When the ceremony was finished they were both made to stand before each other. The kahr kept his eyes firmly fixed upon her face, as the sheer fabric she had been dressed in exhibited far too much, and the king seemed rather fond of leering at all of it. To Morghiad’s
relief, she was finally dressed in a red silk gown which ably covered her numerous female parts.
King Acher stepped in. “No, remove the gown. She is not one of my ladies and therefore should not wear the red of the king’s benay-gosa.”
The red gown was duly stripped, and Artemi huddled in an attempt to cover her modesty.
“Choose your colour for her and choose it wisely. All your other benay-gosa will have to wear the same,” his father said to him.
The king and his women in red departed with the officiator, floating in a majestic cloud of scarlet.
Morghiad quickly tore off his coat and set it about Artemi’s shoulders. Luckily it was long enough to hide her from the otherwise
inevitable embarrassment. She pulled it around herselftightly. “I’m sorry Artemi, to have tied you to me like this. It was the only way I could think of to keep you here and keep him happy.”
She nodded slowly but said nothing.
“We will find a way of making them believe,” he whispered.
She half-smiled at that. “And when there is no child?”
Morghiad compressed his lips. “I suppose we’lljust have to find one.”
Artemi laughed. It was a full and beautiful laugh that eased his concerns considerably, but it did not last long. She turned her head to the door, to where Silar’s figure was silhouetted against the light as he watched them. He turned and stalked away as soon as
Morghiad met his eyes. How was he ever to set things straight with the man? The truth would have to come out about his power difference with Artemi. At least then Silar would know he had no intention of bedding her, though such a truth risked making everyone else fear her. “What do we do now?”
“WellI suppose it would be expected at this point thatI come to your rooms.” She raised an eyebrow.
Together they headed into the dull grey of the vaulted hallways. The men had cleared it and had since returned to their posts. A thought occurred to Morghiad. “How did the king discover you?”
Artemi sighed. “Your friend, Lady di Certa, caught me leaving your rooms this morning. She took me to him as punishment.”
She smiled. “I suppose she was right in the end, I am your whore now.”
Of course, Artemi had lost honour in this. Morghiad had not wanted that to happen, though looking back, his attempts to preserve it seemed poorly considered at best.
Several of the nobles they passed gave them curious looks. He did not want to stop and explain what she was doing in his coat, however, and ignored them. The castle being the hotbed of gossip it was, they would find out soon enough. He held the door open for her when they reached his rooms and she glided through like a queen in spite of her dress. As soon as the door was shut, the apparent happiness dropped from her features. “I have caused you too much trouble, my captain.”
She said this after her injury, and the
dangers she had faced? “No, I am guilty of doing that to you. I should have sent you away from here the minute I found you,” he said.
Confusion marked her features. “Do you mean all this has been for nothing? The training, the wielding? You have turned an entire army of men to protect the life of a wielder, of all future wielders. Are you telling me that was a mistake? The servants have enjoyed the warmest winter in centuries because you kept me here.”
Morghiad folded his arms. “But you could have enjoyed a happier life outside of here. And yes, my work with you has benefitted Cadra, but – then why do you think I am troubled by you?”
She curled up in the armchair. “It’s not that. Lady di Certa - I have come between the
two of you. Do you think she will still see you now that I am your benay-gosa? And what of Silar?”
The kahr was surprised she had thought anything of Aval’s advances upon him. That noblewoman was a blazed snake! “Whatever relationship you perceived exists in Lady di Certa’s mind only. I will not miss her attentions in the slightest. If anything, it would be a relief to be free of her. As for Silar, I’ll speak to him.”
Artemi rose from the chair and went to gaze at the bed. She still looked unhappy. Morghiad did not normally like any form of affection, but he was disturbed by her apparent sadness. And out of guilt for the part he had played in it, he drew her into an embrace.
Artemi awoke for the third time that night. It was unbelievably hot in his rooms. She just wanted to strip off and lie on top of the covers, but that would not be appropriate here. Not with him sleeping in the chair at the other end of the room. The fool man had insisted that she take the bed each night she stayed. It was ridiculous, given the size of the thing. Four people could easily have slept in it without even being aware of each other’s presence. Worse, the captain slept so lightly that every time she
shifted he would wake, check on her and then take an age to settle himself. Also, he suffered nightmares. How he managed to get any sleep was an utter mystery to her. Predictably, he left his chair and came to inspect her. “What is it?”
Why could he not stop fussing? At least he had spoken to her this time. In the last few weeks he had become very withdrawn, and even less conversational than he usually was. She hadn’t seen him smile for a very long time.
She pushed off the covers. “It’s just rather hot up here.”
Morghiad looked around the room. All of the windows were wide open and he seemed to be wearing several layers of clothing against the incoming breeze. “That leg wound is fully healed now?”
“Yes!” How many times would she have to tell him?
He sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand to her cheek. Hot, raging fire seemed to explode at the point where he touched her.
