Everyone nearby turned to stare at me. But my heavy-set guard hid most of my frame. The people leaned sideways, drinks forgotten in their hands, trying to see. I was careful to find three men and meet their eyes. The first was a young man, perhaps my age. I saw him blush and swallow hard. The next was an old man—he smiled, showing a missing tooth. And the last was Commander Hashim, who simply stared, as if struck.
I spotted my canopied booth, done up exactly as I had ordered, and hastened to it. I slipped past the side curtain and the guards left me. I grinned as I stepped inside.
Dozens of cushions, pillows and two short-legged chairs waited for me, along with a little table bearing hot tea and pieces of fruit and cheese.
I settled down into one of the chairs and watched through the almost sheer curtains that Ayah had been so particular about. I could see most of the vast crowd, although the details of their faces and garb were lost, and I could hear every word they said. Though the musicians played loudly, I caught several comments about what color the ladies thought my dress was, and questions to the guards about my identity, and why I hid behind a curtain. The guards replied exactly as they had been instructed, saying: “Her master is a jealous man—for any man who looks into her beautiful eyes falls in love with her.” Some expressed doubt, but I saw them soon dart off to mutter in the ears of their friends. I chuckled to myself.
But when the dancing began, and I lost sight of Commander Hashim, my heart began to beat harder.
“Sh, sh,” I said to myself, smoothing the back of my left hand and studying the henna there. “Be patient.”
So I watched, motionless, as the dancers whirled and twirled, and clapped their hands. Many of them shot glances my way, and the wallflowers eyed my curtains and whispered to each other.
And then, a group of dancers parted, and as if by magic, Rajak appeared outside my tent.
I went still. I peered at him through a gap in the tent—he could not see me, though. He wore black again, embroidered with gold, his eyes lined with khol. His expression was earnest, penetrating, unsure. As if he was drawn to me by an invisible force. Then, he stepped forward, toward the side curtain. Ah, but Ayah was a wise woman! I swallowed, grasping at her last words of advice.
“Keep your veil on when he comes in to you—for he will come to you. Do not say everything you think—make him guess your thoughts. Tease him. Even accuse him. State your case and do not yield. And above all, use your eyes like weapons.”
“Who is inside?” Rajak asked the guard. I composed myself as the guard answered in a deep voice.
“Forgive me, Maharaj, but the great lady has asked me not to tell you her name.”
I saw Rajak’s frown through a gap in the curtains.
“Would you ask her if I may come in?”
The guard nodded, turned and stepped inside.
“My lady,” he said. “Prince Rajak would like to speak with you.”
I did not answer, but I nodded. I then turned my head and faced forward. The guard left, and Rajak stepped inside.
I could feel him enter. I did not look at him. He paused five feet from me, then just stood there.
“Is it you?” he asked quietly. I raised my eyebrows.
“Who?”
He faltered.
“I did not think you were coming tonight,” he said.
“It is easy to make a fuss here, isn’t it?” I remarked, keeping my gaze ahead of me. “Just start a few rumors around the edges of the room, and soon it’s as if you have a spell on you.”
“It is you, isn’t it?” he persisted.
“Of course,” I replied. “I thought I might look at the hall from inside it for once.”
He did not speak for a moment. Everything about him unsettled.
“I know,” he said, his voice quiet. “I got your message and I—Did you get mine?”
I did not answer that.
“The yellow hyacinth…” he began, then started again. “One part I am not certain about. But the other part—the jewel—do you mean Abhishri?”
Again, I heeded Ayah’s advice and did not say anything.
“Did you get my message?” he asked again.
“I assumed it meant I was allowed to come tonight,” I said.
“Yes, but…Ayah told me that the flowers—” I heard him turn halfway, then rake a hand through his hair. “I cannot stand this,” Rajak stated. “Look at me.”
“No,” I said, turning my head even further away from him, as if something was intensely interesting at the opposite end of the tent.
