by Jayla Jasso
“Yes. It’s made from toasted jasmine rice.”
“Oh.”
He poured a sip into a whiskey glass. “Try it.”
She reached for the glass, but he pulled it back and swirled it around a bit. “Let it air out a moment. Okay, now.” He extended it to her again.
Graciella put the glass to her lips and drank. The katsuri burned as it hit her throat. She sputtered and coughed, setting the glass back down.
Yavi chuckled softly under his breath. “Are you all right?”
She wheezed, pressed a hand to her chest, and coughed some more, then grinned at him. “It’s really good,” she choked out.
He laughed, a magical sound to her ears, then held up the bottle again. “Do you want some more?”
“Yes.” Her voice came out half-strangled. She beat on her chest with her fist. “Definitely yes.”
“Very well.” He poured her a half-glass and handed it to her. “Sip it more slowly this time. I should have cautioned you before.”
“I’ll be more careful,” she promised, helping him carry the glasses to the sitting area by the fire, where Yajna and Jiandra were already snuggled together on the couch. Graciella chose the armchair closest to the fire, and Yavi sat in the other one, next to her.
“It sounded like you were trying to kill my sister over there.” Jiandra grinned as she accepted her glass of water.
“Yes. She really likes the katsuri.” Yavi smiled and raised his glass. “Another toast to friends and family.”
“Here, here,” Yajna chimed in, and the four of them clinked their glasses together over the low table.
Graciella smiled and relaxed in her armchair, sipping the sweet alcohol. She felt like quite the grown-up, sitting in Yavi’s masculine study, drinking exotic liquor with him. And the four of them made such a perfect little group. Surely Yavi felt it too, how natural it seemed for her to be a part of his inner circle along with her sister and his brother.
The katsuri started to work its magic on her senses as the four of them conversed, and she felt her inhibitions melting away. She stole a sideways glance at Yavi’s face as he talked to Yajna and Jiandra, watching his firm, sexy lips as he spoke. From this angle, she could see just inside the neckline of his shirt, to where the chain of the emperor’s ruby lay against his muscular chest.
“Yavi.” She sat up and leaned toward him. “May I see the emperor’s ruby?”
He reached inside his shirt and pulled it out, then leaned closer to place the gemstone in her palm. It was heavy, about the size and shape of a fig, and sparkled like a ruby-red glass of merlot in the firelight.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. When she looked up at him, unless she was imagining it, he’d been staring at her mouth.
He pulled back and tucked the ruby into his shirt.
“Do you ever take it off?”
“No.”
“Do you ever roll over onto it at night in bed and hurt yourself?”
He met her gaze, faint amusement in his eyes. “Yes.”
She grinned. “Do you scream in pain when that happens?”
“On occasion.” He smiled, his white teeth glowing handsomely against his olive skin.
She laughed, feeling giddy and very turned on by the image of him lying in bed, wearing nothing but the huge ruby.
“But I never take it off, no matter how many times I roll over onto it at night. Nandalan legends hold that the ruby signifies the authority and power of the emperor, and taking it off would be equivalent to abdicating the throne.”
“So it’s like a crown.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Her sister and Yajna were engrossed in their own conversation, so she asked Yavi something else she’d always been curious about. “What was it like growing up as a twin?”
“Annoying as hell,” he replied, sipping his drink.
“Truly?” She chuckled. “But you and Yajna seem so close.”
“We are closer than any two brothers could ever be.”
“But you don’t like having a twin?”
His expression grew serious. “No, and I will tell you why. He is not just my mirror image—he is part of me, like my right hand, like the other half of my head and heart.” His voice became quieter. “If something were to happen to him, I would be devastated. I fear it would hurt even more than losing my father.”
Graciella swallowed down a lump that had formed in her throat.
“Plus, he’s annoying as hell.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of katsuri.
Graciella looked at her sister. Jiandra was staring into Yajna’s eyes, stroking his angular jaw while they talked. “Well, my sister seems to disagree with you.”
