by Lewin, Renee
Jem’ya smiled. Things were going as planned. Tareq accompanied her through the halls. They stopped in front of her bedroom door. He looked at her and then hung his head like a shy teenaged boy. She straightened her posture. “I would like to give you another hug before I abandon you with your thoughts this way.”
“No, you’re not abandoning me at all. I’ll be fine. There’s still work to be done before I end my night.”
Jem’ya rested her hand on his shoulder. “I know what it’s like to be frantic for a distraction from grief, Tareq.” Honesty softened her voice. “I know what it’s like to be alone in bed, trodden by sorrow and regret, with no one there to comfort me.”
Tareq took her into his arms. Forgive me for what I’ve done, Jem’ya.
Jem’ya grasped onto his back. God, forgive me for what I am about to do. She delicately pressed her lips against the pulse point at his neck, and then she released him. He caught her hand before she slipped away from him. Without taking his eyes off of hers, he bowed and kissed the top of her hand. “Goodnight,” he said.
He never takes the hint! Tareq stepped back, but Jem’ya wouldn’t let go of his hand. “Your work will be there tomorrow,” she said. “Tonight, wouldn’t you like to clear your mind? Come in, Tareq.” She pushed open her bedroom door a crack with her other hand. Her room was dark and inviting. Tareq was shocked. Jem’ya nodded and beckoned him by pulling on his hand.
Tareq searched her beautiful brown eyes for a hint of desire. There was none. Suspicion nudged hard at him, but he didn’t want to believe Jem’ya was planning to harm him. Maybe she was trying to comfort him in the way she believed a man wanted most. Tareq would never accept such a lukewarm advance. “I don’t think that’s what you really want to do.”
She uttered his name in a limp denial. “Tareq…”
“I would love to spend more time with you tomorrow morning. I want to introduce you to someone special.” He kissed her cheek. “Sleep well, Jem’ya.” He turned and walked down the hall, adjusting the cloak of his kingly robes about his shoulders. Jem’ya withdrew into the darkness of her bedroom.
Under the plush gold covers of her stately bed, Jem’ya curled into a ball and wept. Tareq had denied her when other men would have jumped at the opportunity to know her. Why now, now that she had the agenda to coerce him during his time of vulnerability, did it seem like he genuinely adored her? It wasn’t fair. Toying with his ego and lust was a tactic she could accept as part of her undertaking. To exploit his heart and his kindness, however, was wickedness. In fact, this entire plan is cruel and deceitful. There’s nothing heroic about it. I can’t do this.
Tareq retired to his room at around 1 o’clock in the morning. He was wide awake. He’d been engaged in heated debates with his council and in discussions with his advisors late into the night, until Asif finally reminded the king that the men had families to get home to. Alone, Tareq ambled through the empty halls of the palace to his room. He took off his shoes and his clothes. He stepped into a therapeutic bath and slowly slid chest deep into the hot water. After five minutes of soaking in silence, with no distractions, tears started to flow from his eyes. Jem’ya was right. He didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts. Soon Tareq was reduced to desolation. He pleaded with God to change what was done or put him out of his misery for good. Either way, he could see his brother again. He wondered if there would ever be an end to his grief.
When he recognized the dark, obsessive nature of his thoughts, he forced himself to climb out of the tub. Dripping wet, he shuffled to his bed and got under the gold blanket where slumber gave peace to his heart.
Jem’ya tore off a corner of the herbed flatbread and folded it around a bite of fried egg. She brought it to her mouth. As she chewed, she glanced over at Tareq who was sitting at the head of the table with his chin his hand, smiling and watching her. Jem’ya was both nervous and amused. “Would you rather I meet him now and finish my breakfast afterwards?” she offered.
“No, that’s not necessary. He’s having breakfast as well, I think.”
She drank some pomegranate juice. All she could feel were his eyes studying her face. She set her glass down. “Tareq, you’re making me uncomfortable.”
He frowned and sat straight in his chair. “Really? I apologize.”
“I will not be rushed through my meal.”
“Of course not.”
“So…stop staring at me, please.”
“Yes, yes.” His eyes scanned the dining hall.
