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maderrI apologize profusely for the utter sap of this story. It tastes like the kind of snacks kids make -- toast with peanut butter, honey, marshmallow, frosting, sprinkles and a few tabelspoons of sugar.
You know, I've seen people bitch about how they never heard honest concrit from their readers. They must have shy readers. I should gvie them my mouthy ones, except I luffs my far too tolerant compadres.
Even though I can here the snickering now.
The sugar level, it is high. You've been warned.
And fuck, I just realized I never came up with a title. My betas, they did not give me one! Ten demerits!!!
“Fine wine! The finest! Are you seeking wine, good gentleman?”
Ikram turned his head away before the wine merchant could see him rolling his eyes. It never paid to be rude to anyone with goods to sell – even the lowliest rag merchant. When shopping in the ‘greatest market in the world’ it never paid to mistreat any of the merchants and shopkeeps.
Even the ones that deserved it.
He hated the market. It was noisy, chaotic, and eerily reminiscent of the battles he had left behind in the Desert years ago. Sometimes, however, there was nowhere else to go. Ikram slowed as he drew near the stall he wanted, stopping several down so as not to appear eager.
Anyone who didn’t believe merchants were the most evil things ever placed in the world had never shopped a day in his life. Lady give him a battle with Scorpions any day. He examined a table neatly arrayed with perfume bottles without interest, ignoring the look the stall merchant was giving him, then gradually moved on to the next booth, this one selling soaps – most of which were more cloying than the perfumes, or maybe the merchants were simply too close together.
“Little thief!” Someone behind him snarled. Ikram didn’t bother to turn around.
Until he heard the woman cry out in pain, obviously terrified.
“Thief!”
Dropping the soap he’d been sniffing, Ikram whirled around just in time to catch the woman thrown in his direction. Even as he glared at the man who’d assaulted her, he could feel how small she was. Slender, bony and delicate, like a bird. “Is that any way to treat a lady, good sir?”
“Tramp and thief!” The merchant, fat and red-faced, glaring mutinously at the woman trying hard to shake in Ikram’s arms.
“I didn’t,” she whispered, turning to look up at Ikram. “I dropped it, and bent to pick it up. He says I took it, but I didn’t, I swear.”
Ikram tried hard not to stare at the face staring up at him from the folds of an old, well-worn headcover. It was pale green, only bringing out the stunning green of her eyes. Her skin was pale, nearly white, and what he could see of her hair was a deep red, as rich as rubies. Finally tearing his eyes away, he looked again at the merchant. “The woman says she is no thief. What proof do you have that says otherwise?”
“She is always stopping by my stall,” the man said contemptuously, motioning to the jeweled hairpins and other ornaments carefully spread out on velvet. “Never does she buy. Of course she is too poor, and heathen, so naturally she finally decided to steal.”
“I didn’t,” the woman said, twitching, fighting to remain calm. “Someone bumped into me and I dropped it. It’s right here! Please!”
Ikram gently took it from her fingers – the object being a silver hairpin decorated with a flower made from opals with peridot for leaves. Reluctantly letting go of the small woman, half-afraid she would slip away, he held it out to the merchant.
Whose eyes went wide upon seeing the heavy gold signet on Ikram’s right hand. “My Lord. Thank you for interfering.”
“Apologize to the lady,” Ikram said, staring him in the eyes until the merchant dropped his gaze. “You have no proof she stole anything, and until you have such proof she does not deserve the way you’ve treated her.”
“I owe her nothing,” the merchant replied curtly. “If she cannot buy, she should not touch.” He turned away to beckon forward a waiting customer.
Ikram rolled his eyes, making sure the man saw him, and turned back to the woman. “I apologize on his behalf.”
The woman shook her head. “He’s always that way. Thank you, my lord, for your help. I am sorry to have caused such a stir.” Her eyes flicked briefly back to the stall, a brief moment of longing passing over her face, but it was gone in the next moment.”
“Might I beg the honor of your name, my lady?”
“I am hardly deserving of ‘my lady,’ my lord, but I thank you. My name is Valerie.”
Ikram nodded. “I am Ikram—“ he cut himself off before he could go further. Even after living for nearly a decade in Tavamara, he still tried to use the Desert form of address, giving his father, Tribe, and the Lady along with his given name. “A servant in the royal palace,” he finished awkwardly.
“Again, I thank you,” Valerie said, smiling, the expression making her even more beautiful.
He hesitated, too long out of such games to be certain he should be trying to get back into them. “Are you busy, my lady? Would you have time for a cup of tea? A bit of wine?”
“Oh…” Valerie blinked at him, clearly surprised, then stumbled forward as she was jostled, the milling crowd caring not a bit for either of them not that the spectacle was over. She stopped just short of crashing into Ikram. “I…that would be nice…I can’t stay long…”
“Nor I,” Ikram said with a smile. Offering his arm, he made certain her fine-boned, so fragile-seeming hand was securely tucked into the crook of his arm and then began to fight his way through the crowds, releasing an aggravated sigh as he finally reached his favorite teashop. “What is your pleasure, my lady?”
“I—tea is fine.” Obviously nervous, Valerie slowly began to unwind the scarf around her head, setting it neatly around her shoulders.
Ikram tried not to stare.
Her hair really was the color of dark rubies, straight and long. Never, even in all his years in Tavamara, had he seen hair like that. Beautiful, especially set against that pale skin and combined with the green eyes…He finally regained his senses when the waiter appeared, and frowned as he considered. “Have you preference in wine, my lady?” Only then did he recall she’d said tea. Or had she?
Ikram fought a sigh and wondered where his wits had gone.
No doubt lying somewhere on the ground being trampled to death by the citizens of Tavamara. Or perhaps in the fine hands of the woman seated across from him. If she’d stolen anything today, it was his sense. Thirty-one years old and he was acting like he was eighteen again.
Valerie laughed lightly. “I fear, my lord, that I will never master the Tavamaran art of wine. I will take whatever you recommend.”
“As you wish,” Ikram said, returning the lovely smile. He turned to the waiter. “A half-carafe of Summer Roses, a tray of sweets to match.”
The waiter bowed and vanished.
“Do you live in the city?” Ikram asked.
“Yes,” Valerie replied, smiling. “Well away from the marketplace.”
Ikram laughed softly. “It is rare to see one such as you in the marketplace alone.”
It was Valerie’s turn to laugh. “A foreign woman alone? Yes, quite. I have lived here for a year and a half now, and knew the language from my studies as a girl.”
“You like Tavamara?”
Valerie nodded. “I do. It is quite different from Lavarre, but it is those differences I enjoy.” She smiled again as the waiter reappeared with the wine. “Though as I said, I cannot master the art of wine.”
“Mastering wine takes being as obsessed with it as any proper Tavamaran,” Ikram said, winking. “Summer Roses you cannot go wrong with; it’s fruity and only slightly sweet. If ever in doubt, go with that.”
“There is one I like to buy from time to time…Summer Breeze, I think is its name. I’m afraid where I come from, wines do not have such names…or colors. I always feel slightly silly.”
Ikram laughed as he poured the wine. “I thought much the same when I first came to Tavamara. Though I’m used to strong wine, it was strange to see so many, such colors, and to hear the strange names they are given. It took getting used to.”
“You’re not Tavamaran?”
“More like…a cousin of Tavamara.” Ikram sat back. “The one from the side of the family no one likes to discuss.”
Valerie tilted her head, obviously confused, but did not press it. “Yet you’ve made your home here now?”
“Yes. I…never felt entirely at peace in my homeland. My family and I are much happier with me in Tavamara.” He assumed his family was happy. Certainly they’d been quick enough to kick him out of Cobra. He could almost feel his tattoo burn against his skin, forever marking the Sands he’d come from, the savagery that had raised him before he traveled to the exotic but far more gentle Tavamara.
Shaking off his thoughts, Ikram gently shoved the tray of sweets toward Valerie. “Have you had any of these before?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Valerie murmured, reaching out to delicately snag a pastry covered in dark chocolate. “I do not often purchase sweets.”
Most sweets were expensive, and while her clothing was good and well-cared for, it was all threadbare. Ikram wanted to buy her sweets – and far more besides.
It was rather frightening. He hoped he wasn’t staring like some star-struck boy, but the way she slowly nibbled at the treat was torture. Give him Scorpions any day. He took a sip of wine and looked out over the café to give himself a chance to recover whatever sense he might have left.
“You said you worked in the palace?” Valerie asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Ikram forced his mind to work, or at least to act like it was working. Those green eyes were going to be the death of him. “Yes. I studied there when I first came to Tavamara and after concluding my studies decided to stay. My family was not happy, of course.” They disowned him, banished him from the Tribe and told him not to even think of ever coming back. If he wanted to betray his Tribe and the Lady, then he could do so. Most days it didn’t get to him. On those days it did, he either buried himself in his work or drowned himself in wine. “I currently assist in the royal offices.” He was apprenticed to the King’s Advisor, but it amounted to the same thing.
“That sounds interesting,” Valerie replied, and Ikram realized she meant it. “My…I used to know some politicians, and they only ever groused about their work, but I always thought it must be fascinating to know all the inner workings of a government. That probably sounds naïve,” she ducked her head, fingers nervously tracing the rim of her wine dish, “for I realize it’s not always a pleasant thing, the running of a country, but I thought it must be fascinating all the same.”
