by Diana Green
“It is enough to know your family is secure and much bloodshed has been avoided,” Saba responded. “I would not ask for more than you already granted with Jehan’s pardon.”
“Be that as it may, Amira Saba, I intend to offer you something more. Hear me out, and then decide whether to accept.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
A glimmer of good humor brightened his face. “It pleases me to reward loyalty, courage, and good sense in my subjects. You have exhibited all three qualities, and so I offer you stewardship of my landholdings near Lake Rannah in the northern highlands.”
Saba sucked in a surprised breath, her eyes widening. Stewardship of a royal estate was no small matter, especially entrusting the position to a woman. Her mind soared at the possibilities.
“Before you say anything, let me explain the situation.” A twinkle in the Padishah’s eyes belied his serious tone of voice. “The Lake Rannah property is remote and rather rundown. My previous caretaker has grown too old for the task, and I’ve been remiss in my duty to appoint someone new. There will be repairs needed, for which I’ll provide ample funds. I also suggest a larger staff. The acreage is extensive and lies mostly unused, but it is fine grassland…perfect for horses.” At this his face broke into a wide smile. “I imagine it will suit you quite well.”
Listening to him, Saba remembered Mari’s scrying at the sacred pool in the valley. She had seen Saba and Jehan years in the future, standing on a grassy plateau in the northern highlands, watching a herd of horses. And now here they were, stepping onto that very path. The rightness of it all, the sheer wonder of how things unfolded left her speechless.
“So what do you say?” The Padishah prompted. “Can my steward retire to a life of ease, knowing he has a worthy replacement?”
She finally found her voice. “Most definitely! I’m delighted to accept the position.”
“Excellent. Hassan will work out the details with you, regarding an allowance for expenses and such.” The Padishah glanced down at her father’s papers, still gripped in his hand. “If there is nothing else to resolve, I believe I have other matters to attend to.”
“I have just one final question, your majesty, if you’ll indulge my curiosity.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“My maid who brought the message to Arahjhan, how has she fared?”
“I’m sure she was handsomely rewarded,” the Padishah answered. “Isn’t that right Hassan?”
Saba’s uncle nodded. “I offered her a sizable sum, which she intends to use for opening a dressmaking shop with her sister.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” Saba said. “Thank you both for your generosity.”
“It is all well-deserved,” the Padishah assured. “Now the general and I must discuss our strategy for dealing with the remaining traitors. Farewell, Amira Saba Nah Asab and Jehan Nah Kahlil. It has been a pleasure meeting you both.” He inclined his head politely then stepped away to consult with his general.
Hassan walked Saba and Jehan to the door.
“We can meet in an hour or so,” he said. “It shouldn’t take long to sort out the particulars of your new situation. In the meantime, if you’ll wait in the audience chamber, I’ll have food sent and a physician for your friend’s injured arm.”
Saba hugged her uncle, knowing she had him to thank for her new position. He almost certainly put the idea of the Lake Rannah estate into his most exalted majesty’s mind.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined things working out so well. The future beckoned brightly for both her and Jehan. They were blessed indeed.
Epilogue
Three months later, under a flawless blue sky, Jehan and Saba rode up the crest of a hill in the northern highlands. Below them spread the estate they were to manage for the Padishah. Rolling grasslands scattered with oak and pine swept down to the shores of Lake Rannah, where flocks of birds dotted the sparkling waters.
The sweet smelling breeze felt pleasantly cool for this time of the afternoon—an indication of the more temperate climate in this region. Jehan had always assumed she’d spend her life in Tarjene, but this new location seemed ripe with potential. Better yet, she could live here as a free woman, with Saba by her side.
“Is that the house?” Maib asked, reaching the top of the hill after them. She pointed to the near shore of the lake, where rambling stone buildings sheltered in a grove of cedar. “The place certainly looks large enough.”
Next Bennu rode up, followed by Zaki and Adiva with her two daughters—all the chosen family who joined them in this new adventure. Wagons full of supplies and hired men with the livestock still lagged some distance behind but could be expected to arrive before nightfall.
“A little work will fix it up nicely,” Adiva said, studying the sprawling house overgrown with vines. “And no one can complain about the view.”
Jehan smiled, appreciating her resilient nature. Adiva and the girls missed Makeem, but it helped to have somewhere to go and friends to lean on. Hopefully a fresh start would support their healing.
It had been difficult for Jehan and Saba, returning to the ruined outlaw settlement, in the wake of the pasha’s arrest. But they salvaged what they could and rounded up most of the livestock, including Jehan’s horse herd. Saba even found Mari’s book of power, saved from the fire by a protection spell embedded in its leather binding.
The survivors gathered at the graves of the fallen for a funeral rite and last farewell. There were many tears and shared memories, with libations poured in honor of those who had passed. The next day Jehan, Saba, and their party left the settlement for the final time.
The journey north proved surprisingly enjoyable, even if it was lengthy. Each day brought new sights as they traveled. And each night Jehan curled up with Saba under their blankets, exploring the most glorious terrain of all—the hills and valleys of her lover’s body.