Jem’ya resumed eating. Soon she heard the tapping of his shoe on the marble floor. Then quiet humming joined the toe tapping. Jem’ya laughed. “Okay, I’m finished,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”
Tareq grinned. He took her hand in his and led her out to the courtyard. Jem’ya gasped as she walked down the front steps. “He is who you want me to meet?”
“Yep. He is very special to me. He was my favorite friend before I met you.” Tareq was warmed by Jem’ya’s demure smile. Sultan whinnied. “This is the horse I claimed I was too poor to have,” Tareq chuckled and patted the stallion’s shoulder. “His name is Sultan.”
“He is magnificent, Tareq.” Jem’ya looked at the big ebony horse in awe. She stroked its neck. The horse swung his head to look at Jem’ya. “You are magnificent,” she said softly, gazing into the horse’s large dark eyes. Its neck muscles shivered under her hand. Jem’ya reached out her hand and Sultan nudged her palm with his nose.
“You have a wonderful way with animals, so I hope you will like your gift.” Tareq called toward the direction of the stables at the corner of the palace gates. “Bring her out!” A horse keeper walked out of the stables leading a great coffee colored horse with a luxurious dark brown mane that lightened at the ends to a golden brown.
“Oh my goodness!” Jem’ya squealed. “You’re giving me a horse!” She bounced up and down.
Tareq laughed. “Calm down or you’ll frighten her.”
Jem’ya quieted as the horse was brought to her. The mare was statuesque yet graceful. She loved the animal immediately. The horse smelled at her outstretched hand and then sniffed at Jem’ya’s shoulder. Jem’ya laughed and rubbed the spot between the horse’s eyes. “Does she have a name?”
“Empress.”
“How perfect. Empress.” Jem’ya wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck and hugged it. Then, her heart overflowing with appreciation, Jem’ya went to Tareq and cupped his face in her hands. Tareq thought she intended to kiss him. She tilted his head down and stood on her toes to press her forehead against his while looking into his hazel eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He was overwhelmed and speechless. He’d never felt that intimate with Jem’ya before, not even during the kiss they’d shared. When Jem’ya pulled away Tareq’s heart was committed to do anything in order to have moments like that with Jem’ya for the rest of his life. “Today, I am happy to take you outside the palace gates. There is a stream about five miles east that is fed by the Algezzir River. The scenery during the journey and along the stream would be pleasing to you and we could go fishing if you like.”
“I would absolutely love that,” she smiled. “Are we leaving right now?”
“Yes.”
Jem’ya stepped into the stirrup and, while adjusting her long dark orange dress between her legs, pulled herself onto her horse’s saddle.
Tareq was surprised. “You know how to handle her as well?”
Jem’ya grinned. She tapped Empress’s sides with her heels. “Yah!” The horse galloped out of the gates and eastward.
“A bold one, indeed,” he smiled. He climbed hastily onto the saddle. “Go, Sultan!” They raced after her.
Laughter burst from Jem’ya’s mouth when she looked over her shoulder and saw Tareq and Sultan thundering down the path after her. Tareq ululated, teasing her with the high pitched victory cry. She bid Empress run faster. Her skill with horses came from her experience traveling from Tikso to the Coast two years ago. Twice she outran desert maraude
rs because she had a good horse. That horse saved her life. She cried when she had to trade it for passage across the Algezzir. Now that loyal steed was returned to her in the form of Empress. The horse galloped down the winding path on the east face of the hill that the palace was built upon. The fresh air stroked Jem’ya’s smiling face as they sped down the trail.
The playful chase came to an end at the foot of the hill when Tareq cut through some wildflowers and made it to her side, which was good because Jem’ya didn’t know where to go next. They both slowed. Tareq grinned at Jem’ya. She waited for Tareq to gloat about catching up to her. He didn’t. “This way,” he said.
Arid land and sparse dry brush slowly gave way to hearty plants as they neared the stream after an hour’s time. The stream was lovely. The cool water’s pacifying trickle was very different from the seashore. On horseback, Tareq and Jem’ya wandered along the bank for a while. There was a place where the stream was wider and deeper. “Let’s stop here.” Tareq dismounted and got the fishing line from his saddle. Jem’ya looked in her saddle for fishing line but there was none.
