by Rowan, Cate
Sulya’s gaze shuttered as she bowed. “As you wish, O Lord.” Yet she raised her head and glanced at her son, then back at Kuramos with a mute plea.
“Wife,” he said in a softer tone, “I will do whatever I can for Tahir, and so will Sohad. As, I hope, will Bairam and the others. Now go.”
She nodded and backed out the door.
Kuramos turned back to the wide-eyed Sohad. “Who else might know of a cure?”
“I…I’m not certain. I come from a small village in Gida Province, five days away…”
Panic clawed up the sultan’s chest, but he concealed the cuts.
“O Lord, I could ask the herbalist from whom Yaman buys…er, bought…his medicines.”
Kuramos stared at Sohad for a moment, then nodded. He may not have much experience, but perhaps he has a mind. We’ll need that. “Send for the herbalist. And for any and all who may be of help.”
Kuramos lifted Tahir so their eyes were level. “Sohad will take care of you, little leopard. Stay with him.”
Swallowing once more, Sohad gingerly held out his hands, but Tahir clutched the sleeves of his father’s kaftan. “Where are you going, Abha?”
“There’s something I must do. But I’ll be back soon to be with you.”
He placed Tahir in Sohad’s arms, and with another stern gaze at the assistant, reluctantly let go. He cast his son one last glance, memorizing his face, then rose and strode from the room.
Kuramos went straight to Dabir’s quarters. His mentor’s body was already being prepared for cremation, and for the first time in many years, Kuramos entered Dabir’s rooms without him. The new silence wrenched his soul.
Books spilling from every nook held knowledge that the sultans of Kad and their subjects had gleaned over generations. Dabir had known each tome, and when asked a question, could instantly locate the right volume.
No longer.
Towering bookshelves grazed the clouds and blue sky that graced the domed ceiling. Joyous tears had glistened in Dabir’s eyes the day Kuramos had surprised him with the trompe l’oeil mural. “My thanks to you, O Lord,” he’d whispered. “Now I can be among my books and under Idu’s vast heavens, all at once.”
Kuramos drew his fingers across the books’ russet spines and gold leaf lettering, wishing he could soak up their knowledge and find the answers he needed. Disparate thoughts and feelings careened in his head. He struggled for order, a path to take, but found none.
Idu and Naaz, god and goddess, father and mother, lovers and enemies. Architects of the world; destructors at will. With Kismet, Their son, They reigned over all creation, even as Kuramos ruled over the lives of the Kaddites. But Kuramos was mortal and thus fallible, while They were divine. And all-knowing.
Dabir is gone, and now Yaman. Those who might have had the skills to decipher and treat the plague upon my house have been taken first.
Now the scourge has my little Tahir…
Naaz is thirsty for my blood.
Because She knows.
He turned on his heel and stalked back to his own chambers.
There under the torchlight, the pomegranate stain he’d made earlier drew his reluctant gaze.
His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. So stupid to think he could hide from a goddess. She’d bided Her time…but after all, She had all the time in the world. She had created time.
Blood. She wanted blood. And She would get it from him, one way or another.
She comes.
He knelt and touched the wall. The crimson had scarred dry and unyielding under his fingertips. “Naaz,” he whispered, “if I give myself to You now, as I should have done that fateful day, will You release my family from Your doom?”
He leapt up and snatched the dagger of his father from the golden brackets on the wall. The gems encrusting its ivory hilt caught the light—emeralds, sapphires, and a blood-red ruby the size of his thumb.
A knife of his royal ancestors, of all his people. He turned the wickedly pointed blade until it flashed in the torchlight, then poised it just below his ribcage, ready to punch up toward his heart. The tip sliced through the sable edge of his kaftan like ghee and pricked his skin.
One thrust to save them. One thrust to spare their lives from death.
He took a breath, his last, to steel himself.
“No, O Lord!”