“It is,” Ikram said, barely catching himself before he reached out to take her hands in his own, offer comfort, assure her she wasn’t as idiotic as she clearly thought herself. “All the details that go into it, to see how much must be done, how it is done…I like it a great deal. I would never have stayed in the palace if I did not.”
Valerie looked up and smiled at him, and this one was the prettiest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Was he staring again? Ikram shook himself and smiled back. “So you live here all alone?”
The smile vanished. “I—yes.”
Ikram dropped that line of questioning. “So what do you do when not being harassed in the market?”
“I mostly stay close to home,” Valerie said, relaxing visibly – though sadly the smile did not return. “It seems the chores are never done.” A weak smile.
“Yes, it does rather seem like the more work you do, the more there is to be done.” Ikram laughed briefly. “No doubt in my absence, my paperwork continues to multiply. I rather fear what I will find waiting for me upon my return.”
Valerie laughed. “Yes, I can only imagine what chores will be waiting for me despite the fact that I took care of them all before going to market. I—“ whatever she was going to say, Ikram never knew, as the bells outside chimed the fourth hour and Valerie’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh! I must go.” She dropped the sweet she’d shyly reached out to take and stood up, wrap going up to cover her beautiful hair. “I’m so sorry—I—“ She looked at him, obviously distraught, then with another whispered apology turned and fled.
Ikram started to call out, then sat back with a sigh.
This was one of those times he truly missed the Desert. Were he there, he could simply scoop her up and ride back to camp and take her to his tent. His sword and markings would have handled any protests.
Here, he had to be civilized and let the jewel get away.
Tavamara, as much as he loved it, had a lot of nerve calling the children of the Sand the wild savages. At least savages knew when to keep something and did not hesitate to do so.
He ignored the pain that said they knew when to toss out useless things as well.
Would he ever see Valerie again? Doubtful. Whatever had her fleeing was obviously the focal point of her life. It made him jealous, which was ridiculous. Shaking his head at himself, Ikram finished his wine and stood up, tossing a few coins on the table before striding back out into the crowded city.
*~*~*~*
Ikram tried to be in a foul mood about having to attend the market again, for he detested having to go more often than strictly necessary – usually only once a month or two – but when he remembered the reason he was back only a few days later, he could only sigh.
In exasperation, because even as he searched for the stall he wanted he was looking in vain for dark-ruby hair and brilliant green eyes. There was little chance he’d see her again, and after letting her so easily get away he wasn’t certain he deserved to see her again.
A man could hope, however. Lady grant him the gift of seeing her just one more time, he would not be stupid enough to let her get away again.
Rolling his eyes, wondering for the millionth time what was so wrong with him, Ikram at last alighted on the stall he wanted and began to slowly make his way toward it. The trick was to look at everything else first, feign disinterest, act as though he came upon it simply by chance.
At last he reached the stall he wanted and began to pick through what was available. There were several stalls in the market that sold spices, but after quietly asking around he had learned this one had the best quality and selection.
One of the things he missed, even after seven years, was the smell of the Desert. There was an edge to it that the tame Tavamara would never have.
The closest he could get to what he wanted was the incense his Tribe had used for ceremonies and celebrations – no doubt including when they’d stricken his name from the Tribe.
However, even in this market it was hard to find – and the few places he had found it, the incense was of poor quality. This stall was only his latest effort, but the merchant had a good reputation.
Ikram frowned over the table, ignoring the way the merchant began to loom over him – they always knew when money was looking, no matter how innocuously he dressed. After several minutes, he motioned the man forward and pointed to several selections, hiding the fact that he only wanted the most expensive one on the table. Buying several would gain him a bargain, and those he didn’t actually want would amuse the Prince.
Several minutes later, Ikram smiled and bowed his head politely to the merchant who looked less than pleased with how the bargaining had gone. Tucking his purchases carefully inside his robes, he turned away and began to make his way through the crowds and back to the palace.
Halfway through, he got fed up with the crowds and ducked out of it and into the back alleys of the city. It was early evening, the heat beginning to give way to cool, and whereas the market was still quite crowded, here the streets were deserted, people preferring to stay inside.
A scream of fear and outrage shattered the quiet, and Ikram felt a cold chill as he realized the voice was familiar. Surely not? He didn’t waste time thinking about it however, but ran toward the source, finding it in the corner of a small alleyway – no doubt a shortcut between streets.
Three men were harassing a woman with familiar dark-ruby hair.
Ikram barely remembered moving. Nothing was terribly clear to him until two men were unconscious and the ringleader was pinned to a wall. “There are a great many painful things I could do to you, soft little city boy. Tell me why I shouldn’t do them.”
The man snarled insults, but was careful not to do more than that, wary of the blade pressed to his throat.
“I knew how to kill men by the time I was fifteen,” Ikram said contemptuously. “By seventeen I had killed them.” He let the man go. “Make certain I do not see your face again, softy city boy.”
The man sneered as he stood up, gingerly touching his throat. “You look fancier than me, palace boy. All talk, I think.” He lunged, steel glinting.
Ikram laughed and caught him by the wrist, snapping it neatly before throwing the man to the ground. “Get out of here before I break the other.”
“Bastard!”
Laughing again, Ikram knelt and hauled the man up, ignoring his screams of pain. “I’m no bastard – but I am rather savage, if you’re smart enough to catch my meaning.” He could see by the way the man’s eyes widened that he did. “Go.”
This time the man went, his unconscious companions seemingly forgotten.
Ikram turned to Valerie, who was still huddled in the corner. “Are you all right?” he asked, drawing close – anger rekindling as he saw the state of her robes, torn and completely ruined. “Did they hurt you?”
“No,” Valerie said, hand trembling slightly as she lifted it to smooth back her hair. She looked at him, then dropped her eyes. “Thank you.” Slowly she knelt to retrieve a basket and the scattered items that had tumbled from it – bread, cheese, several bundles that were no doubt meat, spices, other basic foodstuffs.
Ikram frowned. “Are you certain?” Perhaps he was the one who was now upsetting her. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had been upset by his ‘savage’ ways.
“Quite certain,” Valerie said at last, those green, green eyes finally lifting to his. She smiled faintly, and Ikram noticed for the first time that her face was flushed. “Simply rather embarrassed that twice now you’ve had to rescue me. I dislike appearing weak, especially in front of someone with as much strength as you.”
“Lady,” Ikram said, “I know men back home who would cower in the marketplace and no woman is weak for being unable to best three men twice her size.” He smiled. “Though I admit I had hoped that should I encounter you again, it would be under happier circumstances.”
Valerie smiled, the last of the anxiety in her eyes fading. “I apologize, my Lord, for running as I did before. I fear my panic got the better of me.”
“You said from the start you could not stay long; I got what I deserve for trying to keep you overlong.” Ikram shrugged out of his robe and offered it to her. “Until you get home, my Lady.”
Clearly she was about to refuse the gesture. Ikram shoved it into her hands before she could, and at last she nodded, pulling the over-large robe on and giving a shy but grateful smile. “Thank you, my Lord.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my,” she breathed.
Ikram blinked and followed her gaze – then recalled that without his robe, only in vest and pants, the tattoos on his arms were bared.
As he’d been twenty-four when he’d left the Cobra Tribe, he’d had plenty of years to work on his tattoo. The snake skin pattern ran the length of his arms, from wrists up to and across his shoulders, the two halves coming together to trail down his back and chest. Had he stayed with the Tribe, eventually it would have covered his entire body.
He almost winced, thinking of the looks he would get both on his way back to the palace and once he was back in the palace. Ah, well. It was far more important Valerie not go through town with her robes in such poor condition. “Can I escort you home?” he asked.
Valerie shook her head. “No, I do not live far from here – and from now on I will not take this shortcut.”
“Do you suppose if we arrange our next meeting, we might avoid catastrophe?” Ikram asked, praying to the Lady that this lady would not turn him down.
“I…yes, I think so,” Valerie said. “Have you a location in mind, my lord?”
Ikram barely kept himself from cheering – then he realized he hadn’t actually thought as far as location. He scrambled for a suitable location. “The public gardens? We can meet there say about this time, and perhaps go to dinner?”
“That sounds lovely,” Valerie said with another of those dazzling sweet smiles, and Ikram thought strangely that she seemed sort of surprised. “Tomorrow evening at the entrance to the public gardens.” She bowed. “And thank you for rescuing me, my lord.”
“An honor to assist you, my lady. I hope the Lady guards your steps on your way home.” He cut himself off before he could thoroughly confuse her with a greeting he had not used in years. Something about her woke all his old habits, and he wasn’t sure why. Bowing low, he turned and left before he wound up doing something stupid.
*~*~*~*
“My lady,” Ikram greeted, holding her hands briefly, “You look more beautiful than ever.”
Valerie’s pale cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “My lord.”
Ikram realized he was probably always going to be caught staring where she was concerned. She really was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, especially those green eyes. Her dress was a darker shade than her eyes, making them more stunning than ever, with simple beadwork all along the edges and throat – glass beads, likely, though he burned to put her in jewels. Her hair, sadly, was braided and then twisted up. Pretty, but he wished she’d left it down. “Are you up for a walk before we dine?”
“I would love to,” Valerie answered, neatly folding her wrap around her shoulders before accepting his arm.
“Is there a particular flower you enjoy?” Ikram asked.
Valerie smiled wistfully. “I used to love orchids. My mother had a small orchid garden before she passed away. I’m afraid I was unable to maintain it after she passed on and I had to move to the city.”
