“But how can that be?” Azara asked, turning to look into Oma’s soft eyes. “Mohan is second in line for the throne. His older brother is first.”
“Did you not think it strange that the oldest was sent to procure the bride for the second? Especially a third wife?” Oma whispered. “The second son is the favored. And now that the shah has died and Rajak Jehan is away, Mohan has taken the throne.”
Azara was silent, taking in all her serving woman had revealed. “Will he be able to hold the throne once Rajak Jehan has returned and discovered his treachery?”
“We will see,” Oma whispered. “Let us pray to Allah that Mohan prevails. To be third wife to a shah is far more important than your father had imagined.”
“That is so,” Azara replied evenly.
She turned away from Oma, her thoughts on the handsome man who’d come to negotiate for a bride for his brother—the same brother who had betrayed him. There was little hope for Rajak now. He was a threat to Mohan’s claim to the throne, so he must be killed.
Some part deep inside her grieved for such a loss. She remembered his dark eyes, and the flash of his white teeth against his dusky skin. Though tall and thin, his body had possessed a sinewy grace that thrilled and reassured one of his power. She had been mesmerized by him, though she’d taken great care that no one knew her thoughts. She sighed, causing Oma to put aside her brush and look at her.
“What’s wrong, my little princess?”
“Why must men fight and scheme and betray their families? Is the throne so important as that?”
“Azara,” Oma cried, obviously scandalized at her comment. “What would your life be if your father were not the highest royalty in Persia? You would not live in a palace or have servants to wait on you or be given to such a powerful man as Mohan.”
“But if Mohan is willing to betray his own brother and take what is not his by right then what kind of husband will he make?”
“It will not matter as much as you think it will,” Oma scoffed. “You will be one among many of his women. After a night or two in his bed, you will be returned to the women’s quarters and another will take your place. Then you may spend your days and nights as you wish. And if you bear a child to the new shah, you will be raised even higher in his household, so you must be as fruitful as you can.”
“What about what I want?” Azara asked mutinously. “What if I don’t wish to spend my days and nights alone with a bunch of other women?”
“Shhst! Do not say such things,” Oma said, placing her hand over Azara’s mouth. “If you are unfaithful to your husband, you will be killed. No, child, you must content yourself with your lot in life.”
Azara shook away Oma’s hand. “What if I don’t wish it? And what about love? Am I to go through life without the benefit of love from a husband? What good is to be a princess?”
Oma smiled, her expression sly. “There is a way, my princess. You must make the new shah love you above all others. There is a woman in the palace who can teach you many ways to ensnare a man’s heart. Has she not done so with your father?”
“Surely, you don’t speak of Hasna?” Azara looked at her nursemaid in horror. “She is my father’s whore and she’s full of herself. She disrespects my mother and all the other wives. I will ask nothing of her.”
“You will do as I say and learn from her. It is for your own good, and your father has decreed it.”
“My father!” Azara scoffed.
“He is the ruler of this country and must be obeyed, even by his headstrong daughter who has found little favor with him of late, for she speaks too freely and thinks beyond her place as a woman.” Oma leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Men are not to be trusted. They think with that thing in their trousers and so can be easily swayed. Men rule our world, but a clever woman can learn to rule even the strongest of men. You must put aside your wayward feelings and learn the subtleties of being a woman. Listen to me, child, if you are to fare well in the world, you must do as I say. What I tell you is true. Only Hasna can teach you the things you must know.”
Azara gazed into Oma’s faded eyes while all the woman’s words spun around in her head.
“It is for your own safety, princess,” Oma whispered. “You are going to a strange country where you will have no allies.”
“But you’re coming with me, aren’t you?” Azara cried out, tears forming in her eyes at the thought she would separated from Oma.
“Alas, I’ve been told to ready you for your marriage, but I am not to accompany you.” Oma’s eyes were liquid with unshed tears.
“I will insist,” Azara cried.
