9. Ehmet wins a crown.
nine
Ehmet wins a crown.
L eaving the confines of Hewran Hall, Berim and Saka ventured down the winding drive, cloaked in the anonymity of their chosen identities. Berim was a stablehand in his borrowed yellowed tunic and dirt-ingrained boots. Saka found herself wearing a simple woolen dress layered over her silk shift. “No need to change what the crowd won’t see,” she’d mentioned offhandedly to him.
Her comment resulted in him swallowing thickly while attempting to discreetly readjust his nether bits. Why’d she have to force him to recall her exposed bottom jiggling beneath her thin chemise?
Not wanting to call attention to their entrance into the fray, the king and Hevva decided to walk down from the hall. Berim and Saka didn’t have money for a horse, Hevva had reasoned. He had to agree.
“You can’t walk around like that in town.” She hurried up beside him after having lagged behind for a few paces.
“Why not?” He paused on the cobbled road for a second before resetting his pace. This time, Ehmet paid close attention to his steps. They seemed normal.
“You walk like...here, I’ll show you. Stop there.” Lady Hevva popped around in front of him and put a hand to his chest.
He obeyed and stepped to the side of the path.
She jogged back uphill a few steps and then turned around. “All right, this is what you’re doing.”
Effortlessly, she floated past, promenading with intentional steps, shoulders thrown back, and her chin held high.
He swung his head, following her path.
She stopped before turning back to face Ehmet. “Too...regal. Too kingly. Try this instead.” Hevva slumped her shoulders forward and widened her stance. Then she looked down at the ground like she didn’t want to be noticed and loped farther down the road. The lady’s two slightly uneven plaits swayed with her irregular steps.
Chuckling, he caught up. But she pushed him on ahead. Her elegant hand rested on his back as she gave him a nudge. “Let me see.”
He obliged, trying his best to walk like a tired man who’d spent his day shoveling shit. Like someone who wanted to grab himself a pint, and maybe get lost for a few moments with a pretty woman. It wasn’t all that difficult to pretend, frankly. Ehmet stopped and turned back, palms open, awaiting her assessment.
Lady Hevva, or perhaps it was Saka, pranced over, laughing and clapping as she approached. Before he could react, she’d reached him and looped her arm through his own. He had no objection. Ehmet glanced down to find the countess looking up at him, eyes and hair sparkling in the moonlight. “Berim, funny seeing you here. Heading into town?”
Her casual demeanor and common accent drew forth the happiest sort of unrestrained laughter from deep in his chest. “What a surprise, Miss Saka. I am, and you?”
“I would like to go...Only, my papa says it’s not safe to be in the city after dark without an escort.” She looked back, into the empty fields, as if her father stood over yonder.
This woman is ridiculous. “Shall I escort you then?” He played along.
“Oh, Berim.” Her free hand swatted at his chest, lingering. She trailed her fingertips down the plains of his abdomen, sending a frisson of electricity to his groin. “A big strong man like you? I know you’ll keep me plenty safe.”
A flash of surprise widened his eyes. Saka, it appeared, was a no-holds-barred kind of gal. She wasn’t wrong. Berim, Ehmet, whoever he was, would, without a doubt, keep her close and protected as they absconded to the riotous streets of Rohilavol.
The roads by the Institute and the public hall, near the symposium, were lively around the clock, but in an elevated and somewhat reserved manner. Scholars and academics from all walks of life tramped between lectures during the daylight hours and back to their inns in the evenings. Some would venture out again to a nearby social establishment, but most would remain enclosed in the bar of the building where they’d be sleeping that night. That was upper Rohilavol.
Lower Rohilavol was a different beast. “We may run into Baron Turkhane and his...lady friend down here tonight.”
“They don’t know Berim and Saka.” She shrugged, her arm still linked in his own.
“That won’t help us if they recognize our faces, you silly goose.” He shoved into her, very lightly. He didn’t want to bowl her over.
She laughed, and the tinkling sound seemed to ping around inside the cavity of his chest. “Did you really just call me a silly goose?”
“It’s something Berim would say.”
“Would he also call me a ‘sausage?’” She pushed back into him, sending them off kilter for a second.
“If Miss Saka was being particularly snappy, then yes.”
“Oh... oh! That’s clever, because sausages snap when you cook them. I think I might use that one.”
He grinned into the night.
