One Thousand Nights (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6)

by Pope, Christine

  But that was certainly not the end of the preparations. My nails were stained with some sort of red paste, which was also applied to my lips, and the outlines of my eyes traced with black powder. Finally, it was time to get dressed, this time in the most sumptuous of the costumes I’d had made back in Sirlende, of shimmering silk patterned in red and gold, with embroidery of gold and pearls around the neckline and the cuffs of the short sleeves. Underneath was a light shirt of sheer linen, and the usual billowy trousers in a muted shade of red.

  I had thought they would bring my own jewels, but Miram brought forth a carved wooden box and opened it, saying, “A gift from His Most High Majesty.”

  Certainly I was no stranger to fine jewels, but I couldn’t help letting out a small gasp as I gazed down at the wondrous pieces held within that chest. How he had known I would be wearing gold and red, I had no idea, but gleaming within was a necklace of finely worked gold and enamel, set with hundreds of faceted garnets and tiny pearls, with matching earrings and bracelets and an exquisite piece that sat on top of my head and had a teardrop-shaped garnet that hung directly in the center of my brow.

  And rings of gold and garnet for my fingers, and even for my toes, as the footwear they brought me was not the flat embroidered slippers I had expected to wear, but sandals of gilded and woven leather that slipped between my toes and fastened around my ankles. It felt odd, to have my feet exposed in such a way, but I had to admit that it made sense here in the sheltered confines of the palace, especially when one considered how warm it was.

  At last I was arrayed to Miram’s satisfaction, and realized that somewhere in all that time the bright heat of the day had gradually dwindled to a warm lavender-tinted twilight. I also realized that I had been so caught up in all the fuss, I had not stopped to wonder where my intended husband was in all this. Of course I had expected to be provided with my own chambers, at least until we were wed, but I would have thought that he’d come to greet me. Or was I not of that much importance, just something else to be fitted in somewhere during his schedule for the day? But this feast was supposedly in my honor….

  I shook my head, and heard the dangling jewels of my headdress jingle faintly. “Am I not to meet my affianced husband before the festivities begin?”

  Miram’s brows drew together. “That is not the custom, Your Highness. He will see you tonight, at the feast, and then you will be married.”

  “I — what?” I gasped. Not that I had expected a lengthy betrothal, of course, especially after the Hierarch had already waited several months for me to come here. But tonight? I felt a flare of anger toward Ambassador Sel-Trelazar in that moment. He should have told me this was what would take place. For whatever reason, though, he had said little of what would actually happen to me once I arrived at the palace, instead instructing me on the foods of his land, the celebrations and festivals, the way everything would come to a halt in the palace every day at precisely nine in the morning, as that was the time legend said their god had sprung from the sands of the desert, and given his blessing upon the people of Keshiaar.

  “Yes,” she said, her tone implacable. “And now it is time to go. His Most High Majesty will not be pleased if you are late to your own feast.”

  She clapped her hands again, and the maids helped me to my feet, performing small adjustments to the fall of my tunic, the placement of my headdress. At last she gave a stern nod, and guided me from the bath/dressing chamber out to the sitting room, and then the foyer. The guards standing duty snapped to attention. Through some unspoken exchange, they seemed to know what to do, for they opened the door, allowing me to step out, then shut it behind them. Clearly Miram’s duties had been discharged, and she would remain in my chambers.

  “Your Highness,” one of the guards said, pointing a gloved finger down the corridor.

  I had the absent thought that he must be terribly warm in that quilted tunic and those gloves. However, I knew better than to ask.

  Lifting my head, I walked serenely in the direction he had indicated, striding forward to the feast.

  To my husband.

  Chapter 5

  The great banquet hall was on the ground floor of the palace, an enormous chamber that surely could seat five hundred — at least, it appeared that many were in attendance. There were a great many doors, so that they could be opened to catch the evening breeze as necessary, and I realized that was why there were no candles that might be blown out by such drafts, but oil lamps of glass suspended from bronze fixtures overhead.

  I wished I could look about more, but I knew to stare would be considered provincial at best. I only caught a confused glimpse of men in high-necked robes and women in garments similar to mine, all of them dark-haired and dark-eyed like me, but with skin several shades darker. I was glad to see the women there, for I think some part of me feared that they would be excluded from this occasion as they were from so many other public events. But perhaps a banquet in the palace was not deemed “public,” and therefore was not off-limits. Even so, I could not help but note that the men and women did not sit side by side, as they would at a banquet in my homeland, but were strictly segregated, the women seated on the left of the hall, the men on the right.

  As the guards paused just inside a door near the head of the hall, I saw a tall, somewhat thick-set man, probably of an age with Ambassador Sel-Trelazar, although with a fuller beard that already showed a good deal of grey, come forth and bow deeply from the waist, hands clasped together.

  “Your Highness, you honor us with your presence. I am Azeer Tel-Karinoor, His Most High Majesty’s visanis — what in your homeland you would call a chancellor.”

  “And you honor me with your name,” I replied, glad that, despite my current rather agitated state, I had not forgotten that simple courtesy.

  He bowed again. “Your Highness, allow me to guide you to your place at the high table.”

