by Astrid Amara
“Wait, Adaru!” Firdaus gasped. He held one hand up in the sign of peace while the other gathered up his dejaru. “Peace! I didn’t know she belonged to you.” Firdaus gestured to Jandu, who scrambled backward, trying to cover himself. Firdaus continued his plea. “If you kill me, who will revoke the curse? The Yashva won’t forgive you for killing me over a human!”
Keshan plunged his sword deep into Firdaus’ guts. He pulled the blade upwards, cutting a wide slit in Firdaus’ belly. Blood sprayed out and intestines tumbled out around Keshan’s hands.
“I curse you!” Firdaus was so close Keshan could smell his breath.
“I don’t care.” Keshan shoved Firdaus away from him. Firdaus flopped backwards, dead.
Keshan wiped a spray of blood from his face, and then rushed to Jandu’s side.
“Are you all right?” Keshan knelt beside Jandu, who crouched in the corner, coving his body with ripped zahari fabric. “I saw the dice game in a vision and I came.”
Jandu didn’t speak. His entire body shuddered as Keshan covered him with his own harafa. Jandu looked overwhelmed, his nose bleeding, his eyes wide as saucers.
Keshan reached for Jandu. Jandu recoiled from Keshan’s hands and turned his head away, a look of absolute fear on his face.
Keshan sat beside Jandu, afraid to touch him. When Jandu tentatively reached a hand out, Keshan took it gently.
Jandu’s hand trembled violently. Keshan tried to wipe the blood off of Jandu’s face with his zahari, but Jandu pulled away, it obviously hurt his nose too much.
“I have to get you a doctor,” Keshan said.
“No!” Jandu said hoarsely. “Just get me some water to clean up.”
A woman gasped as she came upon the shattered door. Then she screamed. Instantly other women rushed from their chambers and crowded into the hallway. As the spectators took in the blood on the walls, the corpses, Keshan stood and blocked Jandu from view.
“Someone needs to bring the lord’s physician,” he said, his voice breaking with unspent anger.
None of the women moved. They stared in shocked silence.
“Now!”
A young girl curtsied and rushed away.
At that moment, Suraya pushed her way into the room. She looked different in servant’s garb and with her long hair tightly tucked into a bun, but no other woman had eyes as large and expressive as hers.
“My God! My God!” Suraya screamed as she saw Jandu’s bloody face, and the wreckage in the room.
Guards carrying heavy lances appeared and pushed their way through the women.
Keshan caught Suraya’s arm. “Stay with him,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t let anyone touch him.”
“Keshan!” Suraya shook her head, uncomprehending. “What has happened?” She asked, her expression bewildered.
Keshan didn’t have time to tell her anything more. The guards were almost upon him.
“These men attempted to defile my wife,” Keshan said, half to Suraya and half to the guards. “Take me to Lord Indarel. I demand to be compensated.”
The guards looked momentarily bewildered, as if having come to arrest the Triya, then being ordered to do exactly as they had planned, was too much to comprehend.
“Take me to Lord Indarel now!” Keshan bellowed. The guards backed away. One even bowed.
“This way, my lord,” he said.
Keshan stepped over Firdaus’ corpse, but stopped when he spotted something that had fallen from Firdaus’ pocket. Keshan reached down and picked up a pair of dice. They glowed blue for a moment, and then faded. Keshan clenched them in his hand, his lip curling in anger.
“Enchanted.” Firdaus cheated at this dice game, and no doubt at the one all those years ago in Prasta.
Keshan pocketed the evidence, and then left with the guards.
Chapter 38
BY NIGHTFALL, RUMORS OF KESHAN’S RAMPAGE HAD ALREADY left the boundaries of Afadi, on their way eastward. The entire city reverberated with the shock of it. The fact that Indarel’s dice teacher and friend Esalas had gambled his sister away for sexual favors was big news. But even more dramatic was Janali’s rescue. No one even knew that Keshan Adaru had left Tiwari. And yet he had appeared in Afadi out of nowhere, kicking through a door to save a servant. It was all too mysterious, too exciting not to be discussed at every table. There was nothing Keshan could do to stop it.
Indarel welcomed Keshan to his reception hall, grim-faced and sober with the fact that the lord of a neighboring state had been murdered in his house.