It took a while to get down to lower Rohilavol since they’d needed to swing wide around the upper portion of the city, where they’d almost certainly be recognized. Thus, they came into town from the north rather than the west. Ehmet figured that if they stayed out late enough, they’d probably be able to return to Hewran Hall via the Institute-district, a much shorter path.
Soon they began to meet more and more people along the streets. Most were heading the same direction as them, but a few folks, already jug-bitten beyond belief, lolled around in darkened doorways or rambled the roads with no destination in mind. The side streets were relatively empty, with the bulk of the local population in the square, where the Annual Raucous Festival That Had No Proper Permits was taking place.
Neither this King Hethtar nor his father before him, for all his other faults, had ever minded the merrymaking, even if things did tend to get a bit debauched by the end of each night. It was only once a year, and the people loved it.
Berim and Saka strolled into the bustling festivities, a stablehand and a farmer’s daughter, ready to embrace the enchantment of the nighttime festivities. The square was alight with hundreds of floating lanterns, crafted by the firebearers. Flames were held aloft by windshifters in some areas, in others they sat atop tall pillars of rock pulled up by earthshapers, to be pushed down again come morning.
A cool mist batted against Ehmet’s face and the same must have happened to Hevva, for she reached up to touch one cheek before peering up at the sky. He looked up too, and the first stars twinkled back at them. Not rain, watercoursers. Everyone was engaged, no single magic-type had to bear the burden of lighting or cooling the festivities on their own.
The masses were chaotic, pushing them to and fro as they merged into a flow of revelers. It was packed, and would be all too easy to get separated, even in the open square. “Don’t let go of me.”
“What?” She couldn’t hear him over the noise.
“I said”—he raised his volume a bit—“don’t let—”
“BETS! PLACE YER BETS HERE!” a booming voice rang out, louder than the rest, likely helped along by air magic.
Ehmet gave up and shifted his left arm so he could lock his fingers with hers rather than relying on the slippery palm-on-forearm grip they had going. He squeezed her hand, and she returned the gesture.
She shouted a question at him through the din.
“What?” He couldn’t hear her over the crowd. Leaning his big head down near her more reasonably sized pate, he offered his ear.
“What are they betting on?” she asked, hot breath lapping against the shell of his ear.
Ehmet stifled a groan as his manhood pulsed in response to her words. “There’s a fight starting soon. Do you want to watch? ”
“Yes!” she screamed.
He jolted away, shocked by the volume.
Her free hand came up to pull him back down to her. “Sorry,” she murmured in his ear as her palm splayed across the back of his head. And then, she kissed him.
Well, on the ear. But the action was totally unexpected. His body responded in kind.
“A kiss to make it better.” She laughed.
Before he knew what he was doing, Berim—for it was definitely not the actions of Ehmet—had scooped Miss Saka into his arms and was pushing his way through the pressing crowd to a quieter street off of the square.
She giggled and shrieked in protest as he marched along, but her movements did little to indicate she wanted to be put down. One hand wrapped behind his neck, her slender fingers tangling in his tousled hair. Her other was splayed across his back as she reached beneath his arm to grasp him.
He stopped before a booth selling ale and set her on her feet.
“Thank you for the escort, Berim.” She beamed up at him, eyes crinkled in delight.
“Anything for you, Miss Saka.” He winked.
They drank pint after pint after pint and meandered through the lighter crowds on the outskirts of the festivities. Hevva pointed out a few potholes that needed fixing, which he cataloged to report to his steward. He noticed a few skinny children, too slender for his tastes. Even though the nearby adults confirmed food was plentiful in town, Ehmet added that to his list as well. He’d have scouts sent to each town and village in Selwas and ask them to report back on their general wellness. Either way, he’d be increasing shipments of grains from Gramenia. The Principalities wouldn’t mind, they’d be happy for additional business.
Eventually, the duo returned to the center of the festivities to watch the fight, which was nearing its final round.
“Come on,” Saka shouted as she tightened her fingers in his and dragged him forward, weaving through the masses to get as close as possible to the action.
Ehmet was far too big for these speedy maneuvers. “Stop, stop, stop!” He tugged her back, planting his feet on the cobbles.
She barreled into him, her noggin threatening to take out a few of his teeth. But then, something miraculous happened, and she stayed put.
The crown of her snow-capped head brushed against his chest as the lady— Miss Saka tilted her face up to peer at him. Her right hand was still interlocked with his left, trapped between their bodies. She tugged her arm free, then reached up to thread her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull.