  I smiled my thank-you, following him as he led me from under the colonnaded perimeter of the hall to a grand table on a dais. Despite its size, there were only two places set there.

  Oh, gods. So it would only be the two of us, this promised husband of mine and I, on display for all to see? Well, I had spent my entire life on such public display, although in Sirlende at least we shared the imperial table with other high-ranking members of the household, or noble and honored guests.

  “You will stand until His Most High Majesty enters and invites you to sit,” Azeer murmured in my ear, and I gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment, grateful that he had offered me that much guidance.

  But what a strain it was to stand there in front of everyone, to have all those unfamiliar eyes upon me, some curious, some faintly hostile — mainly from the women, and I guessed it was because they would rather have had one of their own standing here, and not a foreign princess.

  And having one of your own turned out so very well last time, I thought, compressing my lips so I would not allow myself an ironic smile.

  Then a murmur seemed to spread through the crowd, and I saw everyone rising to their feet from the carved and gilded chairs in which they sat, bowing, hands clasped before them, as a tall man clad in black entered through the back of the hall.

  Because the dais where I stood was raised some two feet higher than the rest of the hall, and because all those in attendance were currently bent more or less double, I could see him clearly, my gaze traveling the length of that enormous room and fixing on his face.

  Oh, as handsome as he had been in that portrait, the unknown artist who had painted it had done him no great service, for he was so very much more striking in person, with high, sharp cheekbones, a sensual mouth and fine chin, and thick black hair waving back from his noble brow. From that distance I could not make out the color of his eyes, but that hardly mattered. He was still so much more than I had imagined, as I had not dared hope he could even match that portrait, let alone outshine it so decidedly.

  Somehow my legs managed to keep holding me up, even though my
knees at that moment felt very much like jelly. I stood straight, chin high, knowing I was there to represent Sirlende, and so could show no sign of weakness — no sign that the very sight of him somehow seemed to heat the blood within my veins.

  He approached, expression solemn, no smile of greeting. I could not begin to guess whether this was the custom, or whether something about me had displeased him. Perhaps the junior ambassador, Amil Nel-Karisoor, had been too effusive in his praise of my beauty. If he had, there was certainly nothing I could do about it now — and neither could the Hierarch himself, as he was the one who had extended the offer of marriage in the first place, and to refuse me now would cause such an insult that relations between the two empires would be forever strained.

  These thoughts passed through my mind as the Hierarch made his progression through the chamber, and I fought to keep my expression cool and serene. I could not let him see how nervous I was, how much I feared that he would not find me pleasing. To have given up my homeland, hurt the man who had hoped to marry me, and traveled a thousand miles for nothing? No, I could not allow myself to even contemplate that possibility.

  At length the Hierarch ascended the dais and stood next to me, then surprised me by bowing. Caught off guard, I curtseyed, then hoped I had not offended him by responding in the manner of my own land, and not his.

  “Lyarris Deveras,” he said quietly, then took my hand and raised it briefly to his lips. Just that tiny brush of his mouth against my flesh was enough to send shivers running down my spine, despite the lingering heat in the chamber, where it felt as if very little of the day’s warmth had yet abated, despite all those doors opened to let in the evening breezes. When he raised his head and his gaze met mine, I saw that his eyes truly were amber, striking against the heavy black lashes and the straight dark brows. He continued, in perfect Sirlendian, “Truly, my ambassador did not have sufficient words to describe your beauty. I owe Sirlende a very great debt, for it has sent its greatest jewel to me.”

  They could have been empty words of flattery, but in that moment I did not care. It was enough to hear his praise, uttered in the words of my homeland. I did not know why I should be surprised that he could speak Sirlendian. After all, Ambassador Sel-Trelazar had said his ruler was a man of great learning.

  Finding my voice, I replied in the Keshiaari tongue, “And Sirlende is equally in Keshiaar’s debt, for allowing Your Most High Majesty to be bound to one of its daughters.”

  The amber eyes danced a little. “Beautiful and learned? That was far more than I had dared hope for, but it seems God has pitied His humble servant and has sent him the perfect bride. Please, my lady, sit, and take your ease.”

  I did as he requested, glad of the chance to sit down, and a second or two later he followed suit, settling himself in a throne-like chair, of which mine was a slightly smaller replica. Throughout our exchange, the assembled company had remained standing, and bowed at the waist — I hoped there was no one with a bad back among them — but after the Hierarch had seated himself, they appeared to take that as the signal to resume their own seats.

  At once a pair of servants stepped forth from the shadows, each carrying a gold-plated pitcher set with onyx and jasper. The serving man poured a measure of wine into the Hierarch’s goblet, then waited as his ruler took a sip and finally nodded. Next to me, the serving woman stepped forward and poured for me as well, and then in unison they stepped back off the dais and disappeared behind a carved wooden screen, perhaps set there to conceal the passageway into the kitchens.

  The Hierarch lifted his goblet toward me, and I grasped mine and raised it toward him as well. This much at least was not that different from the sort of toast we might offer back in Sirlende.

  “To my lady bride,” he said, his voice not loud, but carrying through the hall, as everyone had remained silent even after they were seated. “And to our most beneficent union with the great empire of Sirlende!”

