Seas of Crimson Silk (Burning Empire Book 1)

by Emma Hamm

  Raheem knelt, one knee on the floor and the other raised. Pressing his fists together, he said, “It’s an honor, Sultan.”

  Nadir grinned. “I thought we did away with tradition when it was just the two of us?”

  “Some conversations call for traditions.”

  “Oh, gods.” Nadir pushed the stacks of maps away from him. “What do you want now?”

  “It’s your wife, Nadir.”

  “I know. She’s been meddling again.”

  Saafiya had a way of taking the entire happiness of the kingdom and turning it sour, starting with the women closest to her. The concubines were now in an uproar. They didn’t want something so dangerous as a Beastkin in their private quarters, let alone the dark-skinned woman who was only there sometimes and moved in the shadows like a wraith.

  Raheem’s lips twitched. “Not that wife, Sultan.”

  “Nadir,” he corrected. He tapped his chin with the sextant in his hand. “The second wife?”

  “Yes, Sultan.”

  “What is she doing?”

  “Nothing, Sultan.”

  “Then that is a good thing,” Nadir replied. He reached for a map and pulled it closer. “Come back when she is doing something. That will be a more entertaining conversation.”

  “Nadir.” Raheem’s voice deepened, sounding almost disappointed. “You have a new wife. We've been back in the capital for two weeks, and you've not said a single word to her.”

  “Does she seem unhappy with that?”

  “Well, no—”

  “Has it ever occurred to you she might want to be left alone?” Nadir’s voice shook with anger, and he didn’t know why.

  He was doing the right thing by respecting her solitude. She didn’t want to be here anymore than he wanted to take a second wife. He certainly had no need of one, Saafiya kept him busy enough. Let the Beastkin woman make his palace her home, and soon he would make her another palace. One where he could hide her away and forget that they had forced him to marry a compelling woman who drifted through his waking dreams.

  “Then I failed you in this, and I apologize for that, Sultan.” Raheem stood, his wide chest puffed out in anger that Nadir couldn’t explain. “I know you weren’t raised like a normal boy, but I thought I’d had enough influence to teach you better. The girl doesn’t have a single friend within these halls. The concubines are afraid of her. The people are terrified of what she can do. All she has is that silent owl that follows her like a shadow.”

  “And what am I supposed to do about that?” Nadir tossed the sextant onto the table with a disgusted sound. “She chooses solitude, and she should. I took her from her home without permission, we violated this woman and I refuse to make that worse. I’ve heard it all from Saafiya. Sigrid sits in her room, praying or meditating. She won’t talk to the others, which isn’t particularly helpful when forming friendships. And she didn’t eat for the first week she was here.”

  “Are you believing the lies Saafiya tells?”

  “She lies,” Nadir agreed, “but there’s always truth in them. That’s why people believe her so easily.”

  Raheem spat on the floor. It was the ultimate insult to give when another person spoke of a viper. Nadir had seen the movement done often regarding his first wife. “You think she fasted because she was…what? Protesting being here?”

  “I assume so.”

  “She touched a child that fell in front of her in the streets. Instead of having me remove the girl’s hands, as is her tradition, she took the punishment herself. You didn’t introduce her to your people, so they greeted her with stones and rotten food. They ruined the mask she wore beyond repair and likely gave her a bloody nose. I taught you better than that.”

  Nadir felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach. Yet again, he’d been wrong about this little captive who was now his wife. He leaned back and pinched his nose. “Find them.”

  “Who?”

  “The ones who threw the stones. Find them and kill them.”

  “You can’t fix everything by killing the people you disagree with.” Raheem stepped forward and placed his hands on the desk. “She doesn’t want anyone to kill them.”

  “I want someone to kill them. That’s an order, Raheem.”

  “She won’t forgive you for it. You weren’t there with her. She didn’t flinch or react when they threw stones. She even told me that the mask wasn’t important when it was damaged by a stone, but their fear of her was. She took a risk so your people would understand she isn't some monster who will murder their children in their sleep.”

