by Astrid Amara
Suraya blushed, but she stood straighter. “It was prophesized upon my birth that I would marry three great men. I had not thought that I would wed them all at once but… this must be what the prophet intended.”
All of them stared at Suraya silently.
Suraya still blushed furiously. “I will do this. I will fulfill the prophecy.”
Jandu had some very strong opinions about prophecies. He didn’t like them. He didn’t believe in them. He rebelled against the idea that his destiny was not in his own hands.
Yudar nodded. “We shall all be married tonight then, it seems.” He looked at Suraya, and Jandu could see how desire already clouded his brother’s vision.
Jandu tried to imagine how it would feel to share a wife with his brothers. He’d never considered himself the marrying type anyway. He honestly couldn’t conjure any feelings of jealousy, only embarrassment at their odd situation.
Jandu felt Suraya’s hand clench around his arm. He looked to her and she faced him resolutely.
Jandu took a deep breath. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“I’m not sure of anything,” she said. “But this morning, I could have been married to anybody.” She swallowed as she looked at Firdaus, still fuming. “Besides, I think I’d rather die than be Lord Chandamar’s second wife.”
At this, Firdaus spat on the ground and turned and stormed away. Darvad followed him.
“I wouldn’t want to marry him either,” Jandu said.
Suraya looked at him oddly, then reached out and squeezed his hand. It felt strange and girlish and reassuring all at once. ”It will be all right, Jandu.”
Jandu nodded. “Well, let’s get married then. Although, as Keshan Adaru pointed out, I’m not dressed for the occasion.” Not for the first time Jandu glanced through the crowd, searching for Keshan, but he failed to find him.
“I don’t care how you’re dressed,” Suraya assured him.
“Good,” Jandu said. “Because I’m a lazy dresser, Baram looks ugly in everything, and Yudar has no sense of style.”
Baram slapped Jandu in the back of the head, almost knocking him off his feet.
Suraya laughed. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
The wedding ceremony was brief and directly afterwards the wives, daughters, and sisters of the Triya nobles flooded the garden. Musicians followed, as did more servants who brought out further offerings of food and wine. The feast was a spectacle, with dishes formed in the shapes of fish and birds, cream custards and spicy butter sauces, tenderly roasted meats and fine cheeses. The opulence of Nadaru’s food coupled with Jandu’s dramatic triumph at the archery challenge and the resulting triple marriage were enough to guarantee that the wedding would be discussed for years to come.
For now though, the palaver dropped to a constant, steady murmuring which mingled with the clink of porcelain cups as celebratory wine began to infuse the party with true jollity.
To Jandu’s dismay, his cousin Keshan was not invited to sit at the celebration table. But his half-brother Darvad joined them briefly, offering a toast. His cadre of companions—Firdaus, Tarek, Druv, and Iyestar—emulated him, though Firdaus looked unhappy. Then Darvad took his leave and his friends followed, to mingle and gossip at other, more welcoming tables.
The sun set and torches illuminated the night, flickering an eerie yellow glow over the guests. Perfumed smoke filled the air with the scent of sandalwood. A heavy wind blustered sweet summer warmth over the wedding party in dramatic gushes of sound and sensation.
Lord Nadaru showed a disheartening tendency towards the extravagant. Jandu forced himself not to yawn through numerous speeches and superfluous rituals, all repeated thrice as Yudar went through them, then Baram, and then at last himself. Drunken congratulations assailed Jandu from every angle.
He quickly wearied of the attention. When he at last caught sight of Keshan in the crowd of guests he desperately wanted to join him. But Jandu was a prisoner at the table of honor. He brushed his bangs from his forehead and watched his cousin Keshan mingle with the wedding guests, chatting with supporters of Yudar and Darvad alike. Jandu brooded, while his brothers ate and discussed the logistics of their new living arrangements.
“We should be husband for a year at a time,” Yudar decided, smiling at his own wisdom. “For one year, you will be my wife, Suraya. And then it will be Baram’s year, and then Jandu. That way you can get to know us each individually, and there will be no jealousy.”
Suraya nodded. Jandu noted that she hit the wine early and often.
