A na was hurried away from the Courtyard of Sorrows and taken directly to a sleeping chamber, which, she realized, she must be sharing with three other girls. The four beds being tidied by a slave suggested as much. The Elim passed Ana into the care of an older woman who had presumably been waiting for her.
“She’s in shock,” the woman commented, looking at her.
Horz, who had accompanied Ana and tried to soothe her, had been ignored by the odalisque, blamed by him, in fact, for what had befallen Lazar. He spoke quietly to the slave. “She will need your care—perhaps something gentle to help her rest. As you know, she has been out all night and this afternoon she witnessed something no child should see. It has been difficult for her.”
The slave nodded. “Come, child, Elza will take care of you now.” She held out her hand to Ana. “You are safe, my girl. It will be just the two of us.”
Ana gratefully obeyed, glad to rid herself of the eunuch escort. “Does he live?” she demanded of the Elim before they left.
“I doubt it,” Horz said softly, and again Ana refused the sympathy she saw in his unhappy eyes. “No one could survive that.”
“Please, leave us now,” Elza said, and turned back to Ana. “Let me take that bloodied veil off you,” the woman said kindly.
“My name is Ana,” she replied, glaring again at the head of the Elim, who still remained, looking surprisingly awkward.
Horz’s presence seemed to distress Ana, and Elza glanced sharply at him. “You should leave her alone with me now, please.” He and the other Elim did so silently.
Ana relaxed slightly once they had departed. “I want to keep this,” she said suddenly, rolling the veil into a ball, as if by doing so, she could stifle the pain of Lazar’s potential death within it. She could not think about such a grievous outcome right now.
“What?” the woman exclaimed. “This messy thing? Whatever for?”
Ana had no desire to let anyone know that Lazar’s blood—her only physical connection with him—meant more to her than anything else. To cast the veil away would feel like casting him away. Keeping the droplets of his blood was ghoulish, she knew, but they were all she had. She would shed no more tears over this man. Though she hardly understood her feelings, she believed she loved Lazar—would never love anyone with the same intensity she felt for him.
Ana had chided herself the previous night, telling herself that her heart was deceiving her. She was so young and she guessed Lazar was a man of almost thirty, maybe older. It was a ludicrous situation, but she could not control the rapid thumping of her heart every time the man was near. Although they had not spent much time together, she could re-create the feel of her hand in his, the smile she worked so hard to win on his face, the softening of his expression when their eyes met. She could bring to life in her mind the rich timbre of his voice with its foreign lilt. And the warmth of his body standing next to her the night before in the Choosing Room—it had felt to her as if a furnace had burned between them. She had risked leaning closer to him—in front of Herezah—just to feel the hardness of his body.
She had wondered long and deep, as she prayed to Lyana in the temple, whether it was wrong of her to desire Lazar. But she felt powerless in his presence. Where Salmeo’s touch caused her entire being to clamp shut, just a glance from Lazar achieved the opposite effect. She felt overwhelmed by the flood of desire, tempted to act upon it, though she knew not how.
Lazar, she appreciated, had not once in their brief encounters behaved in anything other than an entirely appropriate manner. Even when he had let his guard down in the bazaar, his treatment of her had remained dignified. In Ana’s moments of reflection, she had wondered if she was reading far too much into their few interactions. And yet this afternoon, in the Courtyard of Sorrows, she had felt their bond as a tangible link and she had known that she was right. She was not lying to herself. As he had borne her punishment, she heard him whisper her name. He had spoken to her alone and he had been prepared to give his life for her—it was too much, more than she deserved. And now, because of her, he might be dead. She forced herself to believe otherwise, cast a prayer to Lyana, made a bargain with the Goddess: Let him survive and I will make no further claim on him. I will not pursue him and I will not encourage him. I will remain steadfast to my duty and cold to any entreaties I should be fortunate to win from him.
Looking at the veil, Ana realized that Elza was still waiting for an answer. Pez’s warning to trust no one resonated loudly in her thoughts. “This was part of my first formal occasion in the harem. It’s a special keepsake for me.”
“How grim of you, child. Very well—put it away and don’t frighten the other girls with it. That’s your bed over there.”
“By the window?” Ana was surprised. “I would have thought that one would be taken already.”
