Sandstorm (56 page)

Witcher opened his eyes again. "Nanda's right - ignore those clowns. They've only just begun. Come sit with us, before they find a way to make you part of the game."

Aik and Bey laughed, but did not stop racing to see who could finish their bottle first.

Obediently, Kiah rose and moved to where Shah and Witcher reclined, hesitating until Shah reached up and pulled him down until he had one man on either side of him. "A witch and a colt," he said. "A musician and-"

"Two drunken louts," Nanda interrupted, rolling his eyes as Aik and Bey erupted into laughter over something one of them had said.

Shah laughed. "I think you're hurt they picked Witcher over you for the first challenge."

Nanda tossed his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about." His fingers tripped across the strings, pulling out a sharp tune that was part of a song recounting a bitter fight between former lovers. "It simply aggravates me they think these nights are meant for getting drunk."

"When else can we do it?" Aik asked, grimacing as he set his empty bottle down one drink behind Bey. "Should we shift our challenge back to the more traditional?"

Bey grinned and together they crawled across the floor and attacked Nanda, setting his instrument carefully aside before setting to work on turning his threats and curses into moans and pleas.

Kiah felt his face heat, torn between wanting to watch as Aik and Bey had their way with Nanda, and feeling like he was seeing something he shouldn't. Fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, making him jump, and Kiah looked up in time to meet Shah's mouth, spicy warm, only adding to the spinning in his head put there by the alcohol. "Dizzy," he muttered when Shah pulled away, and clung to his King.

"Hmm, I think we shall have to limit how often those two are allowed to let you drink with them." Shah chuckled.

"Poor colt," Witcher said with a smile, leaning across Shah to take Kiah's mouth for himself, fingers playing in his long hair. "Those two play too rough for you."

Bey laughed as he dropped down along Witcher, half-pinning him to the pile of cushions and pillows, soaked in the smell of sex. "Too rough, pale witch?" He nipped at Witcher's throat, one hand tugging at the gold hoops on his chest. "I'm pretty sure last night you asked for more."

Sky blue eyes gleamed with challenge. "I said too rough for him. You've yet to play too rough with me, pirate."

Eyes flashing, Bey leaned down to meet the challenge - only to be roughly yanked away and thrown to the floor. Aik stole his place over Witcher. "I believe, pirate, that the game went

'loser has to steal Witcher' not winner gets to."

"I suspect you're cheating," Bey said, sitting up. "But I can't quite tell how. Fine, monk, just remember who won."

Kiah squashed the urge to yelp as Bey surged toward him, and scrambled away from the pile as he wound up going for Shah, who only laughed and matched Bey touch for touch.

"They're all rather rough and rowdy aren't they?" Nanda said, laughing in his quiet way. He motioned for Kiah to join him, and brushed the hair from his face once Kiah sat down. "Some wine?" he said. "Luckily those fools didn't spill it." But even Kiah didn't miss the pleased flush to Nanda's cheeks.

He accepted the wine quietly and sipped at it, still feeling awkward even after two months to know quite what to say to the man he'd long thought of as 'pretty-hair' - especially when he was trying not to stare at the other four.

Nanda chuckled softly and took Kiah's chin, leaning in to nibble and lap and nip teasingly at Kiah's lips until he started laughing, surprised and amused. "That's much better," Nanda said with one of his whisper smiles, then gently took the wine away and tugged Kiah close to kiss him properly, tasting like bitter wine and sweet berries. "Pretty Kiah," Nanda murmured, pressing him to the floor. "And so very willing."

"Not half as pretty as you," Kiah said shyly.

"Of that I wouldn't be too sure," Nanda said, fingers playing across his skin, loosing the ties that kept his skirt and pants in place. "What say we show the barbarians how dignified men play, hmmm?"

Kiah could only nod, and let Nanda guide him, all too aware of the other four men nearby.

"You have good taste, Shah." Bey grinned, freeing his King to Witcher and snatching Aik close.

"Yes, I do." Shah said with a smile.

The Jewel of Tavamara

"You're a fool," Fahima whispered, wishing suddenly she'd skipped dinner as she'd wanted and not given in to her mother's heckling. "Oh, Nawra...how could you? Do you know what this could mean?"

