Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) (18 page)

Tahj opened his eyes and then quickly turned his head to see Radeem bending down to pick one of Bashea’s poems up off of the floor. He sprung from his cot, lunging at his friend. “Give me that!” He slapped a page from the captain’s hand and snagged it in midair before it reached the ground. “Oh, no,” he lamented, gathering the papers like the tribe’s lost sheep.

“Why are you so upset?” Radeem queried, annoyed. “What is this, strategies?”

“No.” Tahj stuffed the papers back into their leather cover and quickly tied it off.

Radeem stood staring at him with his arms folded across his chest.

“It’s personal.”

Radeem rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

Tahj
hit socked him in the arm. “Stop saying that.”

“You’d better get used to it. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“It’s not what I want, and you know it,” Tahj answered, looking at him meaningfully. “You relish swaggering around and ordering people to do this and that. Not me. Maybe we were switched at birth.”

“Not a chance. You look too much like Kadeesh.”

“Do you think so?” Tahj asked, glancing in the mirror behind Radeem.

“Every feature,” Radeem assured him. The captain rubbed his arm. “Owww! That really hurt. Save that for the battle.”

“The battle, the battle… I don’t think there is ever going to be a battle.”

Radeem laid a hand on the prince’s arm. “It will be here fast enough, my friend, and then you’ll wish it had never come.”

Tahj sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, Radeem. I just didn’t get much sleep.”

Radeem bent and retrieved one final page from under Tahj’s cot
. He waved it under his nose, breathing in, just as Tahj had done, to catch a whiff of the familiar perfume. “Missing Bashea?” He raised his eyebrows, and the corners of his lips turned up.

Tahj glowered at him, snatching the poem from his hand; it was her “Desert Storm.” “Easy for you to jest, curled up next to your wife every night.”

“Not every night, friend. There have been plenty of nights on the road with you.”

“I know. And I thank you for it. I do.” Tahj changed the subject, knowing his captain would be excited about whatever they were going to tackle today. “What’s on the slate this morning?”

Radeem pulled up a chair and straddled it, talking while Tahj got dressed. “I have to tell you, this one makes me nervous.”

“Go on.” Tahj buckled his pants, listening raptly.

“King Qubad of Havna. He and your father never saw eye to eye on much. He’s kind of an ass. And I’ve heard told he’s had some recent emissaries visit from Avistad.”

“You think Boltar got to him?”

Radeem stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I think there’s a chance.”

“Then we don’t go to him,” Tahj responded, pulling a shirt down over his head.

“But to win him over to our side would be quite an accomplishment. He commands a great army.”

“Is there any other way?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then we win him over,” Tahj answered with a smile, gesturing for his sword.

Radeem tossed it and he strapped it on. They were off by noon.

* * *

Tahj glanced around the throne room trying not to give away his nervousness. He recognized the king at once and remembered a rather unpleasant experience he had when he was a young boy, in which he accidentally knocked off the king’s hairpiece during a ball. King Qubad himself was an imposing figure, let alone the two men stationed on either side of him who dwarfed everyone else in the room. A huge purple banner hung from the ceiling behind the throne, emblazoned with a fierce golden dragon and fringed in gold. The man’s throne was massive, his robes rich, and his mood dour.

With others, Tahj had been able to draw on their previous loyalty to his father, but here he had to watch his step. “King Qubad, I am grateful for the opportunity you have given me to speak with you today.”

“Yes, boy. Get on with it,” the king interrupted.

Tahj bristled at the term “boy,” remembering the way others of Boltar’s clan mocked him before the uprising. He consciously swallowed his pride and continued. He felt Radeem shift beside him and knew his captain was scanning the room, computing the odds, but Tahj would do what he could to avoid a fight. Tahj bowed slightly, but held the king’s eyes. It was important to remain polite without appearing weak, and he knew how to play the game. “Let me be frank then, Sire. I need your assistance.”

Qubad raised his eyebrows. “And why should I help you? Your father was a tyrant and your mother—”

“Stop there!” Tahj ordered, his voice as steely as the sword at his side.

“You will not order me in my own court!” the king roared.

Tahj felt Radeem’s hand cover his own as he unconsciously fingered the hilt of his sword. He knew it was Radeem’s way of signaling him they were too outnumbered. “I will not hear you speak poorly of my family. If this is all the discussion we can have, then perhaps I should leave. But I warn you,” he hastily added, “what I have to say will be to your benefit.”

Tahj glanced at Radeem and then around the room to take in the odds himself. He had an entourage of about sixteen, including Radeem, and there were at least three dozen guards in the room alone, not to mention the other half-dozen or so in the hall outside. He let his gaze fall coolly on the king again, who seemed to be considering his worth.

After a long, uncomfortable pause, the King cleared his throat. “You have spoken up to me, which speaks well of your bravery. You did not fly off of the handle when you were angered, which speaks to your self-discipline. You do not appear cocky, like your father, nor are you an arrogant, evil cur like Boltar.” He nodded his head. “Go on.”

Tahj relaxed; he knew he had his man now. “Lord Boltar—”

“He calls himself King Boltar now.”

“Whatever he calls himself, the fact remains he is extracting two times the tribute from you that my father did.”

“You are well-prepared.”

“Should you support me, I will cut that number in half.”

“If you win.”

“If I win.”

Qubad studied him again. “How many men do you need?”

“How many do you have?” Tahj asked with a grin.

Qubad chuckled and reached down to take Tahj’s hand. “You have my support. Bring us some wine to seal the deal.”

* * *

Bashea’s hand fluttered to her stomach. Why was she so anxious? Of course, she knew why she was nervous. In a short while, her family could be throwing her out in the desert all alone when they discovered what she had done, but she hoped and prayed they wouldn’t.