Far across the garden a group of young men burst into laughter as Keshan told some joke.
Jandu wished he could have heard Keshan’s words. He had no doubt that they would have been intriguing, perhaps even scandalous, as everything about his cousin seemed to be. Keshan had fought a bloody battle with his uncle when he was only sixteen and after that he’d been central in relocating the Tiwari capital city to the coast to avoid further conflict with his neighboring state. He was a famed musician and infamous seducer and, according to Yudar, the sponsor of several very dangerous amendments to the holy laws.
Jandu anxiously awaited Yudar’s dismissal. It wasn’t Jandu’s night to be husband, after all. But Yudar was otherwise occupied. He held Suraya’s hand, and an unusual glow of happiness colored his skin. He seemed bronzed by joy. It made Jandu pleased to see it. It wasn’t easy to make Yudar forget his worries, but Suraya’s beauty seemed to soothe his concerns, for the time being at least.
Nadaru had brought in dancers from across Marhavad, and as they began their show, Jandu was finally excused. He rushed from the table and made his way towards Keshan.
As Jandu approached, a knot formed in his stomach. Keshan watched him, a pleased smile on his face.
“Hi.” Jandu spoke quickly. “I wanted to introduce myself.”
“Jandu Paran.” Keshan said his name slowly, like a sigh of relief.
Jandu blushed, and was horrified. He was acting like a girl.
Jandu reached down to touch Keshan’s feet in respect at the same time that Keshan bent down to do the same. They bumped heads and both stood up, startled.
“Watch it!” Jandu cried out.
Keshan scowled, rubbing his head.
Jandu laughed. “Sorry! It’s my fault. But you should let me touch your feet first. I’m younger than you.”
“By what, six months?” Keshan asked. “Besides, you’re a prince.”
Keshan reached out and fingered Jandu’s plain white vest. Jandu froze at the intimate touch. His body tingled where Keshan’s hand brushed against him.
“This is not typical wedding attire,” Keshan pointed out.
Jandu shrugged. “I’m not a proponent of Triya fanfare when it comes to clothing.”
“I agree,” Keshan said. “When I’m home alone I just walk around naked.”
Jandu cocked his head. “Really?”
“No.” Keshan grinned widely. “I just wanted to see your expression when I said that.” Keshan grabbed Jandu’s arm, and led him over to his table. “Come, sit down with me and Iyestar.”
Iyestar didn’t look anything like his younger brother Keshan. Where Keshan was svelte and elegant, Iyestar was thick-boned and muscular. He had an impressive neck and his facial features were broad and kind. Jandu wondered how they ever found diadems to fit the circumference of his skull.
Iyestar was distinguished for being a heavy drinker, and the wedding had not been an exception. With eyes half-closed in inebriation, he held an entire jug of wine carelessly, spilling aromatic purple liquid out the top with each dramatic hand gesture.
Jandu felt uncomfortable sitting there, beside one of Darvad’s best friends while Yudar and Baram were left behind, laughing and celebrating with Suraya. It seemed almost treasonous. But then Iyestar reached out and pinched Jandu’s cheeks affectionately. “Hello there, little cousin.”
At six feet, Jandu rarely considered himself little. Acknowledging Iyestar’s heigh
t, he let the comment slide.
“Are you enjoying the festivities?” Jandu asked.
Iyestar burped in response.
“You’ll have to excuse my brother, he’s an animal,” Keshan said. “I don’t believe he inherited any of our mother’s grace.”
“At least I’m not a witch like you,” Iyestar commented.
Keshan rolled his eyes. He put his arm around Jandu’s shoulders and pulled him closer to whisper. “My brother thinks that anyone who has any sort of education is enchanted and, therefore, a witch.”
“You do have magical powers though, Keshan.” Iyestar pointed ineffectively at them both. “Don’t deny it.”
“I’m not denying it,” Keshan stated. “But I’m no witch.”
Jandu had the distinct feeling that he was listening to some long-standing fraternal argument, and chose not to say anything. Iyestar clumsily leaned over and refilled Jandu’s wine cup, splashing wine onto Jandu’s hands in the process.
“Your performance today was amazing, cousin,” Iyestar said. “You are a fantastic archer.”
