She’d just picked out a spot when he cleared his throat and tilted his chin toward another room branching off the one they were in.
“Come, the servants have already set out food.” Ditanu parted a gauzy curtain and proceeded out of the chamber. When Iltani didn’t immediately follow, he reached back and held the curtain aside to peer at her.
Making a pretense of adjusting her pack, she mumbled a hasty apology and hurried across the room.
“You guard that almost as carefully as you guard me,” Ditanu said with a chuckle, arching one brow. Humor glinted in his dark eyes. “Should I be jealous?”
Iltani straightened her spine at his question but told the truth. “Your letters. I wanted to keep them near.”
“Ah.” He rubbed a palm across his face, but she still caught the crooked smile he tried to hide. “You value my words so much?”
“Yes.” Why lie to him about something so innocent? “They kept me company and provided a distraction when I was exhausted from training and every muscle burned. Your words kept me from missing home so much.”
“I’m glad I was able to keep you company in that way.” He hesitated, and then glanced away, breaking eye contact.
It was an old habit, a telltale sign he was feeling a touch insecure about something. Her?
“Each of your letters brought me moments of joy,” she said as she eased by him in the doorway. The gauzy curtain tickled her bare arms. While she was studying the pattern of the weave, she whispered, “Even the painful ones.”
“I still have every letter you sent to me, too.” A matching note of pain echoed in his voice.
Was that…? His tone…it sounded like he…what? Had he once wanted more than friendship between them?
She glanced up and her stomach did that foolishly-hopeful, excited little flip it did whenever she looked him in the eyes. With them both half in the threshold, she found him uncomfortably close, but the pain in his voice wasn’t imagined on her part, there was a secondary instance of it reflected in his eyes.
“I would not have sent you away if I’d had a choice.” He eased on into the room and allowed the curtain to settle back in place. Without glancing back at her, he said, “There were many things that did not turn out how I might have wished. But you are here now. The past is what it is. Tonight I am hungry and would simply like to sit and eat with my childhood friend and forget for a time that I am a king.”
Oh, Great Goddess, the pain in his words and the echo they caused in her own heart nearly brought her to her knees. It was such an impossible mess they found themselves in. She wanted him and would likely yearn for him the rest of her life, but at this moment, the pain in his tone eclipsed her own needs and she simply wanted to comfort him.
“I would enjoy that, too,” she paused and then added with a smile. “Ditanu.”
At the break in protocol, Ditanu turned back to her with a broad grin. “Good, I think that is the first time you addressed me by my name instead of my title. In the future, when we are alone, you will always call me by my name, not my title. I hear it enough times in a day. I don’t need it from you too.”
“I understand, my k…Ditanu.”
His grin grew broader, his entire face transforming into something living and breathtakingly handsome. With a laugh, he removed his crown. Then a piece at a time, he started plucking out all the other bits of gold hair ornaments. When there was a substantial pile laid out on a table, he started to remove the tight braids from his hair. Unlike many of the nobles, Ditanu’s bountiful hair was not a wig. “The servants usually do this,” he admitted as he felt around for more gold beads in his hair, “Did I miss any?”
She reached out and plucked a couple more gold pins from his hair and then laid them on the table. “That’s all.”
“Tradition,” he grumped. “I should make sweeping changes and declare such excesses an affront to the gods.”
She cleared her throat to cover a cough. “Ishtar might be the one to take affront. She likes her people to glitter in the sun or like stars in the night sky, or so the texts say.” Those same texts said the Queen of the Night also liked her lovers. Somehow, Iltani imagined Ishtar would still find Ditanu pleasing to look upon even without all the gold and luxurious robes. Iltani certainly wasn’t immune to his broad shoulders or defined abdomen. It was always a fight to keep her eyes from travelling down to where that trim waist disappeared under his low-slung belt.
