One Thousand Nights (12 page)

“And you — you did not mind?”

Nadira’s head tilted slightly to one side. “Father had to get a new wife because my mother was a whore.”

Once again it felt as if the breath had been slapped from me. Who on earth could be saying such things to an innocent little girl? Her nurse? “Nadira, your mother made a terrible mistake.”

“No, she was a whore, and they killed her because of it.”

Good gods, had no one thought to shelter the child from the reality of what her mother had done? “Nadira, who has said these things to you?”

Her shoulders went up, just a fraction, and she replied simply, “Everyone.”

In that moment I heard a frantic knocking at the door, and Lila set down her embroidery and hastened to answer it, clearly glad of the distraction. As soon as she opened the door, a heavy-set woman garbed in black hastened in, recriminations and apologies tumbling over themselves, as if she did not know which she should be saying first.

“Ah, Your Majesty, a thousand apologies for this intrusion! Nadira, you naughty girl, you know you were never supposed to come to this wing of the palace! Your Majesty, she is now at the age where she can outrun me, and I — ”

I raised a hand. “It is quite all right. No harm done. In fact, I am very pleased to make Nadira’s acquaintance.”

The woman, who I assumed must be the nurse, went pale then, as if she had just realized truly how unfortunate it was that I had seen the child at all. “That is — that is most gracious of you, Your Majesty. But I will take Nadira back to her rooms, and we will trouble you no further.” She advanced toward us, bowed in my direction, and then seized Nadira by the arm, hauling her back toward the door.

Perhaps I should have made some attempt to stop her, but I was feeling so unbalanced by the entire encounter that I could only watch wordlessly as the nurse, moving quite quickly for a person of her bulk, pulled Nadira through the entryway and then shut the door behind them.

For the longest moment I stood there silently, as Lila watched me with wide dark eyes, seeming to wonder what my next words would be. Did she think I would berate her for being in on the secret? For clearly she had known of Nadira’s existence.

But no, I would not take Lila to task for such a thing. She was only a servant; if she had been told to keep her mouth shut, then I could not fault her for that.

Besh, on the other hand….

I
t was
the first time I had ever requested an audience with him, had not been content to wait for our brief interactions at dinner or directly afterward. I did not know if it was because of this that he accepted my request, but I would not question his reasons for doing so.

His suite was, of course, magnificent — more than a suite, really, but an entire wing of the palace, with an audience chamber, a library, offices and bath chambers and bedchambers and much more, opening off a central corridor. At least he saw me in his library, a far more intimate space than some of the others, and one I liked immediately, with its tall bookcases of carved warm-hued wood and the beautiful sconces of dark wrought bronze and alabaster. Then again, the presence of books, the very scent of the leather bindings and the aged paper, had always comforted me.

After his manservant had shut the door behind me, Besh stood off to one side of his desk, arms crossed. A slight frown pulled at his brow. “What is it, my lady?”

It was odd seeing him in even the filtered daylight that passed through the latticework which covered the windows. Always we met by lamplight and starlight and moonlight, as if the light of the sun was too real, too harsh to be allowed to beat down upon us.

For the past few hours I had been debating the best way to go about this. I realized, though, that no polite words, no carefully couched phrases, would make any difference. “I have met Nadira,” I said simply.

A long silence as he watched me, face blank. Something flickered in those eyes, that glinting amber so like his daughter’s. “Ah,” he said at last.

Anger flicked through me then, anger that he could be so cool about it, could show so little reaction. “That is all you have to say? You have hidden your child from me! To what purpose, may I ask? Did you think I did not have the constitution to be a stepmother? What possible good could it do, my lord, to conceal the existence of your only daughter from your wife?”

The black lashes dropped, concealing his eyes. I heard the barest sigh escape his lips. “It is because I do not think she is my daughter.”

It was the last thing I had expected him to say. I stared at him, perplexed, then finally ventured, “But — but I have seen her. She has your eyes, my lord! I have never seen another person in this land with eyes that shade. So how can you deny that you are her father?”

He said nothing for the longest moment, his own amber eyes still downcast. Then he glanced back up at me, gaze narrowed. “My brother also has eyes this color.”

It went through me then, the realization of what Hezia had done to him. Not only had she been unfaithful, but she had broken her marriage vows with Besh’s own brother. Perhaps she had thought to pass off the child as Besh’s, or perhaps she truly did not know who the father was. “I see,” I said at last, when the silence was so terrible that it needed to be broken before it grew any worse.

