Taken by Storm (ROMANTIC REALMS COLLECTION) (9 page)

“But they were your responsibility, were they not?” she argued, trembling with rage, her voice breaking with a sob. She dropped her head, crying. “You should have stopped them.” There was a dead silence, and then she lifted her head defiantly, gritting her teeth. “You should have
stopped them
!”

The accusation hung in the air, shocking them both. He let her go and she backed away, turning her face from him and bringing hands up to rub her arms.

“You’re right,” he said bitterly.

Bashea’s thoughts scattered like a covey of partridge frightened from the underbrush. She felt entirely too unsteady; the blood was swishing through her brain like a raging storm, battering her senses. She pressed her hands to her temples. Of course Tahj was not responsible for this. Of course he wasn’t. Had he been there, he would have done whatever he could to stop the men from hurting her, she knew that now. Wasn’t it Tahj and Radeem who had stepped forward to help her escape from Boltar just days before?

But she couldn’t seem to keep herself from striking out; the pain, the fear, was too powerful still. She was fighting against the images in her mind, jabbing blindly as the adrenaline surged through her body, confusing her with its intensity. She had to get a grip on her rapid-fire emotions. Knowing how unreasonable she was being, Bashea tried to bring down her breathing and formulate an apology at the same time, the words becoming jumbled in her mind.

When she finally turned back, Tahj was gone.

* * *

Once she had time to calm down, Bashea felt horrible for the things she’d said to Tahj. He could hardly be blamed for every heinous action the hundreds of men in his command performed of their own free will. She knew she had to apologize, but she needed to stop shaking first.

When she came to his tent a couple of hours later, she expected him to have fallen back asleep. They had, after all, only gotten a few hours in before her nightmares woke them both. While she waited for Tahj to rise, Bashea paced thoughtfully in the sand a few yards from the camp. It was late afternoon and the heat was still intense, but she couldn’t stand to be trapped in her tent any longer. After Tahj left, she had lowered herself slowly, reaching back to feel the edge of the bed to guide her. She sat still like that for hours, the fabric of her nightgown bunched in her fists, the emotions seething inside her despite all her efforts to gain control. What had happened to her? Was she losing her mind?

In the past she had always been so in control. When her mother died, she was the oldest female in the family and so stepped up to fill the roles of cook, maid, teacher, nurse—whatever was needed. And she was good at it, took pride in it, organizing and addressing the needs of seven grieving children and her father. It had come to be a kind of running joke finally, her tiny iron fists, always able to keep it together, no matter what the situation.

Up until that night. The night she was snatched from her home and made to feel helpless and small. Where she once was so confident, so in control, now her emotions were all over the place. Of course, she had always been known as a hothead; losing control of her temper was not new. The fear, now that was new. She understood it was reasonable to have been affected by what happened to her, but yet the thought that it had changed her irritated Bashea. The idea grated on her so badly it was like the grains of sand that pelted them all day. And she knew that there was something else causing her emotions to go berserk, something to do with the prince. Was she keyed up because he was royalty? Many people would be nervous around royalty; but not her. No, he caused emotions to surface for another reason; a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Radeem ducked through the flap of
the tent and stopped when he saw her, a growl frozen on his face. Bashea hurried forward.

“Is Prince Tahj up?’

“Up?” Radeem queried, taking the blanket he was carrying and depositing it roughly at his feet in the sand. “I’m not sure he ever went to sleep.”

Bashea stared at the tent dumbly for a few seconds and then made a move to slip past Radeem and into the tent. Radeem grabbed her arm.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

“Why?”

“He’s in a foul mood,” the captain warned.

Bashea vacillated only a second. “I’ll take my chances.”

When she ducked into the tent, she could see it was almost ready to pack up. The cots had been flattened, the bedding folded, and Tahj was working at a knotted rope tied to the center stake.

“Ay! You don’t waste time when you are ready to leave.”

Tahj’s hands stilled, but he didn’t turn around. “I suppose not,” he answered vaguely.

“Tahj,” Bashea started hesitantly, “I want to apologize for what happened earlier in my tent.”

“There’s no need,” he said sharply.

Bashea blinked. “What do you mean there’s no need?”

Tahj tugged on his rope, and the sides of the tents drew inward. Bashea was forced to jump forward to keep from being swept up in them.

“There’s no need,” Tahj repeated, his jaw stony. He yanked the post out of the ground.

Radeem stood and bent over, wrestling a blanket between his knees as he tried to bind it in a roll with a rawhide cord. He glanced up when the tent began to collapse. Bashea backed out from underneath the canvas as it slid over her head, electrifying and disordering her hair, the weight of the tent nearly knocking her off-balance. She watched as the tent marched away, Tahj still underneath lifting the pole.