The passage of time didn’t strain their bond but improved it, like a fine wine. They came together as equals, each with their own strengths and gifts to offer. Saba had gained confidence and clarity, while Jehan learned how to soften and trust, allowing herself the pleasure of deep connection.
She had never felt this happy or optimistic about the future. Now, gazing at her new home by the shores of Lake Rannah, she couldn’t help but laugh for sheer joy.
“Last one to the house cooks supper,” she cried, urging her horse into a gallop. The others followed, whooping and shouting to each other. Overhead a trio of wild geese flew toward the lake, lending their harsh calls to the jubilant noise. Life was truly splendid, and she couldn’t wait to see what happened next.
THE END
Here’s a sneak peek at Diana Green’s next book…
Solstice Moon
the first novel in a new wlw paranormal romance series.
Chapter One
The year I turned thirty four, my life flipped upside down. First my sweet old dog, Moby, died. Then my boyfriend of nearly a decade, Lars, moved out. That’s plenty to get upset about, right there, but it was only the beginning.
Life threatening danger soon followed, plus a job change, a move, a girlfriend, and a whole new understanding of who I am. My sense of reality was about to be challenged at the deepest level, leaving me a changed person—not even fully human anymore.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. As that December rolled around, I was only dealing with upheavals of the normal kind—if feeling like you’ve been kicked in the gut twice can ever be normal.
Still, most everyone has lost a beloved pet or gone through a relationship break up. People survive. I was sad and disoriented but managing to function reasonably well. To be honest, I missed my golden retriever more than my boyfriend.
Other than my apartment being quieter and lonelier, life wasn’t drastically different. I colored my hair auburn and tried wearing lipstick, in an attempt to feel ‘young and attractive’ again. But honestly the dating scene didn’t appeal much. For the most part, I kept p
lugging along with my usual routine, minus the weekly sex with Lars of course.
Then out of the blue things got exciting.
It started on the winter solstice, the last day of school before the holidays. The schedule was early release, so classes—English in my case—ended at noon. A few students hung around to give me cards and small presents, which I have to say is pretty special coming from junior high kids.
I planned on leaving promptly, but one thing led to another and I didn’t finish up for more than an hour. When I walked out the main doors I noticed Bethany, one of my favorite students, standing by the circular drive where parents drop kids off and pick them up.
That in itself wasn’t uncommon. Bethany often stayed around after school, seeming in no hurry to get home. But the scene that day raised red flags.
She leaned into the open window of a big gray sedan. Something about her body language made me think she was trying to pull away, that someone in the passenger seat had a grip on her sweater. I sensed fear.
As I hurried over, a strange light flared between Bethany and whoever had grabbed her. I heard a grunt of pain or surprise and the car accelerated, speeding away, the tinted window rolling up before I saw who was inside.
“Are you okay, Bethany?”
Her back was toward me, and strands of her dark hair raised as if from static electricity. As she turned around to answer, I swear her eyes glowed for a moment like phosphorescence.
“Thanks, Ms. Gordon. I’m fine.” Her voice shook a little, and her face appeared even paler than usual. The uncanny light in her eyes vanished, leaving the regular gray I was used to. Perhaps the effect had been nothing more than sunlight catching a reflection in her irises.
“Do you know that person in the car?” I asked, concerned.
“No. He said he had a message from my mom…that she isn’t really dead. I don’t know why he lied.” She looked away, kicking a piece of gravel on the sidewalk. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I should get home.”
“Do you want a lift?”
We weren’t supposed to give students rides, but I didn’t like the idea of her walking after what just happened. Besides, Bethany and I knew each other fairly well. I’d been tutoring her once a week after school—since she enrolled two months before—and we’d developed a good rapport.
She was alone in the world, bouncing between foster homes, her previous record of school attendance spotty at best. I gathered the dad was unknown. Her mom had apparently been into drugs, and they’d moved frequently.
Bethany had a lot of catching up to do, but fortunately she was a smart motivated girl. I hoped her current situation would work out, so she could enjoy a little stability in her life.
“I don’t want to be any trouble, Ms. Gordon.”
“You live along South Chestnut, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s practically on my way. I’m only a few blocks north of there.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She looked relieved.
The drive took about five minutes, as we hit all green lights. Bethany didn’t seem in a mood to talk, and I respected that. Her mom had died less than a year ago, and the pain was probably pretty fresh. Having it poked at by that jerk in the sedan couldn’t have been pleasant.
“Thanks again,” she said, hopping out of my aging station wagon.
“No problem. I hope you have a good winter break.”
“You too.”
I watched her jog up the front walkway of a ranch-style house, not driving away till she was safely inside. Apprehension prickled at the back of my mind. Should I report the incident with the gray sedan to someone? I doubted the police would take such a minor encounter seriously, so I tried to let it go. The whole thing was probably nothing but a mean-spirited prank.
After a few more minutes I was home. My ground floor apartment didn’t look like much from the front, but around back were glass sliding doors facing out on a green belt with scattered trees and a small stream. Moby had really enjoyed that easy access to the outdoors.