For a split second, Ehmet— Berim thought that she was going to kiss him. But she pulled his head to the side before tugging him down, and only so she could speak into his ear. Still, the innocent action sent a river of pleasure coursing to his groin, again , and he had to flex his thighs in an effort to redirect the blood flow.
“Why did we stop?”
He turned his face to reply, and it was his opportunity to nearly kiss her. Then she tipped her head to give him access to her ear, and he figured he may as well answer her question. “I don’t want to push anyone back just so we can get a good view.”
The crowd roared and swelled as the final men stepped out to begin their bout.
She cupped her hand around his ear and leaned in close. “Fine. But you better lift me up, because if I miss a single second...” Leaning away, she shook her fist at him comically with a dramatic mask of anger pulled over top of those pretty features.
Ehmet laughed, shaking his head at her antics. Then he gave her his back and squatted down. “Climb up.”
She did, leaping onto him and wrapping her long legs low around his torso. Arms slung over his shoulders, she intertwined her fingers across his chest.
To be safe, he wrapped his hands around her thighs and held firm. It took a moment for his mind to register that his fingertips were pressing into bare skin, hot and supple and soft. He groaned and moved a bit closer to the people in front of them. Her skirts had hiked up when she climbed on .
“I am Saka right now, you know? Lady H would never .” She wriggled into a more comfortable position as she spoke into his ear, her lips brushing his flesh.
He nodded in response, unable to consider words at that moment.
Ehmet could not have recounted a single blocked hook, any landed punches, or even the final knockout blow, in which the underdog claimed victory. The lady catching a lift could have provided the finer details. But he was far too distracted by her warm center rocking against his lower back as she booed and cheered. Her soft breasts pressed delectably between his shoulder blades, mushed against his too-thin shirt, sliding up and down in time with her movements. When she’d loosened her grip on him to punch her fist in the air, or make a rude gesture, he’d happily tightened his own grasp on her thighs.
That fight couldn’t have ended soon enough. Ehmet thanked the gods more than a few times that he’d worn his shirt loose and untucked over the front of his breeches. When she requested to be put down, her words a hot tickle of breath against his skin, he feared he might spend right there in the street.
“I’m thirsty.” She locked her fingers with his own and once again, they were off to find a pint.
It was not long before they were quenched, and something new caught Miss Saka’s attention. A small band with stringed instruments and thumping drums played before a lively, if slightly seedy-looking pub.
“Come on,” she said, taking off backward, so magnetized to the music she couldn’t stay put a moment longer. He couldn’t hear a word that left her lush lips, but he read them anyway. Tugging him down the row, she ditched her empty pint and signaled that he should do the same.
Berim obliged.
Saka grinned as she spun to face him and grasped both of his hands in her own, leaning back as she encouraged him to spin her around in front of the establishment.
They danced on the cobbles for ages until Lady Hevva, or Saka rather, attempted to convince him that they should join in on some games with the locals .
“Maybe a two-legged race?” she pleaded.
“I don’t think so.”
“Obstacles course?”
“That’s not even a team race.”
“Oh, so we’re a team now?”
He chuckled and rumpled her hair, definitely not something Ehmet would do, but it felt right for Berim.
“Come on, please? This is our only night—”
The end of what she was saying was cut off by a shriek, a shout, and a flirtatious couple running past as the woman attempted to escape the man’s goosing. The fleeing woman wasn’t trying very hard. Ehmet watched as she stopped, spun to face her chaser, and planted a sloppy kiss on his mouth.
“All right, come along.”
“What?” Saka shouted up at him, not having heard his response, but he was already dragging her over to the registration table.
“Ho there, what can I do for you?” the administrator inquired, pocketing a handful of coins.
“Is this a successful enterprise then, sir?” Ehmet inquired, trying his best to talk like a commoner.
“Sure is, lad,” the older man replied. “I’m a baker by day, but running these games—we’ll have our new roof at the cottage in no time. It’s worth the extra hours these few days a year.”
“How much for two to play?”
“Depends on the game.” The man offered a list, scratched in chalk on a slab of smooth wood.
Ehmet perused the offerings and found that the two-legged race had already finished. He let Berim take over and make a selection at that point. When the administrator at the table eyed the pair with his brows pulled together, he handed over the agreed upon amount and lifted his companion’s hand in the air.
This drew Hevva’s attention back to him, for she’d been distracted by a one-man-band who’d come clomping and clanging past. “What race...?” Her question died on her lips when she saw her hand clasped in his, held aloft as proof to the administrator that they were indeed a married couple.
