A quick smile as her gaze shifted away from me, clearly checking to see if any of the three girls had heard what I had said. But as they were occupied on the opposite side of the chamber, rinsing out the bathtub and putting away all the scented oils and such, it seemed they had not noticed anything out of the ordinary.
At least we were not yet in high summer, when dusk would come very late. As I had bathed and been dressed, I had noted the way the light coming in through the windows seemed to slant further and further to the west, becoming deep gold and then russet-colored, reminding me of the shifting shades in my husband’s eyes. Now I stood, adjusted the fit of the tunic minutely — it was lower-cut than some of my others, and I thought Besh would not mind that at all — and glanced one last time at the window. It seemed to be dusk, and I wondered when the guards would arrive to escort me to his chambers.
But then there came a knock at the door, and I could feel my blood begin to tingle with anticipation. Marsali hurried to the outer room to open the door, and I began to move in that direction as well, telling myself to maintain a dignified pace and not run to greet the guards, so there would be no delay in going to my husband.
I heard Marsali squeak, “Most High Majesty!” before bending over and bowing so deeply I thought she might topple forward altogether.
My pulse raced. Had Besh truly been so impatient that he had come here to be my escort himself? How very…importunate of him. Somehow I managed to keep my head high as I went to meet him, although my cheeks flushed with sudden heat.
He seemed to fill the doorway. Just behind him I could make out the forms of at least eight guards, and I wondered at such an escort, when we never had more than four with us at any given time.
“Good evening, my husband,” I said, then raised my eyes to meet his.
All the heat that had flooded my veins seemed to turn to ice. Yes, those were Besh’s eyes, warm amber framed in sooty lashes, and those were his straight black brows. But the nose was not quite as well-defined somehow, and the mouth was not his at all. This one seemed to smirk at me, and I had never seen Besh smirk in the entire year I had known him.
So alike, and yet different.
The man who faced me was Amael, Besh’s twin brother.
Chapter 17
So many panicked thoughts ran through my mind that I was not sure which one to give voice to first. As I stared up at the man who so resembled my husband and yet so horribly was not him, he grinned, asking, “My lady, are you always so silent?”
Somehow I pushed the words from my dry mouth. “What are you doing here, Amael?”
The grin did not slip at all. “Why, I have come to claim what should have been mine all along. And since you, dear princess of Sirlende, are part and parcel of that birthright, I am taking you as well. Guards!”
They surged around him, heading toward me. The one in the lead carried a length of rope and a coarse linen bag. Guessing their intentions, I stumbled backward, even as Marsali looked on in horror.
Through the blood pounding in my ears, I heard Therissa gasp, “My lady — what is this?”
I knew there was no hope of escape for me. The guards were almost upon me, and even if I had attempted to flee, their longer legs would have brought them to my side in a second or two. No, there was only one person here who might make it away safely, as she still stood at the door to my bedchamber — that same bedchamber I had slipped from only a few nights earlier.
“Therissa, run!” I cried in Sirlendian, praying that neither Amael nor his guards understood the language of my homeland.
And bless her, she did not hesitate, did not protest. She knew my only hope of rescue lay in her escape.
So she bolted back into the bedchamber and slammed the door behind her.
“Get that woman,” Amael said lazily, as if he did not much care what might happen to her. One of the guards went to the bedchamber entrance, found the door locked, and promptly kicked it in. The carved wood splintered, and I winced.
“She’s gone out the window, Most High Majesty,” the guard said.
Most High Majesty? What insanity was this? The only way Amael could claim that title was if his brother was dead….
No. No. I could not allow myself to believe that. In his vanity, the erstwhile prince had probably instructed his lackeys to address him thus, whether or not it might be true.
“Well, go after her,” Amael commanded, before turning to the guard who held the rope and the bag. “And you, secure Her Majesty. We must be gone from this place.”
I backed away. “You will never succeed in this mad plan. You must know that.”
“No, I think not. Do you not hear that?” He paused, and I realized I could hear indecipherable shouts and the far-off steely clash of sword against sword. “That is the sound of my brother’s rule ending. Now take her.”
The guard stepped toward me, even as one of his compatriots came around from the other side, grabbing my wrists before I could begin to pull away. Never had I been handled so roughly, but that was not the worst of it. A second later, the first guard dropped the bag over my head so I could see nothing, although I did hear a faint metallic clink that must have been my headdress falling to the floor. At the same time I felt the rope being wound around my wrists, the coarse fibers cutting cruelly into my flesh.
And then, worst indignity of all, I found myself being hoisted off the floor and thrown over the guard’s shoulder like a sack of meal. I gasped, then coughed, feeling the wind get halfway knocked out of me. That did not seem to bother my captor, though, for immediately afterward he began to move. I heard heavy boots tromping all around me, and then we were out of my chambers, walking with some speed down the corridor.