Kuramos whirled to discover Hamar, his steward, frozen in the doorway with mouth agape. At once, Hamar dropped to his knees and bowed his head to the floor.
“Almighty Sultan, forgive my impertinence. It is only my shock at the sight of you…with that dagger in your hand. Please, please, do not take your life.”
Kuramos’s chest tightened, choking his words. “A scourge has come to my house, Hamar! Dabir has died. Yaman, too. Others have been taken and soon more will join them—including my children, the heart of my existence.” His fingers clenched the hilt. “And you, Hamar, you know what I did.”
Hamar touched his forehead to the floor once more. “Yes, O Lord, I remember.” His torso expanded with a long breath, and then, slowly, he sat up and looked the sultan in the eye. “But I also know why it was done.”
“That why,” Kuramos snarled, “seems not enough for Naaz.”
Hamar dropped his gaze to his knees. “O Lord, most noble of men, if you feel you must do this, I cannot stop you. But I beg you to hear this: if you go, who will ascend the throne of your ancestors? Who will wield the Royal Scimitar of Kad? Who will hold your house and people together? You have not chosen an heir.”
“No.” Kuramos twisted his wrist, incising a small, bleeding crescent under his ribs. The pain sharpened his senses, tightened every nerve. “I’ve never wanted squabbling rivals in this house. My children were to learn, to strive, to grow wise, so I could choose the best of them to rule Kad when I am gone.” Irony soaked his caustic laughter. “My wish has come to naught—none are now old enough to rule. And to save them through my own death, I would have to choose one to ascend my throne under the goddess’s curse.”
His fingers tightened on the hilt until his knuckles whitened. One stab to end it all, then an eternity among the slumbering spirits at Naaz’s feet…
The blade plunged to the thick rug below, where it lay glinting above the crimson fibers, pointing at his heart.
Without a hand to hold the weapon, it was lifeless, powerless.
And so would be an empty throne.
So what was left to do? Catastrophe raged and his enemies circled, primed to strike.
Teganne, Dabir had said. Look to Teganne. A land of mages. And sorcery.
And healers.
Kuramos’s people were famed as warriors and merchants…not physicians. But at least in Kad, healing was righteously done, without heathen magic!
Still…before Yaman had died, the physician had not identified the illness ravaging the royal household. It seemed possible no one else would, either.
Sulya’s insults notwithstanding, Yaman had won his physician’s robe and his place in the palace by experience. Kuramos knew there were no others in his realm who could do better.
He turned to Hamar, still kneeling in the doorway. “Bring the Cage to me. Our need is great.”
As the steward rose and backed out, Kuramos thought of Tahir, and wondered if need alone would be enough to bridge the chasm.
Dread pierced him. No matter what he did about the plague, Naaz’s judgments could not be escaped.
And She might yet require his soul.
***
I hope you’ve enjoyed this excerpt
of Kismet’s Kiss.
To purchase it or access a longer sample,
just visit your favorite online retailer…
For more information about my other books,
come visit my website:
http://CateRowan.com.
***
Other Books
I’m delighted to introduce four award-winning authors and their unusual romantic novels: (1) a time travel romance, (2) a
vampire novel with a twist, (3) a shape-shifter romance, and (4) an otherworld fantasy romance.
* * *
(1) If you enjoyed the pairing of modern Earth and a medievalesque world in The Source of Magic, take a look at A Knight in Central Park, a medieval time travel romance from Theresa Ragan:
The year is 1499. As Alexandra Dunn’s farmhouse is set ablaze, her grandfather places precious stones in her palm, telling her she has until the next full moon to return with a hero…a brave, chivalrous knight to help save her family. Familiar objects become a blur as she is swallowed in darkness. Suddenly Alexandra is standing in the middle of Central Park, but she has no time to ponder on the wondrous powers of the stones or the amazing sights before her…she must find a hero before all is lost.