  “Why would she even care?”

  “That’s a question I hoped you could answer.” Raheem pushed himself away from the desk, taking a few steps back. “And one I assumed you would want answered.”

  “I can’t very well ask her.”

  “Why not?” Raheem spread his arms wide. “She’s your wife now, bound to answer all your questions. You could learn about her kind, bring their ways into Bymere, and make this a better kingdom for it.”

  Nadir arched a brow. “Do you really think the advisors would even entertain that thought?”

  “You are sultan! This kingdom is yours, not theirs. I’ve made that clear many times, boy, and I’ve been waiting to see you take it back.”

  Nadir's stomach lurched at the thought. He wasn’t Hakim. His brother could have done so much good in this kingdom and had planned to.

  A completely united kingdom had always been Hakim’s dream. He wanted to work with Wildewyn, to make their countries stronger by joining them in a way that had never done before. It was the first of many plans his advisors claimed “foolish.” Wildewyn would always want to be the dominant country. Their ways were too different, their people too strange. Bymere could not unite with a place that differed from them so.

  He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “We’ve had this conversation many times before, Raheem. It’s impossible to do. Every sultan needs advisors to teach him the ways of the kingdom.”

  “For a time. But then a sultan must stand on his own two feet.”

  “How does this relate to my silent wife?” he spat.

  “She can help you, Sultan. Give her a chance. The girl wants nothing more than to prove her worth. To prove herself to you although I don’t know why.”

  “Perhaps, I have swayed her with my good looks,” Nadir said with a scoff. Of any woman he’d ever met, she was the last to covet physical appearance. She hid hers and valued others even less than her own.

  His knee bounced. Since when did his knee ever bounce? He was always in control of his emotions, or he liked to think so. Nadir slapped a hand down on the offending leg and growled.

  “Fine. There is a hearing of complaints at high noon today. Invite her. No—” he corrected himself “—don’t give her an option. Order her to be there, and we’ll see how well she responds to the people.”

  “Are you testing her?” Raheem chuckled. “She seems to do well with those.”

  “We’ll see.”

  His guard left without complaint, and Nadir wondered what about the Beastkin woman had everyone so obsessed.

  She wasn’t a beauty. Her clothing was strange, and though the mask was certainly compelling, it didn’t mean she was any more intriguing than Bymerian women. In fact, he would argue that she wasn’t beautiful at all by their standards.

  She didn’t speak, so it wasn’t her words or thoughts. What was it? She held herself with a certain mystery that made people fall over their feet trying to understand her. He knew first hand she was little more than a locked box he would never figure out how to open.

  But damn, if he still didn’t want to try.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face again. Raheem’s interruption had come at a good time. He would have been late to hearing his people’s complaints, and that likely wouldn’t have ended well. The advisors would scold him again for the hundredth time this day. They constantly chided him for not living up to their standards. H
e’d long ago stopped trying.

  Nadir took the hour to scrub his mind clean of women and his body free of sweat. The heat was ungodly this year. Perhaps, it would teach his second wife that Bymere was a dangerous land not to be trifled with.

  Or make her hate it even more. Either way likely worked in his favor. She wouldn’t try to run although she'd shown no intent to do so.

  Donning the royal crimson robes, he pulled his hair back with a leather thong. Ten rings decorated his fingers, weighing his hands down every time he moved. A heavy necklace dripping with rubies hung from his throat.

  He glimpsed himself in the mirror and grimaced. They made him look little more than a pretty bauble.

  “A distinct show of wealth makes people remember who you are,” his advisors always said.

  He thought it made him look foolish.

  Still, Nadir made his way to the chamber where his citizens could air their grievances, and he would pretend to address their complaints. The ruby room contained towering, cathedral ceilings and horseshoe arches. Silk hung from the ceiling, the long tails dipping in four pools set in the marble floor like blood seeping into the azure waters below.