“Our food grows cold,” he said and gestured her over to where the servants had set out food next to the hearthstones of the fire. Pillows and blankets were artfully arranged, allowing the diners to sit or recline, whichever they preferred. Iltani swallowed hard as she took in the intimacy of the meal. This must have been intended for his mate.
He didn’t seem bothered by that fact, so maybe he normally had meals like this. Perhaps even with Burrukan? A grin tugged at her lips at the image that conjured. No, not likely.
Ditanu knelt and poured two goblets of heated, spiced wine and then selected a few choice bits of meat, cheese and fruits. He then held the plate out toward her. Iltani just stood and looked at the offering. He sighed and gave it a little wiggle without looking at her.
Court etiquette aside—as a king just did not serve others—Iltani found everything about the situation awkward. Was it some kind of test?
“Iltani,” Ditanu sighed out her name. “Just take the plate. I have another rule you probably are not aware of. When I am in my personal chambers, I am not a king. I am just myself and can do whatever I want. You’ll get used to it.”
She took the plate. “Yes, my king.”
“Ditanu.” He drew the name out slowly as if he suspected she may have forgotten it.
“Yes, Ditanu.” Formal tones still edged her words.
He shook his head and then took a sip of his wine. He braced one arm behind him and tilted back his upper body in an exaggerated way to look up at her. “Fine. Don’t dispense with the formalities. But Iltani, if you don’t sit down, you’re going to give your king a terrible kink in his neck.”
She dropped to her knees so quickly she bumped one of the plates of fruit. At least, she hadn’t sent it flying. With exaggerated care, she edged the dish a bit closer to the fire. Ditanu was sipping from his wine again, but she could still see the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile.
Well, she supposed, she was entertaining the king after a fashion.
Flustered and a touch desperate for a distraction, she looked around, anywhere but at him. Her eyes settled upon a wall panel of carved and painted stone. Much of the city was decorated in a similar fashion, but this piece was far more intricate and detailed. It showed the beginnings of the gryphon kingdom and the birth of the eight-thousand-year-old pact between them and the Queen of the Night.
The first part of the wall carving depicted Ishtar as she returned from the underworld. She had been struck by both grief and rage at Tammuz’s loss, and from the heady mix, she brought forth a new creature to walk the desert sands and stride into battle at her side. A fierce beast, part lion and part eagle—but all cunning hunter.
She’d called them gryphons.
They were unfailingly loyal to her but bloodthirsty and wild. Fearing nothing and hunting all.
The next section of the carving showed those early gryphons hunting Ishtar’s human worshipers. Iltani frowned at the evidence which proved Ishtar wasn’t infallible.
However, not wanting to witness the wanton slaughter of her human worshippers, Ishtar changed her gryphons, introducing human blood into them alongside the lion and eagle parts. The new breed still possessed their hunting prowess, but their temperament had been moderated by the addition of human compassion and other gentler characteristics.
Over time the new breed of gryphons interbred with the old, taming them and giving rise to the first of the shapeshifters. To create a lasting bond between her two peoples, Ishtar took the strongest, fiercest, but also the most compassionate of the new gryphon shapeshifters,
and upon him she bestowed the right to rule, elevating him to king. Then Ishtar took a human female with the same characteristics and infused her with a substantial power equal to the gryphons, making her the first of Ishtar’s Blades.
Iltani was very familiar with the story and already knew what the next scene would show, but hadn’t seen this artist’s version, so looked anyway. Besides, it gave her something to look at other than Ditanu’s naked chest and muscular thighs. She scanned the images.
It showed Ishtar and her Blade summoning Tammuz from the underworld. With the newly made gryphon king acting as the harvest god’s host, the four beings came together in two bodies and performed the first Sacred Marriage, thus ensuring the harvest and the continuation of all future life. Each spring after that Ishtar and Tammuz were honored by a ritualized Sacred Marriage performed by their respective high priest and priestess. But the true rite happened every few hundred years when the pact would be renewed between a gryphon monarch and one of Ishtar’s human Blades.