“Your power is maturing inside you that’s why you feel hot. By tomorrow you will have exceeded me in ability.” He rose and went back to his armchair. That was about as amicable as Morghiad would be with her. She had no idea what it was she had done to upset him, and asking him directly about it got her nowhere. At least she had a friend in Caala and was able to see her when she came to change the bed sheets.
At first the broad woman had been angry at her, thinking she had lied about her relationship with Morghiad. It had taken a lot of begging for forgiveness to bring her to an understanding, which itselfwas a lie. The only problem now was Caala’s irrepressible excitement at Artemi’s supposed impending motherhood. Though that was nine years off, it was still irksome that she had to discuss it at all.
Unlike Morghiad, Silar had warmed to her more in recent weeks. He regularly came to check upon her and the captain, even joining them for walks in the gardens. Artemi was glad for his company on those walks, as Morghiad would remain entirely silent and grim throughout. It had not taken Silar long to realise that the kahr was not taking advantage of his benay-gosa, and he had since remained quiet on the matter, instead choosing to enthuse over her forthcoming dancing lessons. And after all, it was expected that benay-gosa dance with
their master at feast days. Too bad for Morghiad he had chosen clumsy, treble-footed Artemi.
They had arranged to meet in the practice hall tomorrow,and she hoped to elicit at least a smile from the green-eyed kahr, even if it was a laugh at her falling on her backside. She knew how good he was at dancing, so he must have enjoyed it at some point in his bleak existence. Artemi rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. She still felt as if her skin were afire.
When she opened her eyes again it was light. Full spring sunshine flooded in through the windows and glared off the white sheets of the bed. She could hear birdsong from the gardens and castle roof. The smell of spring was a wonderful thing, and she drank it in deeply, a
broad grin spreading across her face. The kahr watched her from the door of his washrooms
. He was shirtless, as had become usual in her presence, and rubbed a towel through his dark hair.
Artemi tried to count all the thin scars that ran across his arms, but he turned his back under her gaze and replaced the towel inside the washroom. The tattooed crest on his shoulder blade caught her attention. She had seen it before and knew of its significance, but this time she left her bed to examine it more closely.
Morghiad turned to face her and stared when she approached, but then waited patiently while she walked around to his back. The blazed man was quite a bit taller than she, and she had to stand on tiptoes to see it properly.
The mark seemed to depict a hawk perched upon sword and feathers. There was something... unusual about it though. Artemi reached toward it with her fingers. When they made contact, Morghiad gave no reaction at all, but she could feel the difference in their ability now. There was something about the drawing of the hawk. “This has been made with Blaze Energy.”
“Anyone could have one made otherwise,” he said.
Artemi frowned. “But this is not Ilena’s work...”
Morghiad spun and snatched her hand out of the air. “You should bathe and get ready. Silar will be waiting.”
She knew she was right; Artemi had seen enough of Ilena’s work to know that was
not her style. Which other wielders had been allowed in Calidell during Morghiad’s lifetime?
He had left a bowl, full of clean hot water for her in the bathing room, which was quite generous. Though, she did not understand why he did not use her power to make it hot. She pulled off her nightdress and ran a soaking sponge over her skin. The familiar scent of purple wisp root soap prodded at her nose as she washed. Artemi dunked her hair in the water to finish her ablutions, and then flicked it back over her head, sending a spray of water everywhere.
She grinned to herself. The mess probably would not wind Morghiad up at all, but it felt good to misbehave a little. She dried herself off with one of the soft beige towels and then picked up the green scarves from the
cabinet. It had been an appropriate choice of colour by the kahr, matching his eyes perfectly. She wound the widest part of the silk strips around her breasts and waist, as she had been instructed on the first day, and pulled a third piece across her bottom, round the front of her hips and down her thighs. The scarves fastened in an ingenious knot at the back of her waist. Artemi was hardly demure in this arrangement, but it served to cover the most important areas. It annoyed her that the outfit drew grins and winks from her army brothers whenever Morghiad’s back was turned. At least she was able to wear her uniform during practice; then they would treat her more like a man and less like a flank of beef on a market stall.
She stepped out of the washroom, pulling a comb through her knotted, wet hair.
The kahr’s eyes were intent upon her as she walked across the room to the bed, where she took a seat. His stares would have been more manageable if he at least took the time to communicate with her. She thought of some conversation. “So, who taught you to dance?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
How she hated that response! Why couldn’t he just talk to her? “I would be happier if I knew whomI was up against.”
He considered her words for a moment. “A woman called Jezaena. She is dead now.”
The man was impossible! It wasn’t as if every woman he’d known was dead. Not quite every one, anyway. She probed further; she needed the sport. “What was she like?”
“Why must you ask these questions?
They are utterly inane.”
Artemi dropped her comb onto the bed as she stood. “I just want you to speak. You never talk. About anything. You don’t even reprimand me over stupid things any more. It’s infuriating!”