  A crowd of people already waited for him. They stared up at the throne with a mixture of apprehension and hope. Too bad they’d likely be disappointed with him. He tended to inspire that emotion far more than any other.

  Nadir made sure he didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he strode up the stairs. He nodded to his advisors and sat on his golden throne. It was smaller than the one in the entrance, but the other intimidated visitors. This one, so his advisors said, made him easier to address.

  He thought anyone seated on a throne was unapproachable.

  Gods, they were all staring at him. This was his least favorite part. It felt like every single person in his kingdom was looking at him with hope in their eyes, and he didn’t know how to help them. He wasn’t his brother. He wasn’t trained to be king, and so he relied on others to tell him what was the right choice, what to do, how to be.

  “Sultan.” The quiet voice was the burbling of a forest stream, washing away the gritty sand that abraded his mind. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  He glanced over at Sigrid seated by his right hand. He hadn’t even noticed her. “I thought it time for you to meet our people.”

  “I already have.” Her eyes sparkled. “But I would like to meet them again.”

  Gods, she was a dangerous woman. That mask revealed nothing of her thoughts, not like the Bymerians. If she were Saafiya, he would be able to read her every thought in her face.

  She was a still pool of water, and all he saw was his own reflection.

  “Sultan?” she inquired again. “Shall we begin? Your people have been waiting for you.”

  He let loose a small breath and turned away from her. Abdul stood, made his way down the stairs, and gestured for the first person to approach the throne.

  After that, it was all very much the same.

  The people always had the same complaints. It was a neighbor who was stealing from them, a cheating wife, a man trying to break an engagement for a younger, prettier version of the peasant woman who he’d already been caught kissing.

  Nadir found it all petty. There were more important things in the world to worry about than whether a cow had gone missing. His eyes usually glazed over as his mind wandered, but this time he realized that his second wife was very much engaged in what his people were saying.

  She leaned forward during the stories, listening to them in rapt attention. She inclined her head when someone said something truthful, tapped her fingers when a person was lying, and shifted her weight closer to him when she wanted him to give the peasant what they had asked for.

  It was all very fascinating. Nadir watched her reactions to gauge how he should respond, instead of listening to his people. He was treated to the sight of her eyes crinkling at the edges and her mask lifting ever so slightly. In a smile? What did it look like when she smiled without the mask?

  “Sultan.” Abdul’s voice rang through the hall. “Perhaps you would like to listen to the complaint again. The advisors do not agree with your decision.”

  He knew for a fact the advisors had not convened with each other. They rarely did, but spoke as if they were one mind. He turned and saw them all staring at him with varying degrees of disapproving expressions.

  What had the peasant asked for?

  Clearing his mind of the strange woman beside him, he turned to the peasant. “Repeat your story.”

  The man was little more than a beggar. His clothing was moth-eaten at the edges, his skin darkened by the sun so much that it cracked. He wrung a hat in his hands until it was crushed beyond repair.

  The man cleared his throat. “I was saying, Your Majesty, that the poor in your city would greatly appreciate your help. Some of us look for work, but there’s not much to be had. We sleep on the streets, and the sands are hot. We don’t ask for work to be given to us, but perhaps a safe place for us to rest our heads.”

  Abdul shook his head. “It’s not something the sultan can entertain. That coin could go elsewhere.”

  Nadir might have left it at that, but his second wife placed her hand atop his. Stunned, he met her gaze beneath the cold mask. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t help your people. Showing kindness to the weakest of your people is the mark of a good king.”

  “You are in a sultanate now, girl,” Abdul called out, and the advisors laughed. Some people in the crowd did as well. Those who were clothed in silks.

  Sigrid ignored them all, capturing his gaze. “It’s a small price to help so many people. Give them a place to sleep and bathe. Being clean will make them more likely to find work. Send food to them every few weeks if you have the heart, and perhaps they will return the favor once they have money to feed their families.”