“We will have to reinforce our border,” Indarel said. He eyed Keshan darkly. “We have been on the cusp of war for years, Adaru. This will no doubt bring a retaliation from Chandamar.”
Keshan’s eyes smoldered. Inwardly, he dared Indarel to challenge him, to blame him. He wanted to destroy Chandamar. And Afadi while he was at it. He had never felt such an all-encompassing desire to condemn an entire people to death before. It was not like him, and he had to breathe deeply to cool the flush of fury that burned his heart and made his fingers itch to unleash ungodly weapons of mass destruction.
“You have my support,” Keshan stated.
“I expect it,” Indarel said.
Keshan bowed his head.
“I also expect an explanation,” Indarel said coldly. “While we have always been allies with Tiwari, you have endangered our entire state with your actions. If the rumors are true, if Esalas truly staked his sister legitimately in this dice game, then it is not our place to challenge it, as foul as Esalas’ act might have been.”
“I do have a claim to challenge it,” Keshan said. “Janali is my wife.”
Indarel stared at Keshan in stunned silence. Keshan schooled his expression into one of calm fortitude. The secret to a good lie was all in the face.
“Janali and I were married in Prasta,” Keshan continued. “Her older brother Esalas took her away against my wishes. As her husband, it is my duty to protect her and to seek vengeance against her assailants. Esalas had no right to stake her, as she is mine.”
Indarel was stunned. “You… you married a lower-caste servant?” he finally managed to say.
Keshan bristled. “Who I chose to marry isn’t your concern. What is your concern is the impending retaliation from Chandamar. Once I am assured that my wife is safe, I will do everything within my power to guarantee Afadi’s safety.”
Indarel nodded stiffly. “Good. We do not have a quarrel with you, Adaru.”
“Nor do I have any quarrel with Afadi. What will you do with Esalas?” Keshan asked. He hoped Indarel would execute him.
“I will confront Esalas later,” Indarel said sadly. “I do not have time to deal with such matters now.”
Keshan nodded. “And Janali?”
“My son Abiyar is escorting her to my wife’s summer manor. She will be in good hands. I will write you a letter to grant you permission to stay with her.”
“Thank you.”
Indarel gave Keshan a weak smile. “Please rest tonight, and we will discuss our actions in the morning.”
Keshan bowed respectfully, and then left to find Jandu.
◆◆◆
The summer manor was built along the river, surrounded by bucolic pastures and an old cemetery, about five miles from the city gates. The large, airy house surrounded a central garden and was protected by high stone walls. Along with numerous staff, several of Lady Shali’s friends resided there during the hottest months of the year, as well as Lord Indarel’s own mother. The only man Keshan saw was an elderly guard who treated Keshan warily. He read Indarel’s letter over twice, and escorted Keshan the entire way through the manor.
Keshan saw a handful of other women relaxing in the garden or sheltering from the heat indoors in a large marbled sitting room. The guard kicked at the roaming peacocks as he directed Keshan to Jandu’s room.
Keshan knocked at the door. A moment later, Suraya appeared.
She looked tired. “Hello, Keshan.” She nodded to the
guard. “It’s all right. He can come in.”
Keshan thanked the guard and then followed Suraya inside. Jandu’s room was large and airy, with white cotton curtains billowing in the sweet smelling afternoon breeze. The teak floor was covered in richly embroidered rugs. A set of teak wooden doors led out to a private rose garden.
Jandu slept fitfully, curled in a clenched ball under the muted red cotton sheets of his bed.
“How is he?” Keshan whispered.
Suraya stood beside Keshan, frowning at Jandu. “The physicians sedated him with herbs to help him sleep.” She swallowed and looked up at Keshan. “Is it true? Did Yudar really stake him to Firdaus?”
“Yes.”
Suraya closed her eyes. Tears appeared but she wiped them away hastily. “I don’t know how Yudar will live with himself after this.”
“I don’t care how he lives,” Keshan hissed. “I only care about how Jandu will live with this.”
“You saved him, though. You got to him before…” Suraya closed her eyes again, then seemed to recover. She smiled and laid a hand on Keshan’s arm. “Go to him now. I’ll leave you two alone. Just let him know… let him know how much we love him.”