The golden band he’d put there, with magic of course, shimmered in the streetlights.
Ehmet leaned down to speak to his false bride as she turned to whisper something to him. Their mouths nearly collided, which he wouldn’t really have minded at all. But he swallowed his words and offered his ear.
“This ring might be slightly too much for Berim’s stableboy salary.”
He laughed. “I came into some money from a merchant uncle. Poor man lost his life rounding the Horn of Gramenia.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” She pressed a hand dramatically to her chest.
Eventually he’d release the ring like anything else made from his magic. But it was a small item, and easy to hold in place, so he left it for a while. “Come on, our race is starting soon.”
He scooped her up again, purely to make better time across the packed square to the road where races were being held. Onlookers crowded the doorways and hung out of second story windows, sloshing mugs of ale in hand. At the starting line he set her down.
She glanced up and down the line of competitors. “What race is thi—BERIM!” She shrieked as he lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Wife carrying, my dear Saka!” he boomed. And they were off.
There were a few decent holds he could have chosen from, but Ehmet didn’t think she’d appreciate the one where she wrapped her legs around his shoulders and hung her head down near his arse while he ran. He did think she would have preferred riding piggy-back, but then he wouldn’t have gotten the joy of her delectable round bottom popped over his shoulder, bouncing up and down near his face. He wasn’t in it to win; this was for the experience.
The first obstacle was easy: wooden hurdles moved up and down at irregular intervals, controlled by earthshapers on the sidelines. He cleared them and was surprised to find they were in third.
The second obstacle was also nothing to be afraid of. A pit of roaring fire sprung up from below street-level, several paces ahead. It stretched across the way. But he simply used his magic to lay down a path of stones atop the flames and barreled through the thing.
Oops, should have warned her. He realized his error when Hevva screamed and clawed her fingers into his arse.
“WATER!” he bellowed as they neared the third and final obstacle. When had they gotten in second place? “I’ve got you, hold your breath!”
Ehmet plunged into the deceptively deep puddle that hindered their path to the finish line. Luckily, at over six feet, he was able to bound through the thing in a few seconds flat. But he felt for Saka, who was likely submerged the entire time.
As he climbed up and out of the impromptu pond, he smacked her on the bottom. “All right back there?”
She smacked his rear in response.
Lumbering onward without a glance over his shoulder, shouts from the spectators keyed him into the fact that the couple who’d been in first place went down and had been disqualified. They were going to win.
And they did.
Berim set Saka down on the other side of the finish line to roaring cheers from adoring fans. It almost felt like standing on a balcony at Kirce, speaking to his people. But it was only the exuberance and chest-filling pride that he felt, no crushing press of duty laid atop it all.
“We did it!” Lady Hevva grasped his hand, bouncing up and down at his side as they were crowned with laurels of lavender and daisies. Someone also shoved full pints into each of their hands, which they clinked in celebration before swigging them down—Berim and Saka, that is. Lady Hevva and King Hethtar would never be caught dead with glasses of ale. In fact, they hadn’t truly been around for most of the night.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The crowd’s rising chant pulsed through him, and he felt like, really , they owed it to their fans. Berim squeezed her hand, and Miss Saka raised her brow at him with a smirk.
So, he kissed her. And maybe it was the countless pints he’d already had to drink on top of the whiskey from home, maybe it was the cheering spectators, maybe it was what Berim would have done, or maybe it’s just what Ehmet wanted to do. But he kissed her long and deep, right there in the middle of the road .
Someone removed the tankard from his hand, and he silently thanked them as his now free fingers trailed down her back, coming to rest in that dip above her bottom. Pulling her in closer, Ehmet angled his mouth against hers, applying a gentle, needy sort of pressure. The crowd hooted and whistled sounding distant and hazy. His tongue darted out against her soft lips, seeking entry.
She let him in.
Her slender arms wrapped around his neck. One hand tangled in his hair and the other gripped his shoulder as she kissed him back, fervently.
Saka was a wild woman, he’d learned that night. Lady Hevva on the other hand...he wasn’t so sure about her.
The crowd’s cheers crescendoed when they finally pulled away, and Berim, or Ehmet, grew self-conscious at the very public display of affection. So, he did what he did best and scooped her up into his arms, earning another rise in volume from the crowd as he lumbered off down the nearest alleyway.