Ikram nodded. “The palace has quite a collection. Perhaps you can come and see them sometime.”
“Perhaps,” Valerie murmured, and Ikram knew she was just being polite, not believing for a moment that she’d ever go to the palace.
She’d learn differently. If no one else in Tavamara had been smart enough to stake a claim on this jewel, he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to give them a second try. He’d helped her twice, by sheer chance happening to be in the area. The Lady did not need to tell him three times.
“Where I grew up, the vegetation is quite different. If there is any vegetation at all.”
“Yes,” Valerie said, face filled with curiosity. “I…it was quite clear yesterday that you had an…interesting upbringing. You called yourself a savage…that means you are from the Desert? It is not something I’ve heard much about…”
Ikram slowed their walk further as they reached the rose gardens – the royal family had long been famous, some said infamous, for their love of plants and flowers. The King’s great grandfather has been the one to build the public gardens, to share his love of green things with his people. His descendants had maintained and added to them. He spoke as she admired the rosebushes. “Yes, I was raised in the Desert. I grew up in the Cobra Tribe, which is marked by a body tattoo made to look like snakeskin. Mine was never completed, as I left the Tribe.”
“It was most impressive,” Valerie replied, cheeks heating as she turned hastily away to bury her nose in a pale yellow rose.
Grinning, unable to help himself, Ikram continued speaking. “I left the Desert about seven years ago, choosing to remain here in Tavamara. My family was not happy, and I miss them, but I find I prefer life here. Far more peaceful.”
Valerie laughed. “Far more peaceful when you are not having to rescue silly redheads.”
“I am sorry you were being troubled, but I’m not sorry I was your rescuer.”
“Nor I,” Valerie said softly to a cream-colored rose. She finally looked up at Ikram, smiling. “You are the first truly friendly face I’ve encountered since coming here.”
“If you do not mind my asking, I confess I’m curious as to what a native of Lavarre is doing making her home in Tavamara?”
Valerie looked away, smiling sadly. “I grew tired of being controlled, and the people seeking to control me also wanted to take certain things from me…I could not permit it, and so I fled. I took the first ship on its way out and wound up here.”
“Quite brave of you to simply board a ship and see where it might take you.”
“If I had stayed, I would have lost everything,” Valerie said quietly, fingers gently stroking the petals of a dark pink rose. “By comparison, heading for lands unknown is not such a hard thing.” She laughed faintly and turned back to Ikram. “Though I think I would have had an easier time of it had I been able to use a blade as easily as you.”
Ikram made a face. “My skill comes at a high price.” The blood of Scorpions was only part of that price. He didn’t want to kill anymore.
Valerie nodded and dropped the subject, fingers curling once more into the crook of his arm as they resumed walking. “So what exactly do you do in the palace?”
Learn how to cleverly tell Kings what they should be doing – and how aggravating his council was not on that list. Training a Prince not to follow in his father’s footsteps. “Various things. I’m…a glorified clerk, I suppose you could say.”
“You look a trifle mature to be a clerk, I think,” Valerie said teasingly.
“Surely I don’t appear to be that old?” Ikram asked, holding a hand to his chest.
Valerie laughed. “Not at all.”
“I’m certain many think I’m far too old to be showing you around the gardens.”
“I’m no young miss, sadly. I think a younger girl would probably want to be taken to one of those pretty cafes and show you off.” She smiled. “I am just as happy to keep you to myself.”
This was much more fun than careful games to cautiously gauge interest. More like the Desert – direct. “And I you. Truly, I’m surprised you are not already claimed.”
Valerie laughed, but there was a hint of sadness in it. “Someone once told me I was a trifle too much like my hair, if you see what I mean.”
“Perhaps that is a problem in Lavarre, my lady, but in Tavamara it is to be commended. I am glad Lavarre was stupid enough to let you get away.” He stopped again as they reached a section that was mostly taken over by a large pond, noticing the way Valerie stared at the water lilies.
Valerie nodded at his words, and smiled before moving closer to the pond, but again Ikram had the sense that something troubled her, or that she didn’t believe him.
Well, he was nothing if not patient. “So what other things do you enjoy, my lady?”
“Valerie, please, my lord. I’m only a humble peasant, I feel silly being called lady.”
Ikram thought about it for half a second, but he was ultimately a Cobra – he knew when to strike. “I am not calling you ‘lady,’ however. I am calling you ‘my lady.’”
“Ah,” Valerie said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and once more taking his arm. “I suppose I could permit that.”
“Where would you like to dine tonight, my lady?” Ikram asked.
Valerie smiled and held his arm just a bit tighter. “There’s a quiet little place I’ve seen over on the west end that always looked inviting…and it’s too mature for the younger girls, so I won’t have to worry about them stealing you away.”
Ikram laughed. “There is no fear of that. Let us look at the wildflowers and then we’ll go.”
*~*~*~*
Ikram had finally figured out why men spent all their time arguing and fighting – between eating and sleeping.
He would much rather fight Scorpions than face Valerie tonight. A bloody battle was far, far easier than asking her to marry him.
Even though he was pretty certain she’d say yes. Hadn’t things been going perfectly for the past couple of months?
He ignored the part of him that said Valerie had been increasingly unhappy about something, and that all his efforts to discover the source of it had ended in failure.
As had finding out where she lived – for he wouldn’t follow her, that implied distrust.
She never talked about her past, except in snippets. Never about her life in Tavamara, except in snippets.
All in all, she knew much about him – though he still wasn’t ready to tell her he would be the King’s advisor in probably just a year or so – but he knew very little about her.
He did, however, know she was sweet, kind, beautiful – perfect. No one and nothing could be more perfect.
Well, them getting married would be more perfect.
Which brought him back to desperately wanting to go and find a Scorpion to beat up. Possibly several. Ikram rolled his eyes and forced himself not to check on the ring tucked into a hidden pocket of his sash for the millionth time.
They’d agreed last night, before he’d finally let her go home, to meet today at the café which had become their favorite spot – only a few minutes from the public gardens but tucked away so that it was never crowded and usually only patronized by a few dozen regulars and the occasional stranger.
He waited impatiently at what had become their table, trying to look as though he was the epitome of patience – he rather thought from the look the waiter was giving him that he was failing miserably however. Rolling his eyes again, Ikram signaled the man to bring wine.
A couple of minutes later the wine was poured – a dark, rusty red, perfect for early autumn. It was spicy and sweet, a perfect compliment to the pastries Valerie was so fond of.
Just as he thought he would scream with frustration, the scent of lilacs washed over him and he turned and stood, catching her hands and kissing them. “Valerie. I think you like making me wait,” he teased – and stared in horror at the way her face collapsed into misery.
“Ikram,” Valerie said, looking at him a moment before dropping her eyes, which were unusually dark. “We need to talk.”
Dread twisted his stomach. This wasn’t how this evening was supposed to be going. “What’s wrong, my jewel?”
If anything, the endearment only seemed to make her more miserable. Feeling sick, Ikram helped her into her seat and gave her his own full dish of wine, not taking his own seat until she’d have several sips and seemed calmer, if not any happier. “Now tell me what’s wrong, my jewel.”
For a moment it looked as though Valerie was going to cry, something he’d never seen her do – not even that day in the alley way. “I…Ikram…”
“Just say it, my jewel. All will be well.”
“Ikram, the time I’ve spent with you has been the happiest time of my life,” Valerie said to her wine dish. Slowly she looked up, voice growing fainter with every word. “I don’t think it’s presumptuous of me to think that you wanted our relationship to take a more serious step.”
“That’s why I wanted to meet tonight,” Ikram said, heart sinking.
Valerie nodded, and Ikram wondered what he’d done so horribly wrong that the woman who should be agreeing to marry him instead looked as though she were discussing a funeral. “I…you’re wonderful, Ikram. All that you’ve told me of your past, your family…I cannot fathom why they would choose to reject you. You deserve a real wife, someone who would bring you honor and a wonderful family.”
“I want you to be my wife,” Ikram said, amazed at how easy the words were to say when he seemed to be on the verge of losing the only thing he’d ever really and truly wanted.
At his words, Valerie started crying.
Ikram felt like he was drowning.
“I can’t marry you,” Valerie said, more miserable than Ikram thought it possible for a person to be. “I should never have led you along, except you’re the first man to make me so happy, to treat me like a person rather than a pawn to be used and discarded.” She wiped the tears form her face. “I am sorry to have been so cruel. I was selfish, and I would continue to be selfish except I love you. You deserve a real wife. I cannot be that. Truly, I am sorry. I…please don’t hate me completely.” She looked for a moment like she wanted to say something more, then merely shook her head and stood. “Goodbye,” she whispered, then fled the café.
Ikram waited just long enough that she’d be far enough ahead of him, then threw down several coins and followed after her.
Lady take the dratted woman, he had not acted like a complete idiot and spent the bulk of his savings on her and the ring in his sash just for the woman to vanish in a flurry of tears. What could be tormenting her so? Why wouldn’t she trust him? The minute he had the ring on her finger, he was going to shake her until something resembling sense found its way into her head.
Honestly, he was beginning to think of all those battles with a nostalgic pang.
Though he’d never followed her home, he’d made note of the routes she took whenever they parted ways, where she came from when she met him somewhere. He knew precisely which street she took when leaving the café, and took that, moving slowly but steadily.