It was hard to judge which way it would go, especially now her father was gone. Although she wasn’t even sure what his reaction would have been to such news. But, with Bagrat in charge…she just wasn’t sure how temperamental he would be when he learned the truth.

“We’ll be okay,” she murmured, and stepped up to open the flap to Bagrat’s tent, where the family meeting had been called.

Laughter quieted as she entered, and everyone turned to look at her expectantly, but without tension. She fought an urge to turn around and run. Everyone sat on cushions in a semicircle, facing the door, where she stood. She chose not to take a seat. It would be easier this way.

“Bashea,” Bagrat prompted, “you wanted to tell us something.”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

She looked at each of their loving, encouraging faces and found her throat had dried up. Her stomach did a wild flip, and she put a hand over it and took a deep breath.

“What I have to say will come as a surprise to you.” She looked around, hoping, somehow, someone would guess her secret, but they all just looked on curiously. How was she to say this? Best to get it over with quickly. “I’m…expecting a child. Tahj’s child.” She winced as she said it, and every muscle tightened as if expecting a blow.

All heads swiveled to Bagrat, whose mouth lay open. Slowly, the big man rose to his full height, and stepping over some pillows he scooped his sister up in his arms. “Congratulations!” Overwhelmed, Bashea could do nothing but cry. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” he asked, concerned.

“No,” Bashea blubbered. Bagrat’s wife, Dara, handed her a cloth to wipe her eyes, and everyone gathered around offering their congratulations. Bano and Bibi seemed especially pleased. “I was afraid you’d throw me out,” Bashea offered, laughing through her tears.

“Of course, not,” Dara answered for the group. “We know what you’ve been through, and how hard it was for you and Tahj to…work things out, when it was clear you were in love with each other. We don’t judge you, Bashea, and we’ll make sure no one else does, either.”

She knew they could not keep people from talking, but just knowing they were behind her made Bashea feel like she could handle whatever else was to come. “You all are the best,” Bashea proclaimed tearfully, stretching her arms out to pull in as many as possible. There was much laughter and sniffling within the circle, and much laughter about sniffling in the circle, and teasing, but finally Bagrat spoke again.

“Bashea, I just want you to know, even though Tahj isn’t here right now, you are not alone.”

Bashea thought it was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard and started crying again.

“Oh, look now,” Dara scolded, “you’ve got her going again. She’s going to dehydrate that poor baby of hers.” Everyone laughed, and Bagrat called for a private celebratory feast to be shared in his tent.

As twilight passed into night, Bashea looked around the circle of faces lit by a small fire, animated as they conversed with each other, and felt the ring around her heart grow tight again, but this time because her heart was swelling with love. Later, she made her excuses and snuck out to the well.

It was a mild night, and the sky was full of stars
, as if the gods had scooped up handfuls of sand and thrown them up against the black, radiant and glowing as far as the eye could see.

Bagrat’s gruff voice startled her. “You miss him, don’t you?” He put an arm around her shoulder.

Instead of answering, she laid her head down on his chest. They stood quietly. From a few feet away a cricket began to chirp, and beyond him they could still here the murmur of late-nighters around the central fire.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Bashea questioned, breaking the peaceful silence.

“Who? Tahj?” Bagrat asked, cricking his neck to look down at her. “Oh, yes. He’s fine. He’s a tough one, for a prince.” They were quiet for a moment longer, and then Bagrat started chuckling. “Remember when he hid those sheep on us? Heh, heh. That was a good trick.”

Bashea smiled and hugged herself tighter to his side. “Thank you, Bagrat. You are a good brother.”

“Ahh, now,” her brother countered, getting choked up, “don’t go sayin’ that. You know you’ll only regret it in the morning.” He sniggered and pulled her closer, protecting her from the night air.

* * *

Tahj took it as a good sign when Boltar did not kill his emissaries. He agreed to meet with Tahj to discuss his claim, but only if the prince was willing to come to him.

“You’ve got to be crazy. There’s no way I’m letting you go in there.”

Tahj strapped on his hard, leather chest plate. “If it will spare Avistad blood, then it is worth the chance.”

“What good will it do any of us if you are dead?”

Tahj smiled, picking up his sword. “But you will avenge my death, dear brother.”

“Tahj, do you think this is a game?” Radeem cried, exasperated.

“No, my friend,” he replied soberly, laying a hand on his captain’s shoulder. “I know very well the risk I’m taking.”

A head ducked into the tent, soon followed by the body of a handsome fifteen year old.

“Sarfraz,” Radeem asked with a scowl, “what are you doing here?”

The young man bowed politely to his father without answering his question. He then proceeded to kneel before Tahj, taking his hand.

“Oh, Mighty Prince Tahj, I have come to serve you. I wish to fight beside my father.”

“I thought I told you—” Radeem blustered, but Tahj waved a hand to silence him.

“Rise,” Tahj said to the boy regally. He stood thinking for a beat or two. “Sarfraz, you have proven yourself brave and true in your request, and I have need of such a man…but not at the front. It is for something very important, however. Can you be trusted with such a task?”

“But I wish to fight with my father,” Sarfraz responded, perilously close to a complaint.

“A real soldier goes where his leader needs him without question,” Tahj stated sternly.

Sarfraz bowed his head for a second. “What do you need?”

“I will need someone to deliver a letter for me to Tamook. It is several days ride across the desert. I will send you with two others in case of attack or emergency. Will you do this for me?”

“Yes, Sire,” he answered at once, kneeling to take Tahj’s hand again.

Tahj grimaced at the title. When he looked up, Radeem was smiling widely, but as Sarfraz rose, he replaced the look with a frown.