The last scene in the carving showed a gryphon queen and her male Blade honoring the gods in rather explicit detail. Iltani felt a betraying blush race up her cheeks and down her neck.
“You should see the one in my bedchamber,” Ditanu said with a healthy dose of humor. “My aunt had one of her artisan priests create it. Took him two years to finish. It’s very beautiful and skillfully worked, but it depicts a gryphon king and his female blade in a very…ah…inspiring fashion.”
Iltani felt her stomach tighten unhappily. In times past, Ishtar would create a new Blade to protect the line of the gryphon kings when there was some strife threatening the kingdom. That was a Blade’s primary role. Yet, like the scene the artist had created, many Blades had also been participants in Sacred Marriages, reuniting Tammuz and Ishtar. In such cases, the Blade and their gryphon ruler became mates.
Iltani thought she could be forgiven for her youthful naivety in believing she and Ditanu were fated to be one of the mated pairs. But that wasn’t how it happened, and it was a bitter reminder that not every Blade was mated to their monarch. Only about a quarter ever were, but that hadn’t stopped a young Iltani from dreaming.
“You should come see it sometime in the daylight,” Ditanu continued, unaware of the pain his words caused. “It is striking when the afternoon sun illuminates it.”
Iltani reached for her wine goblet and drained it in moments.
Chapter Six
Sipping at her third goblet of wine, Iltani eyed the king as he talked. During their meal, he’d told her stories about his first days of rule, things he hadn’t included in his letters, at least not the letters she’d read. He also talked about Burrukan’s training, his aunt’s overprotectiveness and the petty bickering among the nobles and even his council of advisors. Most of all, he talked about his cubs. His delight in them was obvious and Iltani had to admit the littlest fur ball was well on his way to having his claws firmly entwined in her heartstrings.
Strangely, Ditanu didn’t talk much about his consort, and Iltani had a suspicion that he was censoring his conversation so as not to raise painful feelings within her.
Am I so easy to read?
Even with that question flirting around in her mind, she couldn’t help but relax and actually enjoy dinner. She’d missed hearing his voice, the animation in his tones as he told his stories. Though his voice held an almost hypnotic quality that was presently threatening to put her to sleep. A yawn escaped before she could stop it.
She stammered an apology, but Ditanu only chuckled.
“I will assume it is the long day and not my storytelling skills that are putting you to sleep. Ah, you should go find your bed soon and I should discuss a few more things with my consort and Burrukan about your blooding ceremony tomorrow night.” He started to gather up their plates and Iltani hastily jumped up to help. He shooed her away. “While Burrukan is with me, you’ll stay with my cubs in the suite across from this one. I’ve had a bed made up for you there. I’ll find you a more permanent place tomorrow.”
“Of course,” she paused, not wanting to question him but curious too. “If I may ask, what’s wrong with my old room?” Her old room was actually the old nursery where she and Ditanu had both lived as children. Apparently after he’d taken up the kingship he’d moved into the royal suite as was fitting, but she wondered what was wrong with her old room that she couldn’t sleep there.
He didn’t look up at her question but she saw him stiffen. “It is too far away.”
His harsh tone surprised her and she wondered at its cause. The wine was making her muzzy headed, but it hadn’t dulled her senses enough to overlook her king’s emotional disquiet.
“Ditanu?” she asked softly.
When he finally looked her way, she saw the pain in his eyes and tension in his jaw. “I have been having bad dreams again. The same ones I had as a cub, before…”
He didn’t have to finish his sentence. She knew. The dreams he’d had before his parents and siblings were murdered. Her hand fisted around her sword hilt. “I will do all in my power to protect the line of the gryphon kings.”
“Knowing either you or Burrukan are with my cubs at all times gives me peace.”
She drew her blade and brought its hilt to thump softly against her breast. “Ishtar’s Blade is yours to command.”