Jandu nodded. “Yes, I am.”
Iyestar chuckled. “Oh, so that’s true, then.”
“What?”
“That you are also full of yourself.”
Jandu looked to Keshan for support, but Keshan simply grinned, leaning back in his chair. Jandu checked to make sure his brothers were doing okay without him. They both stared at Suraya dotingly.
Keshan followed Jandu’s gaze. “Do you want to join them?” he asked.
Jandu shrugged. “Four’s a crowd.”
Keshan seemed to watch him closely. “Are you angry that your brothers took your bride?”
“I don’t mind,” Jandu said.
“Really?” Keshan raised an eyebrow. “Surprising.”
Iyestar filled up Keshan’s cup from his jug of wine. “So what comes next? A honeymoon in the mountains?”
Jandu snorted. “Yudar won’t leave the capital, especially not during the festival. There is too much politicking for him to miss out on a moment of it.”
Iyestar nodded. “Darvad’s the same way.”
“And you?” Keshan asked. “What do you want to do, Jandu?”
“Honestly?” Jandu got the impression that Keshan was talking about something larger than his honeymoon. “Travel. Take on challenges worthy of my skills. Meet interesting new people. I’ve hardly gone anywhere. I can’t even imagine what some of the states of Marhavad look like.”
“Trust me, Prasta is the best city in the entire kingdom. You haven’t missed anything,” Iyestar mumbled.
But Keshan disagreed. “There are some beautiful places in this world, Jandu. Especially my capital, Tiwari. Perhaps I could take you there one day. We could walk the beaches together, and I could teach you how to fish.”
“That would be fantastic.” A warm, liquid happiness filled Jandu. He suspected the wine’s influence.
“Let’s plan on it then.” Keshan leaned over and placed his warm palm on Jandu’s shoulder. Something about Keshan’s touches, about the way he looked at Jandu, subtly affected Jandu. Perhaps Keshan’s half-Yashva blood had some magical effect? Jandu drew closer to Keshan, despite the fact that the feeling seemed dangerous.
“You aren’t returning to Tiwari right away?” Jandu asked, suddenly panicked at the idea that Keshan would leave as soon as the festival ended.
“I’ll be staying in Prasta for a while,” Keshan replied. “We should spend some time together. I think we might find we have some tastes in common.”
Again, Keshan seemed to be saying more than the sum of his words. Jandu tried but could not quite grasp the implication. Then Baram was calling him back to the table of honor and he grudgingly excused himself. Iyestar gave him a wine jug salute. Keshan only smiled.
Even though it seemed politically dangerous and almost disloyal, Jandu decided he couldn’t wait to spend time with his scandalous cousin again.
Chapter 4
The Palace of Prasta rose like an island of solid rock from the middle of the great Yaru River, its fortified red sandstone walls formed in the shape of an elongated spearhead. Inside, multiple courtyards and marble hallways connected the dozens of buildings, architecturally distinct from one another, creating a labyrinth of pathways. Over fifty separate gardens dotted the palace, each one blocked in by walls of rooms, some structures extending up several floors to form ornately carved stone balconies that peered over the gardens or the banks of the river.
The central throne room was the seat of power for the entire nation, overseen by the Regent Mazar. But the rest of the sprawling, circuitous palace was dotted with pockets of Yudar Paran and Darvad Uru’s influences. In the decade since King Shandarvan’s death neither group had managed to make a decisive claim on the throne. Darvad was the eldest son, born two months before Yudar, but Yudar’s mother had been the king’s first and more honored wife. Neither omens read by Draya priests nor the holy texts had offered a solution. In a year both Yudar and Darvad would be thirty and the Regent’s allotted reign would end. Mazar would have to appoint one or the other of the princes to be King.
As Keshan ambled through the palace grounds, he noted an architectural shift, years of careful crafting under either Yudar’s supporters or Darvad’s, changing the very appearance of the buildings. Keshan wandered, not minding the fact that he was lost. He hadn’t wandered the royal palace at Prasta since he was a little boy. Now that the outrageous Paran wedding festivities had finished, and most of the lords had returned to their own states, Prasta settled back into normalcy.