Nawra sobbed into her hands, shaking hard.

Fahima struggled not to slap her. "Stupid little fool," she said, but not wholly unkindly. It was hard to be angry with someone who was already so wretched and miserable. "Why?" she asked.

"Stupid," Nawra said. "I never should have-" she looked up, pale yellow eyes bleary and puffed, red from tears and rubbing. "Oh, Fahima, what am I going to do?"

"I don't know," Fahima said quietly, biting her lip. "It is up to mother and father."

Nawra laughed, the sound bitter and a trifle hysterical. "Oh, Fahi, you know what they will do."

"Yes," Fahima agreed quietly.

They would lie. Never mind that, should the deception ever be discovered, they would all face execution - what of the humiliation and shame to the royal throne! The line unbroken since Tavamara had come into being...

Threatened now because her sister was a gullible fool and her parents greedy, deceitful liars.

Oh, she was so tired of it all she could cry, except her sister was crying enough for twenty women - and it would accomplish nothing anyway.

No, the only thing which might solve this dilemma was the truth.

Clever of her parents to keep the truth from her. Stupid of them to think her big sister would keep her mouth shut indefinitely. Oh, no. Nawra kept her mouth shut about as well as she apparently kept her legs shut.

"I don't know what to do, Fahi,'" Nawra whispered.

Fahima was tired. So tired. She had not felt well since they had left home, when no one had seemed quite as jubilant as they should - now that she knew why, she felt only more nauseous than ever.

If she thought it would do anything, she would wring all their necks tonight. Stupidity!

Rubbing her head, wishing she had some tea to help soothe away the growing ache, Fahima finally moved to comfort her sister. "Come, Nawra, if you want to help fix this problem then the first thing you will do is stop crying! I cannot think while you are wailing that way. You made a mistake, now live with it."

Nawra looked at her, brief anger flickering in her eyes over the sharp tone - but then she calmed, and nodded. "Yes, Fahi."

Really, who was the older of them? Fahi wondered sometimes if the gods had mixed up which one of them was meant to be born first. Perhaps questioning the gods was what always got her in these dratted fixes.

Honestly, if it was not for the fact that from several candidates her sister had been the one chosen to wed the King - she would cheerfully go along with the execution they all deserved for this near-deception.

But her sister had been chosen to wed the King, and she would not allow her family to shame and humiliate the throne and Tavamara. No.

"Go to your room," she said, a tad more sharply than perhaps she should, but too bad.

Nawra would owe her a very long time for this, if Fahima managed to solve the mess. "I must think. Go to sleep, and from here on you will do exactly what I say without question -

understand? If I am going to fix this mess you've created, I will require your obedience."

Nawra nodded meekly, and if she was upset to be spoken to in such a manner by her sister three years young, she gave no indication. "Yes, Fahima. I am sor-"

"No, you're not, or you would not have done it in the first place," Fahima said coolly, tamping down on her guilt at the stricken look on her sister's face. In this, she would not be kind. Too much was at stake.

She sat in silence as her sister departed, and sighed softly once she was alone.

The rustle of fabric stirred her from her thoughts, and she saw that she was not nearly so alone as she had thought. "I thought you asleep, Gulzar."

Gulzar yawned and finished pulling on a thin shirt. Fahima stifled a sigh and tried not to think of how much better it would be to go back to bed and let Gulzar distract her from her worries.

Too much to do, and no one else to do it.

Still, she did not resist when Gulzar embrace her, warm and soft, lips pliant against her own.

Oh, she did love her lady's maid who was so much more.

"Your sister is nothing but trouble," Gulzar said when the kiss finally ended. She pulled away, leaving Fahima feeling chilled, but only a moment later the beginnings of a fire lit in the fireplace and she could spell the packet of tea as Gulzar opened it. "What are you going to do?"

Fahima worried her bottom lip. "I do not know, beyond attempt to speak to his Majesty."

"Tricky," Gulzar said, seemingly relaxed but Fahima knew she was far from it. "He is never alone, I think. Always the guards, at the very least one or both of his concubines."