Sure enough, five minutes later, he saw several yards ahead of him. Head and shoulders drooping, moving as though she had something to outrun.
It was early evening, still plenty of light, but Ikram had learned how to hide when there was nothing but sand all around him. He ducked out of sight every time she turned to look over her shoulder. Was it just his imagination that she looked sort of disappointed whenever she saw that no one was there?
Probably, but a man could hope. He wasn’t going to take tears and ‘you deserve a real wife’ for an answer. No, the only answer he was going to take was ‘yes, Ikram.’
Though he would have preferred it be done over dinner like he’d been imagining in his head almost since they met, not after acting like a Ghost and shaking sense into her. Sighing at himself, Ikram waited until she resumed walking briskly and then followed her, ducking into another corner right before she looked over her shoulder again.
He hadn’t expected her to live so far from the middle of the city; the houses got poorer and poorer as they went, and Ikram grew increasingly horrified.
She’d never elaborated on her past, but it wasn’t hard to tell that she had some sort of noble upbringing – he’d always burned to know why she’d really fled Lavarre. That she lived in such an awful district of the city…
It terrified him. He was taking her home tonight, even if he had to be all savage about it and carry her off. They were going to the palace, he was going to make her see reason, and then they could begin to plan their wedding ceremony.
Though he’d just as soon have the King marry them and be done, but he’d been around enough women in his life to know that even the most level headed got strange things into her head where a wedding was concerned.
He shook off his wandering thoughts as Valerie slowed down and finally stopped at the edge of a cluster of houses. Houses like this were really just one or two rooms to a family or person, the building surrounding a courtyard on three sides, the open side spilling into the street. Little communities, they shared the duties of caring for the building, the rent cheap for that reason and the fact that it was right on the edge of town.
So often she’d said she lived ‘nearby’ and Ikram felt cold, sick, at how easy it would have been for more men to assault her.
The woman called herself weak…she should be calling herself insane. He was going to shake her within an inch of her life.
Though he knew there was no other man in her life, he almost wished there was so he could beat someone senseless for allowing Valerie to travel alone in so dangerous a district.
Still she stood at the edge of the courtyard, not quite going toward the building where she lived. Ikram realized she was drying her eyes, trying to make it look as though all was well. He fisted his hands, making himself hold still, fighting the urge to go up and comfort her – somehow, he was responsible for those tears, and that thought tore him apart. They were supposed to be celebrating…instead he was slinking around like a criminal and she was crying all alone on a dangerous street.
A small voice broke the silence with a jubilant cry. “Mama!”
Valerie dropped to her knees as a flurry of tiny arms and legs and a cloud of red hair came running, tumbling towards her. She embraced the little boy with a choked sob, holding him close even when he began to squirm and protest the tight hug.
Ikram realized his mouth was still hanging open. A child.
Valerie had a child. The little boy looked just like her. Ikram bet his eyes were just as green, or would be as he got older. Valerie was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen…but that perfect, miniature imitation of her was a very close second. All Ikram could think, watching mother and son beneath the orange-gold light of the setting sun, was that he should be out there with them, not hiding in the shadows.
What was the boy’s name? How old was he? Surely not more than two…which meant he had been a mere babe when she’d come to Tavamara. Ikram boggled at the idea of a woman traveling with a baby across an entire ocean, with no one to protect them, no one waiting when they landed.
That was it. Valerie and her son were coming home with him. By the Lady, they were his and he would make her see that!
He waited impatiently for it to grow dark, to give the child time to sleep – he had no doubt there would be arguing, and he wasn’t going to do that in front of the boy.
At least some of the mystery was cleared up. In Lavarre, precious few would be willing to marry a woman who already had a child. It wasn’t much different in Tavamara. No man wanted to raise the proof that his wife had slept with another man. That she might have slept with another woman? Not so much of an issue. In Tavamara that sort of thing was common.
So Valerie must think he would not want her because she already had a child.
Which made him wonder as to the other pieces. Had she fled a lover? A husband? Something inclined him toward the latter, though he couldn’t say why.
Well, if the bastard ever came along Ikram would deal with the problem in Desert fashion. Swiftly and decisively. Valerie and her son were his now.
How else was the boy like her? Did he have her smile? Would he grow up to be as strong? As clever? Would he be quiet and sweet or perhaps inherit some sort of temper from his sire? Ikram burned to know. It depressed him that Valerie had felt the need to keep what must be the center of her life from him.
Deeply depressed him. What had he done that made her think he wouldn’t immediately accept her child? Who could even think of scorning such a precious piece of her?
He couldn’t take it anymore. Hopefully the boy was asleep; if not, Ikram would find a way to wait until he was, but he couldn’t stand here in the dark anymore.
Crossing the street, he ducked into the courtyard and knocked on the door into which she’d vanished, standing so she couldn’t see him from the small window next to it.
A couple of minutes later the door opened, and Valerie’s pale skin went white as she saw him standing there. “Ikram…”
“My jewel,” Ikram said, proud that he was keeping his voice level. “Is your son asleep? I would hate to upset him when I start shaking some sense into you.”
Valerie looked like she was going to be ill, but nodded and stepped aside to let him inside. “Why couldn’t you just let me go?” she asked quietly as he passed by her.
Ikram stopped and turned to face her, swooping down to kiss her firmly, briefly, furious that he was doing it with so much unhappiness in the air but loving how soft her lips were, the lingering taste of sweet and spicy wine, a hint of her lilac perfume surrounding them. “I love you,” he said quietly, “and I’m not letting you go. I thought you felt the same.”
“You don’t understand…” Valerie said softly, but Ikram was gratified by the way she let him hold her.
“Did you run because you have a son? Surely you don’t think so little of me that I would reject you for that? Tell me you think better of me than that, Valerie.”
Valerie slowly pulled away, not looking at him. “I’m not stupid, you know. I go to the market nearly every day, running errands for people to buy the things I need. All it takes is listening at the right stalls, chatting with the right merchants to hear the rumors from the palace…that a savage with odd markings is next in line to be the King’s Advisor.”
Ikram winced. “I wasn’t trying to hide that, exactly…more I’m still sort of…lost about it myself. I ran away from the Desert. I never thought to find myself in a position of authority."
“Authority,” Valerie said, shaking her head and laughing softly. “Oh, Ikram, only you would put it so mildly. After the King, you’ll be one of the most powerful men in the palace. Even the council will not be as close to the King as you. That he trusts a savage in that role…” she sighed and closed her eyes, and Ikram reached out to brush away the few tears that ran down her cheeks.
She jerked away, eyes opening briefly before she shut them again. “You’ll be expected to have a noble wife, chi—chil—“ she never finished the word, but instead dissolved into tears.
Ikram grabbed her and pulled her close, holding her tight, not letting go until she quit struggling and finally relaxed against him, wishing he could do something to stop her tears. “Jewel…what is so wrong? Do I look unhappy with you?”
“Y-you don’t understand,” Valerie said to his chest.
Gently Ikram grasped her head and tilted it up, wiping tears away with his thumbs. “I won’t understand until you tell me, jewel. I’m a snake, not a mind-reader.”
The weak jest earned him a wobbly smile – but all too soon it collapsed back into misery. Valerie closed her eyes, voice faint as she finally spoke. “Having Simon almost killed me. The doctors said I’ll never have another child.” She finally opened her eyes. “You should have a real wife, a real family.”
Ikram was utterly sick of those words. He leaned down and kissed her again, tasting salt along with the wine, the underlying sweet that could only be Valerie herself. “From where I stand, jewel, I already have a real wife, a real family – if only the idiotic woman in the room would say yes instead of no.”
“But—but—“
Movement from the corner of the room caught Ikram’s eye, and he left Valerie sputtering to go look at the boy he was so curious about. She’d said ‘Simon’ earlier…kneeling by the small straw bed on the floor, Ikram took a long look at the boy.
He was every inch his mother, right down to the so slender build and the brilliant hair. He had no doubt the eyes were just as green, and there would be a smile to match. What sort of man would even think to say no to this? He looked up as Valerie’s shadow fell across them. “He’s beautiful, my jewel. What man wouldn’t be proud to call the two of you his family? Do you really think so little of me?”
Valerie blinked back tears. “No, never. I wanted to be able to give you a son or daughter of your own though…you should have your own family, Ikram.”
Ikram sighed and stood. “You are giving me a family of my own, jewel.” He wiped more tears from her cheeks. “Why can I not make you realize this?”
“You…you really don’t mind Simon? That I can’t have another?”
“All I need is right here…if you would just agree to marry me.” He looked back toward the sleeping Simon. “I would even adopt him, if you’d let me.” He grinned suddenly. “Perhaps we should give him a Tavamaran name, hmm? Would that convince you I would like to have him for my son?”
Valerie moved into his arms, embracing him tightly. “That actually sounds nice. I’d like to raise him Tavamaran…not the way I was raised. I want to leave that life behind. I fled here because after my husband died – and it was only a marriage of money – his family tried to take my son away from me. I don’t want my son to know anything about that life. I like it here.” She looked up at him and smiled, the happiness starting to come back into her eyes. “Especially now. I…if you really don’t mind, and are still offering…”
Ikram laughed softly. “Beloved, I’ve been trying to do nothing but offer all night. Perhaps my father was right after all, when he said women complicate everything. Ow!” He mocked glared, rubbing the spot where she’d pinched him before tugging the ring from his sash. “I had this all planned you know. Still, I will settle for a simple yes by this point. Valerie, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Ikram, I will.”