Keshan wound his way through the western part of the palace, where Darvad held court, admiring the sculptures and brightly painted murals showing erotic images. Darvad’s world was sensual, full of images of wine and women, of peasant life and animals and great wars.
As Keshan moved east, the decoration sobered. The Paran quarters edged the eastern river bank, and stretched towards the southern gates that opened onto the vast royal forest. The Paran family artwork consisted of religious statues, and scenes from the holy Book of Taivo, displaying the multiple heads of God and the fiery shartic weapons of the Shentari prophets. The statues of prophets stared down at Keshan with what he interpreted as potent malevolence.
Several times, guards stopped Keshan, inquiring whether they could help him find his way. Some asked out of kindness. Others asked out of distrust, anxious to lead him away from more sensitive areas. In both cases, Keshan politely refused and moved on at his own pace. He liked the feeling of being lost here, here in the midst of such grandeur.
A gentle breeze blew through a carved marble hallway, which opened on both sides to stone gardens filled with fragrant orchids. Outside, another short but powerful monsoon downpour drenched the city. Safely sheltered under the marble hallway, Keshan felt the cool relief of the rain and smelled the sweet earthy scent of wet stone.
“Iyestar?” Keshan peered into one of the countless rooms. There were gold-leafed paintings of a forest scene on the plaster walls, and archery targets set up at even intervals. The targets suggested that archers would be found nearby. Following his instincts, he turned the corner down a long marble hall and nearly ran directly into Jandu Paran.
“Keshan!” Jandu dropped to the ground and touched Keshan’s feet. Keshan quickly urged him upwards.
“Please don’t do that. It makes me feel old.”
Jandu blushed endearingly. “Sorry.”
Keshan took a moment to just admire the beauty of his cousin. Jandu was Keshan’s ideal of a warrior prince, both handsome and powerful. His light brown complexion glowed, and enhanced the startling brightness of his blue eyes. Even dressed plainly, in a long blood red dejaru sarong and a simple white cotton vest, Jandu appeared bold and regal. His body was tight and trim, the contours of his abdominal muscles clearly visible under his open vest. Keshan couldn’t help the flutter of attraction he felt every time he looked upon Jandu’s delicious body.
“What bri
ngs you to the palace?” Jandu asked.
“I’m looking for my brother,” Keshan said. “He wanted to be informed when I finished unpacking.”
“So you are here for good? In Prasta?” Jandu’s voice betrayed his enthusiasm.
Keshan smiled at him. “For at least the next few months. Iyestar may have to return to Tiwari, but I am free to stay behind.”
Jandu smiled back. “Come on, I’ll take you to him. He’s practicing archery in the stone garden, with Darvad and his gang of thugs.”
Keshan laughed, but he didn’t miss the obvious distaste in Jandu’s comment. It would be awkward, befriending Jandu. Darvad would not like it. But Keshan had never been one to obey the whims of anyone else.
“So how is married life?” Keshan asked.
Jandu shrugged. “Not my turn for another two years, thank God. But it suits Yudar. He and Suraya were staring in each other’s eyes all during breakfast.”
The hallway terminated at a large courtyard, surrounded by a waist-high stone wall. The cobblestones were under a good inch of water as the monsoon storm continued to pour down around them.
“We can walk around this way,” Jandu said, pointing to the left, “or we can take a short cut through the courtyard, which would be a lot more fun.”
Keshan grinned. “I don’t melt in water.”
Jandu didn’t hesitate. He vaulted the wall and dashed into the downpour, hooting as he did so, his long legs striding widely as he ran. Keshan’s silk trousers were immediately drenched but he didn’t care. The water felt luxurious after the morning’s sweltering heat, and he laughed along with Jandu as they both scrambled over the wall and skidded to a halt in the cool stony corridor of another building.
Jandu shook his head, sending sprays of water droplets everywhere. Keshan ran his hand through his own, pushing back his damp locks.
Jandu smiled at him. “Your diadem is crooked.” He straightened it, and then pulled back with a frown. Jandu turned and led them down another hallway, his sandals squeaking against the stone floor.
“I notice you don’t wear one very often,” Keshan said.
