedom for power, wouldn’t he?
He would be a slave once more. A slave to the throne. A slave to the gods. If he were expected to perform the Sacred Marriage, then he’d become a vessel for the Harvest God.
Isn’t that just another type of slavery, he mused, only on a larger scale?
After all, unwilling sex was unwilling sex.
But the thought of he and Asharru performing for the gods and the masses was somehow worse than the entertainments Governor Ugurnaszir forced upon him because Tirigan respected the Crown Princess, felt a kinship that could grow into an enduring friendship if the gods didn’t complicate matters.
If it weren’t for the threat of the Sacred Marriage, Tirigan would happily serve as Asharru’s Blade. And if Blade and Queen were to fall in love and mate? Well, that certainly wouldn’t be the greatest hardship he’d ever suffered.
His eyes slid back toward Asharru, noting again her beauty in all its naked glory. Earlier that morning, when the servants had come to bathe and groom her, he’d found his gaze drawn to her more than once.
Normally a naked body held very little interest for him any more. But that hadn’t stopped his gaze from gliding back to Asharru ever chance he got.
Asharru was lovely. Rich, dark skin, glossy black hair, beautiful fathomless eyes a man could get lost in, fringed by some of the thickest lashes he’d ever beheld.
Of medium build, she was neither tall nor short. It wasn’t lost on him that she’d tuck against his side perfectly.
Her breasts were high and full, in perfect proportion with the rest of her. Wide hips would aid in easy childbirth—though that might be a moot point if she chose to shift to gryphon for her pregnancy. Female gryphons could have a litter instead of a single baby, which would more swiftly secure the royal bloodline.
The thought of her in gryphon form at least cooled his blood enough that he wouldn’t embarrass himself when he got out of the pool.
But none of that was what drew him to her. There was something else. Something to do with her spirit and that kinship he felt for her. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to be her friend. And perhaps o
ne day, more than her friend.
But, by the gods, he wanted to have a choice one damn time in his life!
Sighing, he glanced over his shoulder at Asharru. Her body language certainly wasn’t that of a seductress.
Of course, it isn’t, he reminded himself. She was gryphon not human.
But what if the gods wish her and I to perform the Sacred Marriage, would that really be so bad? The thought was both titillating and disturbing. If I were her mate, then I would have Asharru’s lovely body to look forward to each night. She’d be loyal to me, the only male she’d ever take to her bed. I wouldn’t have to share her with another or fear her casting me aside.
That thought drew him more than it should.
But the price was too high.
He’d only just gained his freedom. He wasn’t ready to surrender it so soon, not even to the gods.
Please, Great Ishtar, I will serve you most willingly and be Asharru’s greatest friend and protector, but please don’t take away the one thing I’ve dreamt of all my life. Don’t take away my freedom. Please don’t have made me a Blade. I can’t be a slave again. Not even for you.
But if the goddess heard, she didn’t respond. She never had when he’d been a priest in training and begged her to save him from the life of a slave that awaited him, either.
Surely, if he were a Blade, the goddess would listen and answer him? She wouldn’t have allowed her Blade to be enslaved for so very long.
That thought helped him relax until sudden laughter echoed around the chamber.
“Tirigan, your face! You look like you’re going to an execution. I’m not going to ‘have my way with you’ even if you are my Blade. You’re safe from that.”
Damn. While he’d been deep in thought, he’d let his guard down, and she’d seen something he’d have rather she hadn’t.
“I know,” he answered. “Please don’t think I am ungrateful for freeing me.”
Asharru had a kind heart, and if she knew how much he feared becoming a Blade and losing his freedom, she’d likely blame herself or otherwise feel guilty for what the gods might require of them.
Blade's Destiny (Ishtar's Legacy Book 3) Page 10