  He clinked his goblet against mine, afterward drinking of its contents. I echoed his movements, and took a swallow of the wine. It was cool, perhaps kept in a storeroom underground so it should not grow too warm, and spicier than the wine of my homeland, dark underneath, rich and heady. I warned myself to be careful and not drink too deeply of it, for I feared the combination of the wine and the heat could prove to be my undoing.

  All throughout the hall, everyone lifted their goblets and toasted us as well. That seemed to be the signal for the feast itself to begin, as at once servants began hurrying in from all directions, carrying heavy platters and bowls all in beaten silver and gold, and set with semi-precious stones. Truly, I had always known that Keshiaar was a rich kingdom, but now, looking upon the casual use of such costly materials, I began to realize what that meant.

  The food was rich and varied and strange, but as Ambassador Sel-Trelazar had instructed me somewhat in the popular dishes of his homeland, I had something of an idea what to expect — roasted lamb and beef, sharply seasoned and tasting of garlic, the vegetables roasted as well, a small white grain called rice that we did not have in Sirlende. In truth, everything I tasted seemed pleasing enough to the palate, once I had grown a bit more accustomed to the unusual combinations of seasonings, so unlike what I was used to.

  Beside me, the Hierarch ate as well, but I noticed he watched me as I consumed my meal with no hesitation, no raised eyebrows at what had been set before me. “You have had Keshiaari food before?” he inquired, setting down his gold-plated fork so he might drink some more wine.

  “No, Your Majesty, but your ambassador described it very well to me, so I might have some idea of what to expect. It is all quite delicious.”

  “I am glad you think so. And your chambers — you find them adequate?”

  “More than adequate, Your Majesty. All possible comforts have been seen to, and Miram seems wonderfully capable.”

  He ran his finger over the edge of the goblet he held, then nodded. “I am pleased to hear that. I do apologize if all this took you aback” —a gesture toward the company with his free hand— “but it is our custom for a husband to not look upon his wife until the wedding feast.”

  I did think it odd that the feast should come first, and the ceremony afterward, but of course I would not say such a thing to him. Neither would I comment on the strangeness of not even looking upon one’s future spouse until the day of the wedding. In some ways, perhaps that was best, if the marriage was arranged anyway; it certainly gave the parties involved far less time to back out of the arrangement. But I only smiled at him, saying, “Your Majesty, no apologies are necessary. I am the stranger here, and will follow your traditions to the best of my ability.”

  In answer, he smiled as well, and I saw how that expression illumined his face, bringing light to his extraordinary eyes. My heart gave an odd little thump when I saw how he looked upon me, and I could not believe my good fortune, that not only was he handsome and well-spoken, but kind and gentle as well. I began to hope that perhaps I truly had done the right thing in coming here. No one at court had questioned my breaking off my engagement with Lord Sorthannic, for the majority of them were cool and calculating at heart, thinking continually of how they might advance their own positions, and so jilting a mere duke so I might wed an emperor made perfect sense to them. But I had tasked myself for it, even as I knew I had done the right thing, for I hated to think of how such an abandonment must have hurt the man I truly had thought I loved.

  Now, though, I felt my pulse race in a way it never had with Thani, and the blood rose to my cheeks as I hurriedly reached over to take another sip of wine and so hide my confusion. Whether the subterfuge was effective, I could not say, for the Hierarch replied to my comment by murmuring, “Nevertheless, I know it is not your custom, and perhaps was something of a shock. But I am very pleased to see you managing so well.”

  And what would you have done if I did not? I wondered. Thank goodness for the privacy of one’s own thoughts, for I could ponder such a thing in one sec
ond and in the next say in a jesting tone of voice, “All the same, Your Majesty, I do hope there are not too many more surprises awaiting me this evening.”

  He did not respond in kind, however. The light in his eyes dimmed, and he answered coolly, “Not too many, I think,” before turning back to his neglected meal.

  Oh, dear. It seemed I had mistaken his easy manner for true friendliness…or perhaps I had offended him. I knew him not at all, and so I could not guess which was the case, or whether his response stemmed from some other source altogether. But as I could not take back my words, I followed his example and picked up my own fork, then forced myself to eat a few mouthfuls, although my appetite seemed to have deserted me. Even with that, I made sure my expression remained serene and pleasant. Luckily, that was a skill I had perfected over the years. No matter what might be roiling one’s thoughts at any given time, a princess of the imperial house knew better than to let those thoughts be reflected in her countenance.

  And after this there was still the wedding, and after that….

  My stomach clenched. I had not led so sheltered a life that I did not know what generally occurred on one’s wedding night. Could I allow this cold-voiced stranger to take me in such a way, no matter how handsome I had originally thought him? But I must. It was what I had agreed to, after all…to be his wife, and one day to bear his children. It was what every ruler required of his consort, so the line might be continued to the next generation.

  “…anything else?” the Hierarch was inquiring, and I jumped slightly.

  “Your Majesty?” I asked in reply, for I had been so preoccupied I quite missed the first part of his question.

  “I was merely inquiring whether you wanted anything else of this course, or whether the servant might take your plate.”