“No, it is better this way. Your father wishes to send one who is younger and more comely, someone who can attain information about the shah’s palace. Those days are over for me. I am old. I accept my fate.”
“I do not,” Azara cried, furious at this turn of events. Leaping from the bed, she straightened her dress and turned toward the door.
“What are you going to do?” Oma cried.
“I will insist you come with me. He can send as many serving women as he wishes, but one of them must be you.”
“No, child. Do not anger your father.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
Azara strolled from her richly appointed suite and down silk shrouded halls until she reached her father’s chambers. Without hesitation, she ran past his guards and threw open the door and came to a halt in the middle of the room. Hasna was there, her silken robes loosened and falling from her shoulders, so her exquisite, lush body was revealed. She smiled when she saw who had interrupted them and pulled her robes closed. Even now in all her anger and dislike of the woman, Azara had to admit her beauty surpassed all the women in her father’s harem, even that of her mother. She paused, raising her chin in an unspoken challenge on her mother’s behalf. Hasna merely laughed, a light tinkling sound.
“What is the meaning of this?” Amir Bahram demanded, leaping to his feet and straightening his own robes.
Azara’s cheeks blazed to think she’d stumbled into such an intimate situation between her father and his favorite concubine, but it was too late to flee now. The damage was done. Drawing a deep breath, she met her father’s gaze with a glare of her own.
“I’ve just learned Oma is not to accompany me on my wedding trip. I wish her to be at my side.”
“I have someone else picked out to be your maid.”
“I want Oma. She has been with me all my life. I trust her.”
“She is old.”
“Not too old.” Azara and her father were nearly eye to eye now, each determined to have their own way.
“I have decided.”
“Then I will not go to India. I will not marry Mohan. He sounds like a horrid man anyway. How am I to go there without someone I can trust? You would not.”
“I have reasons for wanting someone else to accompany you,” Amir Bahram replied.
“Yes. I know you wish to have a spy in the palace of the Peacock Throne, and so you may, but Oma will come with me or I will not marry. I will become an old maid and remain in your harem.”
“I am the ruler,” Bahram roared, a red flush showing beneath his dark skin.
“I am the ruler’s daughter and as such, should have some say-so in what is to become of me. I’ve agreed to your marriage, but I must have Oma with me.”
“Bahram,” Hasna said, her voice holding a note of rebuke. Gracefully, she rose and went to him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her soft body to his. Her head tilted back so she could look into his eyes. Her long, black hair tumbled down her back and hung in silken waves over his arm.
“She is right,” Hasna said playfully. “She is but a child and as such, needs someone familiar to be with her. I should not like to go to a strange country with no one I know beside me.”
“But she knows Hestia.”
“Hestia is not a proper chaperone for your daughter. Remember, we talked of this and thought Hesti
a was not as honest and reliable as we wished, but we chose to send her anyway.”
“You chose, my flower,” Bahram answered. “You wished to get rid of her because she puts herself in my path.”
Hasna drew away. “I merely thought she might be of use putting herself in the path of Mohan and his royal puppets.”
“Ah, yes, I remember and as always, you are right.” The amir turned to his daughter. “So you shall have your Oma and any five other women you wish to take with you.”
Azara’s heart beat in triumph. “Thank you, father,” she said, bowing to him prettily.
Once such tactics had worked with him. Once he would have swung her up in his mighty arms and laughed at her. Now, he merely frowned at her. Still, she was emboldened to try for yet another favor.
“Oma has said I must take lessons from—” She couldn’t say Hasna’s name, even though the woman had just helped her in the problem of Oma. She didn’t want to be beholden to her father’s palace whore, nor did she want the woman to teach her anything at all.
“I have no need of lessons. I am well read and intelligent. I shall do well on my own.”
