‘Asha, my, it’s been a long time.’
She raised her hands to push him away, but he easily caught them and pinned them against the wall over her head.
‘Mmm … I see you missed me. It’s been too long.’ He pressed himself against her, forcing his thigh between her legs.
She was effectively trapped—she couldn’t even kick him at this angle. Heart pounding, she tried not to show her revulsion.
He smiled—a charming smile. A smile she was sure he used on many unsuspecting women, maids and girls. His tastes encompassed generations, sparing only the old from his favours. Ratilal was large and muscular, with very short cropped dark hair, a finely trimmed moustache, tanned flawless skin, and deep brown eyes framed by long lashes; he was astonishingly handsome. Bending his head into the curve of her neck, he inhaled deeply.
‘Mmm, far too long. Nobody smells like you, Asha. Or tastes like you.’ He ran his tongue along her neck. She turned her head away, shuddering. Ratilal laughed, delighted by her reaction. ‘Gods, you’re fun.’
Too many memories assailed Asha. She felt lost, small and alone again.
‘Look at me.’ Asha couldn’t respond; she was too lost in her memories. Pinning her wrists with only one hand, he roughly grabbed her jaw, forcing her head toward his face. ‘Look at me!’ He bashed her head back against the wall. The pain broke the spell of her past.
Asha blinked, trying to focus, to concentrate, and Fihr slipped into her mind. She was not alone. Asha narrowed her eyes at Ratilal.
‘That’s it, love. I want you here for this. It’s no fun if you’re not paying attention.’
‘Leave me be, Rati!’ she said vehemently.
His handsome features distorted briefly with rage, as he struck her across the face. ‘How dare you!’ Asha’s face felt like it was on fire and her nose was bleeding. He held her throat tightly as he lowered his face to hers. Pausing, he stared at her lips, at the trail of blood that ran from her nose to her mouth, raised his eyes to hers, then grinning lasciviously, licked his lips. Asha’s eyes widened in fury as he brutally kissed her, forcing her head back into the wall. She could feel his erection as he ground himself against her and licked the blood from her face. He moved the hand at her throat to grip her jaw harshly, then mauled her neck with his lips and tongue. As he grew more aroused he bit her.
Rage and hate burned through Asha’s remaining fear. She shrieked as one with Fihr. Her pupils dilated and her eyes changed colour. Ratilal, oblivious, continued his assault by releasing her hands so he could paw at her breasts. Fihr shrieked again and power flowed through her. She lashed out, raking her nails across his face like talons, gouging his flesh from cheekbone to jaw. She could feel his torn skin under her nails and smiled triumphantly as blood dripped from her fingertips.
‘Bitch!’ he bellowed, thumping her head into the wall again, then pitching her across the room. She lay dazed and winded on the floor, her only thought was of regaining her breath. Asha could feel her consciousness fading, although she knew Fihr was still with her, trying to stop her passing out. Her sight dimmed, but she could still hear, and all she could hear were footsteps drawing near. She felt her face hit again and a great weight pinning her down.
* * *
Vikram followed the high lord and the chancellor down the corridor to the small meeting room.
‘What in the name of the gods is going on?’ Shahjahan growled as they heard the pounding of running feet from another corridor, followed by a piercing screech. They picked up their pace, reaching the door of the council room in time to see Fihr frantically gouging at it. Two guards slid to a halt near the door and were preparing to attack the enraged sea eagle with their halberds.
‘Stop!’ yelled Vikram.
‘What is going on?’ Shahjahan roared.
‘That’s Asha’s guardian.’
Shahjahan needed no further explanation. ‘Get that bloody door open. Now!’
Vikram approached quickly, trying to avoid Fihr. ‘Let me open the damn door, bird,’ he muttered. Fihr stilled, clinging to the door, rotated his head and glared at him. Vikram reached out, shaking, to flip the latch on the door. Simultaneously as he flipped the latch, Fihr dropped from the door to his arm, his talons almost piercing his thick gambeson. When Vikram thrust the door open, Fihr launched himself at Ratilal.