“Stubborn man,” she murmured.

Radeem eyeballed Bashea, amused by the way her hair was sticking out in all directions, but when she cast a dark look his way, he wiped the grin from his face and cleared his throat. “What’s his problem?” he asked companionably, nodding in Tahj’s direction.

“Ask him!” Bashea snapped, turning on her heel and striding off to her tent.

Radeem chuckled, watching her neat figure as she marched away. “I know what his problem is, all right,” he murmured, shaking his head. He turned to speak to the horse behind him, who seemed to be the only pleasant company he had today, as he hefted the pack onto his mount’s back. “They’re a match made in heaven, those two.” The horse snorted his agreement.

In record time, Tahj had their camp broken down and everyone atop their respective horses. He and Bashea hardly spoke at all, and when they did, it was in short interjections, adding no unnecessary words to their speech.

Tahj kept going back to the discussion in his tent. She’d apologized. Tahj closed his eyes as he thought about it. How could
she
be apologizing after all she had been through?

Radeem was so openly amused by their tiff, they both became annoyed with him, and this actually forged a reconciliation of sorts as they exchanged a few words about him during a water break.

“What’s with that jackass? He moves as though he has all the time in the world,” Tahj muttered to himself as he watered his horse.

Bashea looked up from where she had been stroking Star and peered through the sun at Radeem, one hand shading her eyes. “He doesn’t seem to know one end of a horse from the other,” she added as Radeem clumsily swung his leg over his steed. Tahj chuckled under his breath. His chest lost a little of its tightness, and Bashea’s face relaxed into a smile.

They road through the night, unhurriedly, but making steady progress, until they came to the top of the last sand dune and a plain opened before them, wandering up to the foothills of the mountains. With a cry, Bashea spurred her horse forward.

Not understanding what had upset her, Tahj’s eyes hurriedly scoured the landscape. Ahead, he could just make out the few remaining stones of a toppled well, and, as he drew nearer, he could see the wide ring where a central fire had been and smaller rings scattered about, presumably where tents had rested.

Bashea swung off Star before the horse even came to a full stop, her eyes raking the ground. “They’re gone,” she murmured.

“What?”

“They’ve moved on. They’ve left me.” Bashea meandered among the ashes mournfully. Here and there, small pieces of debris lay scattered on the ground: the remains of a broken pot, a ladle, a small, cloth ball, much like the one Tahj and Radeem had used as children. “They’re gone,” she said again, as if in shock. “I can’t believe they would just leave.”

Bashea came to a shattered gourd near the well. She picked it up and gingerly traced the sharp, jagged lines of the crack without speaking. Radeem and Tahj exchanged a glance and then began to wander about themselves, surveying what was left. Tahj bent and ran his hand over the ground where some sparse patches of grass tried to grow in the loose dirt. After a time, Radeem bent next to him.

“They’ve been here,” Tahj murmured, running his hand over intersecting hoof prints. He didn’t have to explain to Radeem he was speaking of Boltar’s men—they both knew. Tahj looked up to where Bashea sat clutching the gourd to her chest, gazing blindly back across the desert as the sun began its climb into the sky.

“But I think they got away. There’s no sign of blood,” the captain noted. But Tahj hardly heard him as he straightened and went to Bashea.

Tahj placed a hand gently on her shoulder, and, although she had shown no signs of hearing him approach, she didn’t jump. As Bashea turned slowly and peered up at him with tears in her eyes, his hand slid down her shoulder, coming to rest on her forearm. He left it there, bringing the other hand up automatically to lightly touch the opposite arm. “They left me.” She shook her head slightly, as if astonished or confused. “I knew—”

“Bashea!” They were both startled by the shout and turned as one to face Radeem.

He was squatting down in the dirt on the opposite side of the camp, where huge boulders marked the bottom of the mountain.

“Come.” He waved them over, studying something at his feet.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Radeem asked Bashea when they drew near, extending his hand out over the ground.

By staring very hard, Tahj could just make out the vague image of lines that appeared to be drawn in the dirt. One line zigzagged evenly three times, and below it a second line curved gracefully to the left and then back to the right.

Bashea studied the little picture, and then fell to her knees, closing her eyes. Tears squeezed out between her lashes as Radeem and Tahj watched her face anxiously. After a moment, she nodded several times quickly.

“Yes. Yes. It’s a message from Gaspard.” She opened her eyes and smiled at them. “They’ve gone to higher ground. This—” She pointed to the scrawling. “—means Sabalan’s Crown. It is a name we made up as children for one of our encampments,” she explained. Her face glowed. “They wanted me to follow.” Her relief was palpable.