  He was stunned. No one had ever suggested such a thing, but it made sense. Why wasn’t he focusing more on these people? It was a small request, and there was plenty of money in the royal coffers.

  “Find a house on the outskirts of town,” he said. “Whichever one best suits your needs. Return when you’ve found it, and I’ll dedicate it as a house for those who need it. As my wife has said, we can offer food bi-weekly, although I cannot promise what kind.”

  “Whatever is left over from the palace?” she suggested.

  “A remarkable idea, Sultana.” And because he knew it would anger his advisors, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. Her eyes widened.

  Abdul waved the man away and stalked up the steps. “Sultan—”

  “We’ll speak of this later, Abdul,” Nadir interrupted. “For now, there are more people who have questions.”

  When was the last time he’d felt so worthy of the throne? Nadir couldn’t remember, but it had been longer than he could remember.

  The happiness on that single man’s face was enough to make Nadir sit straighter. Every bit of him suddenly felt like a sultan. He’d done something that would improve Bymere. A house like that wasn’t that much of an expense. Likely, they wouldn’t feel it in the slightest. And there wouldn’t be that many people in his land that needed such a home. His advisors would have seen that issue and fixed it long ago if there were many in need of a home.

  Sigrid moved to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly beneath his own. Her touch strengthened him, her ideas made him wiser, and damned if he was letting her go just yet. What other ideas did she have in her head?

  He was bursting with thoughts of his own. A lifetime of dreams beaten down by advisors who had their own plans for the kingdom. What would she think of his plans to siphon water through the ground into their kingdom? Of his desire to teach more people to farm and work the land like those in Glasslyn? How he wanted to make apprenticeships more accessible and create more artisans in the country?

  “Perhaps, we should listen to this man,” Abdul said, gesturing to the newest citizen kneeling on the floor. “His
complaints were of trouble at the border.”

  “Which border?”

  “Wildewyn, Sultan,” the man replied. “Many people are uncomfortable with the new sultana hailing from our most hated enemy.”

  “We are bridging the gap between the two countries.” Nadir scoffed, but Sigrid’s hand spasmed beneath his own. “There is much to learn from our enemies. We now keep them close.”

  “A Beastkin woman has no right to sit upon a sacred throne. We request a formal petition that she abdicate.”

  “No.” Nadir shrugged. The request was ridiculous, and his people had no right to question his judgement so publicly. The man was lucky he didn’t behead him for such insolence. “She remains where I have placed her. Your complaints are noted, however. I can promise I will not marry another from Wildewyn.”

  A few chuckles resounded, but he knew trouble brewed the moment the man lifted his head. There was darkness in his eyes and a plan that Nadir hadn’t thought possible.

  “Then it is you who must abdicate the throne.”

  Time seemed to slow. The man pulled a wicked dagger from within his robes and lunged up the stairs. Nadir was so shocked that someone would dare pull a blade on him that he didn’t react. Let the man plunge it through his breast. Perhaps Bymere would be better without him.

  His guards had failed him. They hadn’t seen the man enter with a weapon. They jolted, but were far too late.

  It was Sigrid who met the man just before the dagger touched Nadir’s skin. She gripped his wrist in a brutal hold, twisting his hand back sharply. The man gave a shout of pain just before the chamber rang with the crunch of bone.

  The attacker howled in pain, only to be cut short as Sigrid twisted the man’s arm and drew the blade still in his grasp across his throat. Screams turned to gurgles as blood slowly poured down the man’s chest.

  She let him fall to the ground where the pool of blood began to drip down each golden step.

  A warrior goddess stood before him, looking out at the crowd of people who stared back in silent shock. She wasn’t even breathing hard after killing a man so quickly no one had had time to blink. She did not speak, nor make a single sound. Instead, this Beastkin woman allowed the crowd to look at her and understand that their fear was warranted.