I heard him stride forward and sit next to me on the other chair, propping his elbows on his knees.
“I did not invite Abhishri into your garden,” he declared. “She got lost and went in herself. I found her and led her out.”
“Oh, I saw you,” I said lightly.
Rajak went still. I heard him swallow, felt him gather himself.
“You did?”
I stayed silent. I sensed his frown, but I did not turn to him.
“I wouldn’t think it mattered to you,” he mused. I shrugged.
“I do not know what you’re talking about.”
He hesitated.
“Look at me.”
“I cannot,” I said.
“Why?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small, reflexive smile cross his mouth. His head tilted as he tried to catch my gaze. I did not yield. He scooted closer, his head still canted. I did not show the affect his nearness had on me.
“You mean the rumor about you?” I felt him turn his head toward the front of the tent. “Commander Hashim came to me and said that the lady who just entered has a spell upon her that makes any man who meets her eyes fall in love with her.”
“Then you took a risk coming here,” I jabbed. “What would Abhishri do if it were true?”
His demeanor darkened. Power entered his voice.
“Linnet. Look at me.”
I sucked in a breath. That was the first time he had ever said my name to me. I fought to keep my head still.
“Do you plan to make her your concubine?” I asked instead of obeying, keeping my tone casual and forcing sudden pain down to the depths of my gut. “If you do, it would only be fair to allow me to have a consort—maybe a young man from the Highlands? There’s enough room in these caverns—the addition of one young man wouldn’t be any trouble.”
He got off the chair and up on his knees now, then sat back on his heels. He faced me, focused on me, and I battled to stay still.
“Is that what you think of me?” he asked.
I shrugged again.
“I know what I should expect.” I quieted my voice, growing thoughtful. “I have thought a lot about this kind of marriage lately—which isn’t really a marriage at all, is it?” I whispered. “Bound, so young, to someone who doesn’t want you…And you know, if my life had taken another path…” I smiled crookedly, invisibly. “I think I would have liked being courted.”
I bowed my head. Rajak took a breath, and reached out a hand toward my face, but still did not touch me.
“Please, Linnet,” he said. “Please look at me.”
I did not want to. But as my heart sank, I realized it was time to surrender. And so I turned my face toward his.
He went still, and his eyes locked with mine. His face was close to me, his head no higher than mine, but not so close that I could not see his expression. He was fixed on me, not breathing, a tad of bafflement and a good deal of fresh pain in his brilliant black eyes—and not a little recognition.
He took hold of my veil and gently tugged it loose of its fastenings so that it fell down onto my lap. His fingertips grazed my chin, and he stared at me, straight into my eyes, as if he could not look away. I gave him a weak smile.
“See? There was nothing to fear after all,” I managed, feeling defeated. “You’ve looked in my eyes before.”
His intense gaze traced my brow, my n
ose, my cheeks and my lips, only to return to my eyes.
“No, I haven’t,” he breathed.
My cheeks blazed, and I let him look at me for one more instant before turning away again. He touched my chin, trying to get me to lift my head again.
“Linnet,” he persisted. “I need to tell you—”
“Maharaj.”
I twitched away from Rajak. He turned to the guard who had leaned into the tent.
“Yes?” he growled.
“It is time, Maharaj,” the guard said. “The court waits for you to lead the last dance, and the musicians ask that you to call the tune.”
For a moment, neither of us moved nor spoke. Then, he turned his head and gazed at me. But when he lifted his voice, he addressed the guard.
“Tell them to play Jaaneman.”
That brought my head up. I stared at him. He grinned at me, and my heart gave that hard thud.
“You said you got my message,” he reminded me. My heartbeat now broke into a race, but I had no time to think. He stood up and held out his hand to me. I reached up, my ruby ring glinted in the light, and I grasped his fingers. He pulled me to my feet and out of the tent just as the music began.