“Yes, well…that’s only because he’s such a handsome devil.”
She laughed at that, and Yavi held her gaze a moment, grinning.
“Sister, Emperor Yavi,” Jiandra interrupted. “Yajna and I have something to tell you.”
Yavi sat up straight. “What is it?”
Graciella leaned forward and set her glass on the low table.
Jiandra glanced at Yajna, who gave her a little nod. “I think I am with child.”
“Oh, sister!” Graciella stood up and went to her side to hug her. “That’s wonderful news.”
Yavi stood and shook Yajna’s hand. “Congratulations, brother. You will provide an heir to the throne.” He picked up his glass to toast. “Long live the Zulfikars!”
“Here, here,” Graciella chimed in happily.
Jiandra reached for her husband’s hand, and Yajna helped her to her feet. “Speaking of which,” she said, “Gracie and I should retire for the evening. Our coach is scheduled for the morning to take us to see Rafe.”
Graciella curtsied to Yavi. “Thank you for the katsuri.”
He inclined his head to her.
“I’ll join you in a moment, dear wife,” Yajna said. “I want to speak with my brother about the trip tomorrow.”
“All right.” Jiandra nodded. “Goodnight, Yavi.”
Graciella left the study with Jiandra. She linked her arm through her sister’s as they walked down the hall. “How exciting, Jiandra. A baby!”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure until today, when my cycle was fully a month overdue, and I knew I just felt—different.” Jiandra touched her belly with her free hand. “You can feel when there is life growing inside you. It’s quite odd.”
“I have been waiting for years for this news, ever since you got married. I’m surprised it’s taken so long!”
Jiandra chuckled. “Well, Yajna and I were using…precautions.”
“Precautions?”
“Shhh!” Jiandra glanced over her shoulder. “Wait until we get to my room, and I’ll explain.”
Once they were closed up inside Yajna and Jiandra’s quarters, Graciella turned to her. “Okay—explain ‘precautions,’ Jia.”
“All right. So when we got married we decided we wanted to avoid having a baby right away so that we could focus our energy and efforts on rebuilding Nandala.”
“Right?”
“So, we always took precautions when we were, ah, together. It’s nothing too mysterious, it’s just…he…he pulls out before he…you know.”
Graciella peered at Jiandra skeptically. “Before he what?”
“You know—before he spills his, er, seed.”
“Oh.” Graciella thought about that. She knew about physical intercourse thanks to Jiandra’s enlightening explanation when Graciella turned twelve, but obviously some details had been left out of the discussion. “That works?”
“Well, it did for a while, anyway. I guess we haven’t been as careful lately.”
“But how can he still—spill seed, if he pulls out?”
“Oh, easy. He waits until the last possible second, the point of no return.”
Graciella’s mind suddenly filled with images of her brother-in-law that probably weren’t appropriate. “Wow.”
“Yes, well,
anyhow, it may not be the best timing to have a baby right now, but we are still thrilled.”
“Yes. Me too. Please say you’ll let me stay until the baby’s born, Jia. You’ll need my company and help, and I’ll want to see my little niece or nephew.”
“Yes, definitely, sister. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jiandra hugged her.
“Goodnight.” Graciella kissed her cheek and left to go to her own room. When she entered, she was pleased to see that the servants had built a fire and the room was toasty-warm. She went over to the washstand and began taking down her hair.
The window on the far side of her bed suddenly blew open, and Graciella jumped, startled. She rushed over to close it, shivering in the cold draft.
Father! a faint child’s voice seemed to whisper from behind her as she pushed the window shut. She whirled around to see where the voice came from, but there was nothing there.
She latched the window and murmured to herself, “Katsuri must have gone to my head.” She dressed in her nightgown, shook out and hung her pink gown in her armoire, and knelt by the bed to say her prayers. She prayed for Jiandra’s baby, for Nandala to prosper, and for Yavi’s broken heart to mend.