“I know.” He came to his feet, and towered over her by a good head, but that wasn’t what she found disconcerting. It was the warm caress of his fingers as he brushed a few loose locks of hair from her cheek.
“My fierce Little Shadow has always done my bidding.” Again, he surprised her as he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. His brotherly kiss did things to her heart and body that no brotherly kiss should do.
He inhaled sharply and Iltani stepped back.
“Your hair smells of the ocean,” he said simply as he grinned.
“My skin and clothing, too, probably,” she said in a disgruntled tone as she wiped at the salt stain on her leather vest.
“Burrukan was in a hurry this morning, wasn’t he?”
“When isn’t Burrukan in a hurry?”
“True,” Ditanu agreed and then surprised her again by dragging her into his arms for another fierce hug. “But I’m glad he brought you home.”
He released her before Iltani thought to return his hug, but he didn’t seem upset and with a laugh, shoved her in the direction of his bathing chamber. “Go, the servants have already drawn a bath for me, but I think you will appreciate it more.”
“I will not steal your bath. I’ll survive until the servants round something up for me.”
“Stop arguing with your king.”
He said it with a lopsided grin so Iltani decided he rather liked the novelty of having someone argue with him.
“I thought here, in your chambers, you were simply Ditanu. You can’t have it both ways.”
“True. However, trust me. Once you’re at the nursery, the cubs will not leave you alone long enough to bathe. They want nothing to do with their own baths, but if someone else is trying to get a bath without them, you will never believe the hew and cry those little ones can make.”
“Perhaps they are too used to getting their way.”
“Likely.”
“A family trait perhaps?” She grinned when he arched an eyebrow at her audacity.
“I don’t doubt.” A lazy smile spread across his face. “Then they can’t really be blamed for being irresistible either. Alas, another family trait I have no control over.”
Iltani huffed at his boast but didn’t deny it. Ditanu was irresistible. She still had wits enough to know she was as drawn to him as a night flier was to a torch. “Irresistible and dangerous.”
Drat, she’d said that last out loud.
“Never dangerous to you.” He reached for her again.
“I’ve had too much wine,” she said in haste and turned away to evade another of his touches. She stalked away from him and made straight to the royal bathi
ng chamber. After all, she did want to wash the salt essence away, and Ditanu always got his way. It was a forgone conclusion.
“A servant will bring you clean clothes.” A hint of pain laced his words.
Iltani cast a glance over her shoulder at the tone, but Ditanu had already taken a seat at a large ornate table. It was piled high with paper, ink, and numerous unopened missives. He broke the seal on the first letter just as she brushed aside the veils providing a privacy screen between the two chambers. Hesitating a moment, she fought the urge to go back to him, to soothe whatever small hurt he might feel.
Her emotions hopelessly out of balance, she ducked into the bathing chamber.
Alcoves lined the walls of the room, housing towels, soaps, linens, fragrant oils and a whole host of other luxuries Iltani had never taken the time to use herself. Numerous candles, oil lamps, and a fire burning in the large hearth along the north wall provided more than enough light to make out details on the beautiful screens that flanked one side of the vast pool-like tub embedded in the floor.
The bathing pool took up a good third of the floor space, and steam still rose from the tranquil waters. This one was much the same as the ones in the public baths. They were build large enough for a full-sized gryphon to bathe in, which made them almost deep enough for swimming. To overcome this minor problem, ledges had been cut into the rock to act as seats. Like the public baths, the king’s personal pool was fed by a fountain head, which at the push of a lever allowed water to run across the small streambed of enchanted heating rocks and on into the pool.
Iltani didn’t care if she was breaking some archaic royal law by being here and headed for the decorative screens. There she stripped off her clothes and made a side trip to one of the alcoves to select some mildly scented soap, a sandalwood scent that reminded her of Ditanu, before crossing to the large pool and slipping into the water’s warm embrace.
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