“Pez—the Zar’s mad jester—came and slept on it last night. He refused to leave it until the girls got tired of asking.”
“Oh?”
“And then he said he’d put a curse on the bed and the others got so frightened I had to shoo that terrible dwarf away. Have you seen him yet?” Elza didn’t wait for Ana to answer, continuing, “He’s such a fool. But the young Zar loves him as much as his father before him did. I don’t see the charm, myself. I think Pez is a nuisance and I’m sorry you’re left with a cursed bed.”
“I have seen him,” Ana replied carefully. “How did the women before us like him?”
“Oh, well enough. He entertained them. He’s harmless, I suppose, but he disrupted those children so much they could hardly settle.”
Ana had to suppress a smile. She knew Pez had chosen that bed just for her. It was easily in the best position in the whole chamber. “Well, I’m not afraid of any curse.”
“That’s the spirit,” Elza said, though she wasn’t paying much attention to Ana’s words, mostly glad the girl seemed unscathed by the afternoon’s ordeal. “You’ve had your Test of Virtue, haven’t you?” At Ana’s nod, she continued briskly, “Good. Let’s get you into a warm bath. Put this robe on and come with me. You’re in for a special experience.”
Ana slipped into the silken robe, feeling the soft touch of it against her skin, and then begged a moment to tuck Lazar’s Veil—as she thought of it—beneath her pillow. He would always sleep close to her now.
THEY HAD ROWED in silence through the late afternoon. Jumo worked the oars while Zafira fussed over the unconscious Spur; the stranger sat with her back to the rest of them, chanting beneath her breath as if in prayer.
She spoke suddenly, interrupting their thoughts. “Can you row close to Beloch?”
“The waves might dash us against the giant,” Jumo warned. The sea wasn’t rough, but he was put out by her odd request when time was so against them.
“Beloch will not hurt us.”
Jumo mumbled a protest but steered them closer to the giant, who loomed, massive, over their tiny boat. “Why must you do this?”
“I want to speak to him,” she answered, and she did just that, balancing herself precariously as the boat rocked perilously. None of her companions understood what she said to the giant, for she murmured her words beneath her breath.
Jumo scowled. “We’ll all drown.”
The old woman smiled serenely at him. “Thank you. It meant a lot to me that I could do this.”
“Do you speak to the giant each time you go to the island?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her voice suddenly detached, as if her thoughts were far away from them. “I have never rowed to the island before.”
Jumo, annoyed and confused, wisely held his tongue.
“WE REQUIRE NO REFRESHMENT,” Zar Boaz said to Bin, dismissing the servant but also, to his frustration, revealing that none of his wrath had dissipated. He knew he must learn to disguise his emotions if he was to emulate his father. Frowning, he looked at Salmeo and Tariq, who stood before him. Immediately the two bowed.
Boaz did not acknowledge their courtesy. He reined in his anger and steadied his voice. “Have we heard any more?”
The Grand Master Eunuch adopted a look of concern. “No, Majesty. I dealt with the pig Inflictor,” he lied, “who had no skill at all for his chosen career.”
Boaz nodded. “Where were the senior Inflictors—Shaz cannot be all that we have in the palace?”
Salmeo shook his head, his frown deepening. “No, Great One, that’s right, but the two senior Inflictors were unavailable. The Head Inflictor was not in the city itself and his deputy was sick; we had no option but to use Shaz. Would you like me to have him punished?”
“Not especially. I would prefer that you punish his seniors who were not present. We cannot have the head and his deputy both unavailable. It is unforgivable!”
Boaz instantly regretted calling this meeting while his emotions were still raw. Seeing his friend so broken had sickened him sufficiently that when he had strode from the balcony, he had actually lost his morning’s meal into the bushes not far from his chambers. Mercifully, with no guards on the balcony with them, no one but his mother had been privy to this show of weakness and she had sensibly said nothing, simply offered him a linen to wipe his mouth.
“I’m retiring for the day, Boaz” were her only words, and hearing the slight quaver in her voice, he knew that Herezah was as sickened as he. She had learned to control her physical reactions and he vowed to do the same. Once again he privately acknowledged that no matter how much she frustrated him, she still had plenty to teach him, and his father had been politically astute to choose her as his favorite. In response to her words, he had nodded but also risked taking and squeezing her hand in thanks. He knew she would share with no one his embarrassing show of distress.