You know, I've seen people bitch about how they never heard honest concrit from their readers. They must have shy readers. I should gvie them my mouthy ones, except I luffs my far too tolerant compadres.
Even though I can here the snickering now.
The sugar level, it is high. You've been warned.
And fuck, I just realized I never came up with a title. My betas, they did not give me one! Ten demerits!!!
“Fine wine! The finest! Are you seeking wine, good gentleman?”
Ikram turned his head away before the wine merchant could see him rolling his eyes. It never paid to be rude to anyone with goods to sell – even the lowliest rag merchant. When shopping in the ‘greatest market in the world’ it never paid to mistreat any of the merchants and shopkeeps.
Even the ones that deserved it.
He hated the market. It was noisy, chaotic, and eerily reminiscent of the battles he had left behind in the Desert years ago. Sometimes, however, there was nowhere else to go. Ikram slowed as he drew near the stall he wanted, stopping several down so as not to appear eager.
Anyone who didn’t believe merchants were the most evil things ever placed in the world had never shopped a day in his life. Lady give him a battle with Scorpions any day. He examined a table neatly arrayed with perfume bottles without interest, ignoring the look the stall merchant was giving him, then gradually moved on to the next booth, this one selling soaps – most of which were more cloying than the perfumes, or maybe the merchants were simply too close together.
“Little thief!” Someone behind him snarled. Ikram didn’t bother to turn around.
Until he heard the woman cry out in pain, obviously terrified.
“Thief!”
Dropping the soap he’d been sniffing, Ikram whirled around just in time to catch the woman thrown in his direction. Even as he glared at the man who’d assaulted her, he could feel how small she was. Slender, bony and delicate, like a bird. “Is that any way to treat a lady, good sir?”
“Tramp and thief!” The merchant, fat and red-faced, glaring mutinously at the woman trying hard to shake in Ikram’s arms.
“I didn’t,” she whispered, turning to look up at Ikram. “I dropped it, and bent to pick it up. He says I took it, but I didn’t, I swear.”
Ikram tried hard not to stare at the face staring up at him from the folds of an old, well-worn headcover. It was pale green, only bringing out the stunning green of her eyes. Her skin was pale, nearly white, and what he could see of her hair was a deep red, as rich as rubies. Finally tearing his eyes away, he looked again at the merchant. “The woman says she is no thief. What proof do you have that says otherwise?”
“She is always stopping by my stall,” the man said contemptuously, motioning to the jeweled hairpins and other ornaments carefully spread out on velvet. “Never does she buy. Of course she is too poor, and heathen, so naturally she finally decided to steal.”
“I didn’t,” the woman said, twitching, fighting to remain calm. “Someone bumped into me and I dropped it. It’s right here! Please!”
Ikram gently took it from her fingers – the object being a silver hairpin decorated with a flower made from opals with peridot for leaves. Reluctantly letting go of the small woman, half-afraid she would slip away, he held it out to the merchant.
Whose eyes went wide upon seeing the heavy gold signet on Ikram’s right hand. “My Lord. Thank you for interfering.”
“Apologize to the lady,” Ikram said, staring him in the eyes until the merchant dropped his gaze. “You have no proof she stole anything, and until you have such proof she does not deserve the way you’ve treated her.”
“I owe her nothing,” the merchant replied curtly. “If she cannot buy, she should not touch.” He turned away to beckon forward a waiting customer.
Ikram rolled his eyes, making sure the man saw him, and turned back to the woman. “I apologize on his behalf.”
The woman shook her head. “He’s always that way. Thank you, my lord, for your help. I am sorry to have caused such a stir.” Her eyes flicked briefly back to the stall, a brief moment of longing passing over her face, but it was gone in the next moment.”
“Might I beg the honor of your name, my lady?”
“I am hardly deserving of ‘my lady,’ my lord, but I thank you. My name is Valerie.”
Ikram nodded. “I am Ikram—“ he cut himself off before he could go further. Even after living for nearly a decade in Tavamara, he still tried to use the Desert form of address, giving his father, Tribe, and the Lady along with his given name. “A servant in the royal palace,” he finished awkwardly.
“Again, I thank you,” Valerie said, smiling, the expression making her even more beautiful.
He hesitated, too long out of such games to be certain he should be trying to get back into them. “Are you busy, my lady? Would you have time for a cup of tea? A bit of wine?”
“Oh…” Valerie blinked at him, clearly surprised, then stumbled forward as she was jostled, the milling crowd caring not a bit for either of them not that the spectacle was over. She stopped just short of crashing into Ikram. “I…that would be nice…I can’t stay long…”
“Nor I,” Ikram said with a smile. Offering his arm, he made certain her fine-boned, so fragile-seeming hand was securely tucked into the crook of his arm and then began to fight his way through the crowds, releasing an aggravated sigh as he finally reached his favorite teashop. “What is your pleasure, my lady?”
“I—tea is fine.” Obviously nervous, Valerie slowly began to unwind the scarf around her head, setting it neatly around her shoulders.
Ikram tried not to stare.
Her hair really was the color of dark rubies, straight and long. Never, even in all his years in Tavamara, had he seen hair like that. Beautiful, especially set against that pale skin and combined with the green eyes…He finally regained his senses when the waiter appeared, and frowned as he considered. “Have you preference in wine, my lady?” Only then did he recall she’d said tea. Or had she?
Ikram fought a sigh and wondered where his wits had gone.
No doubt lying somewhere on the ground being trampled to death by the citizens of Tavamara. Or perhaps in the fine hands of the woman seated across from him. If she’d stolen anything today, it was his sense. Thirty-one years old and he was acting like he was eighteen again.
Valerie laughed lightly. “I fear, my lord, that I will never master the Tavamaran art of wine. I will take whatever you recommend.”
“As you wish,” Ikram said, returning the lovely smile. He turned to the waiter. “A half-carafe of Summer Roses, a tray of sweets to match.”
The waiter bowed and vanished.
“Do you live in the city?” Ikram asked.
“Yes,” Valerie replied, smiling. “Well away from the marketplace.”
Ikram laughed softly. “It is rare to see one such as you in the marketplace alone.”
It was Valerie’s turn to laugh. “A foreign woman alone? Yes, quite. I have lived here for a year and a half now, and knew the language from my studies as a girl.”
“You like Tavamara?”
Valerie nodded. “I do. It is quite different from Lavarre, but it is those differences I enjoy.” She smiled again as the waiter reappeared with the wine. “Though as I said, I cannot master the art of wine.”
“Mastering wine takes being as obsessed with it as any proper Tavamaran,” Ikram said, winking. “Summer Roses you cannot go wrong with; it’s fruity and only slightly sweet. If ever in doubt, go with that.”
“There is one I like to buy from time to time…Summer Breeze, I think is its name. I’m afraid where I come from, wines do not have such names…or colors. I always feel slightly silly.”
Ikram laughed as he poured the wine. “I thought much the same when I first came to Tavamara. Though I’m used to strong wine, it was strange to see so many, such colors, and to hear the strange names they are given. It took getting used to.”
“You’re not Tavamaran?”
“More like…a cousin of Tavamara.” Ikram sat back. “The one from the side of the family no one likes to discuss.”
Valerie tilted her head, obviously confused, but did not press it. “Yet you’ve made your home here now?”
“Yes. I…never felt entirely at peace in my homeland. My family and I are much happier with me in Tavamara.” He assumed his family was happy. Certainly they’d been quick enough to kick him out of Cobra. He could almost feel his tattoo burn against his skin, forever marking the Sands he’d come from, the savagery that had raised him before he traveled to the exotic but far more gentle Tavamara.
Shaking off his thoughts, Ikram gently shoved the tray of sweets toward Valerie. “Have you had any of these before?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Valerie murmured, reaching out to delicately snag a pastry covered in dark chocolate. “I do not often purchase sweets.”
Most sweets were expensive, and while her clothing was good and well-cared for, it was all threadbare. Ikram wanted to buy her sweets – and far more besides.
It was rather frightening. He hoped he wasn’t staring like some star-struck boy, but the way she slowly nibbled at the treat was torture. Give him Scorpions any day. He took a sip of wine and looked out over the café to give himself a chance to recover whatever sense he might have left.
“You said you worked in the palace?” Valerie asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Ikram forced his mind to work, or at least to act like it was working. Those green eyes were going to be the death of him. “Yes. I studied there when I first came to Tavamara and after concluding my studies decided to stay. My family was not happy, of course.” They disowned him, banished him from the Tribe and told him not to even think of ever coming back. If he wanted to betray his Tribe and the Lady, then he could do so. Most days it didn’t get to him. On those days it did, he either buried himself in his work or drowned himself in wine. “I currently assist in the royal offices.” He was apprenticed to the King’s Advisor, but it amounted to the same thing.
“That sounds interesting,” Valerie replied, and Ikram realized she meant it. “My…I used to know some politicians, and they only ever groused about their work, but I always thought it must be fascinating to know all the inner workings of a government. That probably sounds naïve,” she ducked her head, fingers nervously tracing the rim of her wine dish, “for I realize it’s not always a pleasant thing, the running of a country, but I thought it must be fascinating all the same.”
“It is,” Ikram said, barely catching himself before he reached out to take her hands in his own, offer comfort, assure her she wasn’t as idiotic as she clearly thought herself. “All the details that go into it, to see how much must be done, how it is done…I like it a great deal. I would never have stayed in the palace if I did not.”