Keshan stared at her. She smiled shyly.
“I’ve told the guards to let you in and out. Feel free to sleep here as long as you are in Afadi. Lady Shali gave me a room down the hall so you two can have your privacy.”
Keshan’s eyes widened. She knew.
“Suraya, I hope you don’t think…”
Suraya rose up on her toes and kissed Keshan’s cheek. “Please take care of him for me.”
As soon as she left, Keshan sat down on a wooden chair in the corner, watching his friend’s fitful sleep.
Just the act of sitting flooded Keshan with exhaustion. He hadn’t rested since his frantic run from Tiwari, and now his body ached with weariness.
Keshan worked the leather straps of his armor quietly, moving slowly as he untied his breastplate and arm bands. Free of the heavy armor, he stretched back against the uncomfortable wooden chair and closed his eyes.
But as the reality of what he had done sunk in, sleep became impossible. Bone-weary as he was, he couldn’t escape the realization that he had just forfeited his own life as a Triya warrior.
As soon as it was discovered that the Parans had spent their third year of hiding in Afadi, it would be revealed that Janali was Jandu. And that Keshan had saved Jandu, breaking Keshan’s vow to not help the Parans during their exile. Keshan would be stripped of his caste, no longer allowed in the palaces of the country, unable to make decisions for his family. He would not be able to fight in any war, or claim Triya justice. He had forfeited his identity and his entire social standing.
Iyestar was going to be furious at him.
The thought of his brother made Keshan momentarily smile, but the smile faded as soon as he realized how sad Iyestar would be. Keshan breaking a vow was not only Keshan’s dishonor. His action would dishonor the entire Tiwari tribe. Keshan had sacrificed everything.
He tried to comfort himself, knowing that, if given the choice, he would do it again. Jandu had become more important to him than honor, than caste, even more important that his own family. It seemed fitting that the sacrifice Keshan had to pay to save Jandu from a violation so great would be heavy indeed.
But this was cold comfort. Keshan had been able to at least stop the worst of Jandu’s violation. But it wasn’t enough. He hadn’t done enough. Since the beginning of Jandu’s exile, Keshan had always provided just enough help to ease his conscience, but not enough to actually do Jandu any good. He brought money to keep Jandu from dying, but it wasn’t enough to stop his hunger. He had killed Jandu’s attackers, but only after they had beaten him. And despite the fact that Keshan was never one to harbor useless, accusatory thoughts, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was somehow his fault, that if he had just been a little faster, a little more attentive to his visions, he could have changed all this.
Keshan had often questioned his powers in the past, but had never felt so angry about them as he did now. They were there when he needed them, but they weren’t powerful enough to truly save those close to him from harm. If he had done a better job of understanding his own capabilities, he might have been able to preempt Jandu’s assault.
Keshan breathed deeply, and closed his eyes. Unbidden, the vision he had seen since a little boy came back to him, broken but unchanged. He sat with a warrior, firing his weapon in a great war, and changing the fate of Marhavad. But how could that vision be true now, after everything he had done?
Jandu suddenly started and sat up. He blinked, and when he saw Keshan sitting in the chair, he immediately tensed and leapt into a defensive crouch.
“It’s okay, Jandu,” Keshan said softly. “It’s only me.”
Keshan got up and sat on the edge of the bed. There was such suffering in Jandu’s eyes. Keshan never imagined someone as proud, as fierce and as beautiful as Jandu could be reduced to such grief.
Jandu said nothing.
Keshan studied the changes in Jandu’s body. Jandu as a woman was a lovely sight, only now he was marred with a broken nose and bruised face. He looked so dramatically different—small and petite, with curvy hips and breasts, his fingers long and thin, his face so tiny and pale. But there was still no question that it was Jandu. His eyes were so distinctive, as was the way he held himself, and even though his body had completely metamorphosed, Jandu’s soul was plain to see. Keshan looked down at his hands, usually so still and assured. They trembled slightly now, with exhaustion and anger.
“Is there anything I can get you?” Keshan asked. “I’ve told Indarel that I married you back in Prasta, so now I can come and go as I please. Would you like me to bring you something? Tea?”
Jandu shook his head, looking away. “I can’t bear you looking at me.” His voice sounded strained.