Salmeo cleared his throat and Boaz was returned from his thoughts. “Shall I punish them, High One?”
“What would you suggest?” Boaz privately admonished himself as he watched Salmeo’s eyes narrow, and knew he was being tested by the Grand Master Eunuch.
“There are a few different options, depending on how far you feel this punishment should extend, Majesty,” Salmeo replied carefully, deliberately being evasive while cornering the Zar into ordering someone’s demise. “Are you calling for death?”
Boaz took a deep breath. “If the Spur does not survive the flogging, Grand Master Eunuch, then one of the Inflictors must pay for their collective failing with his own life.”
“The choice is mine—is that what you’re saying, High One?”
Boaz hated Salmeo in that moment. He fixed him with a stare he’d seen the old Zar give many times when his ire was up—and used the moment to decide whether or not he could back down; there was a man’s life at stake but he was still privately enraged at the suffering of his friend the Spur, when his flogging, as a protector, was meant to be more symbolic than anything as sinister as it had become. No, he could not turn back now. His tone was cutting when he spoke again. “We’re both speaking Percherese, Grand Master Eunuch. I’m sure you understand my order.”
Salmeo bowed, disturbed by the Zar’s sudden confidence. “As you command, Majesty.”
“Where has the Spur been taken? Tariq, I wish my personal doctors to attend him.”
Tariq’s jewels glinted on the ends of his quivering beard. Really, this sort of task was below him but he supposed he ought to ingratiate himself with the Zar. “Of course, High One, I will seek that information for you. Is there anything else I can do, Your Majesty?” Tariq all but felt Salmeo’s sneer.
“That will be sufficient. Where is Odalisque Ana?”
Salmeo answered. “The Elim escorted her to her chambers to bathe and rest after her night’s adventures. Her clothes were bloodied, you know.”
Boaz privately felt the girl should rest. “Bring her to my private study. Immediately.”
“Yes, High One.” Salmeo bowed to avoid revealing his expression of surprise. “Should I inform the Valide of—”
“My mother,” Boaz began, unable to control his rising temper now, “has absolutely nothing to do with this. You would be well advised, Grand Master Eunuch, to learn to do my bidding without questioning it. I will not warn you again. I might be young, Salmeo, but I am the highest authority in this realm. Or are you already placing your loyalty in the wrong place?”
The huge man’s flabby face wobbled with the effort of holding back his own rage. “No, my Zar. I just thought it right to caution against—”
Boaz laced his next words with contempt. “Don’t think, Salmeo. When the command comes from me, just do it! And don’t ever caution me again. Is that clear?”
Salmeo bowed to hide his own disgust at being spoken to publicly in this manner. “Yes, Majesty,” he managed.
Tariq stifled a sneer.
“I’M AFRAID I CAN’T give you the treat I promised, Odalisque Ana,” Elza said, returning to her after taking a whispered message at the door. “We have to bathe you quickly in a tub.”
“Why?”
“The Zar wishes to see you.”
“Boaz?”
The slave looked at her, aghast. “Hush, child! Never speak his name unless he alone gives you the authority. Haven’t they taught you anything yet?”
“I’ve spent only a few hours in the palace. How could they?” Ana replied tartly.
“You’ll do well to curb that defiance in your tone, Miss Ana. Take my advice, for your haughtiness will not be tolerated. Rule number one,” the slave began, leading Ana to a small chamber filled with single cubicles, “is you never speak the Zar’s name. He is Your Majesty, High One, Mightiest of the Mighties, or similar.”
Ana nodded, listening carefully and remembering Pez’s warning that she must blend into the community of the harem or risk Salmeo’s attention.
“Rule number two: bathing daily is part of harem life.” Elza pointed toward the cubicle. “We use these rarely. From now on, you will use the main pavilion and spend the entire morning there on your grooming.”
“What a waste,” Ana murmured.
Elza smirked. “You’d better start getting used to boredom, Miss Ana, for you’ll spend your whole life getting ready and hoping the Zar will wish to share even a few words with you.”
“Looks like I haven’t very long to wait, doesn’t it?” Ana replied wearily.
