by A. M. Deese
For some reason Jura found herself blushing. “It’s not like that. He’s not a suitor or anything.”
Denir arched a brow. “It isn’t my business,” she shrugged. “But, if you did have something with the Tenth,” she leveled an eye at Jura, “some unfinished business that is, I would suggest staking your claim now before your curious friend steals your chance.”
Jura bit her bottom lip. “What do you mean?”
“My lady First, everyone saw you two at the arena together.” The Fifth cocked her head to the side. “Has the daughter of the Third ever given any attention to the Tenth before?”
Jura gritted her teeth. Of course, why would Amira suddenly focus all her attention on the Tenth?
It was something Amira often did, throwing herself at someone or something only after Jura expressed interest. Jura shouldn’t be surprised that her friend sought to capture Beshar’s affections, either out of curiosity or simply because she could. Jura sighed and walked toward them.
Amira smiled at her approach. “There you are. I was just speaking with Beshar about how radiant you looked today.”
Jura frowned at her.
“Isn’t she beautiful? Jura, you’re positively glowing.” Amira stood between her and Beshar, smiling widely at both.
“The Tenth was just telling me about his wine collection. It’s absolutely marvelous. He stores it in glass bottles and it keeps for years.” She grinned at Beshar. “Jura loves wine.”
Jura hardly touched the stuff but she smiled politely. What was Amira’s game? She thought she’d have to fend off Amira’s advances, not be embarrassed while Amira presented her to Beshar on a polished dinner platter.
The Tenth was staring at Amira, either enraptured by her beauty or trying to figure out her motives…or both.
“I had hoped Jura would accompany me to Inferno’s training arena. She expressed such interest yesterday.”
Amira wrinkled her nose, “Inferno?”
“His dragon,” Jura answered without looking over at her. “And I would love to.” She had to make her move tonight. “But perhaps dinner, tonight? You could show me your wine collection.”
Beshar looked her over, evaluating her. “Indeed. Shall I send a litter?”
“No, thank you. I’ll see you at the dinner hour.”
Beshar wriggled his thumbs and then excused himself to greet Jabir, the Seventh.
Jura waited until he was out of earshot before whirling on her friend. “What was that about?”
“What do you mean?” Amira snatched a glass of wine from a passing tray and drank deeply. “Mmm, this is delicious. Try it.” She thrust the goblet at Jura.
She took it, but only to avoid having it spill down the front of her robes. “You know what I’m talking about. Why did you say all that in front of Beshar?”
“The Tenth?” She snorted. “What? You like him. I was just helping you out. I know how awkward you can be. Are you going to drink that?” She reached for the goblet she’d given to Jura.
Jura sighed and handed it back to her. “How many of these have you had?”
Amira shrugged. “Not many. Just a few. You’re so pretty.”
“I have to get you home.”
“No,” Amira protested loudly. People looked over. “No,” she squealed again. “Jura, no. We’re having fun.”
Jura smiled tightly, reaching for her friend’s arm. “I think you’ve had enough fun. Let’s go.”
Velder approached and the disapproval on his face was enough to stop a lotus flower from blooming. “What’s going on here?”
“We were just leaving,” Jura said quickly.
Velder’s face smoothed into one of concern. “I do hope the Lady of the Third is well?”
“Nothing a nap won’t fix,” Jura grunted. Amira had decided to lean all her body weight on her. She staggered under her limp friend.
“And your father?” Velder pressed on. “I have an urgent matter and I must speak with him.”
“Councilman, you’re in my way. Please step aside. I’ll tell the First you wish to speak with him, and the First will see you when he has the time.”
Velder was too surprised to do anything and stood frozen as Jura brushed by him and Amira giggled.
It wasn’t easy convincing Amira to go to her chambers. She wouldn’t release her hold on Jura, so she was forced to carry her friend through the halls and to her chamber door. The private chambers of the Third, just across from Amira’s, stood open. Jura could see the Third sitting at his desk, poring over ledgers. He frowned at Jura and she quickly looked away.
“Take a nap,” she ordered Amira. “You’ll feel better after that.”
“Are you going to do it?” Amira grabbed Jura’s arm, her face intense.
“Do what?”
“You know. It. With Beshar.” She narrowed her eyes and frowned down at Jura, wobbling slightly from side to side. “Or maybe you want to do it with your Light Guard? Markus or Marton or—” She hiccuped loudly.
Jura blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shoved Amira inside her room and shut her door firmly behind her.
“Greatness—Amira, is she…”
Jura flinched when the Third placed a firm hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t heard him approach.
She intertwined her fingers and wriggled her thumbs then twisted her hands so that only her little fingers were interlocked and so that her thumbs pointed down to the ground, the traditional sign to show sympathy. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Ahmar nodded grimly. Jura had thought him much too stern to waste water with tears, but his eyes were rimmed red all the same.
“Amira is just…tired. She’ll feel better after some rest.”
“This is a very troubling time for my family. I hope you’ll look after her. She’s been so different lately, and I worry…” He shook his head. “I should never have taken her offer to take interim power. I—please, look after my daughter.”
Jura searched her mind for a reply, but the Third was already shuffling back to his study.
