The Healer's Warrior (24 page)

“You should know that you are a pleasant distraction, Jem’ya.”

“Am I?” Jem’ya smiled and unassumingly adjusted the top of her dress. She looked up and Tareq’s eyes were glued to her chest. He averted his eyes from her figure and blushed when the wait staff entered the room carrying platters of hot food. Tareq and Jem’ya thanked the servants. Hungry, they dug in to their meal. Jem’ya pressed a clump of soft pilaf between her fingers and brought it to her mouth. Tareq started on the lamb kebobs, breaking apart a meatball with his hand and combining it with some
tabouleh
salad before eating it from his fingers. They ate in silence for a time, both in deep thought. 

“What did you think of me when we first met?” Jem’ya asked.

 “I thought,” a smile spread across his lips, “that you were too young and too pretty to be a genuine healer.”

“You thought I was a scam artist.”

“I had been scammed over a dozen times before I met you. I’ve been sold remedies and given therapies that caused me every side effect imaginable. One made me vomit for days and another made me lose my appetite for a week. One gave me night terrors when I slept and another prevented me from falling asleep. Some did nothing at all. Time and again I was left angry, humiliated, depressed and still in pain.”

“It’s saddening that they took advantage of your suffering and caused you even more pain. It’s hard to find good people in this world.” Jem’ya’s appetite was immediately erased by guilt. She sipped at her water.

“So,” Tareq said, “what did you think when you first saw me?”

“I thought that you looked too healthy and too handsome to want for anything.”

“Now you know the truth. I want for a lot of things.”

Jem’ya stared at the white roses and the white candles on the table. She sensed Tareq eyeing her face but she could not bring herself to connect her gaze with his.  She brought to her mind her village, where wives were missing their husbands and children were missing their fathers. Then she lifted her eyes. “I’m feeling tired, Tareq. Do you mind if I retire to my room now?”

He glanced at her full plate. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m feeling okay. There’s just been a lot of…commotion the last two days.”

“I didn’t realize my calamities had taken so much of a toll on you. And I shouldn’t have arranged our dinner at this late hour. Please, allow me to escort you to your room.”

Jem’ya smiled. Things were going as planned. Tareq accompanied her through the halls. They stopped in front of her bedroom door. He looked at her and then hung his head like a shy teenaged boy. She straightened her posture. “I would like to give you another hug before I abandon you with your thoughts this way.”

“No, you’re not abandoning me at all. I’ll be fine. There’s still work to be done before I end my night.”

Jem’ya rested her hand on his shoulder. “I know what it’s like to be frantic for a distraction from grief, Tareq.” Honesty softened her voice. “I know what it’s like to be alone in bed, trodden by sorrow and regret, with no one there to comfort me.”

Tareq took her into his arms.
Forgive me for what I’ve done, Jem’ya.

Jem’ya grasped onto his back.
God, forgive me for what I am about to do.
She delicately pressed her lips against the pulse point at his neck, and then she released him. He caught her hand before she slipped away from him. Without taking his eyes off of hers, he bowed and kissed the top of her hand. “Goodnight,” he said.

He never takes the hint!
Tareq stepped back, but Jem’ya wouldn’t let go of his hand. “Your work will be there tomorrow,” she said. “Tonight, wouldn’t you like to clear your mind? Come in, Tareq.” She pushed open her bedroom door a crack with her other hand. Her room was dark and inviting. Tareq was shocked. Jem’ya nodded and beckoned him by pulling on his hand.

Tareq searched her beautiful brown eyes for a hint of desire. There was none. Suspicion nudged hard at him, but he didn’t want to believe Jem’ya was planning to harm him. Maybe she was trying to comfort him in the way she believed a man wanted most. Tareq would never accept such a lukewarm advance. “I don’t think that’s what you really want to do.”

She uttered his name in a limp denial. “Tareq…”

“I would love to spend more time with you tomorrow morning. I want to introduce you to someone special.” He kissed her cheek. “Sleep well, Jem’ya.” He turned and walked down the hall, adjusting the cloak of his kingly robes about his shoulders. Jem’ya withdrew into the darkness of her bedroom.

Under the plush gold covers of her stately bed, Jem’ya curled into a ball and wept. Tareq had denied her when other men would have jumped at the opportunity to know her. Why now, now that she had the agenda to coerce him during his time of vulnerability, did it seem like he genuinely adored her? It wasn’t fair. Toying with his ego and lust was a tactic she could accept as part of her undertaking. To exploit his heart and his kindness, however, was wickedness.
In fact, this entire plan is cruel and deceitful. There’s nothing heroic about it. I can’t do this.

Tareq retired to his room at around 1 o’clock in the morning. He was wide awake. He’d been engaged in heated debates with his council and in discussions with his advisors late into the night, until
Asif
finally reminded the king that the men had families to get home to. Alone, Tareq ambled through the empty halls of the palace to his room. He took off his shoes and his clothes. He stepped into a therapeutic bath and slowly slid chest deep into the hot water. After five minutes of soaking in silence, with no distractions, tears started to flow from his eyes. Jem’ya was right. He didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts. Soon Tareq was reduced to desolation. He pleaded with God to change what was done or put him out of his misery for good. Either way, he could see his brother again. He wondered if there would ever be an end to his grief.

