Chapter 15

Return

They rode through the palace gates in the

middle of the night quietly and without fanfare, the guards giving

hushed salutes to the king. Yet, lights shone behind every

shuttered window of the second floor of the royal household. Sahar

knew they would be waiting for her and her father’s return, but she

didn’t think they were the reason half the household seemed to be

awake at midnight.

As they rode up to the palace steps, stable

boys still rubbing the sleep from their faces came running up to

take their horses, Ratter and Arman right behind them.

“What a night it be, what a night it be,”

Ratter chortled as Sahar slid down off of Lasair and handed him the

reins. “Our princess and king be comin’ back, and our new prince or

princess comin’ into this world.”

“Rima is having her baby?”

Ratter touched the side of his nose with a

gnarled finger. “The women ‘ave been in ‘er bed chamber since

sunset,” he said. “An’ yer brother ‘as been pacing the halls

outside it jest about as long.”

Sahar laid a hand over her belly without

thought, an action that did not go unnoticed by Ratter. Swiping at

her flushed cheeks, she turned and ran up the steps into her

home.

Home. But for how long? If she was with child

and she married Aleksi she didn’t think she was long for this city

she’d known her whole life.

She looked down at her belly, concave from

ten and eight days of camp rations and scavenging, as if the wee

one that might be growing in her womb could give her the

answer.

“Come daughter.” Sahar practically jumped out

of her skin at her father’s hand on her shoulder. “Let’s find your

mother.”

She followed him up the stairs to the living

quarters, and when they turned the corner into the hall, she broke

into a run at the sight of her brother and Munir pacing the floor

outside of Asim’s and Rima’s chambers.

“Sahar.” Her brother met her halfway,

wrapping her up in his arms and swinging her in a circle. “It’s so

good to see you.”

“It’s good to be seen.”

He set her back on her feet in time for Munir

to give her a hearty, one armed hug, his other still in a

sling.

“Welcome home.” He stepped back and eyed her

from head to toe. “Are you well?”

She knew what he was asking, what every

member of her family and half the city would be asking. Had the

Wolf or his curs violated her?

“I’m well,” she assured him, and her brother

blew his breath out in a huge sigh of relief.

“Aleksi?” Munir asked.

“He’s well also,” she told him. “He found me

before they could follow through on their vile threats and got me

safely away, though he suffered a knife wound to his shoulder when

we fought the bast”—she glanced over her shoulder as her father

walked up—“the Wolf and the Tall.”

Munir mimed spitting on the floor. “Where are

the Wolf and his pack now?” he said.

“Aleksi killed the Jackal the night he

rescued me, and I killed the Tall the night we rescued Lasair.”

“You did what?” her brother asked, his voice,

his expression, showing more pride than surprise. She gloried in

it.

“Aleksi and I fought the Wolf and the Tall,”

she told them. “I beat the Tall to death with a stick and Aleksi

pulled the Wolf’s blade from his shoulder and stuck the Wolf in the

belly with it. The Wolf rode off. How far he got, we don’t know.”

She looked to her father. “Brawn went after him to find out what

has become of him.”

“We’ll have much to prepare for,” her father

said. “No matter what Brawn discovers. But for now—”

The chamber door burst open and the queen

stepped out. Her gaze went directly to her husband, and she sucked

in a great breath. She turned to her daughter, and her breath flew

out in a rush. Her tears wet Sahar’s cheek as she embraced her.

“You have come home to us,” she cried softly.

“Oh, my darling girl. My brave, brash, wonderful, headstrong girl.

You have come home to us.” She kissed Sahar’s tear-streaked cheek

and stood back, holding her shoulders with both hands. “You are

well?”

“I’m well.”

Her mother looked over Sahar’s head to her

husband, and was reassured by whatever she saw. She ran her hands

down Sahar’s arms and held her wrists.

“Good,” she said. “I am glad.” She sniffed,

smiled and then looked over to Asim. “You have a son, my son,” she

said, grinning as Asim stood there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging

open. “Go, meet your son and thank your wife.” She laughed as he

leapt past her into his chambers, and then squeezed Sahar’s wrists.

“You, my daughter, can meet your nephew tomorrow. Tonight you must

go bathe, then eat, and then sleep.” She wrinkled her nose and

whispered, “You smell.”