He remained blank. “What is there to talk about?”
“I don’t care! Anything: the weather, books, will-die, fighting, wars, your father, the bloody price of soap. Anything at all!”
Morghiad continued in his demonstration of emotionless-ness, “I do not see the point of talking for talking’s sake.”
She went over to him and knelt in front of his chair, taking a hand. “It is not for that. I find you so difficult to read and it would give me great comfort to know if you are happy,
unhappy, disappointed or proud. I know you feel those things somewhere in there. Even if you talk complete rubbishI can use it to read something of your emotions.”
He hesitated before speaking. “I am content. Will that do?”
Artemi nodded and released his hand. It was the best she could hope for. Perhaps she needed to try another tactic. They had not had a good duel since she had become benay-gosa. She had advanced considerably in her battalion’s rankings in the last month - nowhere near enough to best Morghiad or Silar or Beodrin, but enough to provide a challenge.
Soon they approached the practice hall in silence once more. Artemi had begun to wonder if most of her life would be spent in this curious state of soundlessness. For sport she
put a hand on Morghiad’s arm. She knew he wanted to shake her off, but he was unable to do so in public. Perhaps it was a cruel trick to play on him when he had been so kind to her. She always offered him a mischievous grin when she did it, so that he would know she meant it in good humour, but he never once responded to it. Burn him, but she wasn’t about to give up on the brick! They stepped inside the hall and Artemi immediately spotted Silar leaning against the tables. He flashed a broad smile upon seeing them, and rubbed his hands together.
“I hope you’ve brought your dancing legs with you, girl,” he called to her. She let go of the kahr’s arm and ran to the blond man, wrapping her arms around his neck. He gave her a quick squeeze and released her.
“Morghiad,” he offered a nod to the dark-haired man.
The kahr nodded back in grave silence.
“Now. For once I get to give the orders to you two,” the lieutenant said with glee. “If you would like to take your positions?”
The kahr went to stand several yards from the tables, and waited.
Artemi had no idea where she was supposed to be.
“Go and stand with him,” he said.
She approached him hesitantly, not sure of how near she should stand.
“Closer,” came the indication from the blond man.
Artemi moved a step toward the man who seemed to be watching her intently. She heard a “tssk” come from her left. Silar’s hands
pushed her forward and into Morghiad. The blond man stood back while the kahr put his arms around her waist. The room felt very hot again. When were these blazed powers going to settle down?
Silar came to place her hands variously on Morghiad’s upper arms and waist. “Didn’t you even show her the basic starting positions?”
Morghiad grunted in response.
The lieutenant let it pass and arranged her arms. “You must always keep your shoulders in this position. Do not let your elbows drop unless the move demands it. Now, this is the starting position for the hadara, this is the dance almost always performed on feast days. Morghiad, if you’d kindly show her the next move?”
The kahr wrapped his leg around one of hers, pulled it back and released her waist on one side, causing her to fall sideways towards the floor. He held fast to her waist with the other hand and caught her shoulder, so that she was hanging only from his grasp.
“This
is how you wish to show me?”
“He performed the move correctly. You displayed absolutely no trust in it,” Silar scolded. “And you have dropped your elbows. And your shoulders have tensed. Do it again.”
Morghiad lifted her up and dangled her above the floor once more. Artemi’s performance did not improve.
“Again!” the blond man called.
They performed the move several times, then moved on to the more advanced ones. It rapidly became clear that this was not
something she could pick up like sword fighting. And it was nowhere near as simple as the
solo gosara dance she’d been taught by the other benay-gosa. She seemed to be absolutely dire at it too.
After a couple of hours of agony, Silar called a halt to their faltering steps. He had his hands on his hips. “I just don’t understand it, Artemi. You’re normally far more graceful than this. And it’s not that different to sword fighting.”
Morghiad released her and she felt some of the tension lift. Perhaps it would be over now!
Silar rubbed at his chin. “Morghiad, would you mind ifI... ?”
The kahr gave a single nod for him to step in, and went to lean against a nearby wall,
arms crossed.
Silar took up the first hadara position with her this time. His hold felt a little different not more or less gentle... just different. She placed her hands in the correct positions for the thousandth time.
Silar examined them with raised eyebrows. “Good. Now, drop.” He let her fall to one side and she leaned into the motion. He caught her smoothly. “Very good,” he said with a smile. They weaved through the next ten motions fluidly. “It would seem,” he said on releasing her, “thatI have the magical touch.” A very cheeky grin spread across his face. “Wouldn’t you say, captain?”
Morghiad had straightened from his nonchalant position against the wall to watch them. “It appears you have.”
“Let’s run through that again,” Silar said. They danced the full sequence together and Artemi was astonished that she did not fall over his feet once. Yet Silar had admitted he was not as good a dancer as Morghiad. None of it made any sense.
The Fireblade Array: 4-Book Bundle Page 26
