The Archer's Heart (46 page)

Chapter 39

T
HE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT MINGLED WITH THE WINE IN
Tarek’s cup. He considered saying his evening prayers and then going to sleep. But the monsoon was back, hot and heavy outside, and even in his cool rooms in the palace, sleep in such heat would be difficult.

It felt wrong to pray and then sin, and so Tarek delayed his evening ablutions, simply washing his face in the basin before making his way through Prasta’s palace to the soldier’s quarters.

Tarek knocked on Anant’s door. When he entered, he dismissed the servant and shut the door. He slowly approached Anant’s bed. Anant sleepily stood to bow.

“Sit down, Anant, for God’s sake,” Tarek said. Anant sat down.

Anant’s face had almost completely healed. The skin around his left eye was still discolored. But his sight was fine.

The physician had told Tarek that there were likely bone fractures behind Anant’s eyes, causing his face to look slightly irregular. However the swelling in his cheek and jaw was gone and Tarek still found him handsome.

Tarek crouched beside the bed, leaning on the balls of his feet so that he was eye-level with Anant.

“How are you feeling?” Tarek asked.

Anant nodded. “Fine. Thank you, my lord.”

Tarek studied the man in front of him in silence.

“My lord?” Anant asked quietly.

Tarek frowned. “You saved me.”

Anant looked confused for a moment. “Of course I did.”

“Why?” Tarek reached out and touched the tender, fresh scar across Anant’s jaw.

Anant swallowed. “You are my lord.”

“That’s not good enough,” Tarek said.

“I have other reasons,” Anant said, his voice lowering.

Tarek stared at him so intently, Anant looked away.

“No, look at me,” Tarek ordered.

Anant looked back at him and stuck his chin out defiantly. His eyes searched Tarek’s face for understanding.

“What do you want from me?” Tarek asked softly. “Love? Sex? Power? I don’t know what I can offer you, Anant. I don’t know if I have any of those things in me.”

Anant’s eyes softened. “I don’t want anything from you. I enjoy being with you. That’s all.”

“That’s all,” Tarek repeated. Anant nodded.

Tarek rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly tired. He stood, his knees cracking. He gave Anant a long look, and then held out his hand to him. “Then come to bed with me.”

Tarek led him back to his own room.

◆◆◆

Tarek’s slumber was disturbed by the dramatic sound of someone banging on his door.

Tarek blinked at the early morning darkness and cursed himself for being so careless. Anant lay sprawled naked beside him, sleeping soundly despite the noise outside. There was something endearing about Anant’s ability to doze through anything. His dark body lay above the sheets, unashamed, his legs spread wide, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other on his chest, his hand gently rising and dropping with his breathing. Tarek wanted to lean down and smell his body, run his hands over Anant’s dark flesh, touch his cock where it lay slumbering on a thick bed of pubic hair. Instead, Tarek gently shook Anant’s shoulder.

Anant awoke sleepily, blinking as he got his bearings. He looked over at Tarek and smiled shyly.

“Good morning, my lord.”

“You have to go back to your rooms through the window,” Tarek whispered. He got out of bed and started dressing. “Someone is at the door.”

Anant quickly pulled himself together. He hastily dressed, throwing his clothes on with a soldier’s efficiency. Tarek caught his arm before he slipped out of the window.

“Wait,” Tarek said softly.

Anant looked at him, expectant, hopeful, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Come to me tonight,” Tarek said. “Wait for me in my room. After the servants have gone to sleep.”

A slow, dazzling grin spread across Anant’s face. He bowed again. “Yes, my lord.” He checked the courtyard for witnesses, and then dashed into the darkness.

Tarek watched him flee, and then shut his window to finish his own dressing. The room smelled of semen and sweat. It stank of Anant. It was both pleasing and terribly incriminating. He lit a stick of incense.

The person at his door grew impatient and knocked harder.

“Tarek!”

It was Darvad. Tarek quickly pulled on his vest.

“Hold on.” He brushed his hair back from his face, and then opened the door.

Darvad looked pissed.

“I was asleep,” Tarek started to explain, but Darvad scowled and waved the remark aside.

“Of course you were. It’s two in the morning.”

“What has happened?”

Darvad sat down on the bed without asking permission. Tarek felt his cheeks grow hot. It wasn’t the first time that Darvad had been in his private rooms—they often spent many hours alone together in their own chambers, gambling and talking and drinking. But Darvad was sitting on stained sheets. Tarek felt exposed. He turned to his wash basin and grabbed his razor.