§
Uman stood on the raised dais with Terijin behind him and looked out over his crowd of followers. Their ranks had swelled by several hundred Nandals hungry for revolution, and he knew tonight was his golden opportunity.
He paced in front of the altar. “Too long have we done without, while the palace lives in luxury at our expense! They have taken our land, with the promise of giving us food, but what food have we seen? Too long have we starved, waiting for the Zulfikars to make good on their promises! Too long, my brothers, have we gone without a real ruler.”
His followers raised their fists in the air. “Here, here!”
“My father, Thakur, was a real bastard.” Uman grinned, baring sharpened teeth. “He was even more selfish than the Zulfikar twins. But he had one thing right. His plan of taking over Villeleia, our peaceful and prosperous neighbor to the south.”
Thunderous shouts of approval.
“Nandala is a frozen wasteland, and it will always be a frozen wasteland. Together, my brothers, we will eliminate the Zulfikars, take the throne of Nandala, and enlist every starving Nandal farmer into the Vyrkune. We will descend upon Villeleia like a ravenous pack of wolves. We will rip her little queen and her complacent generals to shreds. And then we will live in their castles, enslave their people to feed our appetites, and reap Villeleia’s spoils forever.”
Loud cries of agreement rose from his audience.
He paced to a position in front of the altar. “This, however, requires sacrifice. It requires resolve. Not all of you are fit to be Vyrkune.”
They quieted down, watching him. He knew he had them in the palm of his hand.
“Most of you have sworn your allegiance to me as the true heir of the throne. Some of you have taken the oath of the Vyrkune and drunk the elixir. Some, but not all. My true followers, those who will rule with me here in Nandala as well as in Villeleia, must take the oath to become Vyrkune. I will not extend my hand in friendship forever. My army of Vyrkune must rise, and soon. We must stamp out the Zulfikar line while they are the last two living heirs, leaving nothing to chance.” Uman raised his fists and shouted, “Who is with me?”
A deafening cry arose from the assembly.
Uman turned to Terijin. “Open the book of the oath.”
§
It was early afternoon by the time the coach reached the top of Mount Solara, escorted by Yavi and Yajna on their horses. Graciella peered out the window of the carriage at the Tylvan monastery as they came to a halt, and surveyed the ancient stone columns carved with intricate symbols and designs unlike any she’d ever seen.
The carriage door opened, and Yavi reached in to help her out. She took his hand for support as she stepped out onto the ground, pulling her cloak tighter around herself in the chill of the high altitude. There was a mist surrounding the area, and all was silent save the snorting and prancing of their horses.
Jiandra came closer to say something under her breath. “We have to ask the monks if Rafe can be seen today.”
“Do they ever say no?” Graciella whispered back.
“Sometimes, if Rafe isn’t feeling…calm.”
Yavi issued a command to the coach driver, and then he and Yajna escorted her and Jiandra up the steps to the entrance of the monastery. Stone archways led off into various walkways and staircases, and the high walls of the courtyard were covered in lush vines. The place almost appeared to be vacant at first, but as they approached an inner staircase and began to ascend, the faint, haunting sound of melodious chanting reached Graciella’s ears. She tightened her grip on Yavi’s strong arm and sidled closer to him, feeling cold and a little intimidated.
At the top of the stairs, there was a stone portico shielding the entrance to a sanctuary with large wooden doors. Yajna reached forward to open one of them so they could step inside.
Pale light filtered into the room through high, narrow windows, sending shafts of light over the thirty or so monks who were kneeling in prayer on woven mats, their heads covered by hooded cloaks. The leader at the front signaled a halt to the chanting. All the monks rose as one and turned to bow in reverence to the twins, who each inclined their heads in response.
The leader walked through their ranks to speak with the visitors. He removed his hood, revealing long silver hair, a silver beard, and kind gray eyes framed with wrinkles. He pressed his palms together and bowed deeply to the twins. “Mahajin, it is an honor.”
They bowed to him in the same manner. “Master Volkan,” Yavi responded.
Yajna added, “The honor is ours.”
