Eight

 

It was late when they finished off their custards, and just as his dinner companion had predicted, Yavi thought he’d died and gone to heaven when he tasted her dessert’s creamy sweetness. He had also finished off an entire bottle of Fahrshir with relatively little help from her, and was maintaining very thin control over his lustful thoughts. He wanted to carry her upstairs, unhook her too-tight bodice, and fill his hands and mouth with her lovely breasts.

For a start.

He cleared his throat and pushed away from the table, then pulled out her chair and helped her to her feet. He brought her fingers to his lips for a light kiss. “Thank you for an exceptional meal, Graciella.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” she smiled.

“Yes, and—” He forced himself to say the words. “It’s getting late, and…I’m very tired. I hope you don’t mind if I retire early?”

Her beautifully disappointed expression told him she did mind, but she recovered quickly. “No, of course not.”

“Shall I escort you to your room, then?” He was already breaking one of the rules he’d made the night before, but it was better than taking her to his study for more alcohol and fewer inhibitions. And he certainly wasn’t going to send her off to her empty wing alone.

She accepted the arm he offered. “Yes, thank you.”

He escorted her up the long staircases and walked with her down the vacant hallways to her room, praying her fireplace would be ablaze and there would be absolutely no excuse to go inside with her. When he opened the door, the warmth and glow of the fire was intact. He didn’t know whether to rejoice or cry. “Well, here we are,” he announced brusquely.

“Yes.” She looked up at him, not releasing his arm.

He peeled her fingers off his shirt, then folded them up and patted them before pushing them away. “I bid you good night, Miss Stovy.”

“Oh, ah, good night.” The forlorn look in her hazel eyes ripped a dagger through his heart.

“Just summon the guards if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I will.”

“Thank you again for dinner.”

“My pleasure.”

Her pleasure was one thing he did not want to think about at the moment. He backed up. “Until morning, then.”

“Until morning,” she replied, watching as he turned to go.

He walked away, fast, and didn’t look back.

§

There was only one explanation for his hurry to rid himself of her and rush off to his own quarters, Graciella thought.

Her name was Kitran.

Graciella paced in front of her fireplace a moment, trying to decide what to do. Surely Kitran was meeting him in his bedroom this very moment, and before long, she’d be on top of him, rubbing herself on him as Jiandra had described.

No, no, no! Graciella had been certain the meal she’d served him was winning him over to her side. He hadn’t even looked up when Kitran was bringing out the food, was more absorbed in his wine. By the end of dinner, his body was relaxed, he was making a lot of eye contact with Graciella, and she’d seen his gaze linger on her mouth more than once. When they’d stood up from the table, she’d been so sure he was going to invite her to sit by the fire in his study and chat, as had been their habit over the past week.

It had to be Kitran. With Yajna and Jiandra gone, no doubt Yavi had seized the opportunity to arrange a tryst with the beautiful washing girl. What, hadn’t he as much as admitted he had absolutely no plans to marry any time soon? Spoken like a true rakehell. Oath of celibacy, my arse. The reason Jiandra doesn’t know he’s knobbing Kitran is because he waits until she and Yajna are off the premises!

She had to move fast to find out the truth. She hopped on one foot, tugging off her boots, and put on her soft slippers. She opened her bedroom door just a crack, then poked her head out to see if any guards were lurking about.

It was all clear, so she slipped out and closed the door, then hurried down the hallway out of Yajna’s wing, heading toward Yavi’s side of the palace. Before entering the passageway that led to his study and his bedroom, she flattened herself against the wall and peeked around the corner. There was no one in sight, so she tiptoed past Yavi’s study to his bedroom.

When she reached the door, she pressed her ear against it to check for the sounds of moaning Jiandra had described. It was quiet for the moment, but she kept listening for any sounds of a woman’s voice, movement on a bed—

Back down the hallway, the door to Yavi’s study opened. Graciella panicked and opened his bedroom door to slip inside. The orange glow of firelight revealed the bed to be undisturbed and free of washing girls, but footsteps were rapidly approaching the door. She glanced around for someplace to hide, hurrying to the far corner of the room to crouch behind a trunk just before the door opened.