"The concubines do not worry me," Fahima replied. Indeed they did not. The law stated no person could be made to join a harem - they must be asked, and had the right to refuse. If a man of obviously high noble breeding and a man rumored to have been a pirate consented to belong to the King, then they were the least of her concerns right now. She had no doubt they would keep their mouths shut, if she spoke of this matter in front of them.

Or perhaps she was not willing to admit she had very little choice but to trust they would keep their mouths shut.

Well, dwelling on it did no good. Best to move on.

She continued to worry her bottom lip as she thought, sifting through what little she knew of the King and how his day went - precious little. The only times she had so far seen him in their three days here had been at dinner and occasionally from afar as she wandered through the castle.

Honestly, her sister was the epitome of stupid! She had not bothered to ask Nawra for with whom she had fallen so foolishly and stupidly in love, but she had her guesses and if the man did not marry her then Fahima would teach him all new levels of pain.

She could not comprehend it - here Nawra had been the best candidate for Queen, and the matter finally settled...they were in the royal palace at the expense of the crown...Nawra could have been Queen, the wife of King Shahjahan and the only woman who would ever be so close to him...

Gone now, to marry a man who had been too cowardly to ask permission to court her properly.

Fahima frowned, giving serious consideration to finding her sister and slapping the fool silly.

Why had she thrown away so wonderful a chance?

She was stirred from her thoughts as a soft blanket was settled over her shoulders, and she smiled faintly as Gulzar then brought her a cup of tea. She kissed her maid softly, then sipped at the tea. Dark and sweet, a blend of cured leaf with bits of fruit and pungent spice.

"Thank you, Gulzar. You are always sweet to me."

Gulzar's mouth quirked in a smile that was part amusement, part annoyance, part fondness.

"I try to make up for the difficulties of your family, my lady. You do not have enough people who want to see you happy."

Fahima took a sip of her tea. "You make me happy, that is enough. My family...I think I would be bored, if I was not constantly tending their problems. Anyway, after this mess is sorted out...if the gods permit us to survive it, I will return home and hide away in the temple for a time. That will give me peace and quiet, hmm? You and I, we will burn incense and weed the temple garden...and altogether be very base and peasant like."

The drew a chuckle from Gulzar, and another kiss, and Fahima felt a bit more at ease as she took another sip of tea.

"Let me ask around," Gulzar said. "Discreetly of course. We will discover the best way to speak with him, as quickly as possible."

Fahima nodded, sighing softly as Gulzar cuddled up next to her.

"Do you know what you will say?" Gulzar asked.

"Not really," Fahima replied. "What does one say in a situation like this? 'I am sorry, Majesty, but my parents and sister are attempting to deceive you.' Oh, Gulzar, I fear this tale will have no happy end. I do what I must, but it will not be what anyone wants."

She thought longingly of the temple back home, and the promise from her parents that once her sister was safely wed she could go off to be a studious spinster if she must. It would have stung, once, to be so carelessly dismissed, but she had long ago worked past that.

"Well, there is nothing you can do tonight, my lady," Gulzar said, taking away her empty teacup and setting it aside, then tugged Fahima to her feet. "Come, to bed with you, and the morning will be soon enough to begin fixing things."

Fahima let herself be led back to bed, slipping fingers beneath Gulzar's shirt, caressing soft skin, the curve of her breast.

Gulzar's laughs were warm on her skin as they lay down in bed, lips warmer still as they shared a kiss, and Fahima was able to close her eyes and simply sleep.

*~*~*

Two days later she was no closer to a solution. It was wearing on her nerves, and only these trips the city temple kept her from giving in to an urge to scream.

Fahima pressed her hands together, then slowly pulled them apart to rest palm up on her lap, breathing in the scents of the temple - incense, wildflowers, a hint of the soaps and oils used to keep everything clean, smoke from the fire burning upon the altar, stone and sunshine and dust.

So many scents, so many things upon which to focus, to draw that focus from her frustrations. She took a deep breath and let it slowly, repeating the process until the tight line of tension in her shoulders began to ease.

Bells chimed softly and she clasped her hands in her lap, slowly opening her eyes to look up.

Pale, nut-brown eyes greeted her, and Fahima blinked in surprise - then returned the warm smile being gifted to her by a rather young-looking priestess.