Tahj and Radeem beamed at Bashea and helped her rise to her feet. But as she stood, a frown slowly replaced her sunny smile. “But we would only go to Sabalan’s Crown if…” Her eyes suddenly flew over the ground. Tahj and Radeem exchanged a worried glance. “They’ve been here!” She peered at them, and they couldn’t hide from her scrutiny. “And you knew!” She turned her back on them and began to march off toward her horse.

“Bashea, wait!” Tahj called after her, but she didn’t turn.

Radeem stuck a hand out to the side in front of Tahj to keep him from running after her. With a look, he told Tahj he would try to handle it. Radeem trotted ahead, catching up with Bashea and walking by her side. Tahj stayed a few paces behind. “You’re right. I think Boltar’s men were here.” Bashea strode furiously on as if she couldn’t hear him. Radeem jumped in her path and grabbed Bashea’s shoulders to stop her progress. “But I don’t think there was any kind of skirmish.”

“How do you know?” she answered skeptically. Even in profile, Tahj could tell that her face was creased with worry.

“There’s no…blood.”

Bashea seemed to mull this over. “You think they got away?”

Radeem nodded.

Bashea sighed and then slid her arms around his waist. His eyebrows arched in surprise. “We have to find them.”

Radeem drew her in, looking a bit tentative and unsure of himself. “We will.” He laid his cheek down on her head. “I promise you, we will.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The horses plodded carefully up the slope, picking their way over stones and loose dirt, through patchy areas of pine and cedar trees. Somewhere nearby, a stream gurgled down the mountainside, tumbling like children on a grassy hill, the sound as hopeful as Bashea’s heartbeat as they continued upwards. She heard the unique, chirping call of a golden eagle and knew the bark meant it was returning to its nest with food. Looking up, she caught it sailing between trees, as graceful as it was deadly, known to prey on animals even as big as an antelope or fox. Bashea watched as it banked, now silent, admiring the way it could soar so effortlessly on the wind.

As they rose, the occasional clip clopping of hoof on rock their tempo, her chest squeezed in anticipation. Was Radeem right? Had her family gotten away safely to the upper camp, or had others followed them and done them harm? If something happened to them, she knew it would be her fault, retribution for her escape. That thought chilled Bashea even as the smell of pine and cedar made her heart dance with pleasant memories.

As they rose, the landscape became more familiar, each rock and tree an old friend. “I don’t think it’s much farther,” she said, trying to mask the excitement in her voice. “We used to come here whenever we heard of roaming bands of raiders,” she explained, trying to calm her nerves by speaking of everyday things. “Though the pasture lands, for the most part, aren’t as good as below, it did provide a vantage point from which to see anyone coming.”

As they came over the next rise, the area unexpectedly flattened out into a huge meadow. At the far end of the plain, a number of tents seemed to spring from the ground, and smoke could be seen rising from the center of them. Bashea drew her horse up. Approaching them from across the field was a lone figure, who stopped when he saw them. Star pranced restlessly back and forth, snorting, seeming to wonder why her mistress had reined her in and was now sitting, staring at the stranger. Bashea slowly dismounted and took a few faltering steps forward.

Tahj strained to see from behind her. The stranger stepped up as well, and Tahj could now see his jaw drop open and his eyes grow wide. “Bashea?” he called uncertainly. He ran forward, and Bashea released Star’s reins and rushed into his arms. “Bashea! Bashea!” The young man swung her off her feet joyfully and then shouted over his shoulder. “It’s Bashea!”

Star, spooked by the cries, tried to escape downhill, but Radeem snatched at her reins as she brushed past. “Oh, no you don’t,” he muttered.

Cries filled the air as people spilled out of the tents and hurried forward, surrounding the two as they continued to embrace. Bashea exclaimed over and over again, drawing people to her and kissing them, forgetting altogether the pair behind her. Tahj saw a large man in a striped caftan beginning to make his way through the crowd. Bashea lifted her eyes.

“Father!” she shouted.

Tahj’s gaze flew to the newcomer’s face. It had the leathery texture of a man who spent his time out of doors, making Bashea’s father look older than he had expected, his salt-and-pepper beard more salt than pepper. The older man’s eyes took on a slightly wild aspect when they saw his daughter, and he stumbled the last several steps to her in shock and disbelief.

“
Azizam
,” he croaked, the familiar term of endearment becoming stuck in his throat. He swallowed his petite daughter up in a massive hug, clutching at her as if he would never let her go again. “Bashea, you’ve come home to me.”

