14. Ehmet gives her the moon.
fourteen
Ehmet gives her the moon.
“ H ave you seen Lady Hevva?” Ehmet asked Lord Yaranbur, an innocuous sort of gentleman who the king figured would answer him straight, while not being sharp enough to read into it any further.
“Please, let me offer my deepest apologies to you, Your Majesty. For I have not seen the illustrious lady to whom you refer.”
All those words when he could have said “no?” The king nodded to the man, and then drifted away while wishing the Gulans were guests at the house party. They would know where the lady had gotten off to, and they would be far more enjoyable company than half the aristocrats in the room.
He knew the countess was around somewhere. Ehmet had first spotted her and her schooled look of disinterest before the dancing began, while he was still stuck in the receiving line. The vixen hadn’t even come through to greet him, his mother, or Nekash—not that Nekash was around. She’d been right there across the room. Then, the woman he was being introduced to tittered so demurely behind her hand that Ehmet thought she’d said something he missed. So, he focused on his subject for all of two seconds, learning the sound had been whispered laughter. When he looked up, Hevva was gone.
The king located her again during a quadrille he danced with Miss Tarcadu. The countess was chatting with the prince by the garden doors, with her back to him. But it was her, he was positive. It helped that her white hair was a blasted beacon, but she wasn’t the only person in the room with the distinctive locks. He knew it was her by her posture, the dip between her shoulder blades, the soft curve of her waist, the rise of that pert bottom beneath her gown. He also knew it was her because he’d seen her from the front, but that was neither here nor there.
Ehmet had already committed to the waltz with Miss Hehsaki, or he would have raced across that dance floor and stolen Lady Hevva from Nekash’s side. Alas, he had to go and find his contracted partner. When he did make it back to the floor, Hevva was three couples away, in the arms of his handsy brother.
Oh, she was lovely as she spun around the room in her iridescent dress, eye to eye with Nekash. Though, the king didn’t miss the way his brother’s fingers inched closer and closer to her perfect round bottom. Chest shuddering on his next inhale, Ehmet covered his exhaled growl behind a cough. He wanted to rip Nekash’s hands from her body and toss the lecher from the room. Tension tightening Hevva’s shoulders said she felt the same way.
I wonder how badly she wants to slap him right now?
Ehmet’s question was answered when the lady, so inherently full of grace, stomped hard on his brother’s foot.
He would be having words with the prince later. A willing partner was one thing, but in this situation, he was certain she was not.
Then, Lady Hevva was facing him again for the briefest of moments. Ehmet caught her eye, which he’d been trying to do for over an hour at that point. He needed to know she saw him, to know she was paying attention.
He wondered if, perhaps, Saka had come to town as well.
When the dance was done, the king escorted the Baron of Kashuvol’s sister from the floor and was relieved to learn it was the end of the set. Taking the opportunity to exit via a side-door, he snuck into his own apartments for a few blissful moments of silence, then set off in search of Lady Hevva, or Miss Saka, or both. He wasn’t certain who’d turned up to the palace .
After looping the quiet upper floors, he chanced a circuit of the main level, which was a madhouse. If there was one thing the dowager queen could do well, it was holding a grandiose multi-day affair. Ehmet skirted a couple seeking quiet refuge, surprised a couple who’d located quiet refuge, found a few rooms empty, looped the card room in case she fancied a game of whist, and then descended to the ground floor with heavy steps.
Lumbering along the half-lit hallway toward the throne room, Ehmet thought he might sit for a while and simply think. But then, a strange sound caught his attention. A rhythm of monotonous tings sounded for five seconds, paused, and then began again.
Someone was in the wine cellar, likely a drunken guest, because his staff were unlikely to make such a ruckus. A peek through the cracked door confirmed his suspicions, and the sight of her lifted the downturned corners of his mouth.
Hevva was walking up and down the far wall, dragging the base of a wine bottle over the protruding necks of his store. Ting, ting, ting, ting, ting —pause— ting, ting, ting, ting, ting .
“Hook hand? Is that you?” he called out.
She spun to face him and yelped. “Who the fates’re you!?”
“It’s me.” Walking in, he closed the door, pitching the room into darkness.
She bit out a string of curses.
Ehmet created a glowing ball and set it on the floor, basking the room in a cool, silvery light.
Hevva walked over and slid down the wall until her bottom hit the floor. She pointed at the orb, wine bottle in hand. “That’s like the bum of a lightning bug, but really big. And not blinking. I like it.”
He chuckled. It was meant to be the moon; he’d need to work on his execution.
Joining her on the floor, Ehmet faced the countess and they both sat like children with their legs spread wide. He tapped her slipper with his boot. She looked up.
“Why didn’t you come through the receiving line?”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
“Who didn’t feel like it? Saka or Hevva?”