Joe McFarland would be the first to admit that he’s far from hero material…definitely not the man she’s looking for. A firm believer of quietude and non-violence, he avoids conflict at all costs. At thirty-four, he is one of the younger Professors at NYU where he lectures and teaches History: The High Middle Ages. Joe’s main goal in life is to gain membership into the Medieval Academy, a highly distinguished group of archaeologists and historians. He believes membership will bring him respect and recognition…but what he really wants is to be reunited with his father; a man who has spent his entire life searching for the Black Knight, the last of the medieval knights.
Joe’s organized, well-structured life begins to unravel the moment he meets Alexandra Dunn. He figures she majored in medieval history before going off the deep end…until days later when he is miraculously transported through time, to 1499 England. Dressed in Dockers and a button down shirt, Joe thought he was ready for anything…anything but this! An armored man with a very authentic looking broadsword is about to strike him down. With only nail clippers and a Bic to defend himself, Joe has no time to think about such an implausible phenomenon as traveling through time…not if he wants to live to see another day.
Intrigued? Visit your preferred online retailer to sample or purchase Theresa Ragan’s A Knight in Central Park.
* * *
(2) Next, if you’re into vampire tales, check out this one from Sandra Edwards. Staked has a twist at the end that you’re not likely to see coming.
Ava Valentine is a time-traveling bounty hunter from the distant future. She’s chased her fugitive back to present-day New York City, where she hopes her new contact will lead her to an uneventful capture. What she’s not expecting is to get mixed up with a man she suspects is a vampire.
Dexter Stone is a mysterious soldier of fortune. He holds an allegiance to few, and has a reputation for selling out anyone if the price is right. His word is good though, and once he chooses a side, it’ll take more than monetary gain to sway him to the other.
A run-in with an unsavory person from Ava’s past forces the pair into an uneasy alliance. And soon, Ava will discover that she could be Stone’s saving grace—or his downfall.
Staked is a 25,000-word novella and the first book in the Time Brokers series. Check out Sandra’s website at SandraWrites.com or visit your preferred online retailer to sample or purchase Staked.
* * *
(3) Love shape-shifters? Here’s a taste of a new one, The Tears of Elios, by Crista McHugh:
Shape-shifters’ Rule #1: Don't let the humans know you still exist.
Rule #2: If a human finds out about you, silence them.
Some rules were meant to be broken…
Ranealya ruthlessly plays by the rules and has outlived most of her race because of it. If she wants to survive, she’ll have to stick to them, especially with a genocidal tyrant hell-bent on destroying all the non-humans in the realm. But everything falls apart when a human saves her life.
Gregor knows he’s inviting trouble when he helps a wounded shape-shifter, but he can’t pass up the opportunity to study one before they become extinct. She disturbs the quiet order of his scholarly existence, vexes him in more ways than he can count, and encourages him to break enough of the kingdom’s laws that not even being the king’s cousin will save his head. The problem is, he’s already lost his heart.
Look for Crista McHugh’s The Tears of Elios at your favorite online retailer.
* * *
(4) And now I’d like to introduce you to a fantasy romance by Debra Holland. I had the privilege of reading it long ago as a manuscript, and it went on to become a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Finalist. I hope you enjoy Sower of Dreams as much as I did! Turn the page to begin the excerpt.
SOWER OF DREAMS
Book One of the Gods’ Dream Trilogy
Debra Holland
* * *
PROLOGUE
SEAGEM, ON THE PLANET KIMTAIR
YEAR 23 OF THE REIGN OF ICEROS
“Indaran,” Daria called to her eldest brother. He stood at the prow of his ship, gazing at the white-capped swells. As she ran to him, her feet skimmed the wooden deck, seeming to take on wings. “Indaran!”
He whirled around. The blue tunic and pants he wore as sleepclothes billowed around his strong body. The wind whipped blond hair across his face. He pushed the blowing strands away with a familiar impatient gesture.