“Yes, Baba!” she cried,
appearing similarly moved. “I’m home.”

As the two held each other tightly, the crowd emitted a low, murmuring sigh and Tahj saw people exchange glances and join hands, many wiping their eyes. He and Radeem dismounted, and as Tahj continued to look on, he noted two taller young men shuffling through the crowd toward them.

“Bagrat! Jahmeel!” Bashea squealed releasing her father and moving to throw an arm around each of them. The two laughed heartily, hugging her, and then the one she called Bagrat, slightly taller than Jahmeel, swept Bashea off her feet and into his arms.

“We knew we could never get rid of you for good,” he teased, but he covered her face and hair with kisses. Bashea squirmed and giggled until Bagrat saw Radeem and Tahj standing a few feet away. His face became deadly serious and he abruptly, and a little clumsily, dropped Bashea on her feet.

“Who are these men?” he asked gruffly. All eyes turned in their direction as Bagrat and Jahmeel simultaneously took a threatening step forward. In a panic, Bashea threw her arms up, one on each of her brothers’ chests, and tried to plant her feet as they slowly advanced.

“No! No, Bagrat! Jahmeel! These are my friends!”

“What kind of friends give you bruises like these?” Jahmeel growled, somewhat roughly pushing the hair away from Bashea’s face, his eyes displaying both concern for her and anger for the two men he thought had harmed her. Bashea’s face colored, and she glanced around at all the surrounding faces with a sense of embarrassment. Tahj looked nervously between the two mountainous men, who were all business.

Bashea’s feet slid in the loose dirt, and she did little more than slow her brothers. “No, it wasn’t them!” she choked out. But Jahmeel and Bagrat ignored her, coming closer and closer, as they pushed her back, to Tahj and Radeem. Tahj set his jaw. No matter what, he would not return these men’s blows. They were right to be angry.

But Bashea’s frantic, “
No
!”, her scream shrill and desperate, finally gained her brothers’ attention. They glanced down into her face, and what they saw there changed their expressions. They went from angry to two chastised schoolboys in a heartbeat. “These are not the men,” she hissed, not looking her brothers in the eyes. She seemed suddenly tired. Jahmeel hesitated and then put an arm across her shoulders, though still raising his chin defiantly and staring coldly at the intruders.

The tension dispersed, Bashea broke free from them. “This is Radeem.” She smiled, taking Radeem’s hand and pulling him forward into the gathered circle of onlookers. “And this—” She grabbed Tahj’s arm and drew him in as well. “—is Prince Tahj of Avistad.” This sent a wave of murmurs through the crowd, and they now peered at the pair with curiosity. “These men helped me to escape and brought me back to you.”

Bashea’s father’s eyes fell on them, wet and wide with wonder. He stepped forward and grasped one of Tahj’s hands in both of his. “Thank you, from the depths of my heart.” He turned to Radeem to do the same, but the two brothers continued to stare on suspiciously. The older man turned to the crowd and raised his hands. “Let us have a feast then, to celebrate my daughter’s return.”

A cheer went up, and then the crowd began to break up in order to begin preparations for the party. Though Bagrat and Jahmeel were no longer trying to get at Tahj and Radeem, they still stood their ground with a stubborn set to their chins, looking down their noses at them.

“I am Kamran. Welcome to our village.” The older man’s kind gaze turned to scan the tents behind them briefly and then returned to their faces. “Come, gentlemen, I will put you in my own tents.” Kamran led them forward. As they passed Bashea’s brothers, the pair continued to stare at them aggressively.

Kamran chatted with the men animatedly, but Tahj threw a glance back over his shoulder. Jahmeel and Bagrat were now talking to their sister, looking more relaxed as they led Bashea to a tent. But when Bashea raised her eyes and caught his, Tahj felt a strange pang, suddenly wondering if the bond they’d formed while escaping would dissipate now she was back in the heart of her family. Had he come all this way, fought so hard, only to realize returning her to her home wasn’t what he wanted at all?

* * *

At the very least, Tahj had to admit Bashea’s father knew how to throw a feast; it rivaled any he had attended at the castle. The entire village gathered by the fire, and a
goat kid was roasted on a spit. But even before it was served, they enjoyed a variety of toasted and lightly salted chickpeas, fava beans, and lentils, along with some of the biggest almonds Tahj ever laid eyes on. They were then brought nane sangak, the bread still warm from the hot stones it was cooked on. Rice and eggplant were served along with the main meal, which was subtly seasoned with saffron, cardamom, turmeric, and nutmeg. For dessert, several women brought forth platters heaped high with fruit, figs, cherries, plums, pomegranates, and grapes, along with shekar polo. Tahj loved the sweet rice dish more than anything else, but it reminded him of his youth when his mother used to make it for him for his birthday.