“Oh, child, you are in for a very rough time of it if you keep that attitude much longer.” Elza sighed. “Now hurry, slip out of your robe. I have to get you washed and dressed.”
So much for a rest, Ana thought, dreading what the Zar would want with her after his public admonishment.
JUMO INSISTED ON CARRYING Lazar on his back again. Their host led the way surprisingly briskly up broad, mercifully shallow steps cut into the cliff face. Zafira climbed slowly next to Jumo.
“What are we doing here?” Jumo muttered to her.
“I don’t know but it feels right, don’t you think? It’s too much of a coincidence that she came along just when we needed help. She said she’d answer our questions—we must be patient.”
At the top of their climb they saw a cottage set back from the cliff edge, a small copse encircling its back.
“Here we are,” the old woman said. “The lepers are housed a long way from here. There are only six of them left anyway, and I rarely see them. Jumo, can you manage?”
“Yes, let’s just hurry. He’s struggling to breathe.”
Once inside, the stranger took command again. “Lay him on the pallet and light some candles from that lantern, Jumo. We shall be busy and the sun will set without us knowing. Zafira, perhaps you would make us some quishtar?” The priestess, happy to busy her hands, immediately set to finding the utensils and materials she needed.
Their host returned her attention to the man on the bed and his anxious friend, who was placing lit candles nearby. “Are you afraid of snakes, Jumo?” Lazar’s friend shook his head absently, focused on the gray pallor of Lazar’s complexion and the rapid heaving of his chest. “Good. In the cellar is a heavy-lidded jar. Inside are two snakes. The yellow-bellied one is harmless. The one with the striped back is deadly. He is the one we need. Have you handled a snake before?”
“I have,” Jumo replied. “What does this have to do with Lazar?”
“Drezden is made from the poison of the drezia snake. It’s favored by assassins who want to be gone well before the death occurs. If not given orally, drezia venom is deadly but slow. On its passage to the heart, it simply numbs. Once it reaches the heart, however, it paralyzes and death is instant.”
“You want me to milk the snake?” Jumo asked, deliberately rushing her.
“Precisely,” she replied. “Here, straight into this,” she added, pointing Jumo to a small porcelain cup.
And at last he heard through her mild manner to the concern she had worked to disguise. “Be careful,” she cautioned. “If the snake bites you, I have no medicine that will stop the poison killing you.”
“Very reassuring,” he muttered as he began to descend and the stranger returned her attention to Lazar.
“His breathing sounds very shallow,” Zafira noted.
“Not a good sign,” their host replied. “But that’s to be expected. My name is Ellyana. Forgive my poor manners.”
Zafira nodded, accepting the woman’s unnecessary apology. “Shall I take off the linens?” she asked, pointing.
“Yes, please.” They heard a small scuffle from below. “Jumo?” Ellyana called, an element of fright in her tone.
“I’m all right,” came a muffled voice. The two women glanced at each other with relief.
Jumo emerged a few moments later with a clear liquid—barely enough to cover the bottom of the cup.
“It is enough,” Ellyana said, answering his look of worry. “Now, let me explain. I promise to be brief. I have seen this sort of poisoning before and delivered in a similar style. It can be beaten. However, if Lazar survives, you need to know that he will never be whole again.” She paused, and when neither listener spoke she continued: “Jumo, your master will always need the poison of the drezia snake close. He and it are now bound together, forever, like lovers—even though they are enemies.”
“What occurs?” Zafira asked for Jumo’s sake; the man was so stunned by the news that he seemed unable to speak for himself.
“There will be no warning when it afflicts him again. A trembling, wasting fever will strike. Very debilitating. The only temporary cure is more of the venom in its purest form and in tiny quantities…far less than we have here. Right now, though, we have to flush the poison from his body. We need lots of quishtar and my own brew. There will be pain—severe—and you will both need to be strong for him. He is going to suffer badly if he is to recover.”
“Will he recover?” Jumo dared to ask.
“If I’m frank—and I fear I should be with you—then I would say he will most likely perish. Too much time has elapsed, and his wounds are frighteningly dangerous. The poison aside, those injuries alone have the capacity to kill him,” Ellyana said gently. “We will try but I think you must be prepared to lose him, Jumo.”
