Emissary (43 page)

She was breathing hard with the emotion she was revealing to this man for the very first time…the only man she had ever wanted for her own—the one she hated more than any other because he wouldn’t capitulate to her.

Lazar looked at the ground and Herezah had to wonder whether he felt a prickle of shame as she
continued: ‘No man can know what it is to fight every day of your life to secure your own and your child’s longevity and that this fight means shutting yourself off to everything from friendship to pity. Compassion, care, sympathy are all emotions I have not been able to risk, Lazar, and after a lifetime of having to be strong and ruthless in order to keep all weakness at bay, you forget how to even touch again on those emotions.’ She unveiled herself and he saw the movement, raised his head to look at her with the pain she provoked with her first-ever words of sincerity to him. ‘I have only this,’ she said, pointing to her face, ‘to win favour, and this,’ pointing to her head now, ‘to use that favour to its best effect. I won, Lazar, because of my face, my body, my wits. My son was not slaughtered. My son is Zar.’

He watched her for several moments before he replied, Ana’s presence hardly registering at this time between them. ‘Then your work is done, Herezah. You have succeeded in your life’s mission. Boaz is safe. You are safe. It is time to tear down the barriers and be the person you might have been had you not been attached to the palace.’

‘I might say the same to you,’ she replied swiftly, ‘except we are creatures of habit, you and I; we are too old perhaps to change what we’ve become.’

‘It is never too late,’ he murmured.

‘I shall try then, if you will,’ she challenged. ‘I am genuinely sorry for the loss of your companion. I didn’t know him until this journey but when I bothered to notice, he was pleasant, intelligent company. You obviously had a lot more in common with him, and anyone who calls you friend clearly has something special going for them because you let virtually no-one into your life. So do the right thing by this man. Begin by eating something.’

Herezah nodded at Ana, who moved to hold the plate out to him and spoke for the first time, her soft tones touching him as tenderly as if she had used her hands. ‘Don’t let Jumo’s life be given in vain, Lazar. From what I can gather he was chasing down this food so we could all eat well this night. Honour him, eat.’

Where Herezah’s words had lifted his spirits somewhat, Ana’s words injured him. Her easy tenderness, her ability to touch deeply on all that troubled him, seemed to rub salt into the wound that was Jumo’s death. He wanted to reach out and bury his head into her hair, hold her close. He despised that she belonged to the Zar.

He reached for the plate instead. ‘I will eat, Zaradine, for Jumo’s sake and in his memory, if you will too.’

It was the capitulation Herezah had been hoping for. Both women instantly moved to sit beside him, each feeling their own outpouring of emotion for this man who appeared so vulnerable
and yet so determinedly closed to all, the one who sparked desire in both and yet responded with not so much as a touch to either.

Herezah risked it: she laid her cool fingers lightly on his bare arm, had to fight the urge to put her arms around his shoulders and lay her head in the warmth of his neck. ‘Thank you,’ she said and with effort removed her fingers swiftly for fear of him flinching. It was the first time they had ever touched meaningfully. She tried to convince herself that it was enough.

Lazar did not flinch—it was his quiet acknowledgement to the Valide that he understood and admired the courage it must have taken for Herezah to lay out her emotions quite so barely, to him of all people. However, as she spoke more brightly, looking out into the distance, rather than at him, to cover the fleeting awkwardness, Lazar took the plate from Ana and he deliberately allowed his own hand to brush hers. In that moment he felt the connection, saw it in her eyes, sensed it in the soft caress she returned to his palm.

Later that night, mourning Jumo deeply, and nursing his sorrows over Ana—the touch that had told him she was his, had always been—his sadness intensified. He grieved again at the thought they could never be together. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, to clear them, to lay his desires to rest once and for all. Love
equalled pain, and he had no more room in his heart for it. Loneliness could never get worse, a solitary life was quantifiable, and once accepted became routine, manageable and even comfortable…familiar as a comfy old chair or a favourite shirt.

As everyone was settling down to sleep, he drifted away from the main group unnoticed, and in cover of darkness he moved stealthily from the camp. He needed to walk, to feel the cold of the desert night, to let it chill him and cool the flames of desire that her simple touch had fanned.