“Do you?” The anger in his voice was so palpable that I flinched; it cracked through the still, warm air like a whip. “Do you know what it is like to have the woman you love dishonor you with your own flesh and blood, to see him laugh as he tells you that she chose the better man?”

Oh, how my heart ached for Besh then, and how I wished things were different between us, so I might go to him and take him in my arms and give him what comfort I could, and tell him that no, Hezia had most definitely not chosen the better man. But as I knew Besh would not countenance such actions, I could only shake my head and murmur, “No, my lord, I cannot begin to understand what that is like.”

“Then do not presume to tell me you see when you so clearly do not.”

The voice might have belonged to a stranger, cold and foreign. Then again, Besh was the next thing to a stranger to me, was he not? This latest revelation only proved how little I did know of him, of his past.

“My apologies, my lord.” In that moment I wished I could run from the room, flee so I would not have to meet his eyes. But I had been born a princess and was now a queen; I would not allow myself such weakness. “It was not my desire to cause you pain. It was just so…very unexpected, seeing the child, seeing her resemblance to you.”

A shadow seemed to pass over his face, and all at once the anger appeared to drain away, leaving behind only a great weariness. “I can understand that, for I have experienced it myself. Sometimes she looks so very much like me, but my brother and I were very much alike, so….” The words died away, even as he shook his head. “I wish, Lyarris — I wish I could claim her as mine. But I cannot be sure that she is, and so I cannot acknowledge her, cannot do anything save make sure she is taken care of and lacks for nothing.”

Nothing save her father’s love,
I thought, but I did not utter the words aloud. That was something I had been lucky in, for my father had been as considerate and kind as my mother was sharp-tongued and cold. Every once in a great while the uncharitable thought had crossed my mind that the gods had done no one any great favors for taking my father young and yet leaving my mother behind to plague us all.

But poor Nadira did not have even a distant, critical mother. Only her nurse, who seemed to be little more than a jailer for the little girl.

So many thoughts raced through my mind then. I knew that Hezia had been executed a little more than a year ago, and so Nadira could not have been more than five at the very most. Surely that meant the affair must have been carried on for some time before it was discovered. I could not ask Besh for the details, of course; I had already dredged up enough painful memories.

I asked instead, “And what will become of her?”

Besh moved away from me, went to his desk, and moved a book from one pile to another. Without looking at me, he said, “Even if she is only my brother’s bastard, she still has royal blood in her veins. She will be raised properly, and then married to a younger son who will overlook the taint of her birth in order to be allied with the house of Kel-Alisaad.”

It was not that much different from what her fate would have been as a legitimate daughter. How much choice did any of us royal women have? Well, I had chosen Besh, I supposed…not that I had had much joy in that choice.

“And your brother?” I asked the question quietly, not expecting an answer. But something in me wanted to know, despite the possible consequences of making such an inquiry.

For a few long seconds, Besh said nothing. Then he raised his head and met my gaze, an ironic smile tugging at his full lips. “Ah, well, what is one more broken secret between us? It is forbidden for a commoner to spill the blood of any of the royal house, even when they have transgressed so horribly, and so the executioner was rendered powerless. The only punishment I could mete out was banishment. So my brother was taken to the border of Purth and sent forth with only what he could carry. He went, and has not been heard from since.”

To someone else, someone with no experience of such matters, this might have sounded plausible enough. But I had been raised in the royal court of Sirlende, and I knew no ruler would allow such a threat to wander freely without some sort of surveillance. “And you truly have no idea where he is?” I asked, my tone so neutral he could not possibly misjudge my meaning.

He rubbed his chin, fingers brushing against the faint late-day shadow of his beard there. “Those eyes of yours see much, my lady. Yes, of course I know where he is, what he has been doing. Quite the charmer, my brother. He has located a baron’s widow, some years older than himself, and has made himself…indispensable…to her. I am not surprised, as he always had the facility of landing on his feet, rather like a cat.”

“Oh,” I said flatly, for in the back of my mind I had begun to think that this brother must have been the one behind the attack on our encampment so many months ago. However, I did not quite see how, if he had been ensconced in this widow’s castle all that time, so many leagues from his homeland.

“Yes, it would have been easy to blame him for the assassination attempt,” Besh said, startling me with how quickly he picked up on my thoughts. “And believe me, it is an avenue we have thoroughly explored. But my councillors and I have not found one piece of evidence to support such a conclusion, and so we have moved on to other areas of investigation.”