“Jandu.” Keshan reached out hesitantly to touch Jandu’s hand. He paused when he saw the dark ring of bruises around Jandu’s wrist.
“I look revolting,” Jandu said.
“No, you don’t,” Keshan said. “Come here.” He patted the bed and Jandu sat beside him, propped against the headboard. Jandu leaned into Keshan, his body so much smaller than it was before, his head barely reaching Keshan’s shoulder.
“You are going to be all right,” Keshan told him.
Jandu’s lip trembled. “This is not a sword or an arrow wound. There is nothing honorable in these bruises.” Jandu dragged his hand across his face, wiping his eyes in the most unladylike fashion Keshan had ever seen.
“What I don’t understand,” Jandu whispered, “is how he could have done that to me.”
“Firdaus was vermin,” Keshan said.
“Not Firdaus. Yudar.” Jandu’s shoulders began to shake with silent sobs.
Keshan let Jandu cry. He sat on the bed and let Jandu tire himself out. And finally, exhausted, Jandu slumped down into an uneasy slumber.
Keshan curled himself around Jandu’s small body. As he drifted off to sleep, he realized he could kill Firdaus over and over, but it would never make a difference. It had been Yudar who hurt Jandu the most, and there was nothing Keshan could do to avenge the damage. Jandu had been betrayed by someone he loved, and even murdering Yudar would bring Jandu little peace. The damage was already done.
Chapter 39
THE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT MINGLED WITH THE WINE IN Tarek’s cup. He considered saying his evening prayers and then going to sleep. But the monsoon was back, hot and heavy outside, and even in his cool rooms in the palace, sleep in such heat would be difficult.
It felt wrong to pray and then sin, and so Tarek delayed his evening ablutions, simply washing his face in the basin before making his way through Prasta’s palace to the soldier’s quarters.
Tarek knocked on Anant’s door. When he entered, he dismissed the servant and shut the door. He slowly approached Anant’s bed. Anant sleepily stood to bow.
�
�Sit down, Anant, for God’s sake,” Tarek said. Anant sat down.
Anant’s face had almost completely healed. The skin around his left eye was still discolored. But his sight was fine.
The physician had told Tarek that there were likely bone fractures behind Anant’s eyes, causing his face to look slightly irregular. However the swelling in his cheek and jaw was gone and Tarek still found him handsome.
Tarek crouched beside the bed, leaning on the balls of his feet so that he was eye-level with Anant.
“How are you feeling?” Tarek asked.
Anant nodded. “Fine. Thank you, my lord.”
Tarek studied the man in front of him in silence.
“My lord?” Anant asked quietly.
Tarek frowned. “You saved me.”
Anant looked confused for a moment. “Of course I did.”
“Why?” Tarek reached out and touched the tender, fresh scar across Anant’s jaw.
Anant swallowed. “You are my lord.”
“That’s not good enough,” Tarek said.
“I have other reasons,” Anant said, his voice lowering.
Tarek stared at him so intently, Anant looked away.
“No, look at me,” Tarek ordered.
Anant looked back at him and stuck his chin out defiantly. His eyes searched Tarek’s face for understanding.
“What do you want from me?” Tarek asked softly. “Love? Sex? Power? I don’t know what I can offer you, Anant. I don’t know if I have any of those things in me.”
Anant’s eyes softened. “I don’t want anything from you. I enjoy being with you. That’s all.”
“That’s all,” Tarek repeated. Anant nodded.
Tarek rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly tired. He stood, his knees cracking. He gave Anant a long look, and then held out his hand to him. “Then come to bed with me.”
Tarek led him back to his own room.
◆◆◆
Tarek’s slumber was disturbed by the dramatic sound of someone banging on his door.
Tarek blinked at the early morning darkness and cursed himself for being so careless. Anant lay sprawled naked beside him, sleeping soundly despite the noise outside. There was something endearing about Anant’s ability to doze through anything. His dark body lay above the sheets, unashamed, his legs spread wide, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other on his chest, his hand gently rising and dropping with his breathing. Tarek wanted to lean down and smell his body, run his hands over Anant’s dark flesh, touch his cock where it lay slumbering on a thick bed of pubic hair. Instead, Tarek gently shook Anant’s shoulder.