“No,” Bahram said sharply. “On this, I am adamant. You will accompany Hasna this very minute back to her chambers where you begin your lessons on protocol, intrigue and—” He hesitated and positively twinkled at his paramour. “Other pleasurable things.” He scowled back at Azara. “You are, indeed, intelligent and that is why I have agreed to your hand to Mohan. You will learn many things there in his court, things that may be useful to your own country. But you do not know anything of the ways between a man and woman. Now go with Hasna and begin your lessons.”
He turned away dismissively and Hasna moved toward the entrance where she smiled at Azara.
“Come,” she said lightly then laughed at Azara’s scowl. “I promise you this will not be painful and you may learn something that will serve you well in your new life.”
She left the room and there was nothing for Azara to do, but follow.
Chapter Three
“Thanks be to Allah, she’s a rich cargo,” Basa said at Rajak’s elbow. “We will fill our coffers well this day. Soon, we will have more gold and gems than the Peacock throne itself.”
“The ship carries more wealth than you can imagine,” Rajak said, closing down his telescope and observing the ship on the horizon.
The Persians were known for their seamanship. The sleek vessel moved easily over the ocean’s waves. She would be a hard prize to claim, but well worth the effort.
“What more wealth can we want than gold and gems?” Basa scoffed. He’d settled enthusiastically into their new life as pirates.
Rajak smiled at his friend. “Today, we take a Persian bride of most rare beauty,” he replied with a predatory grin. He’d been told such a grin sent chills down the backs of his enemies in the short time they witnessed it before he sent them to meet their maker. “This is the bride intended for my brother. He will never sample her charms.”
“Is she beautiful?” Basa asked with far less enthusiasm than if she had been a big coffer of gold coins.
“Like the sunrise,” Rajak replied, his features softening as he remembered the image of the beautiful Azara, second daughter to the king of Persia. “More beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Mohan will be very angry to lose her,” Basa observed.
“He’s never seen her,” Rajak said. “While I was in Persia negotiating for his bride, he was behind, poisoning my father and stealing my throne.” He shrugged. “So, I steal yet more from him. The loss of his treasures hurts his coffers, but the loss of his bride will hurt his pride. He doesn’t know that the negotiations were completed. I had no chance to tell him, but he will find out soon enough. He must try harder than ever to find us and destroy us, and we all know what happens when my brother tries to find us. He loses even more ships.” Rajak’s teeth flashed and his eyes brightened with triumphant lights. “I look forward to embarrassing my brother yet again.”
“As do I, Rajak. He deserves everything you do to him,” Basa said loyally.
“Then pray Allah continues to smile on us. Kalari, bring the ship about,” he called.
His men leaped to ready themselves to attack. Long, inactive days aboard ship had made them eager for battle. The sails were jettisoned and The Black Swan, all eighty tons of her, moved swiftly across the water. Very soon, they sent a shot over the bow of Allah’s Child, a royal ship of the Persian Amir. Rajak didn’t hesitate in his intentions. He maneuvered The Black Swan into position where its cannon did the most damage, tearing great gaping holes in the sides of the other ship. While the Persian ship sat helpless, unable to defend herself further, Rajak ordered his men to board her. Quickly, they tied off to the injured ship and swarmed over the sides. The fight was short lived. Soon, his crew carted barrels of rich Persian wine, exotic foods, brilliant silks, chests of gold coin and brilliant gems, necklaces, pins and head pieces enough to please a queen back to their own ship.
Rajak barely glanced at the booty. They had plenty of it. He watched carefully as his men gathered up a gaggle of serving women, whimpering and weeping as they were herded onto The Black Swan. The woman he sought was not among them.
“Where is the princess?” he shouted to Kalari.
“We did not find her, Rajak. Perhaps she is hiding in fear of your ugly face,” Kalari answered, laughing.
“Search the ship for her,” Rajak ordered and leaped on deck to do it himself. He pushed into every cabin and searched under beds and in chests that had once held silks and sweet smelling perfumes, but there was no sign of the princess.
“She’s not here, Rajak,” Kalari reported. “Perhaps she didn’t sail on this ship. Maybe she was sent on another one.”