Which I knew had been unsuccessful so far, but I did not bother to comment on the subject. Surely Besh must be feeling frustrated enough without me weighing in on the matter. So I only told him, “I am glad to hear he was not responsible. That would have been even more difficult, I should think.”

“Actually, I think not,” he said, his voice hardening. “For such open treason is the one transgression that would have allowed me to strike his accursed head from his neck. But alas, in that one matter, it appears he is innocent.”

What possible reply could I make to that statement? I stared at him, one hand going to my throat, as if unconsciously feeling the blow of the executioner’s sword against my own flesh.

Besh did not miss the gesture. The sardonic smile returned to his lips as he said, “But now that I have satisfied your curiosity on the matter of Nadira, I fear I must ask you to take your leave. I have many more appointments to keep today.”

I did not question him on that point. One might think that a king or emperor is given to idleness, as he has so many people to do his bidding for him, but in the end, if he is any kind of ruler at all, he must be involved in so many decisions affecting the welfare of his land…negotiating trade agreements, mediating squabbles between his nobles, consulting with his advisors as to the best placement of resources, construction projects, collection of taxes, and so many more. I had seen first my father, and then my brother, embroiled in such minutiae, and so I thought Besh spoke only the simple truth.

Or perhaps he merely wanted to be rid of me. Either alternative was plausible enough.

“Of course, my husband,” I replied, and pressed my hands together and bowed from the waist. “Thank you for seeing me…and for your honesty.”

“You are very welcome,” he said, but the words sounded indifferent at best. No, he was not pleased with me for dredging up a painful past, and now only wanted to move on to something else so he could forget again.

I nodded and went out, chin high, even as my thoughts darted this way and that. Yes, he had given me some of the answers I had sought, but in doing so had only raised more.

And I knew I dared not approach him in such a way again.

I
saw
no more of Nadira after that, and knew the poor child must be watched more closely than ever before. As there seemed to be nothing I could do to remedy the situation — after all, I did not even know where in the palace the child was housed — I attempted to put her from my thoughts. Unfortunately, I had little success on that front, for my mind kept picking at the problem. I tried to tell myself that yes, there was every possibility she was not Besh’s child, and so there was not any real connection between the little girl and myself. Such cold practicality did not suit me very well, though, and I worried about her, wondered if there was anything I could do to make her lot in life a little more pleasant.

And if it turned out that she actually was Besh’s child? Did I not then have some responsibility toward her, as the daughter of my husband? Perhaps I did, but as no one seemed inclined to allow me any further access to her, there seemed to be very little I could do to remedy the situation.

A
t the very
end of Octevre, an ambassador, one Sir Marten Morlander, a man I had met in passing but did not know well, came from Sirlende, bearing letters from my family, including a jubilant one from Torric, telling me of the birth of his son Allyn, as well as small gifts, things that I might miss, such as blackberry confit and the sweet, sticky toffees the palace confectioners excelled at making. I could see Sir Morten studying me, attempting to gauge how I fared, and so I put on my most serene public face, and assured him that I was enjoying myself here very much. Besh greeted him gravely, fed him well, and pored over the signed trade agreements the man had brought with him. Apparently he found nothing objectionable in them, saying all was well, and that he was most pleased by the air of cooperation that now existed between Sirlende and Keshiaar. It was almost as if he wanted to make sure the man would have no reason to overstay his visit. To be sure, by mid-Novedre, the sea lanes would be all but closed, as the currents became rough and dangerous, and I doubted Sir Marten wanted to be trapped in Keshiaar for the entire season, even if the weather here was at its most pleasant during the winter months. After a stay of some ten days, he took his retinue with him and departed, and I was left once again to my own devices, missing more than ever the familiar faces and accents of home.

My thoughts, I fear, were more than a little dreary after he left, although the blessed rains had finally come to Keshiaar, and for the first time in months I did not feel as if I were stifling. I would not say it was precisely cold, not like back home, when frost would be painting all the windows in Iselfex, and, if we were lucky, snow would turn the spires and towers of the capital city into icy wonders from a fairytale. But it was cool enough that I put on heavier tunics, these made of silken brocade and even velvet, and I donned closed slippers instead of the sandals I had worn all through the summer and fall.

Gray were the days, and the nights murky. Besh made no mention of the observatory, and I knew better than to ask. It would have been futile to attempt to watch the stars when they were obscured by clouds. He seemed restless, though, as if annoyed he had been denied even that outlet. I wished I could comfort him, could be there for him, but of course he showed no sign of wishing to take solace in my arms.