“Firdaus has been murdered.”

Tarek froze, razor suspended in the air. “What!”

“Keshan Adaru killed him.”

Tarek frowned. “But why? Why now, after all these years?”

“I received a request from Ishad Trinat, Firdaus’ son. He has asked that I send you down to Afadi to investigate the circumstances. As Royal Judge, I need you to determine who is at fault and bring justice.”

“And if it is Keshan?” Tarek asked.

Darvad sighed. “It is a tricky situation. You have to find out what happened. Firdaus’ son claims it was an unprovoked attack, but I have heard rumors that Keshan defended a servant girl who was being gang-raped by Firdaus and his friends.”

“What was Keshan doing in Afadi?” Tarek asked.

Darvad shrugged. “Another mystery. I’ve sent a message to Iyestar, and he will hopefully clarify issues for us. But you need to leave for Afadi.”

“Right now?” Tarek looked at the darkness outside.

“Tomorrow at the latest.” Darvad stood. He hesitated for a moment, and then touched Tarek’s shoulder. “Other than you and Iyestar, all of my closest allies are dead.”

“And Iyestar will not be pleased with either of us if we punish his brother,” Tarek said. He had no desire to harm Keshan.

“If he has broken a law, then it is your duty to do just that,” Darvad said sternly.

And as suddenly as he appeared, Darvad got up to leave. “Keep me informed. Bring messenger pigeons. Let me know what really happened to Firdaus.” Darvad hugged Tarek quickly, and left.

Tarek looked out the window. It was too late in the morning to go back to bed. He spent the day preparing for the four day journey to Afadi, on the coast of Marhavad. He called for wine early in the morning, and drank steadily throughout the day, overseeing the selection of Dragewan soldiers to join him and retrieving his favorite bow from where it was being tuned. His charioteer had to be called back from Dragewan. Despite Darvad’s urgency, Tarek refused to leave without the young charioteer, feeling a strong kinship with the man who had driven him into battle at Jezza.

Frustration coiled around him. Once again, he was off, leaving Darvad behind for God knew how long. 

That evening Tarek blew into his bedroom like a storm. He threw his sandals off and poured himself another cup of wine. Then he turned and saw Anant standing in the corner.

Shit.
He’d forgotten he’d invited him earlier.

“I’m in a terrible mood, Anant. I’m sorry. You should go.” He swilled the wine.

Anant moved closer. In the darkness, his face looked almost perfect again.  

“I can make you feel better,” Anant said quietly.

Tarek snorted cruelly. “Doubt it.” He poured himself another glass of wine and drank it down.

Anant stood a few inches away. Tarek could smell anise on Anant’s breath. He frowned. “What?”

Anant’s hands shook. But that didn’t stop him from reaching uninvited to Tarek’s waist sash and untying the knot. He pulled down Tarek’s dejaru.

Tarek’s breath left him, heavy.

“Anant…” He didn’t know what he wanted to stay. He wanted to stop him. But he didn’t. He let Anant nervously kneel, put his hands upon him, guide Tarek into his mouth. Tarek leaned his head back and moaned.

Anant felt so good. His mouth was so hot, so persistent, it swirled around him and pulled him deep into his throat. Tarek had to remember to breathe. He reached down and put his hands on Anant’s hair, guiding him into a rhythm, pulling him closer, until the shadows in the room divided and brightness shone through Tarek’s body. Pleasure shot from him in gasping arcs.

Anant didn’t rise. He knelt, breathless, staring up at Tarek with love and admiration shining from his eyes.

“Anant,” Tarek said again, sadly. He placed a hand back on Anant’s head. “I am heartless.”

Anant’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’ll love you anyway.”

“I know,” Tarek said. He let go of Anant and pulled up his dejaru. “That’s the problem.”

Anant continued to kneel. His glance flickered to Tarek’s packed trunk. “You’re leaving?”

“I must go to Afadi. The lord of Chandamar has been murdered.”

Anant swallowed. “Am I staying behind?”

Tarek was about to say ‘yes.’ But the look in Anant’s eyes softened Tarek’s mood. His anger, his frustration with everything, it ebbed slightly in Anant’s presence. He wasn’t Darvad, and this wasn’t love. Tarek would not lie to himself. But it was comforting nevertheless.

“Come with me,” Tarek said before he could change his mind.

