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Authors: Tessa Afshar

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Religion

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BOOK: Harvest of Rubies
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Before my eyes had adjusted, Darius towered over me. A corner of my mind registered his immaculate appearance—knee-length coat of rich handwoven wool with tight long sleeves, held closed by a belt of golden roundels, skin-hugging buff colored trousers, not a hair out of place. I still wore my ridiculous wedding outfit.

 

“What happened to your face? Did the queen beat you?” he asked, his voice puzzled.

 

“No, my lord.”

 

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

 

I wasn’t about to tell him that this is how I looked
after
a beauty treatment. So I said instead, “She sent a servant with me.”

 

He crossed his arms. “And I’m supposed to pay for her, is that it?”

 

“I paid for her out of my own wages. Her first year’s salary has also been recompensed.”

 

“I see.” The corners of his eyes creased as though he were holding back a smile. “Damaspia didn’t beat you; she merely bankrupted you.”

 

I shrugged. “She spared me the worst when I explained the circumstances.”

 

“There’s Queen Damaspia for you. She believes any drivel if it pulls her heartstrings.”

 

“Are we speaking about the same queen? The one who reduces grown men to tears with one glance? That queen?”

 

Instead of answering, Darius’s brows knit into a frown. He pointed a finger in my direction and cried, “I recognize you now! Last night it kept niggling in the back of my mind, this
sense that I had seen you before. You seemed so familiar, and yet under so much paint I couldn’t see what you really looked like. But now it comes to me. You are the girl from the hill—the girl with the lion.”

 

“I’m the one whose life you saved, yes.”

 

“Ha! And you claim that you did not manipulate your way into this marriage? You saw me that day, and hatched this plan! Do you know, I thought you sweet and honest and brave when I first saw you. How wrong can a man be? You showed your true nature even then with your insincere flattery. I’ve dealt with your kind all my life. Brazen creatures who use their cunning to make their way in the world.”

 

He struck his forehead with the end of his fisted hand. “By all that is holy,
this
is to be my wife? It’s beyond bearing.” He seemed past words for a few moments. Swallowing hard, he addressed me again, his voice rough. “There are thousands like you in the palaces of every great king, men and women who scheme their way into higher stations. You seem to be better at it than most, I concede, for it is no small matter to claw your way into the king’s family. Congratulations, woman. Your skills are impressive even to me; I have faced vipers less venomous and calculating than you.”

 

“What? No! I did not scheme to marry you. I didn’t even know your name. The first time I knew that Darius Passargadae was the same as the man who saved my life was on our wedding day.”

 

“I cannot stomach your lies.”

 

I threw my hands up in the air with vexation. “I am not lying! I never wanted to marry you or anybody else. I liked my life as it was. I liked being the queen’s chief scribe. You are mistaken in your assumptions about me, my lord.”

 

“What I don’t understand,” he went on as though I had
spoken in a language he could not comprehend, “is why you embarrassed me and my father with such perversity last night. What was the point of it? You had already slithered your way into the position of a lady. Why diminish your prize in front of the court? Why did you shame me so?”

 

He had pelted me with so many false accusations that an avalanche of resentment buried the feelings of regret I had felt about my behavior at the wedding. “It was unintentional,” I said, pronouncing the words with slow deliberation through clenched teeth. “I had never worn cosmetics before last night. I did not know how to apply them correctly.”

 

“Come now. You expect me to believe that Damaspia did not offer you guidance or help? She did not send you her own servants to minister to your needs?”

 

Shame smote me at this reminder of my most foolish moment; I lowered my gaze to my feet, too much of a coward to answer him.

 

“I knew it. She did send you help. How did you manage to evade their assistance? They would not have left you without fulfilling the queen’s command.”

 

I looked up for a moment feeling sick.

 

“You lied?” he guessed.

 

The skin of my chest began to burn. “Yes, my lord.”

 

“You told a bold-faced lie? Of course you did. This, at least, is a fragment of truth. You sent the servants away because no one working for Damaspia would have allowed you to come into your wedding banquet looking like a demon from the outer darkness.”

 

“At first, I sent them away because I did not wish to face my upcoming marriage. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, I suppose, and thought I could get out of this union, somehow. That last day when I knew there was no hope, I
found out that Pari’s father was dying and sent her home to say good-bye to him. I would have asked for help from another if I had known what would happen.”

 

“That is a most convenient story.”

 

“I assure you, my lord, I have never known such inconvenience.”

 

Darius turned and walked away from me. I had a momentary insight into why he was so set against believing me. He had spent his life with the knowledge that he was a prize. Most women would swoon at the opportunity of becoming the wife of a rich, devastatingly handsome courtier with connections to the king. The idea that I had no interest in marriage to him was so foreign to his world that it sounded like a lie. I considered explaining the circumstances that led to our betrothal, hoping that if he knew why Damaspia had chosen to reward me with a royal marriage, he would grow convinced of my story. But I had given my pledge never to betray the queen’s confidences. I could not bring myself to share her secret with this man whom I hardly knew.

 

His steps, rapid and aimless, took him around the room several times before he returned to me. “I cannot abide liars. I do not think I can abide you. Your very presence is like a poisoned dagger pressing against my flesh.”

 

“I am very sorry,” I said, wrapping my arms around my middle.

