The Healer's Warrior (28 page)

Jem’ya removed the engagement ring from her trembling hand and slipped out of bed. She got dressed and snuck out of the room, careful not to wake Tareq. The further she walked down the hall, the weaker she became, as though her soul was still lying by Tareq’s side and she was leaving it behind. She ran out of the palace and into the stables. “Please, hurry and give me my horse,” she asked a horse keeper. He scurried to Empress’s stable, brushed down her back, threw on her saddle and jogged with her to Jem’ya in a minute’s time. Jem’ya climbed into the saddle of her brown horse and rode it to the gates. Slowly the thick gate doors were pushed open by the guards. With straight posture and a stoic expression, Jem’ya whipped the reins. The horse dashed out of the courtyard. She directed it south across the desert.

Jem’ya’s brave composure dissolved with every hoof beat. She slumped forward, bereft. “No, no, no,” she sobbed. “I
love
him. I
love
him. This isn’t fair! God, why did you bring us together if we weren’t meant to be?” Her hands began to tingle incessantly. She raised her head. Who did her Creator want her to heal? No one was around her. “Am I supposed to heal myself?” she muttered. “Am I to be by myself for the rest of my life?” Her mouth soured. “Then I don’t want this ‘gift’ any longer. Don’t use me anymore, God. I cannot devote my entire life to soothing other’s pain while I am left to suffer alone.” Her mouth trembled with bitterness. She struck Empress’s sides with her heels and the horse galloped full speed. “If I can’t have him,
You
can’t have me!”

When Tareq’s sleepy eyes opened to the new day, he immediately reached his arm out to hold Jem’ya, but her side of the bed was empty. “Jem’ya?” he called, thinking she might be in the bathroom. There was no answer. He rubbed at his face and stretched. He forced himself to sit up. The sheets were twisted about his naked waist. He squinted at the sky through the windows. He could tell it was rather early in the morning. Usually he slept a few hours longer. The sense that Jem’ya was not near him must have roused him so soon from his slumber. He glanced at her side of the bed again. That’s when he saw the engagement ring on top of her pillow.

The blow to his heart knocked the air from his lungs. He stared at the ring as his mind was sucked down into a dark hell. Every painful memory of his life swirled in his head.
Her sentence is death! KIBWE!
Murdererrrr
! It would not sadden me, warrior prince, if today you took your last breath. You are the monster, n-not me. I mean, look at yourself, Qadir. Haven’t you taken enough from me?! He’s gone, King Tareq. Bahja, I killed him!
He almost surrendered to it all. He almost accepted another death, another loss. But Jem’ya’s voice broke through the darkness.
When what we love is threatened, then we fight.
He had to fight.

He pulled on undershorts, a wrinkled white shirt and a brown pair of pants that were strewn about the floor and ran out of his bedroom. “Where is she?! Where’s Jem’ya?!” he questioned the servants in the hall. A young lady spoke up. “I saw her leave the palace on horseback about ten minutes ago, your Highness.” He sprinted down the hall. “Sultan!” he shouted toward the stables as he bounded down the front steps of the palace, not wearing any shoes. A horse keeper prepared the horse within seconds and the guards began opening the gates. A stable boy training to be a royal horse keeper met Tareq at the gates with Sultan. “She went south, your Highness,” the young boy offered. Tareq bounded into the saddle and tore out of the gates, leaving the guards behind in a cloud of dust.

His heart was pounding against his ribcage. Riding south, he began to panic as the miles rushed by without any sign of Jem’ya. What if the stable boy was mistaken? He could be going in the wrong direction. But she had to be heading south if she was trying to get home. His stomach leapt at the sight of a rider on the horizon. Immediately he knew it was Jem’ya.
“Yah!”
The midnight horse dug its heels into the tough terrain and propelled itself and its owner across the desert. “Jem’ya!
Jem’yaaa
!” Tears came to his eyes when she began racing faster away from him without even looking back. “Jem’ya!” he roared. Sultan was barely closing the distance between them. “Have the decency to tell me why you are rejecting me!” Her horse slowed slightly. He pleaded with her to speak with him. He shouted in desperation. “Can’t I have a word with my wife before she leaves me forever?” Empress slowed significantly, and then stopped. Sultan caught up to her ten seconds later and slid to a stop in front of her.

Wide-eyed and breathing hard, Tareq stared at Jem’ya.

She wouldn’t look at him. She swallowed. A ceaseless stream of tears rolled down her cheeks.

Tareq shook his head. “Why?”

She was silent.

Tareq could see that she was in a lot of pain. Something was torturing her mind. “Please, come with me to the stream,” he asked softly. “They need water.” Finally Jem’ya met the eyes of the man she promised never to abandon. He sighed.  He wanted to touch her so badly. She nodded. Relieved, Tareq turned Sultan east and started him galloping at a moderate speed. Jem’ya followed. They reached the fresh water in the tributary of the
Algezzir
. Tareq dismounted from his horse. He helped Jem’ya down from hers by taking hold of her hips and carrying her down to stand before him. He rubbed the length of her arms, massaging her brown skin as he gazed into her eyes, then he cupped her face, then he caressed her ears, and then his hands fell away. A sad smile stretched his lips. Tareq took a calabash from Sultan’s saddle and walked the horse to the stream. He filled the small wooden drinking bowl with cool water. Jem’ya stood leaning against her horse, watching. Tareq walked back to Jem’ya, drinking from the cup. He passed the calabash to her. She drank from it and stared up at him. Tareq reached out and wiped away the water from the corner of her mouth. Drawn to her, he dove in and ravaged her mouth, needing her lips to be against his, needing all of her. The bowl fell from her hands. Her fingers slid up his back to his shoulder blades and her body fit naturally against his tall form. Tareq broke the kiss and admired her face. His hazel eyes pleaded with her. “I cannot have peace without you.”