The elder monk turned to Jiandra. “Honored Queen. You are here to see your brother.”
“Yes, Master Volkan,” she answered softly. “And may I present my sister, Graciella.”
Graciella extended her hand to him with a nervous smile.
Master Volkan took her hand, his face breaking into a full grin as he gazed at her face. “Grace and light,” he murmured in his lilting Nandalan accent. “Fitting name for such a lovely, pure-hearted spirit.”
Graciella chuckled and glanced at her companions self-consciously.
Master Volkan held onto her hand. “You, my dear, bring good fortune to Nandala. Yes. You bring hope.”
“Thank you, Master.” She felt an instant closeness to the elderly monk; she wanted to hug him, call him Grandfather, be adopted by him on the spot.
He almost appeared as if he wanted to say more, but instead he simply squeezed her hand once more before releasing it and turning to Jiandra. “Your brother has been in seclusion today, but I will go and tell him you are here.”
“Thank you,” Jiandra said.
He left, and the other monks filed out of the sanctuary, leaving the four visitors alone.
Graciella looked up at Yavi. “This place is so peaceful. It’s beautiful here.”
“Yes. I have fond memories of this place. Yajna and I were sent here as part of our assassin training in the Black Armies,” he explained. “We were trained by Master Volkan in mysticism.”
She nodded. “I liked him.”
“I’ve never seen him smile so much.” Yavi chuckled. “He obviously liked you as well.”
Jiandra touched Graciella’s arm to interrupt. “What a wonderful compliment he gave Gracie.”
“It wasn’t a compliment, sweet wife,” Yajna corrected her. “It was a prophecy.” He exchanged a glance with his brother. “Master Volkan doesn’t give compliments.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Yavi agreed. He met Graciella’s gaze. “It would seem she was meant to come to Nandala.”
A young monk approached, bowing to them. “Mahajin, Mahithin, please follow me.”
They followed him out of the sanctuary, down a set of stone stairs, and across a patio to an isolated building overlooking the cliffs. A narrow stair
case led down to a long hallway, and at the end of it their monk escort paused outside a heavy wooden door.
Graciella felt a surge of apprehension, and instinctively reached for Yavi’s arm. He squeezed her hand into the crook of his arm, drawing her a little closer into his side. She hadn’t seen Rafe since he was nine and she was fourteen. At the time, he’d been plagued with strange hallucinatory episodes, waking as well as sleeping nightmares, the unfortunate result of his encounter with Gerynwid the Shapeshifter. The vile witch had removed his heart but kept him alive with her spells and potions, and later made a deal with Jiandra to replace the heart and revive him, but Rafe had never been the same carefree, sweet boy he once was.
Yavi patted her hand comfortingly as the monk opened the door.
Jiandra stepped inside first. Before they sent Rafe to the monastery, she was the only person who could calm him when he was having an episode, and with the protection of the Omaja stone, there was no possibility of physical danger to her in his presence.
“Rafe?” she asked softly.
“Sister,” Graciella heard a deep voice respond from somewhere inside the room. Tears stung her eyes.
“Gracie is here to see you,” Jiandra told him.
Graciella waited, gripping Yavi’s arm. A tall, handsome young man came to the doorway, green eyes searching for her.
His expression softened when he saw her. “Gracie?”
“Yes, Rafe, it’s me,” she choked, her tears spilling over. Nostalgic images of their childhood, of playing together in the orchard and staying up late reading books together, flashed through her mind.
He reached out to her, and she rushed forward to grasp his hands. “You are so tall!”
“So are you,” he replied. “And beautiful.”
“Oh, sweet Rafe, I’ve missed you!” she sobbed, hugging him.
He froze a moment, but then embraced her.
Graciella pulled back and touched a curled lock of his thick, chestnut-brown hair that hung loosely over his shoulders. “Your hair is so long.”
“How is our brother, Elio?” he asked.
“He’s well, although he misses you very much. He’s still managing to run the farm while seeing Solange at the castle almost daily. He plans to propose to her soon.”