I thought of him with a sharp pang of grief. It was nice having someone always glad to see me, with happy barks and tail wagging when I came home. The place felt empty without him. Maybe I should decorate for the holidays. At least that would bring a little color and cheer to the half-bare rooms.
Lars had taken all his décor with him when he moved out. He made more money than me and loved to shop, so the apartment had been predominantly his stuff. He preferred a pretentious vintage style that involved lots of expensive pre-distressed items. Funny that he hadn’t appreciated any genuine on-site distressing my dog offered.
The fact is, regardless of personal tastes, it had been easier to let Lars have his way. He could be moody and hold onto resentments for a long time. So I went with his preferences, unless something mattered a whole lot to me. That was one dynamic I felt happy to be done with.
As I dropped my bags on the kitchen table, my phone rang. I made sure it wasn’t Lars before answering. Instead, my sister Chloe’s number popped up. She was probably calling about Christmas plans, as we always got together at my parent’s house in Marysville, just north of Seattle. For me it was only a couple of hours drive, but Chloe had to fly in.
“Hey, Kat.” Her voice sounded bouncy as usual, if maybe a bit forced. I knew she’d been worried about me, what with all the turmoil in my life recently.
While I appreciated her concern, I preferred not to talk about my personal ups and downs. I’d always been like that, private, quiet, and ‘moony’ according to my parents. It was one of the things Lars got tired of after nine years. Apparently he needed someone more outgoing and perky.
“Hi, Chloe. What’s up?”
“I just want to know what time you’ll be getting to the folks’ place on Christmas Eve. My flight doesn’t arrive till after 9, and you know how Mom and Dad are about driving through Seattle, especially after dark.”
“You want me to pick you up at the airport?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Sure. I can do that.”
“It’ll give us a chance for a heart to heart, before the annual circus begins.”
“Ah…great.”
I didn’t look forward to a sisterly confessional but couldn’t very well say so. Chloe was a ‘fixer’ who loved to offer advice and figure out how to make everyone else’s life better. Her intentions were good, but sometimes her methods felt like overkill.
“Super! I’ll send you my flight info.” She paused, and I knew exactly what was coming next. “So, how are you doing...really?”
“I’m fine. You know, life just keeps going.”
“Well…I was wondering, because of the holidays and everything. I was reading an article that said more people get depressed this time of year, especially if they’re alone. With you being newly single and dog-bereaved and all, I thought maybe—”
“I’m fine,” I reaffirmed. “But I’ve got to go now. Sorry. I’ll see you at the airport Christmas Eve. Love you. Bye.” I hung up.
Maybe that hadn’t been the best way to handle things, but I really didn’t want a therapy session with my little sister. She’d probably tell me to sign up for online dating services or some equally obnoxious social activity.
No. What I needed was a walk. The sun shone bright in a cloudless sky—nothing short of miraculous for northwest Washington in December. I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed a quick snack, and headed out—trying not to notice the peg by the door where Moby’s leash used to hang.
A trail wound along the greenbelt, dappled with sunshine and shadow. The last few golden leaves on the maples caught the slanting light, and the thick moss on their trunks glowed as if spun from peridot. Crows cawed in the high bare branches of cottonwoods, while squirrels chittered from the green shelter of cedars and hemlocks.
Not far from the apartment, I glimpsed a large owl perched about fifteen feet above me in a pacific yew. I stopped, surprised to see this same bird again
—the fourth time in a week. It wasn’t common to spot owls in full daylight, and this one had unusual markings.
The plumage looked too silvery for any local species and too dark for a snowy owl. Besides, the eyes weren’t gold or black as was typical for owls. Instead they reminded me of glacier ice, pale with a bluish cast. Nothing in my bird books matched it, so I assumed the color must be a mutation.
Those eyes gave the owl an otherworldly appearance as it gazed intently down. Combined with the fact I’d seen it twice near my apartment and twice by the school parking lot, I couldn’t help feeling a little strange. Was the bird keeping tabs on me?
Of course that was ridiculous. But what were the odds of encountering such a singular animal so often in a short period of time?
“You are beautiful,” I called up to it. “But you’re also starting to creep me out a bit.”
The owl’s head tilted, ever so slightly, giving the impression of uncanny intelligence. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it understood every word.
“No offense.” I laughed uneasily. “But maybe you could go watch over someone else?”
After a momentary pause the owl lifted off, gliding away on silent wings. I shook my head, not quite believing the timing of the bird’s departure. Certainly it couldn’t know what I’d said, and yet…
Musing on this, I continued down the trail, walking briskly enough to keep warm, even without a jacket. After a mile or so the greenbelt opened into a neighborhood park with a playground and sports fields. For extra cardio I jogged a circuit around the park perimeter, peeling off my sweatshirt and tying it at my waist.
Near the southern corner of the park—farthest from the playground and scattering of people—I saw that same gray sedan. The vehicle was parked in an out of the way spot, behind some spruce trees, with the passengers’ doors hanging open.