 Saddened and serious, Jem’ya’s brows furrowed. “Peace? Marrying me, a commoner, a black tribal woman, would not allow you peace. It would turn your life and your kingdom upside down. They will hate me and they will hate you.
My people and yours.”

Tareq’s jaw tightened with determination. “I am the king, Jem’ya.
I
give the orders. My people will do as I say. They
will
treat you with respect or bear the consequences.”

“But it doesn’t change how they feel. You can’t change their hearts. Not in our lifetimes. You can’t bend their will. Maybe one day the world will be different. I cannot live comfortably in a land where everyone privately curses and spits at the mention of my name, wishing me dead even. I can’t continue being a healer if I am also a queen. I want a simple life, Tareq.
And what about my family?
I was stupid to think that my family would not cast me away as a traitorous, heartless whore that married her own brother’s killer, a greedy Arab king. That’s all they’ll think of you and me. They will turn their backs on me. Tareq, I love you so much,” she cried. “I love you so much, but I need my family. I will not hold any person above them.”

Family is precious. Tareq deeply understood that. Now that his mother, his father and his brother were gone, he felt like half a person. Without Jem’ya he would be no one at all. “Then I will give up my kingdom.”

Jem’ya gasped. Then she laughed nervously and searched his eyes. “Are you mad?!”

Tareq laughed, realizing that what he’d proposed was exactly what he wanted. The dangers and stresses of ruling would no longer be a burden to him. He could divide Samhia along the borders of the multiple nations it once was, appointing new leaders who would carry on the ideals of community, responsibility and justice that Tareq held. Then he could live with Jem’ya, travel the world with her, and make a home with her that was safe. He smiled. “
You
are my peace, not Samhia. I will give up this kingdom and your family will see how much I want their mercy and forgiveness. They will see how much I love you.”

Jem’ya embraced him, trembling with joy and love. “Tareq,” she sighed.

Tareq squeezed her and kissed her shoulder, ready to begin a new life. “Let’s go home,” he murmured. Tareq tied Empress to Sultan so that Jem’ya’s horses would walk alongside him. Jem’ya sat in front of Tareq in Sultan’s saddle. Tareq’s arm was around her waist, keeping her close to him. With the other hand he managed the reins and set the horses north, back to the palace. Jem’ya laid her head on his chest and kissed his neck, happy. Tareq rubbed her stomach. Both immediately wondered about the possibility that they conceived a child during yesterday’s rounds of lovemaking, but neither uttered any speculations aloud. It was bad luck to do so.

Excited about preparing a comfortable life for his wife and future children, Tareq began writing new decrees for Samhia as soon as he returned. Jem’ya helped him, inspiring him, and also distracting him. He had no choice but to take regular breaks to the bedroom with her. It took a few days for all the loose ends to be tied together, but with the help of his council he successfully drew up new borders and delegated power to new leaders. The capitol of Samhia would remain a center for international business and a model of a benevolent government. Jem’ya wrote a letter to her parents in Euclid, telling them that she and the man she loved would meet them in
Tikso
.

Crying, Bahja waved Tareq and Jem’ya goodbye from the palace gates. She waved her white handkerchief and watched their caravan depart for Middle Africa. The Samhizzan family palace was now Bahja’s to run. There would be a child in every room to fill the halls with innocent laughter, as Tareq had wished, because Bahja was going to run it as an orphanage. The King’s magnificent bedroom suite would be preserved, however, always kept ready for a visit from King Tareq and Lady Jem’ya.

CHAPTER NINE

Six days later

They neared the village of
Tikso
with a caravan of twenty camels laden with goods and gifts. Jem’ya began to cry, thinking about how her brother would not be there to greet her.

“Are you thinking of
Kibwe
?”

Jem’ya nodded.

Tareq brought his horse closer to hers. He reached out and lovingly massaged Jem’ya’s neck, and then he leaned sideways in the saddle to kiss her cheek and her temple. “I’m so sorry. I love you,” he said.

Jem’ya nodded and wiped the tears from her face. She could see people from her tribe forming a crowd on the perimeter of the village. “
Keeeeyah
!” she called. Her heart fell when they didn’t answer. Her family stood in silence, watching Jem’ya and the fair-skinned stranger near their home.

One of her father’s wives cried, “
ZeeZee
! Are you alright?”

“Yes. I am wonderful, Auntie,” she answered as she jumped down from her horse.

“That’s the Arab man,” one of her little girl cousins said. “He took my father into slavery, but then he freed him.”

“It’s true,” the girl’s father said. “He is the King of Samhia. He released all of the slaves in his kingdom.”

Tareq didn’t understand what they were saying. He hoped they weren’t frightened of him. He got down from his horse. Jem’ya took his hand in hers.

“He and his warriors killed seven men of our tribe! Why are you holding his hand?” her great uncle spat.

“I am his wife.”

The crowd riled at the news. “My God!” her great uncle cried. “Your brother is dead because of him!”

“See her ring?!” her father’s wife exclaimed. “Look what he’s done to our Jem’ya!”

“No! Please! He is good! I have known him many months, as a patient of mine. The battle was a tragic mistake. Look at all the things he brought for you. He is here to apologize.”

Some frowned, some stormed away, some cried, and some stared in confusion. Word spread of Jem’ya’s arrival and soon her parents were at the front of the crowd.