Ratilal had just punched Asha in the face and was pinning her down on the floor as he tore at the fastening on her trousers. Shahjahan and Vikram plunged forward. Fihr landed on Ratilal’s back and tore a hunk of flesh from his neck. Ratilal reared up, bellowing and flailing his arms behind him, dislodging Fihr just as Vikram and Shahjahan reached him. Enraged, Shahjahan backhanded his son across the face with all his might, toppling him sideways to the floor. Vikram stood poised between Ratilal and Asha, hand on his sword.
Shahjahan looked at the two guards standing open-mouthed in the doorway. ‘Well, get in here! Make yourselves useful. Detain my son.’
Vikram appraised his clan lord. He was red-faced and breathing heavily, his hands fisted at his sides as he restrained himself. Although still a large, powerful man despite his years, he was a shadow of his former self. Grief, age and indolence had taken their toll, but this was a spark of the clan lord of old. He hoped it would last.
Shahjahan knelt beside Asha’s prone form, Vikram by his side. Ratilal was transfixed by Fihr, perched on the back of a chair, as he watched him devour the hunk of flesh he had torn from his neck. All the while Ratilal knew the raptor was taunting him, watching and waiting.
Asha’s neck was bruised, showing clear finger marks. One cheek was swollen and red; one eye was blackening, swollen and closed.
‘Asha?’ Vikram said urgently. She groaned. ‘Thank the gods.’
The chancellor, who had disappeared once the door opened, returned now with more guards and a medical kit. Shahjahan gently examined Asha’s face and neck, causing her to wince.
‘My apologies, child. I wish to the gods this had not happened to you. Can you move your arms? Legs?’ Slowly, Asha did so. ‘Can you sit up?’
‘I’ll need help,’ came her hoarse whisper. ‘I think some of my ribs are broken.’ On either side of her, Vikram and the Boar Lord gently helped her sit up. She gave an agonised groan, leaning into Vikram, as the colour drained from her face and beads of sweat lined her brow.
‘Easy, little one,’ Shahjahan soothed. ‘Damn it!’ he exclaimed as he saw the blood and hair on the floor. He moved behind her to examine the back of her head more closely. ‘This will need stitches.’ He placed a cloth on the back of her head. ‘Hold this,’ he said to the chancellor. He stalked over to his son. ‘Curse you, Ratilal! Why? You are no better than a wild beast.’
‘She’s Kenati. I didn’t think you’d care.’
‘What!’ he roared and punched Ratilal squarely in the face. As he watched the blood pour from his son’s shattered nose, he said through clenched teeth, ‘I may have no love for the Kenati, but I still enforce the law and you know the law. You will be flogged for this. Get him out of my sight. Put him in a cell.’
Shahjahan knelt before Asha, taking her hand as the chancellor worked on her scalp. Asha struggled to remain conscious. ‘Look at me, little one,’ Shahjahan said. ‘Don’t think about what he is doing. Just remember your breathing and look at me.’
‘Asha, I’m going to dab some bloodroot on this; it will be much less painful to work on for a little while. I need to shave some hair off, then stitch.’
Asha felt the chancellor gently dabbing a cloth on the back of her head, followed by a tingling sensation, after which she could feel very little other than the odd tug. She began to shake, tasted bile and resisted the urge to vomit as her vision went black. Resting heavily against Vikram, she heard someone say, ‘Damn it!’ She felt herself shifted slightly and a cloak placed around her shoulders and tucked in around her legs.
‘Asha, come on—open your eyes. That’s it, little one. Look at me. Now, Asha, you must tell me why you are
here. Vikram has told me briefly, but I need you to tell me all. Come child, stay with me and talk. Focus.’
‘First,’ Asha croaked. ‘Know this—I will never be without my weapons again, and if your son comes near me again I will butcher him like the animal he is.’ She waited, realising she may have just overstepped. Angering him could risk her whole mission, though, at this point, part of her didn’t care.
Shahjahan paused, looking closely at this young woman before him, battered and bruised, yet still defiant. He found no anger, just admiration. Finally, with a wry grin he said, ‘If he comes near you again, you have my permission to do as you will with him. Your weapons will be returned to you and no one will take them away from you again. Now you must tell me why you have come.’