Graciella shut her eyes tight, mortified. Now you’ve done it, Graciella. What will he think when he finds you snooping in his room? She sent a desperate mental prayer to Zehu as she heard the door close.

The room fell quiet, but she didn’t dare look or even breathe. Yavi could be standing right on the other side of the trunk for all she knew—he moved like a panther when he wanted to. However, there was a slight possibility the person who entered was a servant, and if so, she could invent a lame excuse and hopefully escape before Yavi returned. She would wait until she heard a sound somewhere else in the room, and then look over the top of the trunk to see who was there.

Finally she heard movement across the room, on the other side of the bed. Water pouring into the washstand. Carefully, oh-so-slowly, she inched up just enough to see over the lid of the trunk. Yavi set the large pitcher down and tugged his white lawn shirt over his head, tossing it to a chair, and Graciella’s mouth went dry. Layers of thick, well-defined muscle flexed over his arms, shoulders, and chest. Apparently training every day in the courtyard pays dividends. Gorgeous ones.

He reached for the placket on his trousers, and she ducked back down to give him some privacy. After a few moments, she thought she heard the sound of him rummaging in a drawer, and inched back up to take a quick peek.

Six-and-a-half feet of male splendor stood by the armoire, naked except for the emperor’s ruby around his neck. His backside was facing her direction, and she couldn’t help but stare. His buttocks looked firm, sculpted in muscle, with a slightly concave plane on either side of his trim hips. He wrapped a towel around his hips before turning to pace toward his washstand, and she ducked quickly. Soon there was a sound of water splashing, being squeezed from a sponge, splashing again.

She risked another peek, and was rewarded with a second view of his backside as he stood in front of his washstand. His bed was between them, so she could only see him from the thighs up, but there was plenty of muscular flesh to stare at from that vantage point. And stare she did, watching his back muscles ripple as he sponge-bathed from neck to groin.

He finished washing and used a towel to dry himself, then wrapped the towel around his waist again. When he turned away from the washstand to walk back to his armoire, she caught a view of the bulge of his groin. It strained against the towel, pushing forward as if it wanted to escape, as if it were beckoning her to come rip the towel off him and climb on. And she wanted to answer its call, by Zehu; she wanted to dive onto his bed and beg him to take her right then and there, like some slattern.

And speaking of slatterns, the horrifying thought came to her that it was possible he was washing up for Kitran, who hadn’t arrived yet. He rearranged his belongings for a moment, shut the armoire, and went to open a window. He stood there in his towel, allowing the frigid air to blow over his face and chest a few moments before closing and latching it. When he turned toward the bed, she sank back down out of sight. The bed creaked lightly under his weight, and she waited a moment longer, then rose up just enough to peek with one eye. He was stretched out on his back, the bedspread covering him up to his waist. He lay still, resting one hand over the emperor’s ruby on his chest.

The clock on the far wall ticked loudly in the silence. Three, four minutes passed, with no appearance of the washing girl. Relief began to wash over Graciella in hopes that she’d been wrong about the tryst. Now if she could just wait until he slept and manage to slip out of his room without him waking up, she’d be golden.

He turned over on his side, putting his back to her, and resettled his head into his pillow. Graciella wondered briefly what he would do if she slipped into bed beside him and snuggled up to his back. He might throw her out in disgust for sneaking around in his room, so she decided against it and rested her chin on her hands on the lid of the trunk to stare at his muscular back and wait.

Thirty minutes later she realized she was dozing a little, and her eyes flew open. The fire in the fireplace had died down to just a few glowing embers, and she could see from Yavi’s outline in the shadows that he was still in exactly the same position as before, on his side facing away from her. She cautiously rose to her feet, tiptoed around the trunk in the darkness, and stealthily approached his bed. His masculine scent of musk and bergamot reached her senses, and she had another strong urge to climb into bed with him. Instead, she leaned over the bed to try to hear his breathing.

Finally she heard a steady breath in, and a steady breath out. Steady in, steady out. She crept to the door, turned the door handle very carefully, and pulled it open just wide enough to slip into the hallway. She shut the door as silently as she’d opened it, and then hurried out of his wing as fast as her slippered feet would carry her.