When he recognized the dark, obsessive nature of his thoughts, he forced himself to climb out of the tub. Dripping wet, he shuffled to his bed and got under the gold blanket where slumber gave peace to his heart.

Jem’ya tore off a corner of the herbed flatbread and folded it around a bite of fried egg. She brought it to her mouth. As she chewed, she glanced over at Tareq who was sitting at the head of the table with his chin his hand, smiling and watching her. Jem’ya was both nervous and amused. “Would you rather I meet him now and finish my breakfast afterwards?” she offered.

“No, that’s not necessary. He’s having breakfast as well, I think.”

She drank some pomegranate juice. All she could feel were his eyes studying her face. She set her glass down. “Tareq, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

He frowned and sat straight in his chair.
“Really?
I apologize.”

“I will not be rushed through my meal.”

“Of course not.”

“So…stop staring at me, please.”

“Yes, yes.” His eyes scanned the dining hall.

Jem’ya resumed eating. Soon she heard the tapping of his shoe on the marble floor. Then quiet humming joined the toe tapping. Jem’ya laughed. “Okay, I’m finished,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”

Tareq grinned. He took her hand in his and led her out to the courtyard. Jem’ya gasped as she walked down the front steps. “He is who you want me to meet?”

“Yep.
He is very special to me. He was my favorite friend before I met you.” Tareq was warmed by Jem’ya’s demure smile. Sultan whinnied. “This is the horse I claimed I was too poor to have,” Tareq chuckled and patted the stallion’s shoulder. “His name is Sultan.”

“He is magnificent, Tareq.” Jem’ya looked at the big ebony horse in awe. She stroked its neck. The horse swung his head to look at Jem’ya. “You are magnificent,” she said softly, gazing into the horse’s large dark eyes. Its neck muscles shivered under her hand. Jem’ya reached out her hand and Sultan nudged her palm with his nose.

“You have a wonderful way with animals, so I hope you will like your gift.” Tareq called toward the direction of the stables at the corner of the palace gates. “Bring her out!” A horse keeper walked out of the stables leading a great coffee colored horse with a luxurious dark brown mane that lightened at the ends to a golden brown.

“Oh my goodness!”
Jem’ya squealed. “You’re giving me a horse!” She bounced up and down.

Tareq laughed. “Calm down or you’ll frighten her.”

Jem’ya quieted as the horse was brought to her. The mare was statuesque yet graceful. She loved the animal immediately. The horse smelled at her outstretched hand and then sniffed at Jem’ya’s shoulder. Jem’ya laughed and rubbed the spot between the horse’s eyes. “Does she have a name?”

“Empress.”

“How perfect.
Empress.”
Jem’ya wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck and hugged it. Then, her heart overflowing with appreciation, Jem’ya went to Tareq and cupped his face in her hands. Tareq thought she intended to kiss him. She tilted his head down and stood on her toes to press her forehead against his while looking into his hazel eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He was overwhelmed and speechless. He’d never felt that intimate with Jem’ya before, not even during the kiss they’d shared. When Jem’ya pulled away Tareq’s heart was committed to do anything in order to have moments like that with Jem’ya for the rest of his life. “Today, I am happy to take you outside the palace gates. There is a stream about five miles east that is fed by the
Algezzir
River. The scenery during the journey and along the stream would be pleasing to you and we could go fishing if you like.”

“I would absolutely love that,” she smiled. “Are we leaving right now?”

“Yes.”

Jem’ya stepped into the stirrup and, while adjusting her long dark orange dress between her legs, pulled herself onto her horse’s saddle.

Tareq was surprised. “You know how to handle her as well?”

Jem’ya grinned. She tapped Empress’s sides with her heels.
“Yah!”
The horse galloped out of the gates and eastward.

“A bold one, indeed,” he smiled. He climbed hastily onto the saddle. “Go, Sultan!” They raced after her.

Laughter burst from Jem’ya’s mouth when she looked over her shoulder and saw Tareq and Sultan thundering down the path after her. Tareq ululated, teasing her with the high pitched victory cry. She bid Empress run faster. Her skill with horses came from her experience traveling from
Tikso
to the Coast two years ago. Twice she outran desert marauders because she had a good horse. That horse saved her life. She cried when she had to trade it for passage across the
Algezzir
. Now that loyal steed was returned to her in the form of Empress. The horse galloped down the winding path on the east face of the hill that the palace was built upon. The fresh air stroked Jem’ya’s smiling face as they sped down the trail.

The playful chase came to an end at the foot of the hill when Tareq cut through some wildflowers and made it to her side, which was good because Jem’ya didn’t know where to go next. They both slowed. Tareq grinned at Jem’ya. She waited for Tareq to gloat about catching up to her. He didn’t. “This way,” he said.

Arid land and sparse dry brush slowly gave way to hearty plants as they neared the stream after an hour’s time.  The stream was lovely. The cool water’s pacifying trickle was very different from the seashore. On horseback, Tareq and Jem’ya wandered along the bank for a while. There was a place where the stream was wider and deeper. “Let’s stop here.” Tareq dismounted and got the fishing line from his saddle. Jem’ya looked in her saddle for fishing line but there was none.

“Do you have another line for me?”

“No.”

“But you said
we
were going fishing.”