The Jewel of Tavamara - Part II

[maderr]

*~*~*

She woke because Gulzar moved, and saw the glint of metal in the firelight even as her maid let out a startled yelp when she was thrown to the floor.

Fahima sat up, prepared to pull a dagger herself – then firelight bathed the back of their attacker.

Only one man in the kingdom had a back so boldly marked.

"Cease," she said sharply to both of them, for Gulzar had hardly ceased to struggle. "You are Beynum."

"Yes," Beynum replied. "Tell your minx I mean no harm."

Fahima threw back the blankets and went to her maid, holding Gulzar close. "Perhaps, Lord Beynum, you should not sneak into rooms where you aught not be."

Beynum laughed. "I assure you, I would rather be in my own bed at this moment."

"Why are you here?" Fahima asked, letting a calmed Gulzar go to fetch her robe, pulling it on and cinching it closed, then pinning up her long hair. Feeling a bit more presentable, she returned to the fire.

"My King sensed you had something more to say than that which you did when extending your sister's apologies."

Fahima drew a sharp breath. "Yes."

"Then come and speak your peace, where no unwelcome eyes or ears will impede," Beynum said.

"I do not trust this," Gulzar replied. "He is too sneaky."

Beynum merely looked at her, face implacable in the wavering light of the fire. "I would never harm my King," he said quietly. "Come, if you wish to have your say."

Fahima nodded. "Wait one moment for me to change." She kissed Gulzar briefly on the lips to reassure her all was well, then vanished into her dressing room. She panicked briefly over what to wear – what was appropriate for a clandestine meeting that would likely end in her family being executed? – before rolling her eyes and deciding on a simple morning wrap, dark brown and only minimally adorned in blue, green, and yellow. Tidying her hair up, she slipped on a pair of soft slippers and took a deep breath.

She wondered if her morning wrap was doomed to become an unpleasant pun. Grimacing at herself, she strode back out into the bedchamber.

Gulzar remained by the fire, dagger still out, glaring at Beynum – but she dropped the dagger as Fahima drew close, and embraced her tightly. "Will you come back, my Lady?" she asked softly.

Fahima kissed her, fighting nervous tears that would only weaken her position. "I will do my best, darling." One last kiss, then she turned and strode to Beynum.

Beynum grinned and lifted a strip of cloth, and before Fahima could protest her eyes were bound. Then her hand was taken in a grip surprisingly rough – calluses on a man she would not have expected to have them.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"Secrecy," Beynum said. "None may know these passages but his Majesty and those of us who protect him. Now be silent, lest someone hear you."

Heart in her throat, Fahima allowed herself to be led along, smelling damp and dust, smoke from torches – then suddenly the chill gave way to warmth, and the blindfold about her eyes vanished.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Shahjahan sitting at a low table – dressed casually in dark cream robes, the high collar of it fastened only halfway. He sipped a cup of tea. "Lady Fahima," he said. "Please, do sit. I hope Beynum did not give you too much of a fright."

To his right Nandakumar snorted softly, glaring at Beynum.

Beynum merely laughed. "I think her maid was the one to give me a fright," he said cheerfully, sitting on Shah's left. "Interesting maid, to sleep with a dagger beneath her pillow."

Fahima sat at the place indicated, across from Shahjahan. "Gulzar spent many years on the streets before she was taken in by a woman who raised her more properly. Old habits are hard to break, and she holds me as dearly as I hold her."

Let them think what they wanted, that she would 'dally' with her maid – Gulzar was always there for her, and would be until the end.

Shahjahan merely smiled and offered her a cup of tea, which Fahima refused.

"Now, Lady Fahima, what is it you so badly wanted to tell me earlier this evening? Unless I have called you here for some misunderstanding."

Fahima shook her head. "No, Majesty. There is something I must tell you, though…" She shook her head again, and stared at her hands, hating the cowardice but dreading more the look she would see in his face. "My sister is with child, Majesty."

Silence fell, heavy and thick and cold. She heard someone start to speak, but the words were cut off before they could truly form.

"I see," Shahjahan said, and the coldness in his voice cut like a knife. "Your family has been attempting to make a fool of my family, of Tavamara. Why do you tell me this?"

"My family is scared," Fahima said, slowly looking up, and the awful closed look to his face was all that she had dreaded. "My sister told my parents of her stupidity too late, and now they know not what to do."