Feeling slightly melancholy, he searched the crowd for Bashea. They had not seen her all day, spending much of it resting in their own tent after their arduous journey. He spotted her here and there in the firelight throughout the course of the evening, talking with people and throwing back her head and laughing out loud. She had never seemed so beautiful and so unattainable. She did, however, look up and catch his eye at one point and smile. He smiled back, his body washed in a wave of warmth neither the food nor the fire provided. But as Bashea moved toward him, someone else stepped into her path and began speaking with her.

He looked away eventually and lost track of her until she was suddenly there at his side.

“More water, Prince Tahj?” She held a gourd over his cup, ready to pour, but he was so caught up in her beauty he couldn’t speak at first. Something, either the firelight or her delight over being back at home with her family, gave her an almost luminescent glow. He nodded dumbly and watched as the water splashed into his cup, but the gourd emptied before she even filled it a fourth of the way up. “I’ll get more,” she murmured, her lips curving up at the corners as she peered into his eyes.

She stood, but Bagrat, who was making his way back to his spot after visiting with a friend and his family, heard the exchange and grabbed her arm. “No. I’ll go.”

Bashea shook him off stubbornly. “I’ll get it, Bagrat,” she announced clearly. “I can handle it.” But Tahj could tell, despite her words and the unyielding tone they were delivered in, Bashea was frightened.

Bagrat took in the firm set of her chin and backed off, scowling and bending to wave his hand in the direction of the well. “As you wish, then,” he muttered begrudgingly. The big man turned to watch Bashea make her way across the yard.

“You don’t have to act like a guard dog, either,” she tossed over her shoulder, seeming to feel the weight of her brother’s eyes or knowing him well enough to instinctively guess what he was doing.

“Argh!” Bagrat spat in frustration, but he obliged by walking back to his spot and watching from a distance, though still obviously anxious for Bashea’s safety. When he wasn’t watching her, Bagrat occasionally shot Tahj dark looks.

Tahj turned his head to watch Bashea, too, as she walked shakily out of the ring of the firelight, wishing he’d said no when she asked if he wanted more water. After a time, he could take it no longer.

“Excuse me,” he said to Radeem as he got up to leave, but the captain was in a loud discussion with Gaspard and another man Tahj did not recognize, and didn’t even seem to hear him.

Tahj backed out of the firelight immediately, thinking it best if Bagrat didn’t see him approaching Bashea. He skirted the others in a wide circle, moving as stealthily as possible.

“Bashea,” he whispered loudly when he got near her.

Bashea jumped and squealed, turning in his direction and raising the gourd over her head as if to hurl it at him or send it crashing down onto his head.

“Bashea, it’s me. Tahj,” he said hastily. He stepped out of the dark, and she lowered her hands. He could see she was shaking.

“Oh, Tahj! You scared me.” She folded her arms around herself, one hand still clutching the gourd by the neck. They both turned to see if anyone had noticed and could easily make out the hulking form of Bagrat making long strides in their direction.

“I’m sorry, Bashea. I-I didn’t mean to…” He touched her arms in an effort to still her trembling.

“No, Tahj, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For what is about to happen,” she explained as Bagrat came within hearing distance.

“Get your filthy hands off her!”

Tahj unconsciously took a step back. “What? I-I—”

“Bagrat, don’t be a fool. He wasn’t hurting me.”

But Bagrat wasn’t listening to her. He was within inches of Tahj now, but was still screaming, his fists clenched. “You think because you are a prince you can just have whatever you want?”

“No!” Tahj cried, shocked.

“Bagrat!” Bashea took hold of one his massive arms. “He had nothing to do with—”

The huge man turned on her. “You think he had nothing to do with it? He’s the prince, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but—”

“And they were his men?”

“No. I mean, yes, they were. But he is not to blame.”

Heedless of his sister’s words, Bagrat took hold of the sides of Tahj’s vest and lifted him off of his feet. “
No one
touches my sister, do you understand? I’m going to enjoy this. I’ve been waiting for a chance to be able to—”

“Bagrat!” Bashea was almost being lifted now, too, as she clutched at the bulging muscles of her brother’s arm. “
He
did not hurt me. He helped me.” She stopped, looking at Tahj as if she’d forgotten Bagrat was even there. “I was wrong. That’s what I wanted to tell you this morning. I was wrong to say those things to you when you came to my tent.”