Anant stood. He bowed low before Tarek. When he looked up, he appeared more confident and handsomer than Tarek remembered. Anant’s mouth curved into a small smile.

“It will be my honor, my lord.”

Chapter 40

J
ANDU COULD LIVE WITH THE CONSTANT THROB IN HIS NOSE
, the bruises on his body, the ache of movement.

He even thought he could learn to live with the revulsion of his attack, the humiliation. Images of the attackers’ faces remained branded in his mind, their sick grins leering down at him every time he closed his eyes. But Jandu could bear this. Eventually, he would learn to live with the repulsive memory of Firdaus’ body grinding against his flesh.

But the way Yudar had betrayed him—this pain was unbearable. Hanu and Firdaus—their crime, while foul, was understandable. They were greedy and violent. But Yudar’s treachery wounded Jandu deeper than any blade could penetrate. Jandu would have died a thousand deaths defending any one of his family members against such a crime. So how could his brother, the staunch supporter of truth and religious righteousness, not only allow such a thing to happen, but facilitate it? He led the men to Jandu’s door. The guards of the women’s quarters would never have permitted three strange men to enter Jandu’s building if Yudar hadn’t convinced them to do so.    

Every time Jandu thought about it, he shook with fury. His brother had sold him as a whore. For the first time in his life, Jandu honestly and truly wanted to kill Yudar.

That was his mantra during his week of healing. He stared at the rose garden outside his new room and watched the bruises on his body turn from purple to yellow, and he fantasized about murdering his brother, and then ending his own life. He would slit his own throat. It was the honorable way out of this torment.

Keshan tended Jandu as if he were a sick child. Jandu’s self-loathing made Keshan’s presence insufferable. He couldn’t stand the fact that Keshan had seen him so vulnerable and weak. It was terrible to go through this with the one person whose opinion Jandu cared about most of all.

Yet Keshan didn’t seem to mind. He prattled on about trivial things, and kept Jandu posted on Afadi’s preparations for war. Ishad, Firdaus’ son and the new lord of Chandamar, had asked the King to send the Royal Judge as mediator. Now Indarel pulled all of his Afadi soldiers into the capital city, in advance of the arrival of the Chandamar negotiating party. The threat of war shuttered houses up and sold out bakeries, as the city prepared for a siege.

Secluded in his room, miles away from the chaos, Jandu saw little of the panic his attack had instigated. He heard activity in the courtyard as more Triya noble women moved into the retreat to escape the stressed city. But other than Suraya and Keshan, Jandu saw no one. After a week of such isolation, Lady Shali herself paid Jandu a visit, begging his forgiveness for suffering such injustice under her roof.

“Because of me, there will be trouble here,” Jandu said, trying to appear the gracious, proper Suya girl.

“If we can’t protect one woman alone in our own household, we deserve the trouble.” Shali’s voice shook with anger. “You are very special to Abiyar. I wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Jandu worked at politeness. But he was grateful when she finally left him alone.

Keshan was absent for most of the day, helping Indarel prepare for the arrival of Tarek Amia, the Royal Judge. Jandu took the opportunity to sit in his private rose garden. It was his first time outside since the assault, and the fresh air felt like a cool balm, soothing his weary spirit.

When Keshan returned, he whistled so as not to surprise Jandu. Jandu turned around and watched Keshan walk through the wooden doors into the rose garden. Keshan’s movements were tense, angry.

“Keshan,” he said. He smiled.

“Hi.” Keshan pulled up an extra chair beside Jandu. They sat contentedly together as a strong breeze blew the fragrant red roses in a twisted circle.

“This garden is beautiful,” Jandu said. Jandu caught himself absent-mindedly rubbing the bruises on his throat. He dropped his hands into his lap.

Keshan nodded. “It reminds me of my mother’s garden when I was young. She used to hide sugared candies from me by hanging them above one of her rose bushes so I would be stuck with thorns if I tried to get to them.”

“Did it work?” Jandu asked.

Keshan smiled. “No. I would get stuck full of thorns and eat the candies anyway. Then she’d punish me twice—once for stealing the sweets, and once again for having to clean up all my scrapes.”

 “I wish I knew you then,” Jandu said softly.

“You’d make an excellent Tiwari maiden.”

 “You like the way I look right now?” Jandu asked.

Keshan nodded. “I wish I could touch you.”