He tucked my arm under his, and pressed my palm down on top of his, just as we always walked in public. But this time, instead of being invisible amongst these courtiers, I was the object of everyone’s eye. They all turned to me, gaping, stunned, admiring, confused. And I was happy Rajak had taken off my veil. I wanted them to know who I was.
As Rajak led me to the center of the floor, through the muttering and staring crowd, I caught a glimpse of Abhishri, garbed in far too many flashing jewels and far too little fabric, standing to the side amongst several other gaudy women. She was giving me the most poisonous, stunned, savage look I had ever seen. I smiled at her.
And then Rajak whirled me around and pulled me to him, and I forgot all about her.
The court joined in all around us, creating a thunderous beat and whirl of movement. I laughed without shame several times, and shot glances up into Rajak’s bright countenance each time we all came to a stop, clapped our hands and shouted “Jaaneman!” at the top of our lungs. I was good at this!
But to make things a little more challenging, Rajak would often lean down and mutter something in my ear that would make me choke on my giggles, and then he would laugh out loud at me. The dance was wilder than I remembered, and more dizzying, but I never tired. This dance was, of course, Rajak and my wedding dance. But now, instead of wanting to get away from him and run away, I wanted him to keep hold of my hand always, and I wished the night would never end.
However, the music thundered to its finale all too soon, and everyone stopped and applauded. Rajak and I, panting, faced each other, and exchanged brilliant smiles. But then I saw something enter his eyes—something I had never seen there before. It made him look quiet, thoughtful, yet earnest.
“What?” I asked, blushing again. He blinked, raised his eyebrows, then shook his head.
“Nothing. It is just that I…Nothing.”
I had to smile, though my blush got worse.
The courtiers began to disperse, chatting amongst themselves as they headed out of the hall and toward their quarters.
“I will walk you back to your chambers,” Rajak said. I tried not to show my disappointment that the dance was done. But he held out his arm and smiled, and my heart swelled. I slid my arm through his and rested my palm on his, and he started forward.
“But first,” he said. “We have to say goodnight to our guests.”
My whole body tensed. He glanced at me, but before he could ask, Mahanidhi appeared before us, alongside two of his sons, Commander Hashim, Steward Jahin, and Abhishri, just behind her father. The way that they looked at me made my skin crawl. For they were all looking at me, not Rajak. And none of them were smiling.
I masked my displeasure and nodded to them, keeping an amiable expression on my face.
“Lord Mahanidhi, you remember my only wife, Peliar Linnet Ealasaid?” Rajak gestured to me. Mahanidhi stared at me as if I was the strangest thing he had ever seen. But he nodded.
“Yes,” was all he said.
I felt Rajak’s demeanor turn cool. On the other side of me, my skin almost burned from the heat of Abhishri’s glare. I gritted my teeth and fixed my expression, caught in the midst of two extremes.
“Commander Hashim, I do not believe you have seen my wife in a while,” Rajak turned to him. Hashim inclined his head.
“You look lovely tonight, Princess.”
My mouth almost fell open. I had not expected that.
“Thank you,” I stammered.
“And Steward Jahin has been busy helping me in the lower levels,” Rajak said, gesturing to the hovering older man. “But you know Linnet.”
Jahin’s smile lasted only an instant, and he dipped his head.
“Yes, it’s…Well, it is refreshing to see her wearing more becoming clothing.” He ran his eyes up and down my frame. “Badi dress almost flatters her stocky Highland figure.”
I blushed again, but this time it turned my stomach. I forced a smile.
“Steward Jahin, I am standing here with you.” I met his eyes without flinching. “Do not speak as if I were not.”
My heart beat quicker as I spoke, but when I saw Jahin’s baffled face, and Commander Hashim trying to hide a smirk, I knew I was right—I did have authority here. Just as much as Rajak.
He pulled against my arm.
