Chapter 18 #3
Aleksi, who stood dumbfounded. Anya broke the embrace first,
stepping back and gazing at Aleksi with a tremulous smile.
“My son,” his father said, his voice
quavering for the first time in Aleksi’s memory. “Meet your
mother.”
Sahar left the dining hall not long after
Aleksi and Maksimillian had gone to the kitchens. She’d fled
straight to her bed where she had tossed and turned most of the
night and paced her chambers the rest of it, finally falling asleep
close to dawn and not waking until noon when she groggily stumbled
out from her bed chambers into her common room.
“Have you heard, mistress?” Safa said as
Sahar lay down on a sofa, her head pounding and her tongue thick in
her dry mouth. “Princess Anastasia and her prince have packed up
and left, the Ox has taken back his threat of a war, and King
Maksimillian and Anya, the head cook, are to be married, here,
before they leave for their homeland in three days’ time. Ursula
will be married once they return.”
“Married?” Sahar was not sure she had heard
Safa right. The woman could speak as fast as a bird twittered.
“Anya and Maksimillian?”
Safa grinned and offered Sahar a wet cloth
for her forehead. “It turns out that Anya and Maksimillian were
lovers when she was a kitchen maid in his palace. She’s Aleksandr’s
mother.”
Sahar dropped the wet cloth and her jaw.
“Aleksandr’s mother?”
Safa picked up the cloth and rinsed it and
handed it back to her. “Arman is Aleksandr’s half-brother and will
be returning with them as well.”
Sahar laid the cloth over her face, as much
to hide her warring emotions as to cool her aching head. She was
happy for Aleksi. Truly. He’d gained a father, a mother, a brother,
and a wife in the last three days, as well as a string of prime
broodmares for his personal stables, which would not only rival a
king’s, but be a king’s. He had gotten everything he had wanted,
and more.
So had she. She had proved herself equal to
or better than any man on a horse. She had discovered her own
strength and courage. She had proved she had no need for a husband
or a man.
But she wanted one.
She wanted Aleksi. She wanted him so badly
that she actually ached. She ached so deep inside that she thought
surely it must be her soul grieving. She’d lost her chance. He
would marry Ursula upon his triumphant return to his home.
“They leave in three days’ time?” she
whimpered from under her cloth.
“King Maksimillian’s wedding is to be day
after tomorrow,” Safa’s disembodied voice came at Sahar. “They will
all leave the day after.”
Sahar strangled a wail that was starting
somewhere in her belly trying to claw its way up and out of her
throat. “Will you bring some bread and cheese to my chambers,
Safa?” Sahar asked when she could speak again, intending to avoid
the kitchens and Ursula for the next three days. If Sahar came face
to face with Aleksi’s betrothed, there was no telling what she
would do: scratch the lucky woman’s eyes out, or crumple into a
pitiable, mewling heap at her feet. “Wrapped, please, so that I can
pack it in my saddle bag.”
“You’re going riding, mistress? The sky has
been threatening rain all morning.”
Sahar tossed the cloth and slowly rose to her
feet. “I need air.” A little rain, or even a sleeting downpour
couldn’t dampen her spirits any more than they already were.
Throwing her otter cloak over her shoulders
and trying not to think of how many nights it covered her and
Aleksi on their bedrolls, she snuck out of the palace and to the
stables. She stopped outside of Zolotoy’s stall when she heard
Aleksi’s voice coming from the antechamber attached to the
stall.
“So, my little Kiska,” she heard him say,
“you’ll be moving to the stable master’s quarters today. My
newfound brother, Arman, will be returning to my homeland with us.”
He laughed softly. “Who would’ve thought that by traveling to this
city, I’ve reconciled with my father, found my mother and brother,
become a prince and heir to a throne, and found and lost my
tigress.”
Sahar stood rooted to the spot.
“Ratter will be coming for you sometime this
afternoon,” he told the kitten. “I’ll be busy with my parents’
wedding tomorrow, and packing everything and everybody up for our
journey home the day after. This is likely our goodbye, my little
Kiska. May you have a long, happy life catching mice and keeping
Ratter’s feet warm.”
Sahar stepped back from the gate as Aleksi
came out of the antechamber and laid a blanket over Z’s back. “Rest
up, Z,” he told the stallion. “We have a long trek ahead of us.
Come spring, you and my new broodmares will get busy making
babies.” He patted the stallion’s rump. “I would’ve liked to see a
foal out of you and Lasair. It would’ve been a beauty with your
strength and her speed. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”
He shut the stall’s gate behind him and Sahar
stepped forward. Without a word, she strode straight into his arms,
wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him as if she had
never kissed him before, and never would again.
She ended the kiss as abruptly as she’d
started it.
“Goodbye, Aleksi.”