 

He held up a hand motioning me to silence. “This is what we shall do. You will remain here for now. I will spend the summer in Ecbatana with the rest of the court. When I return, I shall decide your fate. But madam, if I were you, I would grow accustomed to loneliness, for though you have married into nobility, there is nothing noble in your character. And I will see to it that you live accordingly.”

 

Before I could attempt to defend myself again, my husband turned his back and left me in the vast emptiness of his opulent reception hall. I could already feel the walls closing in on me. If he had buried me alive in an Egyptian tomb, I would not have felt more abandoned.

 

 

“My lady, you can’t stay in bed all day again. It is past noon. You must rise.”

 

Through a haze of sleep I heard Pari’s admonitions and waved her away. “Leave me alone.”

 

“This will not do, my lady. You shall make yourself sick.”

 

I growled at her. “You are the servant; I am the mistress. You are supposed to do what I tell you.”

 

“And I will. As soon as you rise.”

 

Giving up on the precious dregs of unconsciousness, I sat up and tried to focus bleary eyes. “What for? There is nothing to do.”

 

“For one thing, you could use a bath. After that, we shall think of something.”

 

I ran a hand through my uncombed hair. How long had it been since I had been out of bed? How long since my life had served any purpose? Weeks had slipped by since Darius had deserted me, leaving me to rot in his empty palace. Days and nights blended together until I lost count of the calendar.

 

By the end of the first week, my hands had begun to shake. I could not control them. When the second week of my marriage concluded, I stopped speaking; when I tried to talk, my words sounded jumbled and stupid. I only ate and slept. Sometimes, it seemed that I ate mountains of food, long past hunger had been satisfied. I ate out of boredom. Out of anger. Out of
fear. And I slept to forget. To forget that my life was a ruin and I had no escape.

 

“You are an annoying girl,” I said, angry with Pari for interrupting my one refuge.

 

“I beg your pardon, my lady.”

 

It occurred to me that this sudden show of stubborn disobedience had cost my sweet-natured servant a lot of courage. In many ways, I held her life in my hands. If I should discharge her, she would have no recourse. Without a reference from me, her chances of finding gainful employment would be nonexistent. Her brave objections began to melt the edges of my resistance. For her sake, I pushed myself out of bed.

 

“Fetch me a bath then,” I said more gently.

 

When I was finished bathing and dressing, I asked for my lunch. I was sitting on a sturdy footstool combing my wet hair, when Pari brought me half a bowl of thin broth and a plate of peeled pomegranates.

 

“What is this?”

 

“Your noonday meal, my lady.”

 

“Is the cook sick or something?”

 

She turned her face away. “No.”

 

“Then where’s the rest of my food?”

 

Pari tangled her fingers in front of her and twirled them this way and that. “It’s not good for you.”

 

“What do you mean it’s not good for me?” My head was beginning to throb and I started to long for the comfort of my bed.

 

“My lady, your clothes barely fit you anymore. What shall you do, parade around here naked? We do not have access to my lord’s storehouses. That pigeon-headed steward, Teispes, will not let me anywhere near them.”

 

Something in the tone of her complaint caught my attention
so that I let go of my focus on the parsimonious lunch as well as on the fact that my servant had just implied I had grown fat beyond recognition. “Has the steward been mistreating you?”

 

She shrugged. “He is a rude and impertinent man.”

 

“He’s probably following his master’s orders.”

 

“Oh no, my lady. I do not believe it. The lord Darius is well known for his good manners and kindness.”

 

I made a disgusted sound. Pari’s staunch defense of my husband’s character grated on me. What did she know about him beside palace gossip? She ought to spend a few hours alone with him before singing his praises.

 

“He may be angry with you, but he would never allow a servant of his to disrespect his wife,” Pari said with dignified insistence.

 

I grew still. Darius was a true Persian nobleman, this much I conceded. Even at the height of his anger would such a man tell his servants to treat his wife with impertinence? “You are a wise one,” I said with only marginal sarcasm and took the bowl of broth from her.

 

It dawned on me that by hiding in my rooms and giving in to despair I had allowed the servants of the household to lose what little respect they might have for me. And I had treated Pari even worse, for she had borne the brunt of dealing with them. My cavernous plunge into self-pity had caused an innocent young woman daily pangs of humiliation and hardship. With sudden though inconvenient clarity I realized that I could not continue to hide from my fate, for I was now responsible for someone else’s well-being in addition to my own.

 

I drained the dregs of my broth in a hurried gulp and said, “Let us go and face this monster, Teispes.”

 

“Yes, my lady. Right away, my lady.”

 

Pari jumped up and with an unmistakable spring in her
movements pulled the heavy carved door of my chamber open. For the first time in many days I stepped beyond its threshold. And promptly, stumbled over a hairy bump, nearly landing on my head. Steadying myself against a wall, I turned to find what had caused my near collision and found myself staring into the liquid brown eyes of a powerful fawn-colored mastiff.

 

“What is that?” I cried.

 

“This is Caspian, my lord’s hunting dog.”

 

“Charming. And what is he doing, camped outside my chamber? No, don’t tell me. You’ve been feeding him my food, haven’t you?”

 

“I get so lonely, my lady.”

 

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Why did his master not take the beast with him? What’s wrong with it?”

 
BOOK: Harvest of Rubies
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