Safe, clean, warm, and dry, laying in her

big, soft, comfortable bed alone, Sahar was unable to sleep. She

knew Aleksi had moved into one of the guest rooms in the palace at

her parents’ invitation, and for one brief moment she considered

sneaking over to his room and getting into bed with him,. Throwing

off her bedcovers, she stuffed her feet into her slippers and

padded down the hall to the kitchens. She pushed the door open and

stopped. Aleksi was sitting at the table he often sat at with Anya,

gnawing the meat off a drumstick of cooked fowl. “What are you

doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Not without my

tigress snuggled up against me, snoring in my ear.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Shall we call it purring then?” He pushed

the plate toward her as she scowled at him and took a seat at the

table. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Ravenous.”

He licked his lips, never taking his eyes

from hers. “Me too.”

Sahar laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You

are—”

“Handsome, charming, irresistible.”

“An arrogant ass.”

He gave her a cocky grin as he cut off a

slice of breast meat. “True,” he said. He took a big bite and

smacked his lips. “Tasty, but then you know how I like a tender

breast.”

Sahar gave him her best glare even as her

traitorous cheeks flushed hot at the memory of his mouth on her

body. He may be an arrogant, conceited ass, but the man had reason

to be. He was as good in bed as he was on the back of a horse.

Which was saying something. He was grinning at her and licking his

lips, and she was actually considering climbing on top of him and

riding him here in the kitchens when the door opened and Anya

walked in.

“Oh, oh my,” she exclaimed, her hands to her

cheeks. “I was told you’d returned together and safely. Thank the

gods. I didn’t expect to see you two up before the sun.”

“We didn’t mean to raid your kitchen,” he

said. “We’re hungry and have become accustomed of late to rising

before the sun.”

“No need to apologize.” Anya shook her head.

“You’re always welcome in the palace kitchens.” She swiped at

welling tears, and then wiped her hands on her work apron. “I’m so

glad to see you both alive and well, if not a stone or two lighter

by the looks of you.” She sniffed and grinned. “Well, we’ll take

care of that soon enough.” She went to the larder and pulled out a

sack of ground flour. “What a night, eh? You two and the king

returned. A new princeling born. It’ll be a day and a night of

feasting no doubt.”

Aleksi stood. “We should be getting out of

your way then.”

“No.” The vehemence of her answer stopped

Sahar as she started to stand. “No need,” she said, waving them

back down. “You two sit, eat. Can I make you some eggs or porridge?

More kitchen maids will be joining me shortly. We have orders to

pack enough travel provisions for twenty and four riders off on the

king’s business at first light, but I can cook you something before

they show.” She smiled and let out a happy sigh. “Please,” she

said. “Sit and eat and tell me the real story behind all the tales

I’ll be hearing come the morrow.”

“Meet your nephew,” Sahar’s mother said,

laying the bundle of blanket and pudgy-cheeked infant in her arms.

“Ammar, son of Asim, son of Asad, King of the City by the Sea.”

The newborn gazed up at her with big, round,

serious eyes. The corners of Sahar’s mouth tilted up, and she found

herself speaking in that strange, high-pitched way adults spoke to

babies. “Hello, my nephew Ammar,” she cooed. “I am your Auntie

Sahar, your father’s sister.” She tickled his palm with her

fingertip and smiled as he wrapped his fingers around it. “Ohh,

such a strong grip you have my little man.” She looked up at her

brother and grinned. “You must take after your Auntie,” she said in

a conspiratorial whisper meant for her brother to hear.

“Ha, ha,” her brother said, though he was

grinning too. In truth, he hadn’t stopped grinning since Sahar

walked into their chambers.

“Truly,” Sahar said to Asim and Rima, “he is

the most handsome baby I have ever seen.”

“He looks like his father,” Rima said from

her bed with a tired but happy smile while Asim gazed down at her

with an adoring expression.

Rima lay propped up with six pillows at

least, a tray of her favorite sweet breads on the table beside her

and a pitcher of frothy beer to relax her strained body and

encourage the flow of her breast milk. Many women of rank or wealth

chose to use wet nurses, considering the toll pregnancy and

childbirth took on their bodies, but not the women of Sahar’s

family. They chose to hold their infants close, to nourish them

with their bodies and nurture them with their mother’s love.

Cradling her nephew in her arms, smelling his

new baby smell, she understood why. That understanding brought her

close to tears.

She handed the baby back to his mother,

kissed Rima on the cheek, gave her brother a quick hug, and

practically ran out of their chambers. Her mother found her a short

time later, pacing her rooms like a tigress in a cage. A cage of

her own lustful making.

Her mother sat on the edge of Sahar’s bed and

patted the space beside her. She stopped pacing and hung her head

low. She had no doubt that her mother knew she might be carrying

Aleksi’s child, and she could not face her, not yet. She’d entered

the races to show that she was as capable as any man. She’d proudly

claimed, out loud and often, that she didn’t need a man, that if

and when she was to marry it would be her choice. Now here she

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.