The Crimson Cord: Rahab's Story (12 page)

“And if he is not pleased with me?” The question blurted from her, and she wished she could pull it back. She already knew the answer to that question.

Dabir looked at her for a long moment. “I have no doubt in your ability, my dear.” He ushered her from her chambers toward the waiting chariot. “Rest assured,” he said, bending
close to her ear as they moved through the gate, “that you do not want to cross me. This is for us, Rahab. Together we will build a great fortune.”

How like Gamal he sounded!

She would never be free of the greed of fools.

9

D
abir held Rahab’s elbow as they walked past the king’s audience chamber into the anteroom where she would await her summons.

“The guards will escort you to stand behind the king as King Keret approaches. Do as I taught you and all will be well.” He left her then without so much as a backward glance.

Rahab wrapped both arms about her, surprised that Dabir had allowed her a multicolored cloak to be worn over her sheer clothing. At least for now she did not feel as though she were a slave at auction again. But as the noise from the audience chamber grew and Prince Nahid’s voice rose above the throng to demand his bride, her pulse quickened.

She glanced at the guard who stood watch at the side door. Sweat dampened her palms, and she realized too late that she should have eaten earlier when she’d had the chance. Now she felt nearly faint with hunger, anticipation . . . and fear.

“It’s time,” the guard said, dragging her wayward thoughts to what lay ahead.

One step at
a time.
She had little choice if she hoped to
live past this night. To go against Dabir or to even attempt to run from her fate could land her back in that dank prison cell or worse. She had no wish to end her life. Not yet. Not when hope of redemption, of working her way out of this awful debt, still seemed possible.

She followed the guard through the antechamber door into a glittering room where sconces were lined up on either side from the throne to the main door. Marble steps interlaid with gold led to a golden throne where the king sat facing his son, Prince Nahid.

“King Pubala,” Prince Nahid said, using the fictitious name of the legendary king, “I demand that you grant me your daughter Hariya to become my wife, to obtain a son by her.”

“Who are you to demand anything from me?” his father, the king of Jericho, responded, playing the role.

“It is I who am conqueror. While you slept, my soldiers have marched upon this city. You are in our debt, oh king.” At Prince Nahid’s words, soldiers climbed the steps to the throne and surrounded the king.

Rahab felt a slight nudge, forcing her to step from behind a purple and golden curtain. Guards gripped her upper arms and escorted her to stand before King Keret.

“Hariya?”

“Yes, my lord,” Rahab said, lowering her gaze, then bowing at his feet.

He reached for her hand and lifted her up, intertwining their fingers. “Now you shall become my wife.”

She nodded, saying nothing, as Dabir had instructed her. Prince Nahid led her through the wide hall to the open doors. Courtiers clapped and minstrels played flutes and harps, while the steady beat of distant drums filled the palace courtyard.

The prince did not stop as they descended the steps of the palace, leading her, with the crowd following, to his apartments on the opposite side of the large square court. At the door to his own chambers, he turned her to face him.

“Oh Hariya, how beautiful you are.” He smiled, and it almost seemed genuine.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said, bowing low again, then returning his smile.

The crowd cheered as the prince removed her striped cloak. Whistles and a few remarks she wished she did not understand came from some of the men standing closest. Nahid took her hand and turned her to face the men, who now forced their way past the women to the front of the throng.

“My bride!” the prince exclaimed with too much enthusiasm.

Rahab stiffened, tamping down all emotion. The tunic and scarlet robe did little to hold her dignity, but she lifted her chin, courting a hint of defiance. She
was
beautiful. She knew it from the many hours she had spent staring at her reflection to please Dabir.

But as the men continued their ribald comments, she felt her defenses crumbling one stubborn thought at a time. Prince Nahid turned her in a circle once more, then swiftly pulled her into his arms and kissed her in sight of all. “Let us take this inside, shall we?” he whispered against her ear.

“Yes, my lord.” She shivered and wrapped her fingers tightly against his and followed him into his chambers.

“You will think me a fool to tell you this,” Prince Nahid said once the door to his bedchamber shut behind them. “But I did not originally intend to take you as they expect.”
He sank onto a low couch and stretched his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.

Rahab stood on a soft woolen rug, hands clasped in front of her, eyes downcast. “I do not understand.” Hadn’t Dabir insisted that the prince wanted her?

“That is, I do not normally sleep with the virgins.”

Silence settled between them, broken only by the distant drums and the sounds of men and women dancing in the courtyard outside the prince’s window. So Adara would have been safe with him? But no one would believe that she was truly still a virgin, and her life in the home of a husband would have been forfeit.

Rahab sighed softly. “But I am not a virgin.” Despite the humiliation it had cost her, she had made the right choice.

“No, you are not.” His voice was both gentle and commanding. “Look at me, Rahab.”