“He is strong,” Jumo countered.
Her tone was even more tender when she risked closing a hand over his arm. “I know. And you will be equally strong for your friend.”
Jumo ferociously blinked back the tears rushing to betray him. “What about his wounds?”
“We will need to clean them thoroughly and then sew the deeper ones to close them against infection. For the rest we shall have to rely on this salve,” she said, indicating a stone jar. “Could someone help me with that, it’s very heavy.” Jumo obliged, grimacing at its weight, and slid off the lid at her nod. “It smells bad but it is a wonder ointment,” she continued. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind smearing that onto some of the less vicious wounds right now. It will seal them from the air, from disease.”
“They’re all vicious,” Jumo said, shaking his head at the state of Lazar’s body.
“Zafira, do you have steady hands?”
“I suppose, why?”
“You will need to do the sewing, my sister.” Ellyana held up her own shaking fingers. “Part of growing old,” and her sad smile was only for the priestess, who understood the afflictions of age.
Zafira looked worried. “I’m not sure I can—”
“I will help you,” Ellyana assured, not giving the priestess another chance to protest. “We must all wash our fingers with this soap paste,” she warned, pointing to a pot. “It will burn your skin but it will ensure your fingers are very clean and we will not infect Lazar’s wounds as we treat them.” At their nods, she continued briskly, “Right, let’s clean our hands and then we begin. We have a long night ahead of us.”
As if in response, Lazar groaned weakly.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you can’t find any trace of him?” Boaz demanded.
Tariq’s lips pursed, evidencing his frustration at having failed the Zar in the first task assigned him. “Forgive me, High One. I have sent runners to the Spur’s house, to the barracks, even to the city temples, where I thought he might be laid out by the priests for medical help. No one has any information to give us.”
“Well, someone must have seen him depart. Where is Shaz? Perhaps he has some notion.”
“No, High One. Apparently Shaz and his assistant handed the Spur’s body to that fellow called Jumo, Lazar’s second, and the man departed the Courtyard of Sorrows. One would assume he’d take him straight back to the Spur’s house for care from a physic, but apparently not.”
Boaz frowned. “Send out word into the city. Someone must have seen something. I want information from you and your spies by the end of the day, Vizier.”
Tariq bowed, wondering at Boaz’s new confidence. It was as though the boy had aged five years since the afternoon flogging. The Vizier felt he was being ordered around like a slave by a lad whose voice had barely broken. “Immediately, Your Majesty,” he said through clenched teeth hidden by his beard. A soft gong sounded, saving him further conversation with the young Zar.
“Go about your business, Vizier. I’ll await your news,” Boaz said wearily. “Enter!” he called over Tariq’s head. Bin emerged into the chamber as the Vizier departed. “Yes?”
“High One, the Grand Master Eunuch and Odalisque Ana await you in the antechamber of your study.”
“Ah, good. I wish to change. Send in my dresser.”
“Of course. I will bring your visitor into the study when you are ready.”
Boaz returned to his bedchamber and within moments the servant arrived. After changing into loose linens, he asked the man to order refreshments. “Some frozen sherbets and a flask of chirro,” he suggested. The man bowed and departed.
Boaz stepped from his chamber into a small reception room that led to his private study, which was smaller and more intimate than the one in which he normally received visitors. He was paying Ana a high compliment in permitting her to visit him in this room. He knew he was risking the wrath of all those vying for his loyalty, a fact that pleased him greatly. Once inside, he took a deep breath before reaching to pull a cord, sounding a bell outside.
The double doors were opened and Bin ushered in a slim, veiled figure dwarfed by a sour-looking Grand Master Eunuch. Boaz realized he was actually holding his breath in anticipation. He let it out slowly as the oddly matched pair stepped into the middle of the room, and Ana, well prepared by Salmeo, immediately sank to her knees and then prostrated herself as was required. Bin closed the doors.
