The Harem Master (8 page)

Gulden's soft touch drew Euren from her thoughts; she smiled at the soft kiss pressed to her mouth before Gulden began to wash her using a soft cloth and a sweet-smelling soap made in the village about a day's ride from the monastery. Nearby, Asli and Canan had settled down in their roughhousing and shifted to bathing each other instead.

Sometimes she still could not believe these women were hers, had chosen to spend their lives as her closest companions. She was the only child of a soldier, meant someday to become Captain of the Guard. No one had ever anticipated she would become the most powerful woman in the country. Assuming, of course, she and Ihsan didn't end up killed or imprisoned, which were rather large assumptions given she'd spent the last five years in hiding to avoid those very things.

It was so much easier to be a smuggler.

Gulden moved away far enough for Euren to duck beneath the water and wash away suds and soak her long, dark, heavy hair. When she came up, it was Asli and Canan who began to wash her hair, scrubbing and rinsing it thoroughly. Returning to shore, she sat still while they dried her hair and combed it out, then braided it and pinned it up at the back of her head. If the entire process was heavily impeded by bold fingers and eager mouths, well, she certainly had no complaints.

They had just returned to the water to wash their own hair when the sound of someone rushing down the hill drew their attention. Clambering out of the water, the three concubines surrounded Euren—two in front, one beside her to drag her away to safety should something go wrong.

But it proved only to be Ferit, a senior monk and the one who spent the most time with them. "Guests have arrived to see you, Highness. They say they've come on behalf of Prince Ihsan. Desert men."

"Desert men? We'll come at once. Thank you, Ferit." When he'd gone, she shrugged into her robe while the others did the same and gathered up the bathing supplies. "What in the world has Ihsan done now, do you suppose?"

Asli hefted one of the baskets and led the way up the hill, throwing a brief smile over her shoulder before she focused on the climb. "If I had to guess, I would say it's the escort he mentioned in his letter."

"Madness," Euren muttered.

"You're the one who married him," Canan said with a grin.

Euren snorted. "I'm not likely to forget that."

Canan and Gulden laughed.

Back in the monastery, they hastened through the back halls to their room and quickly dressed. Euren pulled on a long skirt, teal and white in a diamond pattern and scattered with gold and silver flowers. The top was teal with white, gold, and silver flowers. It left her midriff bare, showing off the large white flowers and blue birds she'd had tattooed when she'd come of age. She shook her head when Gulden offered the jewelry box—no need to dress up that much for a simple meeting, especially when nearly everything else was packed.

Gulden, Canan, and Asli were all dressed in dark blue pants that shimmered faintly; they were fitted at the waist and ankles but loose otherwise. Their chests were bare, as was the custom with concubines unless the king or queen preferred otherwise.

"Have your knives?" Asli asked, spinning her own before tucking them away in special folds in her pants. Over the years of their exile, Asli had taught Euren how to be a princess, and Euren had taught her how to fight like a soldier.

Euren touched the places where her own were hidden. "Yes. Let us go see what these desert men want so badly they would leave their precious sands."

They walked quickly through the dark halls of the monastery, soft slippers nearly soundless on the smooth, worn floors of a building that was at least two hundred years old and much older than that in the original heart of it. Turning the last corner to the large hall where all visitors remained unless granted permission to go further into the monastery, Euren faltered briefly and kept moving only because of a gentle nudge to her back from Asli.

Seven figures were gathered in the middle of the enormous hall near one of the twelve pillars that lined each side of the room and held up the enormous stone and glass room that spilled late afternoon sunlight down on them.

They were all dressed in dark brown but had removed their travel clothes and stood only in loose pants and sleeveless shirts. All of them had scale tattoos covering their arms, and some, from what little she could see, also had them on their chests. The man at the head of the group, who reminded her fleetingly of Ihsan in the way he seemed young and old at once, also had them on his throat, all the way to stop just short of covering his face. It was beautiful work. They nearly looked like real scales.

"You are Princess Euren?" the man asked. His accent was strange, reminiscent of the far eastern parts of Tavamara, where it was rumored they still dealt frequently with the strange tribes of the Great Desert.