She glanced up from studying her feet, noticing the hand he extended that beckoned her to sit beside him on the plush cushions. She came slowly, warily.

He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm. She swallowed and closed her eyes, willing her emotions into submission. She could not stop him from doing what men would do, but she dare not give her heart to him. She was nothing to him. And he was nothing to her.

His fingers moved up her arm, and she could not stop the tingling. He cupped her cheek and then kissed her temple, his hands probing. Dabir would expect her to comply, to willingly give herself to this man for the simple fact that he was the prince of Jericho.

Her stomach knotted, reminding her that this man had ruined her life, had sold her into slavery. She stiffened.

He pulled back and held her at arm’s length.

“I am sorry about Gamal,” he said. She startled at this sudden turn of thought and met his gaze, saw the sorrow in his dark eyes. Was he lying just to force her to melt in his arms?

“You are kind to say so, my lord.” She could not so easily accept such words.

He searched her face, slowly letting his gaze take in the rest of her. “Dabir was right. You are indeed very beautiful.”

She shivered again at his touch, felt his fingers slide over her shoulder once more. His kiss gentled as he drew her closer.

“If you but say the word, I will purchase you from Dabir.”

She blinked, stared into his earnest dark eyes. “Purchase me, my lord?” If he’d wanted her so badly, why did he allow Dabir to claim her in the first place? Dabir’s face flitted in her mind’s eye, purpled with rage. She was his investment.
This is for
us, Rahab. Together we will build a great fortune.
But at what cost to her?

“I would pay what is owed to Dabir in order for you to give me an heir.” He twisted a strand of her hair, then carefully released the combs, letting the full length of it tumble about her shoulders. He leaned in, his hot breath on her face, his lips claiming hers, possessive, determined. Was he serious?

She caught her breath as he drew back to search her face. “Does this please you?” he asked.

That he should care to please her at all made no sense. “Forgive me, my lord, but how can the child of a slave be of any importance to you? Would not your other sons hate him and try to destroy him?” She had heard tales of such things happening in other kingdoms from Cala.

He leaned against the couch again, pulling away from her.
“I am the son of a slave woman, Rahab. Did you not know this?”

She lifted a brow, surprised at the revelation. “No, my lord. I was not aware.” A thousand questions filled her mind. If his mother was a slave, how did he hold such a place of prominence in the kingdom? Awareness suddenly dawned as she recalled Cala’s comments to her one afternoon.

“You have only sisters.” She looked at him. Saw his face darken, followed by a curt nod.

He stood abruptly and walked to the window but did not part the curtains. She sat where she was, uncertain what to do next. He turned but did not move toward her, extending his hand instead. She rose and came to him.

“I never sleep with the virgins,” he said with greater emphasis this time, “at these festivals. It is always expected, but I refuse to put these unsuspecting young girls into a harem to be forgotten as my mother was.” He paused. “Despite the fact that she produced a male heir when my father’s wives could not, he dared not give her the favor she deserved, lest he anger the kings of the nations of his wives.” His smile grew thoughtful, and he sifted his hands through her undone hair. “When the feast ends, I quietly send the virgins home.”

Rahab processed his words. “But you cannot send me home.”

He shook his head. “But I can take you from Dabir. I would treat you kindly.”

“I don’t know what to say, my lord.” Did he know Dabir’s plans for her? She bowed at his feet. “I am my lord’s servant.”

His arms came around her and he pulled her to him. His kiss lingered. A soft groan escaped him as he led her to his canopied bed. But her mind could not focus on the
love he wanted from her, despite his kind words. At least she had preserved Adara’s innocence, for hers could never be regained.

Dabir watched Rahab from across the room later that evening, after the marriage between herself and King Keret. He covered a smile with his linen napkin as his gaze caught the prince’s satisfied look. Rahab had surely pleased him most thoroughly, if Dabir knew the prince at all. And who better than he understood the prince’s mind? With the prince’s endorsement, Rahab might just be the most lucrative investment he had yet made.

He leaned against the cushioned couch, sipping his wine. He had planned this well. Rahab would need more protection now. Two strong eunuchs should do, or one impressive in size. He swirled the liquid in his cup, contemplating his options. He startled at the prince’s approach and scrambled to bow at his feet.

“Do not trouble yourself, Dabir. You nearly spilled the wine over your robe.” The prince’s tone held candor and a hint of amusement.

Dabir straightened, heat creeping up his neck and filling his face in a rush. “I am sorry, my lord. I was lost in thought and did not hear or see your approach.”

Prince Nahid sat beside Dabir on the farthest end of the plush couch. “I want to purchase Rahab from you.”

Dabir straightened and clutched his cup, studying the elaborate spread of food before him, scrambling to collect his thoughts. What nonsense was this? He swallowed, forcing his anger to calm. This was Rahab’s doing.