As we went, I could still hear the muffled sounds of battle, although Amael and his cohort seemed to be taking a route that kept them out of the thick of it. A few minutes later, we seemed to emerge from the palace and walk some distance. Because of the sack over my head, I could not get a very good indication of which direction we were headed, or how far we had gone. It did seem that we had not traveled very far before the boots of the men around me began to echo off polished marble floors rather than hard-packed dirt. We climbed a series of steps, and then I felt myself being deposited on an upholstered piece of furniture of some sort. The boots moved away, and then the bag was lifted from my head, and I saw Amael’s hateful smile. In the shape of his mouth, so unlike that of my husband, I thought I saw an echo of Nadira’s pout, and realized then that she must indeed be Amael’s. Poor child. I could only hope that her character would be quite different from that of either of her parents, both weak in their own ways.
I could spare her no further thoughts in that moment, for I knew I had to concentrate on the man who had taken me, and the place he had brought me. Wherever we were, it was of a luxury to equal that of the palace, for past the form of my kidnapper I saw a large room with columns of carved marble, and sconces of worked brass and alabaster similar to those I had seen in Besh’s suite. But no, I could not think of Besh now. I had to tell myself that he was safe, that he and his men were fighting to put down this coup. All I could do now was keep my wits about me and not allow the usurper to gain the upper hand.
Still smiling, he produced a curved knife set with gleaming topaz and garnet from his belt. He held it in front of me, and I forced myself not to react, to only sit there and gaze back at him with as stony a face as I could muster. Then he stepped toward me, lowered the knife…and cut through the ropes binding my wrists together.
Although I wanted nothing more than to rub my chafed skin, now bruised where the ropes had pressed a bracelet into my left wrist, I made myself sit there, hands resting quietly in my lap. I would not let him see how I had been hurt.
But he seemed to notice, for he shoved the knife back into the curved scabbard at his belt, then took my hand and lifted it so he might inspect it more closely. “A thousand apologies, my lady, for the hurt my soldier caused you.” His fingers tightened on my
flesh, and I forced myself not to wince. “So beautiful and delicate a prize deserves better handling.”
“Then perhaps you should have instructed your henchman not to hoist me like a sack of flour,” I snapped, pulling my wrist from Amael’s grasp. Perhaps it would have been better to sit calmly and let him handle me as he wished, but I knew I did not have that much self-control.
He threw his head back and laughed, as if I had just told him a very good joke. His laugh was nothing like Besh’s, either, but had a note of malice in it, something piercing that made me want to wince. “Ah, I think you have more spirit than I was led to believe. Trust me, my lady — you will come to enjoy me far more than you did Besh the scholar…Besh the milksop.”
“I somehow doubt that,” I returned, my tone dripping acid. “For I enjoy the company of a real man, not a sneak who hides in the shadows and betrays his own brother by sleeping with his wife.”
That was far bolder a statement than I had planned to make, but I could not take the words back now. Something about the man who stood before me set every nerve on edge. And I knew I would have felt that way even if we had met under different circumstances.
“You are not one to mince words, are you, Lyarris? I may call you that, mayn’t it?” When I said nothing, but only continued to stare up at him, my mouth tight, he said, “I think I shall. It is a lovely name, lovely and exotic, just like you. Your skin is like purest cream, did you know that? I shall enjoy drinking it in, just like the cream it resembles.”
My stomach heaved, but I forced myself to sit still. He could stand there and say whatever he liked…as long as he made no move to touch me again. If he did that, I very much feared I would be sick. Once I thought I could speak without my voice shaking, I asked coldly, “What is it you want, Amael?” I would not call him “my lord.” He did not deserve that courtesy.
His expression grew thoughtful. “What do I want? My brother’s throne, which will soon be mine, thanks to the valuable assistance of Tel-Karinoor.”
So my instincts had been correct. Oh, if only I had pressed my husband on the subject of his visanis! Perhaps I would not be sitting here now. But the mistakes of the past cannot be mended, and so I must do what I could to salvage the situation. “And why would the chancellor take such a risk? For already he is a man of great power.”
“Great power, but not great birth. You are new here, dear lady, and from what I have heard, you have not learned everything about those around you. Tel-Karinoor was not born a prince, but the son of a humble scholar. His brilliance advanced him far beyond his simple beginnings, but that did not make his blood less common. My late father had promised to give the visanis a grant of nobility, making him a peer, but then had the misfortune to die before that promise could be fulfilled, and dear Besh knew nothing of it. He and our father were not all that close, as you may or may not have heard. But I knew of the promise, and told Tel-Karinoor that he would be a prince of the realm once I was Hierarch.”
During that entire speech Amael wore a self-satisfied smile on his face, one I wished I had the courage to slap away. Oh, what treachery those two had hatched together! For now I saw the motivation behind it, I had no doubt that it was Tel-Karinoor or his agents who had hired the mounted band of thugs to attack our party in the desert, and his work to scapegoat the poor ironmonger’s brother as well.
“You will never succeed,” I said. Now I could hear my voice shake, despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “My husband has a vast army at his command.”
That smug smile did not waver at all. In fact, it broadened, as if he had heard the tremor in my voice and derived a good deal of pleasure from it. “True, those men fight in the Hierarch’s name…but it is the chancellor who passes on his commands. And what do you think those commands would be? Perhaps that His Most High Majesty’s treacherous brother has returned to Keshiaar, and that he must be put in the dungeons immediately? Remember that he and I are so very alike, and most of those men would have only seen Besh at a distance, if at all.”
