Chapter 15 #3
splaying it against his thigh. “I didn’t think it was.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“What we agreed to with your father,” he told
her. “I’ll stay until we know if there is a babe. If there is,
we’ll marry. If there’s not, we won’t. I’ll return home with my
string of broodmares and purse full of coin, and you’ll stay in the
bosom of your family, free of me or any other man you do not
want.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Which part?”
“The not wanting you,” she chided. “That’s
what got us into this mess.”
He laughed, short and quick. “True enough,”
he agreed. He met her gaze and held nothing of what he felt for her
from his. “For my part, my tigress, I don’t regret giving in to
your want of me, or mine of you. No matter what comes of it.”
Sahar blinked, swallowed and sniffed. Then
she sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. “If we do marry,
where will we live? Will our child be raised here, a royal with
wealth and position in the loving bosom, as you put it, of my
family, or do you intend to take us back to your home, where our
child would grow up with toil and uncertainty?”
“Nothing in life is certain, my tigress. Mine
is the perfect example of that. Our child will not have nothing but
toil, not that a little toil is a bad thing. Our child will grow up
straight and true and strong. Well-fed and well-loved in a home
built by their father’s sweat and ambition. Not some soft, selfish
royal who knows more of palace gossip and intrigue than the hard
work of real life.”
“How is palace life not real life?”
“A handful of people who have servants to
take care of their every whim versus thousands who do not eat lest
they grow, harvest, and cook their own food. Who haul their own
water and who shovel their stocks’ manure to grow that food. Who
empty their own piss pots. You tell me.”
“That same handful of royal people make sure
there are trade pacts so the thousands can trade that food or craft
or other essentials. The royals make sure the people are safe when
they haul that water with laws and alliances and pay people a
living wage to empty their chamber pots.”
Aleksi snorted. “Your father’s palace may pay
people for their work, but how many other kings do?”
“Your father paid you, Serge, and Pyotr.”
“My point is, my child will not be raised a
cosseted, spoilt royal.”
“Mine will not be raised an uncouth,
roundhouse-dwelling, ignoramus.”
Aleksi left, slamming the trapdoor over his
head, dropped down to the ground, and stomped through the gardens
to the lattice that led to his chambers, grumbling under his breath
the whole way.
“Royal fucking bitch. I was more than good
enough for her when it was the two of us alone in the wild. I was
her stallion, and she couldn’t get enough of me. I thought she was
different than other royals, that my touch meant as much to her as
hers did to me, but we get back here to her royal family’s palace
and she wants nothing to do with me. She swore she had no need or
want of a man, until she wanted me, gave herself to me, trusted
me.”
He stopped and turned around, eyeing the
cedar.
“Until she cursed me with wanting her so
badly I gave in. I gave in and lay with her and loved her until I
not only wanted her, I craved her, needed her, needed her to be
mine.” He took a few steps back in the direction of the tree and
the woman still there. “Is that why I let myself be blinded by our
passion? Why I acted like some lovesick lad and did not take
precautions against planting my seed in her womb? Was I trying to
trap my tigress?”
He took another few steps and leaned against
a column.
“Stupid man. If I’ve managed to trap her and
tie myself by the stones to her, do I truly expect her to choose
the life of a poor, horse-trading bastard over that of a privileged
princess? Would I choose that life for our child, our children,
over one of wealth and ease? Could I be the bigger man and accept
being consort to a princess, and have my life ruled over by her
royal family for the sake of our children?”
Aleksi rolled his forehead against the column
as if he could press an answer into his brain.
“I could leave. Take my coin and horses and
head south instead of north. Serge and Pyotr would likely join me.
We could settle in some new city, set ourselves up, start new
lives. Sahar would keep her father from coming after me, her pride
would never let him chase me down like the dog I am for even
thinking such a thing. No. I would never abandon my child. My
children shall know their father’s love until the end of their
days.”
He walked slowly to the cedar.
“Her family may be royal, but they are as
different from mine as night from day. They have already taken me
into their home, treated me like a hero for doing what was right
when they know I’ve done wrong and lain with their daughter.” He
stood at the foot of the cedar and gazed up. “Yet it felt so
right.”
He started to climb up the tree, and stopped
at the sound of quiet weeping. He continued and tried to push open
the trapdoor, but she had thrown the bolt shut.
“Sahar,” he said, and he knew she heard him
when her weeping turned to snuffles. “If you are with child, I’ll
stay. I’ll stay and raise my child in your city with your family.
I’d hoped you had enough faith in me, in us, to make a good life by
our own efforts. That you would be proud to stand by me and work by
my side to build that life together.”