Back in her room, she stripped down to wash up for bed, then threw on her nightgown and brushed out her hair. She blew out her candle, slipped under the blankets and the covering of filstoc fur, and lay still in the darkness thinking about what she’d learned tonight.

One, he hadn’t arranged a tryst with Kitran. That was foolish paranoia on her part, and she was ashamed of herself. However, it didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with Kitran for certain, so Graciella would still have to be alert for any clues about the nature of their relationship.

Two, he hadn’t wanted to spend any more time with her after dinner than was necessary. That meant she still had some work to do in attracting him, so she needed to make good use of her last night alone with him before Jiandra and Yajna returned.

Three. She’d witnessed his glorious naked body, and it was good. He had a warrior’s build, and every inch of him was well-proportioned from head to toe. Every inch, especially the generous inches that stood out from his groin. It made her squirmy and warm just thinking about it. She knew she should feel guilty for spying on him and invading his privacy in such a way, but she wouldn’t trade the view she’d gotten for anything in the world.

She rolled over, sighing. She needed a plan. Tomorrow she’d do her best to get invited to his study after dinner. Once there, she’d casually suggest they sit together on the couch, and in the midst of conversation, make another attempt to go in for a kiss. All she knew was, if she didn’t get some kind of affectionate touch from him soon, she was going to explode. She pictured herself hiking her skirts up and straddling him on the couch, then desperately hugging his face into her bosom, with him looking up at her like she was addled.

And with that picture in her head to amuse her, she drifted off to sleep.

§

A little crowd of villagers was already gathered when their coach stopped in front of the temple to Tejeshwar in Nirren. Jiandra surveyed their desperate, drawn faces, some of them carrying ill children in their arms, some of them with the sick laid out on wheeled carts. More were coming down the lane through the village, too. Thankfully she’d had a good night’s sleep at the inn in Atulya, the larger village just to the south of Nirren, because it looked like it was going to be a long day.

Jiandra looked over her shoulder at Yajna. “Tell them to form a line in front of the shrine, and I’ll start healing them from there.”

He nodded, then helped her out of the coach. The crowd surged toward her, but Yajna held up a hand and shouted something in Nandalan. They stopped, bowed to him, and gave Jiandra some room to get through to the shrine.

Yajna escorted her to the staircase leading up to the entrance, and she climbed a few steps so she could see over the crowd. Yajna shouted commands in Nandalan, motioning where the line would start and helping them get organized.

Jiandra held the glowing stone in her fist and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer to Zehu, then touched the mother and daughter who were first in line, focusing Healing. Color returned to the little girl’s pale face, and she cried out in joy and grabbed her mother’s hand. The woman bowed deeply to Jiandra, a huge smile on her face.

Yajna motioned them away from the sick crowd as they left, saying something in Nandalan to them, and they turned back to bow to Jiandra once more before leaving.

Jiandra held the Omaja in both hands, kissed it, and pressed it to her heart as she looked out over the crowd. It would be a long day, but a day well spent.

§

Graciella stretched her limbs under her blankets as she awoke. She’d taught Wilten how to prepare a basic breakfast of oats with cinnamon and cream a couple of days ago, so Graciella wouldn’t have to rise before dawn to start water boiling if she didn’t want to.

She’d awakened with the perfect plan for getting closer to Yavi that day. She’d ask him to teach her some of his sword skills so she could protect herself better if need be. She was pretty sure he’d agree, giving her a chance to spend a little one-on-one time with him during the day. Then, while they were together doing that, she could casually ask him if he had any other favorite dishes and try to re-create another Nandalan dinner for him that night.

She put on a plain muslin gown, slipped on her boots, and splashed water over her face. She twisted her hair on top of her head and pinned it, still remembering the scandalous sight of Yavi’s naked body from the night before. Her own body still felt all tingly from the after-effects of her inadvertent voyeurism. She practiced a couple of sexy smiles in the mirror, pinched some color into her cheeks, and headed down to check Wilten’s progress in the kitchen.

Oats were boiling in the kettle, and Wilten was slicing bread for toast from yesterday’s cinnamon-raisin bread. She put her knife down and curtsied to Graciella. “Good morning, milady.”

Graciella tied on her apron. “Good morning, my sweet little kitchen helper. How is everything coming along this morning?”