Valerie looked up and smiled at him, and this one was the prettiest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Was he staring again? Ikram shook himself and smiled back. “So you live here all alone?”
The smile vanished. “I—yes.”
Ikram dropped that line of questioning. “So what do you do when not being harassed in the market?”
“I mostly stay close to home,” Valerie said, relaxing visibly – though sadly the smile did not return. “It seems the chores are never done.” A weak smile.
“Yes, it does rather seem like the more work you do, the more there is to be done.” Ikram laughed briefly. “No doubt in my absence, my paperwork continues to multiply. I rather fear what I will find waiting for me upon my return.”
Valerie laughed. “Yes, I can only imagine what chores will be waiting for me despite the fact that I took care of them all before going to market. I—“ whatever she was going to say, Ikram never knew, as the bells outside chimed the fourth hour and Valerie’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh! I must go.” She dropped the sweet she’d shyly reached out to take and stood up, wrap going up to cover her beautiful hair. “I’m so sorry—I—“ She looked at him, obviously distraught, then with another whispered apology turned and fled.
Ikram started to call out, then sat back with a sigh.
This was one of those times he truly missed the Desert. Were he there, he could simply scoop her up and ride back to camp and take her to his tent. His sword and markings would have handled any protests.
Here, he had to be civilized and let the jewel get away.
Tavamara, as much as he loved it, had a lot of nerve calling the children of the Sand the wild savages. At least savages knew when to keep something and did not hesitate to do so.
He ignored the pain that said they knew when to toss out useless things as well.
Would he ever see Valerie again? Doubtful. Whatever had her fleeing was obviously the focal point of her life. It made him jealous, which was ridiculous. Shaking his head at himself, Ikram finished his wine and stood up, tossing a few coins on the table before striding back out into the crowded city.
*~*~*~*
Ikram tried to be in a foul mood about having to attend the market again, for he detested having to go more often than strictly necessary – usually only once a month or two – but when he remembered the reason he was back only a few days later, he could only sigh.
In exasperation, because even as he searched for the stall he wanted he was looking in vain for dark-ruby hair and brilliant green eyes. There was little chance he’d see her again, and after letting her so easily get away he wasn’t certain he deserved to see her again.
A man could hope, however. Lady grant him the gift of seeing her just one more time, he would not be stupid enough to let her get away again.
Rolling his eyes, wondering for the millionth time what was so wrong with him, Ikram at last alighted on the stall he wanted and began to slowly make his way toward it. The trick was to look at everything else first, feign disinterest, act as though he came upon it simply by chance.
At last he reached the stall he wanted and began to pick through what was available. There were several stalls in the market that sold spices, but after quietly asking around he had learned this one had the best quality and selection.
One of the things he missed, even after seven years, was the smell of the Desert. There was an edge to it that the tame Tavamara would never have.
The closest he could get to what he wanted was the incense his Tribe had used for ceremonies and celebrations – no doubt including when they’d stricken his name from the Tribe.
However, even in this market it was hard to find – and the few places he had found it, the incense was of poor quality. This stall was only his latest effort, but the merchant had a good reputation.
Ikram frowned over the table, ignoring the way the merchant began to loom over him – they always knew when money was looking, no matter how innocuously he dressed. After several minutes, he motioned the man forward and pointed to several selections, hiding the fact that he only wanted the most expensive one on the table. Buying several would gain him a bargain, and those he didn’t actually want would amuse the Prince.
Several minutes later, Ikram smiled and bowed his head politely to the merchant who looked less than pleased with how the bargaining had gone. Tucking his purchases carefully inside his robes, he turned away and began to make his way through the crowds and back to the palace.
Halfway through, he got fed up with the crowds and ducked out of it and into the back alleys of the city. It was early evening, the heat beginning to give way to cool, and whereas the market was still quite crowded, here the streets were deserted, people preferring to stay inside.
A scream of fear and outrage shattered the quiet, and Ikram felt a cold chill as he realized the voice was familiar. Surely not? He didn’t waste time thinking about it however, but ran toward the source, finding it in the corner of a small alleyway – no doubt a shortcut between streets.
Three men were harassing a woman with familiar dark-ruby hair.
Ikram barely remembered moving. Nothing was terribly clear to him until two men were unconscious and the ringleader was pinned to a wall. “There are a great many painful things I could do to you, soft little city boy. Tell me why I shouldn’t do them.”
The man snarled insults, but was careful not to do more than that, wary of the blade pressed to his throat.
“I knew how to kill men by the time I was fifteen,” Ikram said contemptuously. “By seventeen I had killed them.” He let the man go. “Make certain I do not see your face again, softy city boy.”
The man sneered as he stood up, gingerly touching his throat. “You look fancier than me, palace boy. All talk, I think.” He lunged, steel glinting.
Ikram laughed and caught him by the wrist, snapping it neatly before throwing the man to the ground. “Get out of here before I break the other.”
“Bastard!”
Laughing again, Ikram knelt and hauled the man up, ignoring his screams of pain. “I’m no bastard – but I am rather savage, if you’re smart enough to catch my meaning.” He could see by the way the man’s eyes widened that he did. “Go.”
This time the man went, his unconscious companions seemingly forgotten.
Ikram turned to Valerie, who was still huddled in the corner. “Are you all right?” he asked, drawing close – anger rekindling as he saw the state of her robes, torn and completely ruined. “Did they hurt you?”
“No,” Valerie said, hand trembling slightly as she lifted it to smooth back her hair. She looked at him, then dropped her eyes. “Thank you.” Slowly she knelt to retrieve a basket and the scattered items that had tumbled from it – bread, cheese, several bundles that were no doubt meat, spices, other basic foodstuffs.
Ikram frowned. “Are you certain?” Perhaps he was the one who was now upsetting her. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had been upset by his ‘savage’ ways.
“Quite certain,” Valerie said at last, those green, green eyes finally lifting to his. She smiled faintly, and Ikram noticed for the first time that her face was flushed. “Simply rather embarrassed that twice now you’ve had to rescue me. I dislike appearing weak, especially in front of someone with as much strength as you.”
“Lady,” Ikram said, “I know men back home who would cower in the marketplace and no woman is weak for being unable to best three men twice her size.” He smiled. “Though I admit I had hoped that should I encounter you again, it would be under happier circumstances.”
Valerie smiled, the last of the anxiety in her eyes fading. “I apologize, my Lord, for running as I did before. I fear my panic got the better of me.”
“You said from the start you could not stay long; I got what I deserve for trying to keep you overlong.” Ikram shrugged out of his robe and offered it to her. “Until you get home, my Lady.”
Clearly she was about to refuse the gesture. Ikram shoved it into her hands before she could, and at last she nodded, pulling the over-large robe on and giving a shy but grateful smile. “Thank you, my Lord.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my,” she breathed.
Ikram blinked and followed her gaze – then recalled that without his robe, only in vest and pants, the tattoos on his arms were bared.
As he’d been twenty-four when he’d left the Cobra Tribe, he’d had plenty of years to work on his tattoo. The snake skin pattern ran the length of his arms, from wrists up to and across his shoulders, the two halves coming together to trail down his back and chest. Had he stayed with the Tribe, eventually it would have covered his entire body.
He almost winced, thinking of the looks he would get both on his way back to the palace and once he was back in the palace. Ah, well. It was far more important Valerie not go through town with her robes in such poor condition. “Can I escort you home?” he asked.
Valerie shook her head. “No, I do not live far from here – and from now on I will not take this shortcut.”
“Do you suppose if we arrange our next meeting, we might avoid catastrophe?” Ikram asked, praying to the Lady that this lady would not turn him down.
“I…yes, I think so,” Valerie said. “Have you a location in mind, my lord?”
Ikram barely kept himself from cheering – then he realized he hadn’t actually thought as far as location. He scrambled for a suitable location. “The public gardens? We can meet there say about this time, and perhaps go to dinner?”
“That sounds lovely,” Valerie said with another of those dazzling sweet smiles, and Ikram thought strangely that she seemed sort of surprised. “Tomorrow evening at the entrance to the public gardens.” She bowed. “And thank you for rescuing me, my lord.”
“An honor to assist you, my lady. I hope the Lady guards your steps on your way home.” He cut himself off before he could thoroughly confuse her with a greeting he had not used in years. Something about her woke all his old habits, and he wasn’t sure why. Bowing low, he turned and left before he wound up doing something stupid.
*~*~*~*
“My lady,” Ikram greeted, holding her hands briefly, “You look more beautiful than ever.”
Valerie’s pale cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “My lord.”
Ikram realized he was probably always going to be caught staring where she was concerned. She really was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, especially those green eyes. Her dress was a darker shade than her eyes, making them more stunning than ever, with simple beadwork all along the edges and throat – glass beads, likely, though he burned to put her in jewels. Her hair, sadly, was braided and then twisted up. Pretty, but he wished she’d left it down. “Are you up for a walk before we dine?”
“I would love to,” Valerie answered, neatly folding her wrap around her shoulders before accepting his arm.
“Is there a particular flower you enjoy?” Ikram asked.
Valerie smiled wistfully. “I used to love orchids. My mother had a small orchid garden before she passed away. I’m afraid I was unable to maintain it after she passed on and I had to move to the city.”
Ikram nodded. “The palace has quite a collection. Perhaps you can come and see them sometime.”