Shahjahan watched her. "So why are you here? I sense you do not do this at the bidding of your parents."

"No, Majesty," Fahima said quietly. "My parents do not know I know – my sister told me herself, only a few days ago. I have been trying to speak with you ever since. In her way, my sister is trying to right things – she knew I would tell you where my parents cannot."

"It is certainly a fine mess you have brought to me," Shahjahan said coolly, and Fahima barely kept from flinching. "You have brought me the problem; did you bring a solution as well?"

Fahima frowned. "Majesty, it was all I could do to convey to you we must speak. That was enough of a problem, I cannot solve everything."

"Your family is responsible for this," Shahjahan replied. "If they had but called matters off before they progressed this far, it would have been troublesome but not the difficulty it has now become. All firmly believe that in a week's time I will announce that yes, I will take your sister to wife – all other potential brides and negotiations have been called off. A promising candidate from a foreign nation was turned away and to return to it now would be humiliating in the slightest.

"I know, Majesty," Fahima said, and indeed she did. "Yet the penalty for such a thing is execution – to execute my family for treating the royal throne so would solve the matter entirely. No one can blame the King for the actions of fools, and executing us will banish the worst of any humiliation."

Shahjahan brows went up. "You speak so casually of the execution of your family."

"The law is the law, Majesty," Fahima replied. "No one is exempt from it."

"It seems to me," Nandakumar said suddenly, "that the easiest solution is merely to exchange one sister for another." He cast a pensive look upon her, then slid it to Shahjahan. "No one would be surprised in the least if instead of the older sister, the King found himself enamored of the younger. You have already caused two scandals with the men taken into your harem, Majesty, I think the council half expects you to cause some sort of ruckus with your marriage."

Shahjahan smiled briefly. "I'm certain they have placed bets on what manner of headache I will cause them with it, as so far I have been quite obedient. You are right, Nanda, as always. It is the best solution."

Fahima kept her expression calm, but only barely. Had she heard correctly? Surely not. She was not fit to be Queen – she had been planning to become a priestess!

"What say you, Lady Fahima?"

"What am I supposed to say, Majesty? No?" Fahima stood, fed up with the entire affair. "This entire time, I have had no choice in anything, and I see no choice now. So be it, I will be my sister's substitute. To spare my family and to serve my King and Tavamara."

The silence was both gratifying and infuriating.

"Allow me to escort you back—"

"I do not need your help," Fahima snapped, angry and miserable and it was only made worse because she could not quite say why she felt so – or maybe she did not want to say. "Three rights, two lefts, and I will be back in my own rooms. I bid you all good night, and thank my King for his unexpected mercy." She threw back the tapestry that hid the door to the secret passage, and vanished into the dark hallways beyond.

Any other time the knowledge that such secret passages existed would have fascinated and enthralled her – but now she could only focus on angrily scrubbing away her tears.

An exchange. A substitute. That's all she was. Merely the next best thing, for which Shahjahan must settle. Not best for Tavamara, not what anyone really wanted – she was merely what they must endure.

Leaving the secret passage, Fahima threw herself into Gulzar's waiting arms and cried until she at last fell asleep.

*~*~*

Fahima walked around numbly. Two days later and her misery had only increased. She kept expecting her usual resignation to assert itself, that she would accept and make the best of the situation.

After all, she was going to be Queen of Tavamara. She could take Gulzar into her harem, and have at least one friendly face. Finally she would be in a position to support the temples as much as she'd always wished. Her family would leave her in peace.

The easiest solution is merely to exchange one sister for another.

Rumors were already being whispered about the palace that the King seemed more interested in one sister than the other. Two days was all it had taken for Shahjahan to subtly but quickly begin to change things. In five more days, her fate would be sealed.

Bells tolled the hour and Fahima grimaced – dinner was six hours away, but she dreaded it. Only a couple of days ago had been the night everything had fallen apart, but before that terrible meeting had been the dinner. The King had asked her a question, and expressed his pleasure over her answer by way of wine from one of his own dishes, handed to her by his concubine.

Though it had stirred her jealousy, the meager bit of attention when Shahjahan had no reason to give it had made her happy.

Now he spoke to her plenty, and encouraged her to try many wines and dishes…and all she could think was that such things were actually intended for her sister. He did not mean any of it for her.

She dodged a rowdy group of men in the market place and turned down a row that was filled with stalls selling finer things – jewels, expensive fabrics, incense, slightly more exotic foods. She paused idly at a stall filled with jewelry, mostly hair pins, decorations for a head scarf or cloak, broaches.