“Very good. I make oats and toast now. Tinni find many eggs; you want I cook them for breakfast?”

“Let me see how many we have.” Graciella went over to inspect the egg crate Tinni had left on the side table. “Yes, I think we can spare some of these for breakfast. Let’s save a dozen for bread-baking day tomorrow.”

Wilten studied her quizzically. “What a dozen?”

“It means twelve. Do you know twelve?”

“Yes, I know how many is twelve. Ten and two.”

“Correct.”

“Milady, I have gift for you.” Wilten reached under the worktable and retrieved a small burlap pouch.

Graciella’s eyebrows rose. “A gift for me?”

“Yes. Is from my mother’s plants.”

Graciella untied the drawstring and peeked inside. The pouch contained dried flowers and twigs. She sniffed it. It smelled a little like sage and lavender mixed together. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with it, but smiled warmly at the other girl. “Thank you, Wilten.”

“Is for Emperor Yavi.”

“Oh.” Now Graciella was confused. Hadn’t Wilten said it was a gift for her?

“You put this plant in Emperor’s food, he want to kiss you.”

Graciella looked inside the bag again. “It’s an aphrodisiac?”

“I don’t know what is aphrodishack.”

“Aphrodisiac. It means, a food or other substance that provokes—”

The kitchen door opened, and Yavi poked his head in.

Graciella quickly hid the pouch behind her back as she and Wilten curtsied to him.

“Good morning, Miss Stovy, Wilten,” he said. “Is there hot water for tea?”

“Yes, Emperor.” Graciella smiled. “Please do come in.”

He entered, looking dashing in his leather armor and boots.

Graciella stopped imagining him standing there in his towel like last night and turned to Wilten. “Would you prepare a cup of tea for the emperor while I check something in the larder?”

“Yes, milady.”

Graciella hurried to the larder, keeping the little bag of herbs out of Yavi’s line of vision, and stuffed it behind a jar of sugar on the shelf. She grabbed a jar of cinnamon and went back to the worktable.

Wilten presented a tray with a cup of steaming tea to Yavi, curtsying. He glanced at Graciella as he took the cup and saucer. “When is breakfast?”

“In half an hour, Sire.”

“Fine. Until then, Miss Stovy.” He nodded to her and left.

When the door was closed, Graciella turned back to Wilten and spoke under her breath. “Tell me more about this herb of yours.”

§

Jiandra had healed the sick for hours, all who managed to come to the steps of the shrine, carrying their children and escorting their elderly. Once the line of villagers was gone, Yajna glanced at her face with concern.

“You’re exhausted and chilled, Lahdli.” He hugged her shoulders and placed a protective hand over her belly, where their child grew. “Let’s go inside the temple here so you can sit and rest a moment before we make house visits.”

Jiandra nodded, leaning on him for support and warmth as he escorted her inside. The temple was a long, narrow building with benches in rows facing an altar to Tejeshwar down in front.

Yajna seated her on a bench toward the door, then leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I will go fetch a skin of water from our coach, and some bread.”

“That would be lovely.”

Once he was gone, Jiandra wrapped her cloak tighter around her body and closed her eyes a moment, enjoying the quiet and solitude inside the stone building. The Omaja stone suddenly vibrated insistently against her breastbone. She looked down at it. It was pulsating with a purple light, like it always did back at the waterfall where she met with Zehu outside Cobbleton. She frowned, then glanced up at the altar at the other end of the temple. It was hard to see what was down there, exactly, in the dim light filtering in through the narrow windows. She stood and wandered slowly down the center aisle, the Omaja thrumming with life and pulsing even brighter as she approached a stone pedestal. A bowl of water sat on top of it, and there was a high, smooth wall behind the pedestal, much like the wall of rock behind Zehu’s waterfall in Villeleia.

Zafira said this stone’s purpose was contacting the Old Gods. What could it hurt to try to contact Tejeshwar? Jiandra lifted the stone from around her neck and placed it in the bowl. The water swirled clockwise, illuminated with a glowing purple light. Jiandra’s heart leapt. If Tejeshwar appeared, perhaps she would be able to ask him about the curse on Nandala, and how they could lift it. When the water changed direction, a shadowy image formed on the surface of the wall in front of her.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and cloaked. His hood covered his face, and he stood towering over her with arms crossed.