By the time Asha finished, her head was bandaged and she was sitting in one of the meeting chairs. Shahjahan had risen and was pacing before her, wearing a deep frown.
‘Seems like a lot of damn fuss. We should just leave them there to die. If any make it to shore on their own, we can kill them and be done with it. The last time strangers visited us, gods know it was generations ago, they brought war; killing them was the best thing.’
‘Umniga says there are families.’
‘Umniga! Damn woman’s been a thorn in my side for years!’
Asha smiled faintly. ‘Many say that, my lord.’ He barked in amusement. ‘It is odd that she found them at all. Lords Karan and Baldev are concerned that they are fleeing something or someone. Perhaps the gods are warning us?’ Her voice dwindled to nothing as the pain returned and fatigue overwhelmed her. This drew the Boar Lord’s attention.
‘Enough, Asha. You have done your duty. Now I must decide.’ To the chancellor, he said, ‘Have the chatelaine ready my daughter’s room for Asha to stay in.’
‘My lord?’ came his shocked reply.
‘You heard me. I’ll not have her stay in the barracks. Vikram, assign two of your most trusted guards to her. If anything further happens to her I will hold you responsible.’
Quietly Asha rasped, ‘I would feel safer in the barracks—more comfortable.’
Shahjahan glanced at her briefly and in that short moment she saw immense sorrow in his eyes. Quickly he guarded his look and said, ‘Enough child, you will do as I bid and rest.’
* * *
Vikram and the chatelaine helped Asha to the bedroom. She was increasingly groggy, shivering—despite still being wrapped in two cloaks—and needing Vikram’s support to walk. He left two guards outside the door and helped her to the bed. Asha didn’t notice much other than the large, soft bed. They sat her on its edge, Vikram’s strong arm still around her. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
‘Poor little love.’ The chatelaine fussed and clucked as she removed Asha’s boots and divested her of both cloaks. Vikram urged her upright as the chatelaine threw back the covers. Gratefully, Asha crawled onto the mattress, sinking into its soft, welcome embrace as she tried to find a position that would cause the least pain. The chatelaine pulled the covers over her, tucking them in snugly around her.
The chatelaine stared at Asha’s swollen, mottled face. ‘That bastard’s been trouble since he was a boy,’ she whispered fiercely. Vikram grunted in assent.
Asha opened her eyes, mumbling, ‘Can you open the shutters please? Fihr …’
Vikram walked briskly over to the large window and threw open the timber shutters. Fihr flew into the room, landed on the bed end, looked down at Asha and made a low rumble. She smiled weakly at him, closing her eyes again.
‘We’ll have to keep waking her up for a while. We need to make sure she stays with us.’
‘No need,’ Asha said. ‘Fihr will look after me.’
‘Nevertheless,’ the chatelaine continued decisively, ‘someone should stay with you tonight in case you need anything. The bird can’t help you up or get you what you need. Vikram, you must have things to organise. I will stay with Asha. You can relieve me later,’ she ordered. ‘Go on, be off with you. Hovering won’t help her.’
Vikram bowed deeply and gracefully. ‘Yes, mistress. I yield.’ He held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘I will return later.’
She laughed. ‘Be off! Asha will be fine.’
‘Chicken,’ Asha muttered as he left.
‘Rest,’ the chatelaine ordered.
‘You’d like Umniga,’ Asha groused.
‘Yes, I do like Umniga. We see eye to eye on many things. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.’
Asha did not comment, she had drifted to sleep. Fihr flew to the windowsill, ruffled his feathers and settled down, ever her guardian.
* * *
Vikram sat by Asha’s bed, mulling over the day’s events. The guards had no choice but to remove her weapons. He had no choice when he left her, yet he kept replaying events in his mind, wondering what he could have done differently. He stoked the fire and watched the flames. Unsure how long he rested there, he was roused from his reverie by a firm touch on his shoulder. Shahjahan stood over him.
‘How fares our patient?’
‘She’s been sleeping soundly.’
He frowned. ‘Have you been waking her regularly?’
Shaking his head, Vikram replied, ‘No need—she said Fihr would keep her with us.’