Salmeo took the lead. “Your High One, this is most unusual, and breaks harem protocol. The girls are not yet acquainted with all of the rules and we haven’t even enjoyed the ceremony of the handkerchiefs.” Although the words were polite enough, the tone was acid. “Perhaps I should remain here with the odalisque Ana whilst—”
“That will not be necessary.” Boaz was going to add thank you and stopped himself at the last instant. It was time he got used to giving commands. “I am changing some rules, Salmeo.” He did not allow Salmeo a chance to suggest caution at such an idea. “The first is that it is to be my choice as to when and how I meet with the members of the harem. I think the handkerchief ceremony is romantic but trite for these modern days. If I’m old enough to rule, I’m certainly old enough to be in the company of a female my own age, in the middle of the afternoon and without a chaperone, and certainly without all the trials and innuendo that had to be plowed through in my father’s day.”
Salmeo’s feelings, normally so well disguised, were plainly written over his aghast expression. “But, Your High One, this totally contravenes the way of the harem, I must—”
Boaz feigned dismay. “I trust you’re not about to caution me?” he said, amazed that his voice was so steady, the tone so condescending. It felt suddenly wonderful to wield a power that could have a man such as this gabbling before him. He pressed his point. “I’m not bedding her, Grand Master Eunuch—not yet—I simply wish to talk with her. You’re very welcome to remain whilst we speak.” He paused only briefly to take a breath before adding: “So long as you remain outside. I desire a private conversation with Odalisque Ana.”
The huge black man again opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He glared into the Zar’s simmering expression. He could not win this one but he knew who could. “I shall do that, High One,” he answered as humbly as he could manage. Then he bowed and left, hurrying to seek an audience with the Valide.
Boaz looked at the figure on the ground. “Please, Odalisque Ana, rise.” When she was standing before him, her eyes still cast to the floor as presumably she’d been instructed, he gestured toward some comfortable divans by the grand windows. “Join me.”
“I thought you were angry with me, Zar Boaz.”
He sighed softly. “I am. Lazar has suffered pointlessly today because of your headstrong ways. But I made my rebuke public for entirely different reasons than you think. I think the Spur will have understood, so be assured I haven’t asked you here to make you suffer more. I’m sure you’re suffering enough.”
She bit her lip hard in order to force back the tears. “I have never felt more lost than I do right now…or bereft. If I could change what happened today, if I could take back my actions, I hope you know I would, Zar Boaz.”
Sincerely done, he thought approvingly. Enough chastizing; she feels guilty enough. “You’ll have to forgive the decor,” he said brightly. “This is my father’s choice. I haven’t the heart to change it, even though the Valide suggests I impose my own style.”
“You loved your father.” She spoke from behind the gauzy pale blue veil, eyes still downcast.
“You may remove your veil, Odalisque Ana. It is not required in my private presence, and I allow you to look upon me.” She raised her eyes and he was pleased to see the directness with which she held his gaze now that permission was hers. She took off her veil slowly, careful not to disturb her hair, which had been brushed carefully with a hundred strokes, Elza counting each and smearing an oil into it to make it shine even more brightly. As her face was revealed to him once again, and this time at such close range, Boaz felt his breath catch. He had thought her beautiful from a distance, but he now discovered she was infinitely more fetching this close. Her skin was smooth and unblemished but slightly burnished from the sun. He remembered how his father’s women had worked hard to keep their complexions pale but on Ana this golden coloring was like a glow from within.
“I did love my father very much. I miss him,” he said in response to her earlier comment.
“I love my father too, Zar Boaz. I miss him as deeply as you miss yours.”
“Please, sit down with me.” He watched her glide to the divans and carefully seat herself opposite him. “Where is your family from?”
“West. The foothills. My father is a goatherd.”
“Is he proud that his daughter now lives in the palace? It must be a far cry from what he is used to.” He had considered this a fair question, one designed to encourage her to talk about the family she had left behind. He was not ready for the quiet rebuke.
“My father is a simple man, Your High One. He has no concept of palace life. He also had no say in my being brought here. If it were left to him, I think he would be proud for me to have remained as a goatherd’s daughter.” She lifted her chin, and as her eyes met his he instantly recognized a kindred spirit: both of them too young to be on the paths they were on, both wishing they could be pursuing the lives they wanted rather than the ones they were being forced to follow.
“Forgive me, Ana, I meant no insult.”
“None taken, Majesty,” she returned smoothly.
Boaz was already fascinated by her, did not know what to say next. He was relieved by a gentle knock at the door. “Come,” he answered. A servant entered bearing a tray. “Ah, I took the liberty of organizing some refreshments,” he explained as the man laid out the food and wine. “I hope you won’t say you don’t eat sherbet.”