Jiandra shivered a little, and not because of the chill in the air. She whispered, “Who are you, my Lord?”

“They know me here as Tejeshwar,” he said, his voice deep and resonant.

Jiandra bowed low. “My Lord Tejeshwar. I have been eager to speak with you.”

“As have I, with you.”

When she looked up, he threw back his hood and smiled. Handsome, kind, bluish-green eyes gazed fondly down at her. He had long wavy brown hair and a close-cropped brown beard.

“Zehu!” She wanted to run to the wall and press herself to it. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting to speak with you,” he chuckled.

“Did you say you are known here as Tejeshwar?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this back in Cobbleton Wood?”

“I cannot appear as Tejeshwar in Villeleia. I can only present myself as Tejeshwar here, where my people the Nandals know me as such.”

“Tejeshwar, then,” she smiled, curtsying to him. “Please, Lord Tejeshwar, tell me how to lift Nandala’s winter curse.”

His expression grew serious. “It will not be easy, my child. Thakur brought the curse upon Nandala, and it will not lift until the last of his evil seed is destroyed.”

“Last of his seed? Thakur has descendants?”

“Yes. A son.”

“Where is this son? He has never come forward to challenge the throne.”

“He will, soon. He is gathering his forces even now.”

Jiandra’s breath caught in her throat, and she instinctively placed her hands over her belly.

Tejeshwar saw the movement. “Fear not, dear one. You and your unborn child will be protected by the stone.”

“What should I do?”

“Tell the Zulfikar twins their enemy will come to Darpan. They and their men should stay alert for his arrival. Do not leave the palace unguarded.”

“When? When will this enemy come?”

“Soon.”

“Will you help us be victorious?”

“I cannot fight this battle for the Zulfikars. They must purge Nandala of Thakur’s seed themselves in order to lift the curse and re-establish the Zulfikar House’s right to rule Nandala.”

“I understand.”

“No matter what happens, dear one, I will protect you. The stone came to you for this purpose—to deliver my people in two nations. You helped save Villeleia from its time of trouble, and now you will help deliver Nandala from its curse.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

His image faded, the water in the bowl stopped swirling, and the Omaja’s light went out. Jiandra bowed her head, took the Omaja out of the water, dried it on her skirt, and pressed a kiss to the stone. “Thank you for appearing to me, Zehu,” she whispered to it just as the temple door opened.

“Forgive my delay, Lahdli,” Yajna’s voice echoed through the chamber as he strode in with a basket. “A villager was speaking to the guards about some disturbing rumors he’d heard.”

Jiandra moved down the aisle toward him. “I bet I just heard the same rumor.”

§

Graciella noticed Yavi seemed even quieter than usual during breakfast. He seemed as if he wanted to say something, but his stoic expression gave no hint as to what was on his mind.

“Emperor Yavi,” she spoke up, “I was wondering…”

He immediately stopped eating to listen. “Yes?”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d be willing to teach me some of your sword techniques. As I mentioned, my father taught me rudimentary swordplay when I was small, but it’s been a while. I would like to be able to protect myself better in case of another encounter with bandits.”

He looked down and sipped his tea. “Yes, I think that can be arranged.”

“Could we get started today? Are you busy?”

“I’m meeting with my generals here at the palace this afternoon.”

“What about this morning? Before lunch?”

He seemed to take a deep breath before answering. “All right.”

“Great! What should I wear? And where should I meet you for the lesson?”

He glanced down at her body, then cleared his throat. “We can practice in the armory inside the palace, so you won’t need a cloak, or…any unusual attire.”

“I wish I had leather armor like what Zafira made for Jiandra. I’ve never worn breeches before.”

He suddenly pushed back from the table and stood, looking uncomfortable. “I must go.”

“What? Don’t you want more toast?” She held up the heaping plate of cinnamon bread.

“Perhaps later. I’ve just remembered I must—read a letter.” He bowed stiffly. “Please excuse me, Miss Stovy.”

“Of course.” She started to get up, but he had already turned away and headed for the stairs.