Shahjahan looked thoughtfully at Fihr. ‘I never realised, until today, just how important the guardians could be. Did you see those gouges on Ratilal’s face? Asha’s nails are short; they shouldn’t be able to do that kind of damage.’ Vikram said nothing, waiting. ‘Things must change … Did you know?’
‘I knew of the antipathy Asha felt toward him. I can only guess what caused it.’
Shahjahan was deep in thought. ‘Get some rest, Vikram. Tomorrow my son faces his punishment. I want all the guard turned out to witness it.’ He paused. ‘You need to think about who your most loyal and trustworthy troops are. You will be coming with me when we meet Baldev and Karan. I need to leave this keep and Faros in good hands with people I can trust and I hope there are enough of those to bring some with us as well.’
‘My lord?’
‘We are going to meet the lords of Horse and Bear. That alone will chafe at my son. Aside from that, he is not going to like the other changes I intend. I’ve ignored the pretensions of him and his cronies for too long. They won’t be happy.’
‘Surely, you don’t think …?’ The clan lord simply stared at him. ‘Yes, my lord.’
Shahjahan nodded, certain Vikram understood. ‘Go, get some rest. Think on who to trust. I’ll stay with her.’
Shahjahan stood by Asha’s bed, staring down at her. Her face was a swollen mess of bruises. Anger welled up inside him again. Remembering her defiant words, he smiled, certain that she would do as she had vowed. She lay on her side, curled in a foetal position, hands fisted under her chin. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he pulled the quilt higher. He could feel Fihr watching him carefully.
Slowly, he moved to the fire and sat, looking at the room in its flickering light. His chatelaine had maintained the room in pristine condition. She had not changed anything since the death of his daughter. Often he came to sit in here at night when everyone else was sleeping. Tonight, he berated himself for failing with Ratilal. He had always been a competitive, ambitious boy—something Shahjahan had considered admirable in a son destined to rule, but he had shown a callous, cruel streak on occasion. Once his hunt master had caught him tormenting a rabbit he had caught. He said he seemed to be delighting in discovering how much he could injure the animal without killing it. The hunt master had promptly boxed his ears, then lectured him on the ethics of a warrior and hunter. Unnecessary cruelty in battle, delighting in killing and causing pain as he had done, would not earn him respect, but disgust and contempt.
When told of Ratilal’s actions, Shahjahan had taken a switch to the boy while reiterating the hunt master’s message. He thought he had cured him of that tendency, for he did not hear of another such inciden
t. He was a cocky adolescent, as many were. He and his friends were always together—always keen at their training, working hard, excelling at martial skills. They were treated no differently because of their rank. He had been proud of the victories Ratilal had achieved in the training bouts. There was many a young warrior sporting injuries that he heard were by the hands of his son in combat training. In hindsight he realised that perhaps he should have been more observant, questioned the instructors more closely. Had Ratilal been able to disguise his sadism via this means? What else had he, as a father, missed?
Vikram had indicated there was history between Asha and Ratilal; a longstanding hatred on her part. Scowling, he rubbed his face tiredly, leaned back in the chair, stretched his feet out before him and fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of his daughter.
Shahjahan awoke chilled. The fire had almost gone out. ‘Blast,’ he muttered as he put more logs onto it and coaxed it back to life. There was a rustle from the bed, followed by a quiet moan. He rose to check on Asha and adjusted the quilt around her again.
Sitting beside the bed, with the dream of his daughter fresh in his mind, he watched her sleep with a feeling of profound sadness. He had failed both of his children and his clan. Samia had been older than Asha. She had wanted to be a Kenati; it was all she had wanted. Desperately, she prayed to the gods to send her a guardian, so the Kenati would accept her. All youngsters learned the Lore and healing techniques with the supervision of the Kenati and Samia excelled at this. She had never been an overly confident or outgoing girl, but she threw all her energies into learning and praying. Her martial skills had not come easily; she worked hard just to become proficient—the bow being her weapon of choice.
Ratilal, for whom such skills came very easily, constantly teased her. At the time, he thought it was merely sibling squabbling. Samia redoubled her efforts, earning praise from him, her instructors and Umniga. She would visit the sick and help Umniga with her healing. Shahjahan watched her quietly bloom; he was immensely proud of her dedication.
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