Euren nodded. "I am. You've come on behalf of my husband?"

The man swept a deep bow. "Yes, Your Highness."

"Prove it," Euren said.

Looking pleased by the demand, the man reached into the quilted shirt he wore and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was sealed with Ihsan's personal crest, and her name was written in his hand above it… "When did he give you this?"

"He left it with us some months ago, when he first spoke to us of this matter. He also said to tell you that he impatiently awaits your reunion and a chance to sit on the roof stargazing with you again."

Euren laughed. Stargazing indeed. If they had looked at the stars at all, it was only to be absolutely certain it was dark out and they would not be caught. She opened the letter and read Ihsan's brief request that she go with them, that all was well, and he would see her soon at the royal palace. Euren handed the letter off to Asli.

"So what has my husband requested of you?"

"He once did the Cobra Tribe a great favor, and we vowed to repay the debt. He has requested that we escort you to the royal palace, and we are most honored to oblige that request." His words were old-fashioned, a style of Tavamaran Euren had not heard since her grandmother passed away, and even she had only spoken it in patches and turns of phrase. It was the kind they learned reading old books or studying law, not the kind spoken in the day to day. Pretty, though, used so comfortably.

"I told you so," Asli said.

"Indeed," Euren replied, casting her a look. She turned back to the desert man. "I appreciate your kindness, …?"

"Ah, apologies." The man smiled, and it smoothed some of the hard edges of his demeanor. "I—"

"He is Amir Emre, Son of Jafar, Son of Cobra, Son of the Lady of the Sands," said the man standing just behind and to his right.

Amir… that meant he was the son of the tribe chief. "An honor to meet you, Amir. I appreciate your kindness and generosity to leave your home and come here to protect a stranger."

"You are the beloved of a good friend," Emre replied. "That is not the same as a stranger. It is nice to finally meet the lovely woman about whom he so frequently spoke. Speaking of women, I was not certain you would be comfortable traveling with a group of strange men, so I have brought my sister." He half-turned, gesturing one of the other soldiers forward. She looked almost exactly like Emre, and was just as fierce as the men surrounding her, tall and heavily muscled, covered in the same tattoos. "This is Meltem, Daughter of Jafar, Daughter of Cobra, Daughter of the Lady of the Sands."

Meltem smiled and bowed. "An honor to meet you, Princess."

"The honor is mine," Euren demurred, trying not to stare at her graceful movements, the way they flexed the tattoo like a snake moving across the sand. She had dark green eyes, freckles that softened her fierce, handsome face, and a small scar on one cheek that looked like it had been put there by some sort of blade, most likely a small knife. "You must be tired from your travels. Rest, refresh yourselves, and we can discuss travel plans over dinner."

Bowing, Emre and his men let the monks lead them away, leaving Euren and her women alone with just one old, wrinkled monk who regarded them with a fond smile and bright blue eyes that seemed impervious to the years that had weathered the rest of his body. "It will be strange when you are no longer with us, Princess."

"Peaceful again, I am sure," Euren said with a smile and held out her hands as he extended his. "You've been most kind to tolerate us all these years, Father Orhan. I will miss you, and all the others, when we are gone."

Orhan kissed the back of her hands. "Princess, you will always be welcome here, as will your children's children." He let her hands go, drew his back into the depths of his voluminous sleeves, and then added wryly, "Not least of all because you are willing to overlook the methods by which we acquire funds to maintain the monastery."

Asli snorted. "Overlooked or gleefully assisted?"

"We'll never tell," Orhan replied. "The majority of your belongings are packed, Highness, which is fortunate seeing as your escort has arrived early. We are preparing a banquet to send you off, and you should be ready to leave as the sun rises. If ever you need to return, do not hesitate. We are honored to serve our future queen."

Euren ducked her head, blinking rapidly. When she was relatively certain she had her tears under control, she lifted her head and cleared her throat. "Thank you, Father. I will miss you dearly, and part of me will always consider this place home. Thank you for everything."