He grinned at her, his white teeth a stark contrast to his tanned, handsome face. Taking two strides, Indaran caught her as she jumped into his arms, and spun, twirling her until she squealed.
Wrapping her arms and legs around him, Daria squeezed her beloved brother with all the happiness in her heart. She pressed her nose against his chest, sniffing sea brine and Indaran’s own man-scent, almost forgotten after the months he’d been away.
He kissed both her cheeks; the stubble of his beard scratched her face. “Daria, little bird. Only six years old and look how strong you’ve become to appear like this during our dream time. Even Mother’s othersense can no longer reach me when I sleep. Now I just hear the faintest voice, like a breeze.”
“I miss you so much, Indaran. I wanted to see you. You’ve been gone sooo long.”
He carried her to the prow. The ship sped over the olive-gray sea, each dash of the vessel through the waves sending up cold spray to mist her face. Daria wrinkled her nose at the murky depths, disliking the chill the sight of the water gave her, and how the dull sky weighed on her spirits. Even the sullen glow of the early morning sun failed to lighten the surroundings. She wanted Indaran to turn the ship around and sail back to Seagem’s translucent emerald-blue ocean and beautiful lavender skies.
He pointed to a distant smudge, a smoky outline against the pale horizon. “Look, little bird, the land of our ancestors, unseen by any of our people for generations.”
Daria shivered. The view of Indaran’s destination gave her a pain in her belly, and she glanced away. To one side and behind, another trading ship kept pace with Indaran’s, sails taut against the wind, while a third followed from a distance, looking like a miniature she could cup in her hands.
Indaran nuzzled her hair. “I’ll bring the ships back laden with interesting goods. Just think of all the stories I’ll have to tell. I’ll even seek out a special trinket for you, little bird. Or would you prefer a toy or a new pet?”
Even this enticement couldn’t divert Daria from her purpose. “I want you to come home, Indaran. Father’s counselors grumble that their prince is out—” she deepened her voice, trying to sound like a man— “‘gallivanting on a useless chase for glory.’”
He laughed. “I can see them now. It’s not for glory, Daria, but for exploration, for adventure. And… maybe a little glory.”
“Mama’s worried. She walks around with her forehead like this—” she used two fingers to pinch the skin of her brow “—when she thinks I’m not looking.”
His merry smile vanished. He set her down, then crouched to stare at her face, his green eyes intense. “Yadarius will keep us safe.”
She wanted to believe him. Surely the SeaGod who walked through her dreams, played with her, and brought her the wisdom she needed, would
take care of her brother. “Mama says you are sailing beyond Yadarius’ realm. We don’t even know what gods rule where you are going.”
Indaran looked toward the land. His eyes lost their intensity, becoming distant. “We only know that they’re TwinGods,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Even their names are lost to us. But I’ll find them out.”
He shook his head slightly, as if coming back to himself, and brushed her brow with his lips. “Tell Mama not to worry. Yadarius will never forsake us.”
“But how do you know?”
He flicked the tip of her nose with one calloused finger. “Because when we started this trip, He told me so.”
The ship shuddered.
Indaran’s eyebrows drew together in the same frown-crease she’d seen so often on their mother’s forehead. He stood, then patted her sleeper-clad bottom. “Go, little bird, I must awaken.”
She knew the futility of protesting. Once Indaran woke up, their visit would end—although she’d still be able to touch his heartline—the same as she could any other member of her family. “I’ll visit again.”
He smiled at her. “Promise?”
She slashed her fingers across her chest. “Sword’s oath.”
He laughed. “My little warrior.”
The ship gave another thudding shudder. Then, as if a knife cut between them, her connection to Indaran severed, pitching her into total darkness. In the silence, her heart pounded louder than waves breaking on rocks. Daria reached out her arms and othersense in a frantic grab for her brother. Only black emptiness met her attempts.
She couldn’t sense his heartline.
Daria awoke, screaming Indaran’s name.