“It is late,” he said. “Goodnight, all of you. Sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Maharaj,” Hashim, Jahin and Mahanidhi echoed, but Abhishri would have liked to burn holes in my head with her eyes. We turned our backs to them and strode out of the hall. The slaves opened and shut the door, and at last we walked down a wide hall in relative solitude.
“No one can say you are not outspoken,” Rajak commented darkly, his voice echoing along with our footsteps. I scowled.
“I say what I think,” I answered. “I always have.”
“You are lucky they do not do the same,” he countered. “I could tell that Abhishri was offended.”
I shrugged, irritated that he singled her out.
“She started it,” I stated.
“What do you mean?” he asked. And my true opinion fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
“She is insulting, insubordinate and slatternly—and I hate her.”
Rajak’s shock jolted through me.
“What?” he cried. “Have you even spoken to her?”
“Oh, yes,” I nodded, watching straight ahead. “She came back into my garden after you ‘showed her out,’ and proceeded to say that she expected me to be ill-mannered and half-naked with tangled hair, because I was a Highlander, and that I had better try to win her favor because she was going to be the lady of the house soon.”
“What did you do?” Rajak asked in a low voice. I suppressed a smile.
“I called the guards.”
“Oh,” he murmured. I shook my head.
“I should have hit her in the teeth.”
Rajak stared at me now. I glanced up at his dark, watchful eyes.
“What?” I demanded. “I am a princess here and a princess in Hilrigard. Would you allow one of your people to talk to you like that?” My jaw tightened. “I won’t.”
“The situation with Abhishri is complicated,” he sighed. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“You cannot defend her,” I growled. “She is a selfish, over-indulged…Why do you spend all your time with her?”
He ducked his head. I kept my eyes on him.
“I have known her since I was a boy,” he said. “We have always been friends. Therefore her father—and I suppose she, as well—expects…certain things from me.”
“What do they expect?” I pressed. “That you make her your concubine?”
“No,” he shook his head. He looked at me. My legs went weak, but I had to keep walking to stay besi
de him. I swallowed.
“What, then?”
He sighed, and ran his left hand through his hair. For a while, he said nothing, then lifted his chin.
“I may tell you later, when I have decided.”
I said nothing. The lightness in my heart was sinking.
“I do think understand your message, though,” he said. I lifted my face to him again. That earnest look was back.
“I understand your resentment, your disappointment at being left out of the festivities. I thought that if I was attentive to Abhishri and Mahanidhi, and then…” He stopped walking and faced me, took another deep breath, and set his jaw. “What I mean is, I am sorry. But I did not know what else to do.” He raised his eyebrows, honest and open. “I do not know how to be a husband.”
I studied him a moment, then shrugged one shoulder.
“I don’t know how to be a wife,” I confessed. I hesitated a moment, then took the plunge. “But I do know how to be someone’s friend.” I held out my hand to him. “Would you like to try it?”
He stared at me for an instant, then gave me a thoughtful smile. He reached out and closed his fingers around mine.
“I am not sure if I know how to do that, either,” he said. “But I will try.”
“Good,” I nodded, then arched an eyebrow. “But I hope you know that it means you won’t leave me in my room day after day anymore.”
“I will come see you tomorrow morning,” he said, releasing my hand and turning to stride away. But then he stopped and turned around. He looked me up and down, much the same way Jahin had—except this made me feel entirely different. My cheeks flamed.
“And by the by,” he said. “Your figure is anything but ‘stocky.’” He flashed me a grin. I choked, but before I could say anything, he had bid me goodnight, and swept back up the corridor.
Chapter Fifteen
I jerked awake. My head spun as I tried to orient myself—my eyes finally found a little lamp on my vanity. I frowned, breathing hard. It was the middle of the night. What had awakened me?
A shout echoed down the hall. I sat up, listening. Again, I recognized the voice. As I slid out of my bed, I mused that Rani Lilavati must have been a shrewd woman. She must have chosen this room on purpose—because from here, a person could hear everything.
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