Well, that was strange. At least he’d agreed to teach her some sword skills, although he hadn’t said what time. She would just have to wait for him to send for her. And despite his gruff demeanor, she decided she’d keep her chin up in the meantime, not get discouraged. It wasn’t over until it was over, and until he made it clear he wasn’t interested in her, she intended to keep trying to win his attention and love.

§

Yavi shut the door of his study and ran an agitated hand over his face. It was too early to drink katsuri, but he needed some kind of distraction, because that girl was going to be the death of him. Why did she have to wake up every day looking more beautiful than the day before? And why was she suddenly so determined to be near him, exactly when he most needed to distance himself?

If she had gotten in bed with him the night before like he’d thought—yes, hoped—she would, all would have been lost. He would have broken his oath several times over, if she’d allowed it, and become the old Yavi again. It was by sheer force of will that he hadn’t jumped out of bed and run to the door to stop her from leaving at midnight. He wanted to ask her at breakfast what she was looking for in his room, but he didn’t want to reveal that he’d been faking sleep when she left. And if her answer had been “you,” he would have been sorely tempted to sweep her up out of her chair and smother her with kisses. Then it would be an entirely different type of swordplay he would have taught her this morning.

Stop, stop, stop! He strode to the fireplace, grabbed the iron poker, and stoked the embers to revive the flames a bit. He thought about how much Jiandra would hate him if she returned from her trip to find him seducing her sister. And how disappointed Yajna would be, for he looked up to Yavi as the eldest. And though he hated to even entertain the thought, deep down a part of him suspected that the persistence of Nandala’s curse of starvation and poverty was related to his own past sins. He worried that he was unfit to wear the emperor’s ruby, and that the Gods would never bless Nandala under his rule.

But if the Gods were angry with him anyway, why not give in to temptation and seduce Graciella? She definitely seemed to be feeling some attraction. All he had to do was turn on the Yavi charm; he was well-versed in the art of seduction. Or used to be. Now he felt old, bitter, out of his element, out of practice.

But every time he imagined pissing off his oath, scooping her up, and carrying her up the stairs to his chambers, he felt empty inside. Why not do it? Because it wasn’t who he was anymore, and it wasn’t who he wanted to be.

And he had an even stronger motivation than being the man he wanted to be: protecting the woman she was. He couldn’t bring himself to disrespect and take advantage of the purest, most untainted, angelic being in his life—Graciella Stovy.

§

Graciella poured some of Wilten’s special herb onto the worktable to examine it closer. “Could we grind this to a fine powder with the mortar and pestle? Would it still work?”

Wilten nodded. “Oh yes. It get stronger if you grind.”

“So has your mother ever used this herb on a man? Have you seen exactly what it does?”

Wilten giggled. “No, I have not seen. But everyone in Nandala know what it does to a man.”

Graciella got a vivid picture, made all the more vivid by her glimpse of Yavi’s groin bulging in his towel last night. “Is it for men only, or does it also…do something to women?”

“It work on woman too, but not same way as man, because woman don’t have pircuk.”

“Peer what?”

Wilten’s silver eyes filled with amusement. “Pircuk. That how we say—” She motioned something protruding out from her apron.

Graciella dissolved into laughter. “Oh, Gods. I hope Zehuraster the Protector isn’t watching me right now. I’ll be damned for sure.”

“Gods watch everything. They forgive you, milady, because know Emperor Yavi need good wife.”

Graciella’s laugher died in her throat, and she swallowed. “Do you think I would make him a good wife?”

The girl nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

Graciella smiled and turned her attention back to the pile of dried flowers and stems, picked up a petal, and chewed it to test its flavor. “I’m thinking this might be lovely in a spice cake, mixed in with other spices like ginger, cinnamon, and clove.”

Wilten nodded her agreement.

Graciella scooped the little pile of flowers and twigs back into its pouch and hid it behind some jars in the larder. “All right. Are you all set to serve lunch by yourself, Wilten? Cold chicken, bread, and cheese?”

“Yes, milady. I know what to do. No need you stay.”

The kitchen door opened, and Yavi strode in. Graciella and Wilten curtsied to him.

He inclined his head. “Miss Stovy, are you ready for your sword lesson?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“If you would accompany me to the armory, then?”

“Yes, thank you.” She removed her apron and winked over her shoulder at Wilten as she followed him out.