It occurred to him that he could easily walk straight into quicksand as poor Jumo had, and that made him slow his urgent stride and make for a dune rather than the flat earth. The sand slipped beneath his feet, still warm in its depths, but he pushed on until he crested the dune, and there he lay, hands cushioning his head as he stared up at the bright crescent moon that had just emerged from a shadowy cloud.

It was always the moon he sought for solace and now it mocked him.
Still alone, Lazar?
it asked.
No parents, no friends, no lover?
He lost himself in sad thoughts of a life that felt unfulfilled, even though as little as fifteen moons ago he might have believed his life was full and happy. Fifteen moons ago he had not met Ana and he had a companion called Jumo. Fifteen moons ago nobody knew his identity and voices did not speak to him in his mind.

He did not hear the soft scramble of someone climbing the dune, but he did recognise the figure when it reached his eye level. He sat up, alarmed.

‘What’s wrong? What are
you
doing here?’

‘I had to speak with you…alone.’

‘How…’ He was lost for words momentarily.

‘No-one knows I’m gone. I told Pez—I think he understood. He’s not happy, of course, but he will warn me should the need arise.’

‘Ana, I—’

‘May I sit beside you?’

He nodded, then thought better of it. ‘Perhaps we had better sit on the other side,’ he suggested.

He knew she smiled behind her veil. ‘Yes, we are illuminated here on the top of the dune, aren’t we?’

Lazar did not return the smile. Instead a tension, emanating from him like a tautly strung bow, stretched to the one person he least expected to find himself alone with. His throat felt too dry to talk and he cleared it nervously. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Happy now that I’m here.’

‘Yes, the desert can offer comfort. The harem has been very cruel to you.’

‘I’m not referring to the harem,’ she said, releasing the veil and pulling away her head cover fully so that her golden hair could feel the touch of the night’s soft, chill breeze. It blew some of the silken strands away and he could see
her profile in all of its ethereal beauty beneath the moonlight. ‘I mean here…with you.’

He had to look away from temptation. ‘It’s dangerous, Ana. I cannot risk you—’

‘What can they do? Tell me off? Tell Boaz? Kill me?’ She smirked. ‘They’ve tried it all before and I fear none of it. I am their only hope apparently and I do this for one reason alone. You should know now that I care not for Percheron, I care not for my own life, I really don’t care if war comes, save the anxiety I have for my father, brother and sisters. I was meant to be dead by now and, in truth, death suited my needs, for it would have brought closure to a life filled only by misery.’

He remained silent, guarded, sharing her sadness and wishing he could turn back time and never have visited that hut in the foothills. He was the reason for her misery.

She continued softly now, none of the passion gone from her voice but the fire of her words had settled to a more gentle glow. Ana’s eyes were not turned towards his but out into the darkness where shadows of dunes hunched like ancient creatures. ‘My only reason for not objecting to marriage and to this journey is because it meant I could see you, share your life for just a little longer.’ She sensed him move to say something but she carried on talking, determined to say her piece. ‘We have never spoken truthfully, you and I. It is time we did, before it is too late and our mission is done and I am either dead in Galinsea
or returned to a living death in the harem. I feel somehow sure that we will never be allowed to see each other again once this is done with.’

He tried to sound unfazed, even though he was intimidated by her forthrightness and unsure of how to respond, so he stuck to safe territory. ‘I don’t see why not. They have no reason to forbid—’

‘They have every reason. Herezah would no more trust me alone with you than she would herself. And Boaz kno—’

The mention of the Valide made him bristle. ‘I admired the Valide’s candour earlier this evening but that’s where my admiration ends. Let me assure you that I can trust myself alone with her, Ana—whatever she might try, nothing would come of it,’ he said sourly.

‘She would find a way, Lazar, she always finds a method of getting her own way. I know this from bitter experience.’

He remained silent. She qualified her rationale. ‘She would seek out some way to compromise you.’

‘Herezah has nothing that can surprise me.’

‘What about the fact that I might be carrying her grandchild?’

More than surprised, he was shocked, unable to form any words for several long moments. Finally she turned her gaze from the distance to focus it fully on him and even in the dark he could see the sparkle of her eyes. She waited for him to speak.