And Boaz heard the girl in her for the first time “Oh no, I do,” she gushed, “I tasted it in the bazaar.”
Boaz grinned. “I heard about your adventure. It’s why I wanted to meet you.”
Instantly her green eyes, brilliant as gems, clouded. “I’ve seen the error of my ways, High One.”
“Ana, I wasn’t going to reprimand you. I was going to congratulate you.” She held his gaze, unsure of what she’d heard. “Zarab knows I yearn for some freedom myself.”
“But surely you have that as Zar?”
“I think I am as much a prisoner of my own palace as you are. I wish I had your reckless spirit. Truly. It must have taken real courage to spit in the eye of Salmeo. I know I shouldn’t say this to you but I felt elated when I heard.” He all but whispered his words for fear the fat man could hear through the walls.
“Do you mean that?” Her eyes glittered again.
He touched his hand to his forehead and then his lips in the region’s manner of communicating that he spoke the truth. “Our secret, though.”
It was her first reason to smile since she had hugged Jumo the previous day—and at the memory, her smile was wiped from her face. “You were there this morning,” she said flatly. “I can’t derive any pleasure from my courage—as you call it—after what the Spur went through on my behalf.”
“He must think very highly of you, Ana.”
He watched her face darken, tried to imagine what thoughts she hid. “I think he feels responsible because it was he who bartered for me.”
Boaz heard a hesitation in her voice, and wondered why. “He took no gold in exchange for you, I hear.”
She nodded sadly. “I have not been given any information as to how he is.”
Boaz knew he shouldn’t be sharing so much information but it felt so long since he’d been around someone he wanted to call friend. “I have been trying to find out more. Rumor has it that he won’t live past this day.” He watched shock hit that lovely face as effectively as if he’d leaned over and slapped it.
“That can’t be so, High One!”
“But you saw the pitiful state he was left in. Even from my more distant spot I could see his back opened to the bone. None of us should be surprised if he’s already dead…but we should all be ashamed.”
“I couldn’t see the damage. I could only see his honorable face and what it cost him to bear his injuries without sharing his pain with all of us.”
Boaz whistled low under his breath. “I don’t think anyone there would have thought less of him if he’d screamed with each lash.”
“I suspect screaming is not Lazar’s way,” she said softly. “He would consider it an intolerable weakness in himself.”
“You seem to understand him intimately despite the short term of your relationship.” Boaz saw her frown at his words. “Er, I mean that you seem to know him very well.” She did not respond and the young Zar struggled, feeling awkward. “I have sent runners out all over the city. We shall have news of the Spur soon.” Her eyes rose again to regard him and he could see the hope reflected within. “I shall get word to you, I promise.”
Ana studied him a moment longer. “You know Salmeo will be telling your mother about this meeting.”
Boaz bristled. “I am the Zar, Ana, or do you, like the Grand Master Eunuch, forget that?”
“No, High One. It is my turn to apologize. I meant no offense. I am only concerned that I have been marked as a troublemaker and do not wish you to get into any bother on my account.”
Boaz laughed. “I am the Zar,” he repeated. “No one has any authority over me.” Standing, he felt taller, stronger suddenly. “Thank you for making me remind myself of that.”
“I beg your pardon, High One?”
“Well, I think I too had overlooked just how powerful a person I am now. My father tried to tell me on his deathbed. He urged me to remember that I was the Chosen One. He selected me above all of his other sons to rule after him. Rule I will and I will not be cowed by an ambitious eunuch…or my mother.”
She appreciated his fighting words and heard a kindred spirit, but also knew how helpless she was by comparison. “I hardly know more than your name and age, Your Majesty, but I hope you don’t feel it is forward of me to say how proud you make me feel. You speak to my own heart. Slave I might be considered but I too will not be humbled by Salmeo…or—” She stopped, realizing she might be about to make a grave mistake.
“My mother…you may say it,” Boaz encouraged. He reached for his goblet of wine and drank, moving to sit by her. The sherbets had melted into a fusion of color in their silver dishes, untouched on the tray. “You may speak of her before me.”