I listened to all this without moving, although my heart seemed to sink in my breast, heavy as a stone. What if the unthinkable had happened, and the very men who were supposed to protect my husband had instead made him a prisoner in his own palace? True, they were forbidden by thousands of years of tradition not to spill royal blood. Amael, however, had no such strictures restraining him. Once Besh had been secured, his brother would only have to go to the dungeons and….
No, I could not think of that. My husband was strong and resourceful. I had to believe he had not been caught. If I allowed myself to think otherwise, I would surely go mad.
“Your plan seems to rest on a goodly number of ‘if’s,’” I said, still in that cold, clear voice which did not quite sound like my own. “But laying that aside, I do not see what you want with me.”
“Oh, I think you know exactly what I want,” he replied, lingering on the last word, gaze intent on my face…until it shifted lower, to the curve of my bosom as revealed by the low-cut tunic I wore. “It is more than that, of course. Your marriage to my brother has not been consummated, and therefore is not valid. You did not know that, did you?”
I shook my head, words failing me in that moment. Why had no one spoken of this to me?
Because Besh would not, and most likely Therissa did not know. And who else have you in this place to act as your friend and confidant?
Seemingly amused by my stricken silence, Amael went on, “A small detail, one which my brother neglected to tell you. Oh, in the eyes of the world, you were husband and wife, but because you were not that, not truly, I can marry you now, and there will be no talk of bigamy. And what should it matter to you? One brother is as good as another, after all. At least, Hezia thought so.”
“Do not speak of her to me,” I retorted, glad I had something else to distract me, rather than the horrifying notion that not only was I not Besh’s legal wife, but that this creature could make me his, simply because of some ridiculous loophole in the law.
“Jealous?” Amael inquired in arch tones.
“Hardly. But as it seems clear to me that she was your equal in treachery, I do not wish to waste any breath on her.”
“Treacherous?” He raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “No, I would not say that, not precisely. You see, she wanted to love my brother, but as he found it expedient to ignore her — and Hezia must needs always be worshipped — she went elsewhere for the attention she craved. Indeed, her needs became rather tiresome after a while. I cannot say as I miss them all that much.”
I had thought I was past being horrified, but hearing Amael speak so callously of the woman who thought herself in love with him, who had given up her life because of that love — well, once again my stomach roiled. I shut my eyes, wanting to take away the sight of the monster who stood before me, the monster who intended to steal my husband’s throne and make me his wife.
“Oh, my dear,” came that monster’s voice. “Do not waste any tears on her. She knew the risks she was taking.”
Since so much was wrong with that statement, I knew there was no way I could begin to answer it. Instead, I opened my eyes, looking past him and at the chamber around us. “Where are we?” I asked abruptly. “A townhouse of your own?”
“No, this humble abode belongs to the visanis. He thought it best that we be somewhere nearby, yet safely out of the chaos at the palace. No doubt he will be joining us here soon enough, once my brother has been captured.”
“I fear that will not be happening anytime soon,” came a familiar voice as the door opened to reveal Besh standing there, a bloody sword clenched in one hand.
My heart leapt, and I began to rise from the chair where I sat. Amael’s hand, heavy as iron, descended on my shoulder, holding me in place.
“Be careful, brother,” he warned. “For I have your lady wife here, and as much as it would pain me to cut this exquisite throat of hers, I will do it if you do not leave this place at once.”
&nbs
p; Besh’s gaze shifted toward me, and his mouth tightened. “Are you well, my lady?”
“Yes. He has not hurt me.”
“Yet,” Amael said, fingers digging into my shoulder. No doubt I would have bruises there to match the ones on my wrists.
“Do not be hasty,” came Besh’s voice again…and yet it did not issue from the man who even now advanced a pace or two into the room, but from a second figure, identical in every way to the one who had first appeared, down to the blood-covered sword he held in his left hand.
Left hand. But Besh was right-handed….
Oh, Therissa, I thought. So you did make your escape, and somehow found my husband. But what did you two plan to do next?
Over the past few weeks, I had grown accustomed to the way Therissa could casually assume the appearance of anyone she wished. Amael, however, was not quite so nonchalant.
“What sort of deviltry is this?” he demanded, staring with disbelieving eyes at the two copies of his brother.
“Perhaps it is no deviltry at all, but only the product of your own guilty imagination,” said the Besh on the left, the one I knew was my husband. If it were not for Therissa holding her sword left-handed, I would never have been able to tell them apart.
“I bear no guilt,” Amael replied. “You do not deserve to be Hierarch of Keshiaar. And what gave you that title? A mere accident of birth?”
“I am inclined to believe that God knew what He was doing when He made sure I was born first,” said the Besh on the right in droll tones, and I knew it was Therissa who had actually spoken. My own husband would never have said anything so self-important.
Amael, however, did not appear quite so discerning. “Indeed?” he asked, lip curling. “So now you think you were anointed by God to rule this land? A man so incompetent he could not get his first wife with child, or even bed the second one?”
One Thousand Nights (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6) Page 25