“I hate it,” Jandu said. “I can’t wait for this year to be over. I hate the weakness in my flesh. I just can’t believe…” he frowned, absentmindedly covering the bruises on his face. He closed his eyes. “I can’t bear the fact that you’ve seen me like this.” Jandu turned his head.

“Don’t look away,” Keshan said sharply. “Don’t you dare be ashamed.”

Jandu was silent for a long moment. Then he forced himself to stare at Keshan. “I don’t know what else to be.”

“Be Jandu,” Keshan said. “Be yourself.”

Jandu shook his head angrily. “You have always said you have known our fates. Did you know this would happen? Was this part of some great plan?” He took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Why did this have to happen to me now?”

Keshan’s eyes became soft and liquid, and Jandu momentarily feared that Keshan would cry. But Keshan just reached up and gingerly held Jandu’s hand.

“I don’t know why this happened. I wish I did. I’ve been trying to understand what this all means. But I don’t have the answers. I only know what is shown to me.” Keshan sighed.

Jandu swallowed. “I just—I just never expected this. Especially after meeting you. You’ve filled my head with such a sense of purpose. You’ve made me believe I could have a great destiny.” Jandu stared at Keshan. “But now this—this changes everything. How can I be the greatest archer of Marhavad, how can I help make this world any better, when I can’t even protect myself? When I am so
pitiful
?”  

“Look at me.” Keshan spoke in a low voice. He cradled Jandu’s bruised face. “Nothing is changed about your future.”

“I am useless,” Jandu said.

“No you aren’t.” Keshan leaned close. “How do you think I recognized you? You look completely different, but you are still Jandu under it all. Through the years in the forest, through the servitude, through even this, you remain Jandu Paran, the same, fierce, proud, beautiful warrior I fell in love with all those years ago. He is safe inside of you, you just have to find him again.”

Jandu swallowed. “I feel like Jandu Paran is dead.”

“No!” Keshan gritted his teeth. “You’ve been through hell, but that’s it! It’s just been a shitty couple of years! And you are going to get through this, because I love you and I need you!”

The corner of Jandu’s mouth twitched slightly. He pushed a stray lock of Keshan’s hair out of his face. “You are always so fucking melodramatic, Keshan.”

Keshan laughed and leaned forward to kiss Jandu’s forehead. “Well, you bring it out of me. I wouldn’t have to be so histrionic if you stopped getting into such precarious situations.”

Jandu smiled and Keshan’s face washed with relief, his body seeming to thaw suddenly, growing loose and relaxed like it used to be. He sat down in the chair again. “Are you feeling better?”

Jandu sighed. “Yes. I suppose I’ll have to face the rest of the world again. Though God knows what I will do when I see Baram.”

Keshan hesitated. “And Yudar?”

Jandu looked out over the roses. “I have nothing to say to him right now. If I see him, I’m going to kill him.”

Keshan leaned over his chair, and hugged Jandu to him. A week ago, Jandu wouldn’t have been able to stand it. But now, in the sweet river breezes of the summer house, safe and alone with Keshan, he allowed Keshan’s embrace.

“I would kill them a thousand times for you, if I could,” Keshan whispered.

Keshan tentatively pulled Jandu into his lap. Jandu wrapped his arms around Keshan, momentarily grateful that he was smaller than Keshan now, able to curl into Keshan’s strong, protective body. Jandu sank into the heat of Keshan’s chest, letting his warmth heal the bruised and broken spots Jandu couldn’t wait to be rid of.

They were finally disturbed by a knock at the door. Jandu’s throat went dry.

Keshan untangled himself from Jandu’s arms and stood. “I’ll get it.”

“Give me one of your knives,” Jandu said.

Keshan’s expression darkened, but he diligently pulled one of his throwing knives from his belt and handed it to Jandu.

“Wait here,” Keshan said. He went to the door. Jandu waited with Keshan’s knife clutched tightly in his hand. He knew it was irrational to be afraid of every knock on the door, but he couldn’t help himself.

Keshan returned to the courtyard and leaned against the door, a bemused expression on his face.

“There is a young man to see you,” Keshan said.

Jandu narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

“Indarel’s son, Abiyar. He begged an opportunity to talk to you.”

Jandu sighed. Although it had been Abiyar who personally drove the chariot to the summer retreat a week ago, Jandu hadn’t exchanged any words with him since that ill-fated kiss in the music room. Jandu was in no mood to deal with a teenage boy’s crush. But he realized he couldn’t hide in his room forever. Eventually he was going to have to see people other than Keshan and Suraya. And Abiyar was as good of a person to start with as any.