A broach made to resemble a moon orchid caught her eye. Pink sapphire made up the petals, set in delicate silver. She picked it up and smiled briefly, wishing she could give in to such an indulgence.

Then she realized she was going to be Queen, and would be able to buy more jewels than she would know what to do with – and never would she have to go to the market for them. It should have been a smile-worthy thought, but instead it ruined the smile briefly drawn out by the moon-orchid broach. She set it back down.

"Does the pretty lady see something she likes?" the stall clerk asked.

Fahima looked up, and dredged up a laugh – it was not the merchant's fault she was in a bad mood, after all. "Much that I like, good sir, alas my father and beau both are too smart to give me money enough to buy such trinkets." She smiled. "Still, I am to be married. Perhaps I will convince my husband to spoil me."

"A wise husband always spoils his wife, especially one as beautiful as you – for beautiful women can have their pick of men, no?"

She laughed. "I'm afraid I did not get much choice in the matter, though certainly I could have no better beau." Beau, hah. She wondered if the gift for the bride from the King had already been chosen. Jewels to match her sister's pale eyes? Silks to compliment her skin? Some trinket she would adore?

With an effort she swallowed the choking bitterness, and returned to chatting lightly with the merchant until she could escape. Giving the orchid broach one last look, she finally moved on through the crowd, browsing aimlessly and generally avoiding life by losing herself in the chaos of the Tavamaran market.

If her parents knew she was here rather than at temple, they would either pass out or spend the rest of the night bellowing. Her sister would tell her horror stories of what befell a young woman who wandered alone in such a place – Fahima found that vastly entertaining.

Finally she heeded the chiming of the bells, for it would soon be dark and even she was not that reckless. Tucking away the tea she had purchased, as well as a charm for Gulzar to wear, she began to hurry back to the temple and her waiting palanquin.

Back in the palace, she ignored her parents and all but bolted for her room. Stripping quickly, she moved to the bath and settled into it, numbness growing as Gulzar helped her wash and dress, fixed her hair just so.

Gazing in the mirror, all Fahima saw was a pale imitation of her sister – a substitute. She wondered what the price difference between them would be, were they wares in the marketplace.

Gulzar was giving her a worried look, and the unbroken silence between them expressed more than words could just how deep Gulzar's worry ran. Fahima squeezed her hand, kissed her cheek, and fetched the little packet that held the copper charm she'd bought – but more than that, she simply could not muster the energy or caring to let Gulzar know everything was fine.

Departing before her maid could speak, Fahima dredged up a smile and followed her family to the banquet hall. As they reached the King's table, everyone there greeted her – by name. Fahima nearly stumbled to a halt from sheer surprise, even as training kicked in to reply to each greeting.

Only yesterday they had greeted her as part of the family – now by name?

She glanced at Shahjahan, who smiled warmly, or seemed to, but she had not forgotten that terrible coldness, the way he had so calmly agreed to exchange one sister for another. Bowing her head, she murmured a warm greeting suitable for a woman secretly smitten with her sister's beau, and took her seat on a plush cushion of deep plum silk. Everyone settled in place, appetizers set out, the guests all began to reach for their wines of choice.

Fahima reached for a carafe of Sea Rose – then paused.

Each night her wine dishes were different; some made of china, others of translucent glass in a rainbow of colors…but none of them had been like these, and a discreet look about the table showed that no one else seemed to posses any like them.

Carefully she picked one up, admiring it. Clear glass, and captured within were pale pink flower petals. The other stacked dishes each held a different colored petal, and two even held entire flowers.

Pretty. She smiled briefly at them, and filled the pink-blossom dish with the Sea Rose wine. Sipping at it, she conversed politely with the people on either side of her, others who joined in, until she realized at least half the table was conversing avidly with her.

It was unnerving – she'd never drawn so much attention at once.

Warm laughter captured her attention, and she turned to face Shahjahan, and the open friendliness in his face made her want to cry again – because he didn't mean it. That look should belong to her sister, even if the twit no longer had any right to it. "You are as clever as always, Lady Fahima. Perhaps I should find a place for you on my council. I think you would force them to work much harder." He winked, then turned briefly away to accept the wine Beynum held up for him.

Fahima forced herself to keep smiling, and poured more wine before resuming the argument on translations. Flirting. Shahjahan had been flirting with her. Right? Or had he just been making a teasing comment? Had it been anything?

