The Cobra & the Concubine (Khamsin Warriors of the Wind) (3 page)

"Fareeq will never beat you again," Nazim added. His amber eyes regarded her with pity.

Shame flooded Badra. Would every tribe member look at her the same way? She could not bear it if they knew her dark secret.

"Please. Do not tell anyone else ... what Fareeq has done to me. I beg you," she pleaded.

"I must tell Khepri, so he knows your past and how important it is to protect you," the sheikh said.

"No," she cried. "Please, I beg you. I cannot bear it."

She could not stand the disgrace if anyone else knew. They would feel repulsed and disgusted. They would blame her.

Jabari sighed. "As you wish. It shall remain within these tent walls." He turned to Nazim. "Call Khepri in."

As Nazim walked off, Jabari leaned forward. "Badra, if I give you Khepri as your protector, you must trust me. Will you trust me? Or at least try?"

"I will try," she whispered. Khepri had seemed kind.

A torrent of wild emotions swept over her when the young warrior returned. His merry blue eyes flashed with friendliness as he eyed her. She tried to smile. It felt like her face cracked in two, but she managed.

The expression did not escape Jabari’s notice. A satisfied look came over him. "Do not be dismayed by his youthful appearance. Khepri is only nineteen, impetuous and reckless, but a brave warrior and fierce."

"Being impetuous is a shared trait in this family," Khepri responded, grinning impudently. "Unlike being the best warrior."

Nazim cuffed him in a friendly gesture. "Mind your manners, young one. Do not make assertions you cannot defend."

"Ah, my brother’s guardian takes offense at me saying Jabari is a better warrior than he. I apologize for telling the truth," Khepri said in a mocking tone.

"Enough!" Jabari ordered, but a fond smile touched his mouth. Badra relaxed even more, seeing the camaraderie between the trio.

The sheikh turned serious. "I called you here to confide in you and assign you a very special duty. I did not bed Badra, and I will not. Yet this information will remain inside these tent walls. She will remain known as my concubine."

"You did not? Why? She is beautiful," Khepri blurted.

Jabari gave a stern look that indicated it was none of his business, but the warrior’s puzzled frown indicated he still wanted an answer. Badra’s frantic gaze sought the sheikh’s.

"She is too young and frail," Jabari said carefully. "Unlike my enemy, I am more considerate of the women I take to my bed. But since the entire tribe seems to think I already took her, it is best she remains my concubine."

He shot Badra a knowing glance. Tension flowed from her body. The sheikh had told the truth without revealing her secret. Yes, perhaps she could trust this man.

Surprise and an odd relief showed in the young Khepri’s wide eyes. "Of course," he said solemnly. "What do you want of me?"

"Badra will be your responsibility from this moment forward. You are assigned exclusively to be her falcon guard and to shield her from all harm. I need a warrior whom I can trust, for she is very beautiful, and many men will covet her. You will allow no man to touch her." The sheikh paused and gave him an intent look. "No man, including yourself. I am giving you this honor because I know you would fall upon your scimitar to defend her honor and her life. Do you understand?"

A look of quiet pride settled about Khepri as he drew himself up, placing a hand upon his sword hilt. "I do, sire," he stated. "I will defend Badra’s honor and life to the death."

"Like your totem, the cobra, may you always strike her enemies as fiercely as you have struck mine," Jabari said in formal tones.

Their ceremonial-sounding words should have reassured her, but they did not. Badra knew Fareeq. He would come for her. And when he did, much blood would be shed. Including her own.

Night settled about the Khamsin camp with a soft sigh of the desert wind. Badra lay in bed. Asriyah had left a small oil lamp burning, but even that light gave no peace from the shadows in her mind, the tiny, winged fears beating at her.

She knew he was coming. Khepri had reassured her Fareeq would not claim her any longer, but she knew Fareeq’s resolve, his unwillingness to relinquish anything belonging to him. If he could not have her, he would kill her. Of course, death would be a welcome release to the barbaric sufferings she had endured. She would almost cry with joy at the cold bite of a blade.

The night air settled around her with a chill that sank into her bones. She sensed it, felt it in the air, as thick and menacing as a dark cloud of fire: He was coming for her.

Shouts filled the air, along with the sound of pounding hooves upon the hard sand. Sitting bolt upright, Badra trembled violently. The woven door of her chamber jerked to one side and Khepri stormed inside, clutching his scimitar. He lowered it and beckoned to her. She rose from the bed, her nightdress clinging to her as she ran to him.

"The Al-Hajid are raiding us in return. Jabari expected this and I am to remain at your side. Do not fear, little one. I will guard you."

Badra rocked back and forth, tears coursing down her cheeks. "Fareeq is powerful. Your people will be slaughtered."

A cocky smile touched his mouth as Khepri held his long, curved scimitar aloft. "You have apparently never seen Khamsin warriors in battle."

He’d barely finished speaking when a knife slit the tent walls. Badra screamed as two Al-Hajid warriors spilled inside, swords aloft, eyes shining with cruelty.

Khepri draped the trailing end of his indigo turban across his face. He touched his sword hilt to his heart and then his lips, then warbled a long, undulating cry Badra knew was the Khamsin war song. He stepped forward, sheltering her with his muscled body and slicing the air with his scimitar. "Tell that dirty disgusting dog of the desert, Fareeq, that Badra is no longer his. She is Khamsin now. I am the Cobra, her falcon guard, and will shed the last drop of my blood before you jackals lay a hand on her."

"Fine by us," one laughed.

"We’ll see," Khepri answered calmly, lunging forward.

Badra cringed as he effortlessly dueled with the two warriors. Harsh sounds of metal against metal clanged in her ears. Shouts sounded outside the tent as other Khamsin battled the raiders. She shrank back and squeezed her eyes shut.