It all fell into place now. ‘That’s why you’ve been feeling so sick. Is it true?’

She shrugged. ‘I do not know, yet,’ she replied carefully, ‘but I hear them whispering. She and Tariq have already convinced themselves I am pregnant with the next heir. They have almost convinced me.’

Lazar felt dizzy with dismay at what this meant. So many thoughts swirled around his mind, mainly selfish, angry thoughts, directed at Boaz for having tasted the pleasure of Ana’s body. But he fought those back into the recesses of his already scarred heart where he would lock them deeply away, and he focused instead on the practical worries. ‘We should not have you and the child endangered in the desert,’ he blustered.

‘Everyone was quite happy to endanger me. My child, if there is one, is hardly a problem and should not change anything. It is safe as long as I am, whether I am in the desert or imprisoned in the harem. The only suffering is done by me and there is no impact on anyone else, least of all the child. I am the tired one, the one who is constantly feeling sick. If we are to broker this peace, then it matters not whether I am with child or without. The baby would be killed anyway if war came to Percheron—don’t try and tell me otherwise.’ She glared at him.

‘No, you’re right,’ he admitted. ‘You and the baby would be two of the first to be dealt with. No heir to Percheron would be permitted to survive.’

‘Then he’s in danger whether I’m here in the desert or cocooned in my prison at the palace.’

‘He?’

She hugged herself. ‘Herezah thinks of it being a he.’

‘When will you know if you are pregnant?’

She shrugged. ‘My bleeds are unreliable at best. Another moon perhaps.’

‘How did you get past Herezah anyway?’

‘Pez. He organised a sleeping draught.’

Lazar gave a very half-hearted tweak of a smile in spite of his bleak mood. ‘Crafty.’ Then he sighed, wishing he wasn’t being tested like this with Ana so close and the unique opportunity of being alone. Again he chose safe ground. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’

‘I wanted to share my sorrow at the loss of Jumo, but not with an audience and one that in all truth doesn’t really care. He was always so kind to me. I loved Jumo.’

‘That makes two of us,’ he said miserably. ‘It was a terrible way to die.’

‘Is there a good way?’ she asked, echoing his gloom.

‘In battle perhaps, or whilst one sleeps. I would take either.’

She smiled sadly. ‘I also wanted to have this chance to talk about us.’

He felt the catch in his throat again, swallowed back the fear that she was moving them onto less secure ground. This is how Jumo
felt, panicking, sinking further into the mire. He grappled for a hold on to something solid, something real, something irrefutable. ‘There is no us, Ana,’ he said, his voice betraying how hard it was for him to remain this distant, this controlled. ‘You are the Zaradine, now potentially the carrier of the heir to the throne of Percheron. I am your servant. There is no us, there never was.’

‘You’re not very good at lying are you, Lazar? You’re far better at the gruff, angry truth.’

‘I do not lie.’

‘Then why did you touch me so surreptitiously this evening, if not to steal a part of me for yourself? Why did you touch me fifteen moons ago when I was first being presented to the Valide, if not to hold on to me for just a little longer? Did you think I didn’t feel that fleeting kiss of our skins through the sheath I was forced to wear? Did you think that because I was so young I didn’t have blood pounding through my veins or the perfectly understandable desires of any young woman?’

‘I…I…’

She was not going to let him off the hook now that she had him squirming at the end of her line. ‘Why did you come in search of me when I escaped? Was it all about duty or was it about getting to me first, seeing me again? You could have led me from the temple—I was capable of walking—and yet you carried me. Was that
sheer generosity of spirit or did you want to feel me against your body?’ He hung his head and still she persisted. ‘At least Boaz declares his love, you just sneak around it. You prolonged our time together in the market on the first evening we came into Percheron and on the morning of my discovery. You fought for my freedom during the Choosing Ceremony, and later, after I’d relinquished it and then brought the full might of the harem’s censure upon me, you fought again, this time with your own life. You took my punishment. You died for me, or so I was told. You thought you hid your feelings so well but you are translucent to me, Lazar. You always have been. Sometimes I know you, other times you confuse me. Right now, though, I see you clearly.’