“Do you have another line for me?”
“No.”
“But you said we were going fishing.”
“I thought you would rather relax and watch. Isn’t fishing a man’s sport?”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Everything that is fun and freeing is man’s sport in your society, and anything that is of any consequence is seen as men’s work. I catch more fish than half the men in my tribe. You know, if men opened their minds a little, sense might fall into it.” She folded her arms across her chest, annoyed.
Tareq laughed. He went to her and put his arm about her shoulders. He hugged her to him and kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll take turns, okay?”
Jem’ya relaxed. She nodded. Her cheek grew hot with a fiery blush where he’d kissed her. They shared the fishing line and within an hour they each caught two medium-sized fish.
“Let’s bring these back to the palace for our lunch.”
“Why not cook them now while they’re fresh?”
“You’ll have to teach me. I can gut them, but I’m not to be trusted around a cook’s fire.”
“I don’t mind preparing them. I’d like some herbs to flavor them with. I think I saw wild thyme on our way here.” They got back on their horses and doubled back to find the patch. Jem’ya picked a dozen sprigs of thyme while Tareq cleaned the fish in the stream’s running water. Jem’ya filled the fish with the earthy herbs and roasted them on the wood coals of a fire. Jem’ya and Tareq sat together and ate the flaky, smoky meat of the fish while they observed the water and the sky and watched their horses graze and drink. Jem’ya appreciated the peaceful, natural day. Tareq washed his hands and returned to sit with Jem’ya.
“How long have we known each other?”
Jem’ya looked at him curiously. “Over a year. Why?”
“We’ve known each other more than a year and we’ve been through so much together, and still I am not satisfied knowing you.”
She felt immediately offended. “Not satisfied?”
“I already know that you are bold, you love nature, and you touch your brow when you’re nervous. I know the softness of your hair and the taste of your lips, and that your smile always starts on the left side of your mouth. I know that you are perfectly feminine and sweet, but strong as well. I know all these things, but I am always wishing to know more of you, like I can never be close enough to you.”
Jem’ya’s heart was pounding. “I didn’t realize you were so observant,” she murmured. Tense silence settled between them. Her mind whirled with panicked thoughts and her stomach was quivering with longing. The only place you and I can be together is at the Coast, secluded in our own fantasy. It won’t survive anywhere else, and I can’t allow myself to settle for a love that won’t last. Finally she spoke. “I don’t know what to say, Tareq.”
His golden eyes dimmed with sadness. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to share how I felt.” He smiled at her and stood up from the ground. He stretched his back and his arms. “Lunch was great. Thank you. Are you ready to head back now?”
Jem’ya nodded. They returned to their horses and rode them west.
“I really enjoyed this day,” Tareq said as he maneuvered Sultan left around a large rock. “I admit that I would rather be the farmer I pretended to be, so I could live off of the land in peace, but I was destined to have great responsibilities. It’s been difficult, but it is a grand opportunity.”
“I enjoyed this day as well. That is the way most black Africans live. We’re not perfect, but we live simple and natural lives. It hurts me when I think of the tribes whose sacred way of life was shattered when your kingdom exerted power over them.”
Tareq looked at her. “That was my father’s kingdom, Jem’ya.” His gaze returned to the terrain ahead. “Under my rule, we are not seeking out new territories. Some of the newer territories are still rebelling, but I am genuinely doing what I can to appease them and bring harmony.”
Jem’ya pursed her lips. She gripped Empress’s reins a little tighter. “We do not have the greed or the hunger for power in our tribes that you have in your kingdom. There is no king in our village. We do not battle to conquer other tribes. When what we love is threatened, then we fight. In Tikso, we fight only from our hearts.”
Tareq remembered the last words Jem’ya’s brother uttered: You fight my heart.
“Our tribes aren’t just shapes on a map. They are ancient nations. Maybe you are holding on to something that you can never truly have.”