He saw how carefully she watched him and guessed she had been warned, probably by Lazar, to trust few, if any, in the harem. “Ana, I am not your enemy. You may speak freely.”
“I think not, High One,” she said finally, disappointing him further. “I must not speak out of turn. It is probably wise if I keep my thoughts to myself.”
“You don’t understand. I thought we might be friends.”
“You have many new friends now, Zar. There are forty-one other girls, as I understand it. All pretty, all picked carefully to suit your needs.”
“And I’ll bet none of them is as spirited as you, Ana. I should like to spend some time with you. Perhaps I can teach you about life in the palace and you can teach me about life beyond it.”
“A Zar teaching a slave.” It wasn’t a question and he could hear the note of disdain in her tone as if she couldn’t conceive of such a thing.
“Why not? How do you think my mother rose to her station, Ana? Don’t be fooled by all of the grandeur. Every Zar ever born is the product of a slave. My father and his father before him, and his father before that, mated with slaves and sired the next Mightiest of the Mighty.”
She nodded, frowning as if seriously considering his words before she replied. “Your High One, may I ask a boon of you?”
“So soon, Odalisque Ana?” She looked back at him, chastened.
“A jest,” he added quickly. “Ask me.”
Her words came out in a rush. “Please don’t single me out, Majesty.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I have been warned to keep my head down. I have been marked as trouble by powerful people. I have no choice but to live this life of an odalisque, but perhaps I can live quietly and not create more ripples that reach the Valide or the Grand Master Eunuch.”
He nodded, understanding perfectly. “You forget that although they rule the harem, I rule them. If I choose to see you because you interest me, they cannot stop me.”
“No, I suppose not, but that doesn’t stop them making my life miserable as punishment.”
“That’s because you yet don’t understand the ways of the harem. Your role is to interest me. You can hardly be punished for pleasing the Zar. Will you trust me, even though I suspect you’ve been warned to do the opposite?” He watched her blush and saw that he had guessed rightly. “Trust that I wish you no harm and that I would appreciate your friendship for now, nothing more.”
“Of course—I can hardly refuse you, Zar Boaz.”
He smiled sadly. She had been cautioned well. “I shall not allow anyone to object when I seek out your company.”
“Will you be fair to everyone?” she implored.
“If I enjoy some of the others, yes, I will spend time with them. I cannot guarantee it. My father once told me that a beautiful woman can be just as vapid or dull as a plain one. Beauty is no guarantee of intelligence or charming company. I am only now beginning to grasp what he meant and I understand why he chose my mother. She was always ambitious but she was also quick of mind and wit—and that appealed to him.”
“Is that why you pursue me, High One?”
Boaz laughed. “I think you’re wonderfully daring. Something I’m not. If I didn’t like you so much already, Ana, I’d urge you to keep following your feisty path and do everything you can to irritate and exasperate Salmeo.”
“You will keep your promise and let me know what you might discover about the Spur?”
“I shall, for it gives me an excuse to see you again,” he said brightly.
“The Grand Master Eunuch said it is not usual to—”
Boaz was quick to interrupt her. “Salmeo can say what he wishes, Ana. He is not the Zar. Things are going to change. My father chose me because he believed in me.”
“And your mother?” she risked.
“Is Valide only because of me.” As he repeated Pez’s words, Boaz realized he hadn’t seen the dwarf since the flogging. He returned his attention to Ana. “She will not give me too much grief. The first thing I shall do is introduce a picnic at each full moon.”
Her eyes brightened. “Outside the palace?”
At seeing her pleasure, a jolt of desire coursed through him, startling him. “Of course. I too feel cooped up here. I know when I was younger and lived amongst the harem women, they always complained about how dull their lives were. For all the luxuriousness of their existence, each day was the same for them. Well, I can change that.”
“You are wonderful, Your Majesty. I know I thank you for it and I feel sure the other girls will too.”
He beamed, enjoying her praise, wanting to see that glitter in her eyes often and feel that spark of desire surge.
“I’m sorry about the sherbet,” he said, eyeing the rainbow-colored mess on the tray.
“You’re the Zar, I presume you can order it again?” she suggested airily, clearly emboldened by his words of power.
Boaz laughed. “You’re good for me, Odalisque Ana. I’m certainly going to enjoy seeing you often.”