“Perhaps,” Valerie murmured, and Ikram knew she was just being polite, not believing for a moment that she’d ever go to the palace.
She’d learn differently. If no one else in Tavamara had been smart enough to stake a claim on this jewel, he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to give them a second try. He’d helped her twice, by sheer chance happening to be in the area. The Lady did not need to tell him three times.
“Where I grew up, the vegetation is quite different. If there is any vegetation at all.”
“Yes,” Valerie said, face filled with curiosity. “I…it was quite clear yesterday that you had an…interesting upbringing. You called yourself a savage…that means you are from the Desert? It is not something I’ve heard much about…”
Ikram slowed their walk further as they reached the rose gardens – the royal family had long been famous, some said infamous, for their love of plants and flowers. The King’s great grandfather has been the one to build the public gardens, to share his love of green things with his people. His descendants had maintained and added to them. He spoke as she admired the rosebushes. “Yes, I was raised in the Desert. I grew up in the Cobra Tribe, which is marked by a body tattoo made to look like snakeskin. Mine was never completed, as I left the Tribe.”
“It was most impressive,” Valerie replied, cheeks heating as she turned hastily away to bury her nose in a pale yellow rose.
Grinning, unable to help himself, Ikram continued speaking. “I left the Desert about seven years ago, choosing to remain here in Tavamara. My family was not happy, and I miss them, but I find I prefer life here. Far more peaceful.”
Valerie laughed. “Far more peaceful when you are not having to rescue silly redheads.”
“I am sorry you were being troubled, but I’m not sorry I was your rescuer.”
“Nor I,” Valerie said softly to a cream-colored rose. She finally looked up at Ikram, smiling. “You are the first truly friendly face I’ve encountered since coming here.”
“If you do not mind my asking, I confess I’m curious as to what a native of Lavarre is doing making her home in Tavamara?”
Valerie looked away, smiling sadly. “I grew tired of being controlled, and the people seeking to control me also wanted to take certain things from me…I could not permit it, and so I fled. I took the first ship on its way out and wound up here.”
“Quite brave of you to simply board a ship and see where it might take you.”
“If I had stayed, I would have lost everything,” Valerie said quietly, fingers gently stroking the petals of a dark pink rose. “By comparison, heading for lands unknown is not such a hard thing.” She laughed faintly and turned back to Ikram. “Though I think I would have had an easier time of it had I been able to use a blade as easily as you.”
Ikram made a face. “My skill comes at a high price.” The blood of Scorpions was only part of that price. He didn’t want to kill anymore.
Valerie nodded and dropped the subject, fingers curling once more into the crook of his arm as they resumed walking. “So what exactly do you do in the palace?”
Learn how to cleverly tell Kings what they should be doing – and how aggravating his council was not on that list. Training a Prince not to follow in his father’s footsteps. “Various things. I’m…a glorified clerk, I suppose you could say.”
“You look a trifle mature to be a clerk, I think,” Valerie said teasingly.
“Surely I don’t appear to be that old?” Ikram asked, holding a hand to his chest.
Valerie laughed. “Not at all.”
“I’m certain many think I’m far too old to be showing you around the gardens.”
“I’m no young miss, sadly. I think a younger girl would probably want to be taken to one of those pretty cafes and show you off.” She smiled. “I am just as happy to keep you to myself.”
This was much more fun than careful games to cautiously gauge interest. More like the Desert – direct. “And I you. Truly, I’m surprised you are not already claimed.”
Valerie laughed, but there was a hint of sadness in it. “Someone once told me I was a trifle too much like my hair, if you see what I mean.”
“Perhaps that is a problem in Lavarre, my lady, but in Tavamara it is to be commended. I am glad Lavarre was stupid enough to let you get away.” He stopped again as they reached a section that was mostly taken over by a large pond, noticing the way Valerie stared at the water lilies.
Valerie nodded at his words, and smiled before moving closer to the pond, but again Ikram had the sense that something troubled her, or that she didn’t believe him.
Well, he was nothing if not patient. “So what other things do you enjoy, my lady?”
“Valerie, please, my lord. I’m only a humble peasant, I feel silly being called lady.”
Ikram thought about it for half a second, but he was ultimately a Cobra – he knew when to strike. “I am not calling you ‘lady,’ however. I am calling you ‘my lady.’”
“Ah,” Valerie said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and once more taking his arm. “I suppose I could permit that.”
“Where would you like to dine tonight, my lady?” Ikram asked.
Valerie smiled and held his arm just a bit tighter. “There’s a quiet little place I’ve seen over on the west end that always looked inviting…and it’s too mature for the younger girls, so I won’t have to worry about them stealing you away.”
Ikram laughed. “There is no fear of that. Let us look at the wildflowers and then we’ll go.”
*~*~*~*
Ikram had finally figured out why men spent all their time arguing and fighting – between eating and sleeping.
He would much rather fight Scorpions than face Valerie tonight. A bloody battle was far, far easier than asking her to marry him.
Even though he was pretty certain she’d say yes. Hadn’t things been going perfectly for the past couple of months?
He ignored the part of him that said Valerie had been increasingly unhappy about something, and that all his efforts to discover the source of it had ended in failure.
As had finding out where she lived – for he wouldn’t follow her, that implied distrust.
She never talked about her past, except in snippets. Never about her life in Tavamara, except in snippets.
All in all, she knew much about him – though he still wasn’t ready to tell her he would be the King’s advisor in probably just a year or so – but he knew very little about her.
He did, however, know she was sweet, kind, beautiful – perfect. No one and nothing could be more perfect.
Well, them getting married would be more perfect.
Which brought him back to desperately wanting to go and find a Scorpion to beat up. Possibly several. Ikram rolled his eyes and forced himself not to check on the ring tucked into a hidden pocket of his sash for the millionth time.
They’d agreed last night, before he’d finally let her go home, to meet today at the café which had become their favorite spot – only a few minutes from the public gardens but tucked away so that it was never crowded and usually only patronized by a few dozen regulars and the occasional stranger.
He waited impatiently at what had become their table, trying to look as though he was the epitome of patience – he rather thought from the look the waiter was giving him that he was failing miserably however. Rolling his eyes again, Ikram signaled the man to bring wine.
A couple of minutes later the wine was poured – a dark, rusty red, perfect for early autumn. It was spicy and sweet, a perfect compliment to the pastries Valerie was so fond of.
Just as he thought he would scream with frustration, the scent of lilacs washed over him and he turned and stood, catching her hands and kissing them. “Valerie. I think you like making me wait,” he teased – and stared in horror at the way her face collapsed into misery.
“Ikram,” Valerie said, looking at him a moment before dropping her eyes, which were unusually dark. “We need to talk.”
Dread twisted his stomach. This wasn’t how this evening was supposed to be going. “What’s wrong, my jewel?”
If anything, the endearment only seemed to make her more miserable. Feeling sick, Ikram helped her into her seat and gave her his own full dish of wine, not taking his own seat until she’d have several sips and seemed calmer, if not any happier. “Now tell me what’s wrong, my jewel.”
For a moment it looked as though Valerie was going to cry, something he’d never seen her do – not even that day in the alley way. “I…Ikram…”
“Just say it, my jewel. All will be well.”
“Ikram, the time I’ve spent with you has been the happiest time of my life,” Valerie said to her wine dish. Slowly she looked up, voice growing fainter with every word. “I don’t think it’s presumptuous of me to think that you wanted our relationship to take a more serious step.”
“That’s why I wanted to meet tonight,” Ikram said, heart sinking.
Valerie nodded, and Ikram wondered what he’d done so horribly wrong that the woman who should be agreeing to marry him instead looked as though she were discussing a funeral. “I…you’re wonderful, Ikram. All that you’ve told me of your past, your family…I cannot fathom why they would choose to reject you. You deserve a real wife, someone who would bring you honor and a wonderful family.”
“I want you to be my wife,” Ikram said, amazed at how easy the words were to say when he seemed to be on the verge of losing the only thing he’d ever really and truly wanted.
At his words, Valerie started crying.
Ikram felt like he was drowning.
“I can’t marry you,” Valerie said, more miserable than Ikram thought it possible for a person to be. “I should never have led you along, except you’re the first man to make me so happy, to treat me like a person rather than a pawn to be used and discarded.” She wiped the tears form her face. “I am sorry to have been so cruel. I was selfish, and I would continue to be selfish except I love you. You deserve a real wife. I cannot be that. Truly, I am sorry. I…please don’t hate me completely.” She looked for a moment like she wanted to say something more, then merely shook her head and stood. “Goodbye,” she whispered, then fled the café.
Ikram waited just long enough that she’d be far enough ahead of him, then threw down several coins and followed after her.
Lady take the dratted woman, he had not acted like a complete idiot and spent the bulk of his savings on her and the ring in his sash just for the woman to vanish in a flurry of tears. What could be tormenting her so? Why wouldn’t she trust him? The minute he had the ring on her finger, he was going to shake her until something resembling sense found its way into her head.
Honestly, he was beginning to think of all those battles with a nostalgic pang.
Though he’d never followed her home, he’d made note of the routes she took whenever they parted ways, where she came from when she met him somewhere. He knew precisely which street she took when leaving the café, and took that, moving slowly but steadily.
Sure enough, five minutes later, he saw several yards ahead of him. Head and shoulders drooping, moving as though she had something to outrun.