Perhaps he did so with others, but if that were the case, I heard no whisper of it. Not that tight-lipped Miram would have ever revealed such a thing to me, and the women who served under her followed her lead. And although I had become somewhat familiar with many of the women who dined with us, those wives of Keshiaar’s innumerable princes, I could not say any of them were friendly. Polite, yes, but there was no warmth. True, I did see Nezhaam from time to time at these gatherings, but as he was seated with the rest of the men, all he could offer was a smile and an encouraging nod from time to time. At any rate, he was Besh’s friend, not mine. I had been here for the greater part of seven months, and yet I was still an outsider.

A stranger.

In one thing I did get my way. I could not have brought my library with me, numbering as it did many hundreds of volumes, but only chose some thirty books that I knew I could not live without. But Besh had a vast collection of his own, and as by then I had gained some mastery of the written version of the Keshiaari language, I asked that I might borrow those of his books which interested me, if such a thing would not discommode him too greatly.

He bowed to me and said, “Of course, my lady. I should have thought of it ere this. You may take whatever pleases you.”

That reply thrilled me greatly — until I went to fetch the first batch of books, accompanied by Miram, and found my husband nowhere in evidence. I had thought that perhaps we might encounter one another in his library, but it seemed he had received word of my coming, and made sure to be occupied elsewhere. Never would I show my disappointment in front of my chatelaine, so I surveyed the titles with as unruffled a demeanor as I could manage, then selected some ten volumes. That would be enough to keep me occupied for a few days, and when I went to replace them, perhaps he would be in his chambers then.

Alas, he was not, but the books did help somewhat to ease the passing of the endless, dreary days.

Midwinter came and went, with little of the feasting and celebrations I was accustomed to. Here in Keshiaar the great festivals came at the turn of the year, not at the solstice, and although I was glad to know the season would not be completely barren of holiday observances, still the difference bothered me, as if serving to underscore how very far from home I was, and how truly alone. In that moment, I wished the ambassador had been stranded here, if only so I would have one face and voice that made me feel at home. But he was gone, and I had very little to offer me comfort.

Through it all, I tried to harden my heart against Besh. I did. If he did not want me, then better that I should not want him, either. Unfortunately, my body and heart were at war with my mind, and every evening I would go back to my chambers, ears filled with the rich sound of his voice, limbs trembling from even the faintest touch of his hand on mine. It was as if I had been afflicted with some illness that had no cure. Or perhaps there was a cure, but one that seemed to be denied me.

On New Year’s, my routine was changed slightly, as Miram had asked leave to spend the holiday with her family in the city. Of course I could not deny her, and truly, it made little difference whether I had four women or three attending me. So I sent her away, bidding her to enjoy herself, then let Marsali and Alina and Lila dress me for the feast.

I could not take much joy in the beautiful deep blue velvet tunic trimmed in bands of gold embroidery and studs of turquoise, for I saw no wakening admiration in Besh’s eyes when I came to take my customary seat next to him. And although I had spent the last seven months in prevarication, pretending to enjoy the shows of dancers in their filmy veils and spangled skirts, in truth it only frustrated me to watch them. Oh, what I would not give to lose myself in the spinning movements of a
verdralle
, or laugh with my partner through the lively romps of Grey Mare. Alas, even these simple pleasures were denied me, and so I could only keep the ever-present false smile affixed to my mouth, telling myself inwardly that I did not miss all those things nearly as much as I thought I did.

It was quite late when Besh brought me back to my suite. At least he still always accorded me that minor courtesy. The day would come, no doubt, when he would weary of even this small charade, and would have his guards accompany me to my chambers so he might not have to waste any more of his time.

Now, though, he was here, although being with him had begun to be mainly a torment. Being denied any sort of a relationship with him was bad enough, but having to be around him, to pretend that nothing was amiss, to have him so close and know I could not reach out to him — ah, that was the very worst of it.

“It was a lovely celebration,” I told him, and forced a smile.

He did not offer me a smile of his own. Instead, I saw the amber eyes narrow slightly, as if he were considering me. “Are you quite well, my lady?”

“I?” I returned, and managed a small laugh. “To be sure, I do not know what you mean, my lord. I am in excellent health.”

His expression remained sober. “That is not what I meant.”

Oh, gods. What could I say? If I told him a little of me died inside every time he left me here alone, that I wanted only to be his wife in more than name, what then? It was clear that he did not love me, and so such utterances would only increase his discomfort. All I could do was lie a little more, and hope he would not press the issue.