Silence suddenly fell. She opened her eyes. Khepri turned, wearing a look of savage satisfaction. His enemies lay dead before him. He peered out of the tent.

"The rest are fleeing, the cowards." He wiped his blade upon the robes of his enemies, then sheathed it.

He turned, his manner reassuring and gentle. "You are safe now, Badra. No man will harm you."

Badra looked at the dead men lying on the carpet and felt no ease. Fareeq would not quit. One attempt was not enough. Others would come for her, to return her to the black tent of pain. She’d allowed a bit of hope to enter her mind, but that was gone.

There remained only one choice. Salvation hung from this young Khamsin warrior’s belt. The curved dagger’s wicked point would spear her heart. Darting forward, she pulled it from its sheath. Khepri whirled in a move worthy of his cobra totem. Badra cried out as he wrapped his hand about the blade and yanked it away, grimaced as he tossed it aside.

Hot tears filled her eyes. Badra looked at the discarded dagger with deep shame. "Please, let me die before others come. Let me feel death’s peace, for only the blade will release me from Fareeq."

"No, Badra," Khepri said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "You are so wrong. Death is never the correct choice."

"It is for me. I cannot live as a slave any longer."

"You have a new life now, Badra," he said, stepping closer. "And a falcon guard." Resolve shimmered in his deep blue eyes. "A falcon guard who has sworn an oath to his sheikh to protect you with his life. It is an oath not easily given, and one I will honor all my days."

But his words meant nothing. "You have taken away my last chance for peace," she whispered.

Compassion filled his eyes as he gazed intently at her. "No, Badra," he said. "You are free to choose your own destiny now. Fareeq holds no power over you. Trust me, there are new beginnings. I know. For I was not born Khamsin."

While his words did not sway her, his anguished look did. "Your eyes," she said suddenly.

A bitter smile touched his features. "All anyone knows of my family is that they were foreigners crossing the desert to the Red Sea. Their caravan was attacked and everyone was killed. I remember little, but Jabari’s father, Tarik, told me the story so I would honor my parents, who died to keep me safe."

"What happened?" Badra asked.

"When I was barely four, the Al-Hajid raided our caravan. My parents hid me in a large basket. The Khamsin attacked the Al-Hajid after they rode off with the spoils and they took the basket. I shook with fear as the lid came off, thinking I would die like my parents, my brother, and the servants. I looked up and saw two faces staring at me, one with black eyes and one with amber. The one with black eyes said ..."

Here he paused and smiled. "He said, ‘Father, there is no treasure in this basket. I do not think there is anything of value here.’"

Badra watched Khepri’s jaw tense, and he glanced away as he continued the story. "Jabari’s father looked into the basket and said, ‘You are wrong, my son. There is something of enormous value. A little boy.’ The sheikh looked at me and said the same words I said to you."

"Have no fear, little one," Badra echoed softly.

Khepri gave a solemn nod. "Tarik sent warriors to investigate the caravan, but they found only the dead. Fareeq had burned the bodies so they were unrecognizable." His eyes closed. "Jabari’s father raised me as his son." He looked at her, appealingly. "There is peace here, Badra. You can make a new life. I will help you. Jabari’s father named me Khepri, after the Egyptian god of the sunrise, to reflect the new dawn of my life."

Her voice wobbled. "Khepri, the god of the sunrise. And I am Badra, named after the full moon. We are opposites."

A small smile quirked his lips upwards. "It may appear so, but the sun and the moon cannot exist without each other."

She stared, wanting to trust him. He was so handsome, seemed so good. "But does the moon dare to trust the sunrise? It pushes her from the sky with its blinding light, away from the nurturing dark. The sunrise burns. It is far more powerful than the moon."

A fierce expression tightened Khepri’s face, chasing away the boyish charm she’d glimpsed earlier. He now wore the hard resolve of a warrior sworn to duty. "Powerful, yes. To shield the moon so none may find her. Badra, I am your falcon guard, given to you as your protector. I am sworn to defend you unto death. I am a Khamsin, warrior of the wind, and will never let anything happen to you. I promise. Know now: You are safe from Fareeq."

Giving a reassuring smile, he gently touched her cheek and wiped away her tears with his thumb. Something warm and wet replaced the salt water coursing from her eyes. His blood?

She turned his palm over to examine it. He’d cut himself while wrestling the knife from her. "You’re hurt!"

Giving a soft cry of distress, she took the sash from his belt and wrapped it around his bleeding hand. She pressed it tight, staring at Khepri. No man had ever hurt himself for her. No man had ever combated another to defend and protect her.

A twinkle lit his eyes, turning them a deeper blue. "Ah, if I had known wounding myself would have caused you to soften, I would have cut myself much earlier."

For the first time in many long years, Badra offered a genuine smile. "You are sworn to be my falcon guard and protect me, Khepri. So I suppose I had best treat your injuries. Since you have vowed to give up your life for me, it is the least I can do in return."

"Little one, it is not a great sacrifice. For seeing you smile, I would gladly surrender my life," Khepri said in hushed tones.

Badra was mesmerized by the tenderness on his face. She leaned close. Reaching up, for the first time since she’d been enslaved, she willingly touched a man. Her trembling hand caressed the softness of Khepri’s dark beard.

He groaned deeply and pulled away. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they held a distant look.

"Ah, little one," he mused, and she heard an odd note of regret in his voice. "Daggers and scimitars hold no danger for me. But you, I think, are deadly. You hold the power to enslave my heart. I could fall in love with you. God help me, I think I already have. And that will wound me much deeper than any knife ever could. To the bone. To my very bones."