“I’ll see him,” Jandu said. He followed Keshan back into his rooms, tucking Keshan’s knife under the blankets of his bed. He knew Keshan watched him, but he didn’t say anything.

“He’s got flowers,” Keshan whispered. Jandu thought he detected a flicker of amusement on Keshan’s face.

Abiyar stood in the doorway, his face already pink with embarrassment, his oversized armor hampering his movements as he held out a bouquet of flowers.

“I picked these myself,” Abiyar stuttered. He eyed Keshan nervously.

Jandu accepted the flowers. “Thank you, Abi. They’re beautiful.” Jandu decided not to comment on the dirty fuzz above Abiyar’s lip, the mustache an obvious attempt to appear more manly.

Abiyar nervously made eye contact. “Janali, I… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. You should have been safe in the palace. This crime is a stain on all good people of Afadi. I should have been there to defend you.”

Jandu smiled. “You and your family have always treated me well. I am grateful for everything.”

Jandu could feel Keshan’s presence looming behind him, and he turned to see Keshan observing the young boy, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Abiyar, I want you to meet Lord Keshan Adaru of Tiwari.” Jandu nodded to Keshan. “He is the Triya I told you about who is a master of the flute.”

“Is he your husband?” Abiyar asked nervously.

“Yes, I am.” Keshan answered, and Abiyar seemed to shrink.

Jandu smiled. “Keshan, you should hear Abiyar play. He’s much better than I am. He has real musical talent. I’m sure you’d be impressed.”

Keshan frowned at Abiyar and raised an eyebrow.

Abiyar looked like he wanted to curl up and die. “Well… if you need anything, let me know. I’m staying here to defend you and the other women here if there is any trouble.”

The idea of little Abiyar defending the three dozen women in the retreat amused Jandu.

“Thank you, Abi. I have faith in you.” He glanced down at the bouquet and added, “Thanks again for the flowers.” But by then Abiyar had fled down the hallway.

Jandu shut the door and turned to Keshan. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“He’s in love with you.” Keshan said. “Can’t I be a little jealous?”

“Last time I saw him, he kissed me,” Jandu said.

Keshan raised an eyebrow. “Did you like it?”

“No. He’s not my type.” Jandu set the flowers aside. “And I don’t think I’m his type either.”

“He’s in for a surprise,” Keshan said.

Jandu nodded. And then they both started laughing.

“Poor, deluded kid,” Keshan said.

“Everyone here thinks he’s gay.”

“Maybe he is.” Keshan kissed the side of Jandu’s face that was uninjured. “Maybe he can tell you’re a man underneath this woman’s body. I can.” Keshan hugged Jandu.

Jandu shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

They held each other for a moment longer, but Jandu could feel Keshan tensing again.

“I have to go, Jandu. I need to be with Indarel when Tarek arrives.”

Jandu let go of him. He had wanted Keshan to be as far away from him as possible all week. But now that Keshan was leaving, a dank, oily fear filled Jandu’s stomach. “You have to promise to come back to me.”

Keshan looked surprised. He kissed the top of Jandu’s head. “I will. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

Keshan stood stiffly in the doorway. Jandu could see the pain in his eyes, and suddenly realized what it must have cost Keshan to spend this week with him. It was probably as unbearable as it was for Jandu himself. He went to Keshan and hugged him once again, the two of them gripping each other fiercely, as if they would never see each other again.

“I love you,” Keshan whispered. He kissed Jandu’s forehead. And then he left Jandu alone.

◆◆◆

That night, Jandu could feel it.

There was a lengthening in his bones. His muscles shook as they transformed, pulling upon tendons as they grew.

He couldn’t sleep through the pain, but he welcomed it regardless. He was changing back into a man. His final year of exile was over.

In the morning, Jandu felt a thrill of excitement and relief as he saw the changes that had already occurred. In one night, he had grown. Power surged through his arms and legs again.

This transformation was faster than it had been when he had turned into a woman. Jandu was grateful, but it was excruciating as well. By evening, he took to his bed once more, moaning as his bones shifted and his skin stretched, agonizing pulses radiating from his groin, every part of him sore and pounding. If he concentrated, he could actually see his toes lengthen.

What made it worse was the knowledge that his transformation had come a week too late. If he had even this much muscle a week ago, he might have been able to fight off the men who attacked him.