“No, my informer is reliable. He said she and her entourage sailed on this ship. Look again. Check below, in case she’s hiding there.”
Again Rajak searched the cabins, which housed the women, and he was about to turn away in defeat when he heard a delicate ripple of sound, not unlike a sneeze, from one of the chests. He’d thought he’d checked it, but perhaps he hadn’t. He stalked across to it and threw up the lid. A rainbow of silks filled the crate, and he used his sword to throw them aside.
“No, no, I beg of you.” An old woman appeared out of nowhere, her hands fluttering in an effort to halt his actions. “You will kill her. Put away your sword.” She threw herself over the woven chest and faced him with a determined air that said she would give her life if necessary to protect who or what was in that crate.
“Please, sir, she is only a child,” the old woman cried. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I am not a child,” a soft voice replied indignantly as the silks shifted and a beautiful woman appeared as if through magic. She looked at Rajak, her gaze direct and unwavering. “I am Azara, Princess of Persia and daughter of Amir Bahram. If you harm me, my father shall hunt you down and see you are killed—you and all your crew. He has little use for worthless pirates who steal from others.”
“He sounds like an honorable man,” Rajak said, sheathing his sword and bowing.
He was delighted to see the object of his hunt had been found and was far more appealing than he remembered. Dressed in silken trousers and an exquisitely embroidered jacket, she was an elegant vision of beauty. He regarded her with a smiling demeanor, taking in all her charms. A pity that his brother couldn’t see the gem he was about to lose. As if his thoughts had conveyed some idea to her, she drew herself up and scowled at him.
“If that is not enough then I must warn you that I am bound for India where I am to be the new bride of Shah Mohan Jehan. He will most certainly find you and kill you.”
“Then I have been most thoroughly warned,” Rajak replied, again bowing. “But I am Rajak—”
“I know who you are,” she said suddenly. “You are Mohan’s brother, who has lost his throne.”
Rajak frowned, his humor gone. “You are most knowle
dgeable of my plight,” he growled.
“It is well known,” she replied. Her gaze didn’t soften or show one ounce of remorse for what had happened.
“Ah, I see,” he said, backing away a step or two. “You were looking forward to your enhanced position as third wife of the new shah. I must disappoint you, princess. You are no longer betrothed to Mohan. You will be the paramour of Rajak, Pirate of the Indian Ocean.”
“Never!” The old woman stepped forward. “You will never disrespect her like that. She is a princess.” She raised her hand, which clutched a slender pair of scissors and plunged them into Rajak’s shoulder.
“Oma, no!” Azara cried out as Rajak grabbed hold of her hand to avoid yet another slash. The old woman was frail and was quickly subdued.
“Please, don’t hurt her,” Azara cried out. “She meant only to protect me.”
Rajak looked down at the old woman he held clutched in his good arm, her back to him, her shoulders hunched as if prepared to accept whatever deadly punishment he might deliver. She made no struggle, but she shivered with fear and dread. Rajak released her, shoving her toward her mistress. Azara wrapped her arms around the servant.
“Take her then and be sure she knows the next time she attacks me in such a manner, I will behead her.”
The old woman’s eyes widened in fear and she huddled against Azara as if for protection. Azara rocked her comfortingly.
“She won’t attack you, if you don’t attack me,” she said sharply. “She is but an old woman and yet you fear her? What manner of man is the great Rajak, lost ruler turned pirate?”
“A vengeful one,” he answered in anger, his hand clamped to his bleeding arm. “And it would do you and your serving women well to remember that.”
“You are a barbarian,” she snapped. “I shall regard you as a man who deserves no respect.”
“Look upon me as you wish, princess,” he answered from between stiff lips, “but be sure you must obey my commands. Need I tell you, you are my prisoner and I’ve not yet decided if I will ransom you for a great sum of treasures from my brother’s coffers, or if I will take you as my own bride.”
The Pirate Prince (Pirate's Booty Series, Book Five) Page 2