He patted her arm, then offered his own. "Let us go and get started on the wine. There is plenty of it, and the less that goes into my monks, the better—too much to do to let them lay about the place whining of headaches."

"We'll do our very best to assist, Father," Euren said with a laugh. "I believe Gulden and Canan have out-drunk them before."

Behind her, Canan and Gulden both snickered. Orhan shook his head, but his smile did not fade.

In the dining hall, the rows of small tables had been cleared away so that only a few remained to form a square so they could all sit around and share a meal together instead of breaking up into smaller groups. Euren settled on one side, Asli and Gulden immediately next to her, and Canan next to Gulden. Monks took up the end of the table on Euren's right, and the side opposite, leaving the space on her left for the tribesmen.

Asli poured a measure of wine into one of the small, shallow wine dishes stacked neatly in front of them. Normally a different set was used for every course, but the monks did not bother with such a formality. Often at normal meals they eschewed proper wine dishes in favor of ordinary cups. A terrible, disrespectful way to drink wine, many back home would wail to see such abuse, but it was the way Euren had grown up drinking it, sharing a bottle of cheap wine with her father while they ate dinner. When she was little it had been heavily watered down, but by the time she was fifteen she could drink it undiluted.

Taking the sip offered her, enjoying the cool, sweet-tart bite of it, she watched as Asli took the remaining sip from the dish, then leaned in and tasted it on her mouth. Asli nuzzled against her when they drew apart.

Euren could still vividly remember all the times she had sat awkwardly with her friends, wary they actually were her friends. They drank expensive wine from glass dishes; she drank cheap wine from clay cups. Ihsan had been learning how to rule a country, and Asli had been learning to be a queen. Euren had been training with the soldiers, mastering her throwing knives and how to go about the palace without drawing attention to herself.

She had cried in her bed many a night after she'd realized that she liked Ihsan a little too much, and Asli too, and that once they were married, they would both be too far away to remember the silly soldier's child they'd once played with.

A soft touch to her arm drew her from her thoughts, and she accepted a sip of wine offered up by Gulden, then picked out a sliver of cheese and a plump olive. It was good food—expensive food—but the monks did not believe in the old practice of plain, simple fare. A pious man required good food the same as anyone.

The sound of people in the hall made her look up and forget all about food as Emre and Meltem entered, followed by the rest of their people. They made a handsome pair, brother and sister, and seemed so close in age she could not tell who was the elder.  Both still wore mostly black, though bright colors had been added in small measure. Emre's sleeveless shirt was decorated with red and gold swirls, the throat cut low to display a swath of his tattooed chest.

Meltem was dressed in pants that fit her legs close, overlaid by a black skirt that fell to her knees and was decorated in thin lines with a swirling pattern in a rainbow of colors. Her top was black with stripes of color going across the center. It covered her shoulders, but left her stomach bare, displaying that she too had tattoos covering a good portion of her body. Her hair, tightly bound before, had been pulled back into a simple tail of loose curls that half-spilled over one shoulder. Beautiful—distractingly so. Euren tore her gaze away and focused on the food and wine once more.

They settled around the table, cheering at the offerings of wine and thanking the monks several times as they poured and began to thoroughly enjoy the meal. The first course vanished quickly, and the second was brought, filling the hall with the fragrant scent of several kinds of roasted meat and vegetables, an herb-rich rice, and still-steaming stacks of flatbread.

When they'd all eaten for a few minutes and the conversation resumed, Euren looked at Emre. "So what favor did Ihsan do that you would do this for me?"

"He saved the lives of our two younger brothers," Emre replied. "Your Highness must know of the war that has carried on these past few years between Tavamara and the countries to the north. While the sands prefer to leave you to your fighting, we cannot always avoid it. My brothers were out with soldiers learning how to patrol and were swept up by troops from Hadge. They were missing for two years; we thought they were dead. Then one day this crazy fool shows up accompanied by three other equally crazy fools and our missing brothers. Prince Ihsan protected them the whole time they were in that prison camp, often bringing harm down on himself in the process. "