“Dunno.” She swigged from the dwindling bottle and held it out to him, an offering. “You want some? It’s terrible.”
He twisted the bottle in her hand to look at the label. It was a cooking wine. “I think I’ll pass.”
Perusing the collection in his line of sight, Ehmet selected one that was more to his, and anyone’s, taste. “Do you have a corkscrew?”
“No.” She hiccupped.
He nodded at her bottle. “How’d you open that?”
“It’s wood. I just—” she made a popping sound with her lips. Then she demonstrated, and with a pop the cork from his bottle went flying across the room. Two more followed, and he could hear twin streams of liquid pouring out onto the floor somewhere nearby. Then, Hevva clapped for herself, inadvertently tossing her empty bottle to the side.
He chuckled, tapping her shoes with his own as he took a swig. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
She pointed at him, and around him, and also past him. “How much have youuu had to drink tonight?”
“Probably as much as you. But I’m much larger.”
“Much.” Her eyes dropped to his groin, and she eyed him with such intensity that she began to tip forward before catching herself and snapping up. Hevva’s head thunked against the wall and she squeezed her eyelids closed.
He chuckled through his nose. This woman was ridiculous.
It was then that Ehmet saw two glistening tears trailing down her rosy cheeks.
“Hey,” he softened his voice, “what’s wrong?”
Her silver eyes shot open, and she swiped at her face like a child before throwing her hands up in defeat. “Everything is terrible.”
“Why?”
When she didn’t answer, he tapped his toes against hers.
“Saka likes Berim.”
Ehmet pressed his lips between his teeth, in a gods-awful attempt at repressing a smile .
“No!” Hevva crossed her hands over her chest petulantly. “It is not funny. Berim’s not even here.”
“What do you mean? I’m right here.”
She rolled her eyes, and her head went along for the journey. “You’re Ehmet. Don’t be stupid.” Regaining control of her neck, she hit him with a dramatic glare that pierced his defenses. “Berim’s dead.”
His brows popped in amusement. “Well . . . what happened to him?”
“Stable fire. He was crushed between a fallen beam and a horse. He died.”
Ehmet exhaled a laugh and half wondered if this woman was mad. “I heard there were some healers on site who got there in time. I think he survived.”
“No. He didn’t.”
“Do you want him dead?”
“No. I miss him.” Hevva squeezed her eyes closed again, but this time no tears fell.
“Hold on.” He pushed himself up and went out in the hall for a moment. There, he removed his jacket with expert speed and ripped off his cravat. Ehmet even popped the top button of his shirt loose, ditched his cufflinks, and rolled up his sleeves.
When he returned, he found she’d fallen asleep.
A long and shaky sigh escaped the king’s lungs as he leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a few minutes. She was so beautiful, with her long lithe body, smooth expanses of creamy skin, her soft wide mouth, and those gorgeous storm-cloud eyes. He loved her sparkling hair and effervescent personality. He loved talking to her, her silliness, her wit. He loved kissing her, tasting her, the joy of being around her. She was fun. A rarity at court.
So, Ehmet scooped her into his arms and took the back hallways and hidden staircases to discreetly deliver Lady Hevva to her room. As his hands were occupied with keeping her aloft, he used magic to create an odd sort of metallic finger— a hook hand —to open the latch on the hidden panel that permitted entrance to her suite.
The latch popped, and Ehmet kneed open the door before tumbling through, only to be hit in the face with a jet of scalding water.
“Oh! Oh! Oh, Your Majesty, I am so sorry!” The lady’s maid rushed toward him, a cool stream of liquid magic soothing the spot on his cheek that she’d scorched seconds before. “I thought you were an intruder! Is she alive?” Aylin’s eyes widened at the sight of Hevva, whose head lolled back and whose arm was limp at her side.
“I believe that she may have over imbibed,” Ehmet rumbled with a sheepish smile.
“My poor dear.” Aylin stepped forward and brushed the lady’s hair back from her face. “How are we going to manage this?” She eyed Hevva’s intricate iridescent gown.
“I could rip it off.” The words were out before he even knew what he was saying. “Oh— Gods—”
The maid burst into dry laughter. “I don’t suggest doing that while my lady is asleep.”
“I am so sorry. I have also had quite a bit to drink tonight.” His cheeks heated.
Aylin shook her head and chuckled before issuing commands to King Hethtar, a sure sign she was not oft bowled over by nobility. He respected her all the more for it. Together, they ensured that Lady Hevva was put to bed in her underdress—it was better than doing nothing—with an empty bowl and a large glass of water by her side.
“Your Majesty.” Aylin stopped him as he made his way back to the wall panel.
He turned back to face the kind woman.
“Thank you for caring for her. She’s a wonderful person.”
He dipped his chin in agreement before slipping away.