His heart fell. I’ve been holding on to Jem’ya, but I can never truly have her. Not as my wife. Right then, he decided he would send her to Eulid tomorrow to be with her parents and return to Tikso, even if Jem’ya said she wanted to stay in the palace. “I understand how you feel, but what I have in store for the tribal territories will benefit them. It is my intention that they will be happier, healthier, and more modernized. I can offer them a better life.”
Jem’ya paced the marble bedroom floor. “That pompous ass! How dare he say that?!” She had prayed the whole ride back to the palace in order to keep those words in. “A better life? What’s better about life in Samhia? The poverty, the slavery, the corruption and the murders? There is absolutely nothing you could teach my people, you arrogant, self-righteous…Grrrr!” Jem’ya spun around and eyed the mirror on her vanity. It looked too heavy for her to pick up and throw to the floor. “He doesn’t respect me. He doesn’t respect my people.” Her mouth trembled. “I’ve done nothing but love you, and you’ve done nothing but hurt me. I hate you,” she whispered. Jem’ya burst into tears and crumpled slowly to the cold floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, and rocked, and cried, remembering all the wrongs Tareq had done, and feeling so foolish for continuing to be his friend. After a few minutes, Jem’ya took a deep breath and wiped away her tears. Crying would get her nowhere. Men don’t understand a woman’s pain. They only understand their own.
There was a knock at Jem’ya’s door. Jem’ya stood up from the floor and smoothed the wrinkles out of her orange dress. Her heart was hardened. Her voice came out stony and reserved. “Come in.”
Bahja entered the room, smiling. “Good afternoon, Lady Jem’ya. Um, Tareq would like to know what your favorite color is.”
“Why?”
“It’s pertaining to a gift he would like to give you. Something you might wear to dinner tonight, perhaps,” she hinted.
“Hmm.” Jem’ya hid a smirk. “Tell him that my favorite color is black.”
Bahja came knocking at Jem’ya’s door again an hour before dinner. “Here it is, Lady Jem’ya” the maidservant beamed. She had the black dress thrown across her arms and was holding a flat square box in her hand. She laid the dress out on the bed and set the box on the bed beside it. Bahja stepped back and watched Jem’ya touch the fabric of the dress. Glittering translucent beads were sewn into the black fabric in a p
attern that reminded her of rain falling from a night sky and into the wild waves of the sea. It irked Jem’ya how much she really liked the dress. Her hand went to the square box. She lifted the lid. Inside was a chain headdress, silver with beads of black onyx and deep red rubies, with a glossy onyx stone as the forehead jewel. “They’re beautiful, Bahja.”
“I can’t wait for you to put them on,” Bahja smiled sadly. “I used to help Tareq and Qadir’s mother get dressed for the king. You will be just as stunning as she was.”
“Thank you, Bahja.”
“I’ll be outside.”
Jem’ya nodded. Bahja left the room and Jem’ya slipped the gown on. Its straps crossed like an X on her back, and the dress flowed down to her feet and spilled into a short train at her heels. The dress fit her well, revealing the curves of her hips more than any dress she owned. Jem’ya was certain that tonight was the night Tareq hoped to lay with her. The end of the week was in two days, so his true intentions were becoming exposed. He wanted her as a lover before she left for good. She was nervous about her first time being with a man, and sick to her stomach that she would lose her virginity to a man that wasn’t her husband, but it was worth it to save her people.
Seated at her vanity, she began to style her hair. She created rows of thick twists all around her head, then gathered the ends together and made smaller twists that she pinned into a bun. She added the onyx and ruby headdress. She shook her head and the hanging beads shimmied. Jem’ya felt like a tribal warrior as she painted her face. She lined her eyes with kohl, perfected her brows, and stained her lips red. Someone else looked back at her in the mirror; a woman that was brave and worldly. The makeup was a mask that helped her disassociate from her body. Lastly, she decided to go barefoot. Jem’ya was more comfortable without shoes and the palace floors were kept pristine.
Jem’ya opened her door and stepped into the hall where Bahja was waiting. Emotional, Bahja could only nod and smile at first. The lump in her throat subsided. “You look like a princess, Lady Jem’ya. Um, I’m afraid Tareq was struck by pain again. He’s in his bedroom. Might you help him?”