It was early evening, still plenty of light, but Ikram had learned how to hide when there was nothing but sand all around him. He ducked out of sight every time she turned to look over her shoulder. Was it just his imagination that she looked sort of disappointed whenever she saw that no one was there?
Probably, but a man could hope. He wasn’t going to take tears and ‘you deserve a real wife’ for an answer. No, the only answer he was going to take was ‘yes, Ikram.’
Though he would have preferred it be done over dinner like he’d been imagining in his head almost since they met, not after acting like a Ghost and shaking sense into her. Sighing at himself, Ikram waited until she resumed walking briskly and then followed her, ducking into another corner right before she looked over her shoulder again.
He hadn’t expected her to live so far from the middle of the city; the houses got poorer and poorer as they went, and Ikram grew increasingly horrified.
She’d never elaborated on her past, but it wasn’t hard to tell that she had some sort of noble upbringing – he’d always burned to know why she’d really fled Lavarre. That she lived in such an awful district of the city…
It terrified him. He was taking her home tonight, even if he had to be all savage about it and carry her off. They were going to the palace, he was going to make her see reason, and then they could begin to plan their wedding ceremony.
Though he’d just as soon have the King marry them and be done, but he’d been around enough women in his life to know that even the most level headed got strange things into her head where a wedding was concerned.
He shook off his wandering thoughts as Valerie slowed down and finally stopped at the edge of a cluster of houses. Houses like this were really just one or two rooms to a family or person, the building surrounding a courtyard on three sides, the open side spilling into the street. Little communities, they shared the duties of caring for the building, the rent cheap for that reason and the fact that it was right on the edge of town.
So often she’d said she lived ‘nearby’ and Ikram felt cold, sick, at how easy it would have been for more men to assault her.
The woman called herself weak…she should be calling herself insane. He was going to shake her within an inch of her life.
Though he knew there was no other man in her life, he almost wished there was so he could beat someone senseless for allowing Valerie to travel alone in so dangerous a district.
Still she stood at the edge of the courtyard, not quite going toward the building where she lived. Ikram realized she was drying her eyes, trying to make it look as though all was well. He fisted his hands, making himself hold still, fighting the urge to go up and comfort her – somehow, he was responsible for those tears, and that thought tore him apart. They were supposed to be celebrating…instead he was slinking around like a criminal and she was crying all alone on a dangerous street.
A small voice broke the silence with a jubilant cry. “Mama!”
Valerie dropped to her knees as a flurry of tiny arms and legs and a cloud of red hair came running, tumbling towards her. She embraced the little boy with a choked sob, holding him close even when he began to squirm and protest the tight hug.
Ikram realized his mouth was still hanging open. A child.
Valerie had a child. The little boy looked just like her. Ikram bet his eyes were just as green, or would be as he got older. Valerie was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen…but that perfect, miniature imitation of her was a very close second. All Ikram could think, watching mother and son beneath the orange-gold light of the setting sun, was that he should be out there with them, not hiding in the shadows.
What was the boy’s name? How old was he? Surely not more than two…which meant he had been a mere babe when she’d come to Tavamara. Ikram boggled at the idea of a woman traveling with a baby across an entire ocean, with no one to protect them, no one waiting when they landed.
That was it. Valerie and her son were coming home with him. By the Lady, they were his and he would make her see that!
He waited impatiently for it to grow dark, to give the child time to sleep – he had no doubt there would be arguing, and he wasn’t going to do that in front of the boy.
At least some of the mystery was cleared up. In Lavarre, precious few would be willing to marry a woman who already had a child. It wasn’t much different in Tavamara. No man wanted to raise the proof that his wife had slept with another man. That she might have slept with another woman? Not so much of an issue. In Tavamara that sort of thing was common.
So Valerie must think he would not want her because she already had a child.
Which made him wonder as to the other pieces. Had she fled a lover? A husband? Something inclined him toward the latter, though he couldn’t say why.
Well, if the bastard ever came along Ikram would deal with the problem in Desert fashion. Swiftly and decisively. Valerie and her son were his now.
How else was the boy like her? Did he have her smile? Would he grow up to be as strong? As clever? Would he be quiet and sweet or perhaps inherit some sort of temper from his sire? Ikram burned to know. It depressed him that Valerie had felt the need to keep what must be the center of her life from him.
Deeply depressed him. What had he done that made her think he wouldn’t immediately accept her child? Who could even think of scorning such a precious piece of her?
He couldn’t take it anymore. Hopefully the boy was asleep; if not, Ikram would find a way to wait until he was, but he couldn’t stand here in the dark anymore.
Crossing the street, he ducked into the courtyard and knocked on the door into which she’d vanished, standing so she couldn’t see him from the small window next to it.
A couple of minutes later the door opened, and Valerie’s pale skin went white as she saw him standing there. “Ikram…”
“My jewel,” Ikram said, proud that he was keeping his voice level. “Is your son asleep? I would hate to upset him when I start shaking some sense into you.”
Valerie looked like she was going to be ill, but nodded and stepped aside to let him inside. “Why couldn’t you just let me go?” she asked quietly as he passed by her.
Ikram stopped and turned to face her, swooping down to kiss her firmly, briefly, furious that he was doing it with so much unhappiness in the air but loving how soft her lips were, the lingering taste of sweet and spicy wine, a hint of her lilac perfume surrounding them. “I love you,” he said quietly, “and I’m not letting you go. I thought you felt the same.”
“You don’t understand…” Valerie said softly, but Ikram was gratified by the way she let him hold her.
“Did you run because you have a son? Surely you don’t think so little of me that I would reject you for that? Tell me you think better of me than that, Valerie.”
Valerie slowly pulled away, not looking at him. “I’m not stupid, you know. I go to the market nearly every day, running errands for people to buy the things I need. All it takes is listening at the right stalls, chatting with the right merchants to hear the rumors from the palace…that a savage with odd markings is next in line to be the King’s Advisor.”
Ikram winced. “I wasn’t trying to hide that, exactly…more I’m still sort of…lost about it myself. I ran away from the Desert. I never thought to find myself in a position of authority."
“Authority,” Valerie said, shaking her head and laughing softly. “Oh, Ikram, only you would put it so mildly. After the King, you’ll be one of the most powerful men in the palace. Even the council will not be as close to the King as you. That he trusts a savage in that role…” she sighed and closed her eyes, and Ikram reached out to brush away the few tears that ran down her cheeks.
She jerked away, eyes opening briefly before she shut them again. “You’ll be expected to have a noble wife, chi—chil—“ she never finished the word, but instead dissolved into tears.
Ikram grabbed her and pulled her close, holding her tight, not letting go until she quit struggling and finally relaxed against him, wishing he could do something to stop her tears. “Jewel…what is so wrong? Do I look unhappy with you?”
“Y-you don’t understand,” Valerie said to his chest.
Gently Ikram grasped her head and tilted it up, wiping tears away with his thumbs. “I won’t understand until you tell me, jewel. I’m a snake, not a mind-reader.”
The weak jest earned him a wobbly smile – but all too soon it collapsed back into misery. Valerie closed her eyes, voice faint as she finally spoke. “Having Simon almost killed me. The doctors said I’ll never have another child.” She finally opened her eyes. “You should have a real wife, a real family.”
Ikram was utterly sick of those words. He leaned down and kissed her again, tasting salt along with the wine, the underlying sweet that could only be Valerie herself. “From where I stand, jewel, I already have a real wife, a real family – if only the idiotic woman in the room would say yes instead of no.”
“But—but—“
Movement from the corner of the room caught Ikram’s eye, and he left Valerie sputtering to go look at the boy he was so curious about. She’d said ‘Simon’ earlier…kneeling by the small straw bed on the floor, Ikram took a long look at the boy.
He was every inch his mother, right down to the so slender build and the brilliant hair. He had no doubt the eyes were just as green, and there would be a smile to match. What sort of man would even think to say no to this? He looked up as Valerie’s shadow fell across them. “He’s beautiful, my jewel. What man wouldn’t be proud to call the two of you his family? Do you really think so little of me?”
Valerie blinked back tears. “No, never. I wanted to be able to give you a son or daughter of your own though…you should have your own family, Ikram.”
Ikram sighed and stood. “You are giving me a family of my own, jewel.” He wiped more tears from her cheeks. “Why can I not make you realize this?”
“You…you really don’t mind Simon? That I can’t have another?”
“All I need is right here…if you would just agree to marry me.” He looked back toward the sleeping Simon. “I would even adopt him, if you’d let me.” He grinned suddenly. “Perhaps we should give him a Tavamaran name, hmm? Would that convince you I would like to have him for my son?”
Valerie moved into his arms, embracing him tightly. “That actually sounds nice. I’d like to raise him Tavamaran…not the way I was raised. I want to leave that life behind. I fled here because after my husband died – and it was only a marriage of money – his family tried to take my son away from me. I don’t want my son to know anything about that life. I like it here.” She looked up at him and smiled, the happiness starting to come back into her eyes. “Especially now. I…if you really don’t mind, and are still offering…”
Ikram laughed softly. “Beloved, I’ve been trying to do nothing but offer all night. Perhaps my father was right after all, when he said women complicate everything. Ow!” He mocked glared, rubbing the spot where she’d pinched him before tugging the ring from his sash. “I had this all planned you know. Still, I will settle for a simple yes by this point. Valerie, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Ikram, I will.”
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Date: 2006-09-19 03:19 am (UTC)