I lifted my shoulders, saying as guilelessly as I could, “Ah, well, I suppose I am the smallest bit homesick. Our celebrations are so very different there, and it is a time to be with one’s family, so I cannot lie and say I do not miss them. I have a nephew I have never seen, and I wonder what he must look like, although Ashara writes to say that he favors his father. But still….” I let the words trail away, and shrugged again. “It is of no great import. But you did ask.”

“Truly, I do understand. You have managed so well here, far away from everything you know, that sometimes I forget how difficult it all must have been for you.”

Oh, no, do not be sympathetic!
I thought then.
For that will surely undo me.

“Somewhat difficult,” I agreed, adding quickly, “but truly, I have had the best of care here, and I do not want you to think that I am complaining.”

“I do not think that at all.” He glanced away from me, staring down at the broad gold ring on his right hand. I wore its mate; the Keshiaari people, although they loved adornment otherwise, did not believe in marring the surface of their wedding bands with stones or engraving. Gaze still fixed on the ring he wore, he continued, “It is only natural to miss one’s family at these times. Indeed, I would worry if you felt otherwise.”

“That is very generous of you, my lord.”

“Is it?” Finally he turned his eyes on me once more, and I forced myself to stand steadily beneath that piercing stare, to not look away, nor allow myself to be lost in those shimmering depths of amber and gold and subtle, glinting copper. “I fear I have not been generous with you at all.”

“My lord?”

He blinked, dark lashes sweeping over his eyes, and the contact was broken. “It is nothing.” To my surprise, he reached out and took my hand, then turned it over, one finger tracing the line which signifies life. How warm was his touch, how strong his fingers. I scarcely dared to breathe as he touched me, my heart pounding so loudly that surely he must hear it.

In that moment I realized he had drunk more than he usually did at such feasts, and was perhaps not entirely himself.
Good,
I thought,
for perhaps that will allow him to break past the cursed reticence which has held him back all these months….

My hand was lifted, and he pressed it against his mouth. A rush of heat went over me, my blood seeming to sing in my veins.
Yes, oh, please, yes….

But then he let go of my hand, saying heavily, “It is late, my lady. A very good New Year’s to you.”

Before I could protest, before I could do anything to stop him, he had moved away from me and was walking, with just the barest trace of unsteadiness, down the corridor back toward the stairs. His guards fell in around him, just as they always did, and he was gone.

For a second or two I could only stand there, staring at the space where he had stood less than a moment before. I raised my hand, then pressed it to my mouth, hoping I would still feel some of the warmth he had left there. But no, it had disappeared, just as he had.

Fighting back tears, I went into my chambers. My women came to me, and I held myself still and cool, vowing that they should see nothing of my upset. They removed my jewels and put them away, then divested me of my fine garments. At length I was ready for bed, and I laid myself down there, alone again as always.

It was not, perhaps, the most auspicious way to begin a new year.

M
iram returned late
the next morning. It seemed her visit with her family had reinvigorated her, for she was full of energy, sending Lila and Marsali and Alina into quite the frenzy, declaring that my chambers needed a good scrubbing.

“More than that,” she declared, hands on her hips as she surveyed the sitting room. “This rug surely hasn’t been beaten in the last month. Take it out to the courtyard, and don’t come back until you’ve spent at least an hour on it.”

The three maids exchanged weary glances, but of course they would never gainsay her. Instead, they moved the furniture about, getting the various pieces out of the way, then rolled up the rug and carried it out of the chamber, staggering a little under its weight.

I listened to this latest edict of Miram’s with some bemusement, as I could have sworn my maids had undertaken this same procedure only a fortnight earlier. Like the maidservants, however, I was loath to make any protests. During my tenure here, I had learned that it was best to allow Miram to have her way when it came to domestic affairs.

So I only sat down on the divan, currently placed under one of the windows, and began to reach for the book I had discarded when this latest tumult began.

Miram crossed the bare floor where the rug had previously lain, then paused a few feet away from me, her hands on her hips. “My lady, I do not think it a good idea for you to be reading right now. Those girls will not be distracted forever.”

This was such an un-Miram-like remark that I did, in fact, stop what I was doing and look over at her. Her dark eyes were twinkling. Had Miram’s eyes ever twinkled? I did not think so — at least, not that I could recall. “Miram?” I said, my tone questioning. “Are you quite well?”

“Oh, I am quite well, my lady.” Another twinkle in those dark eyes. “However, I cannot say that I am feeling exactly
myself
.”