What did it really matter? He didn't mean any of it.

Oh, she really was lost in self-pity now wasn't she?

Honestly, she told herself sternly as she poured more wine – dark Winter Night, suitable to bridge the pause between the first and second course – she was going to be Queen, what did she really have to complain about?

Right this very moment she could be locked up and awaiting execution, if not already dead. Instead she was going to be Queen. Did she really have the right to mope and sulk and pout because the King did not actually care about her? So what; nobles did not marry for love or even affection.

Reprimand delivered, she turned stubbornly to her own task of ensuring that all thought she was rather too interested in the King meant for her sister – and Nawra, thankfully, was playing her own role of not caring one bit what her sister did.

Fahima wished miserably that she was not the only one in this farce acting honestly, because the hard truth was that she was enamored of her sister's King, though she could not say when she had first felt so or even exactly why. Too many things came disconcertingly to mind, not least of all that he would go to these measures when executing them would have been more beneficial.

It didn't matter, she reminded herself. It was what it was, and could not be changed. What could not be changed must be endured. Her life would be a grand one, and she would after a fashion have Shahjahan.

The reassurances fell flat, and she poured more wine to chase one bitterness away with another.

When the dinner at last concluded, she could not bear the thought of going back to her rooms to wallow in self-pity. She was stronger than this, she would overcome it. Begging a need to clear her head after too much wine, she returned to her room only to fetch a wrap, then departed for the public gardens.

She wandered for a time admiring the flowers, which always looked so different in moonlight, envying a few blossoms she would not mind seeing in her own garden. Never to happen now…but she was going to be Queen, and the Queen had or could have private gardens. So, really, all these blooms would be hers if she so desired.

Abandoning the flowers, she moved to the center of the garden – a circle of soft grass, at the very center a fountain displaying children playing, their pails and baskets spilling water into the pool. All around it were curved stone benches. Sitting down on one, she pulled her wrap more tightly around her to ward off the chilly night air.

So focus only on the good. That was the smart and proper thing to do. At the end of the day, the reasons did not matter except insofar as the great problem of her sister being pregnant had been overcome. Though she had not intended to become Queen in her sister's place, it was certainly not a bad thing to be – and anything was better than execution.

When she actually thought about it, she was astonished her parents had not come up with the idea of making Fahima seduce the King in hopes he would choose her over Nawra.

Then again, perhaps they'd known how utterly stupid an idea that was -- Nawra was a beauty, and much more socially accomplished. She knew the proper topics, instead of speaking only of tariffs and translations, foreign cultures and dusty history.

Making a face at herself, Fahima tried to turn her thoughts away from self-pity. Honestly, it was not like her to sulk so.

The sound of feet on the grass drew her head up, and she stood up in fear before she realized who had joined her. "Lord Nandakumar." A guard stood nearby, just outside the circle of grass, but she only distantly noted him – guards followed the concubines everywhere, both protecting and watching.

"Lady Fahima," Nandakumar greeted. "My King bid me bring you a gift."

Fahima frowned. "A gift? That is…" Awfully and strangely bold. "…Generous of him."

Nandakumar smiled and sat down on the bench, too far away for them to touch, but close enough to easily talk. He held out a neatly folded bundle of silk – a head scarf, Fahima realized. She could not determine the colors in the moonlight, but could see it was a beautiful moon and star design.

There was also something within the folds.

"A gift for his intended bride?" she asked quietly.

"Of course," Nandakumar said.

Ah. Now she saw. Somehow, someway, all would know of this little meeting and rumors would fly the King was definitely courting the younger rather than the older sister. Neatly played.

She set the folded scarf down upon the bench, not bothering to unwrap it to see what was inside. "I could not in good conscience accept something that was no doubt intended for my sister." She pulled her wrap up, and stood. "Tell his Majesty that of course I am most humbled, but I could not accept such a gift. Good night, Lord Nandakumar."

"You are his intended bride," Nandakumar said quietly. "Therefore, the gift was bought for you and no other. Lady Nawra has nothing to do with this."

"Under the circumstances," Fahima said just as softly, but curtly, "I cannot see him giving a mere substitute anything. We play our parts in public, I will not endure this farce in private as well."

She walked briskly away, ignoring Nandakumar when she thought he called out, striding back into the palace and to her room.

Gulzar sat by the fire, quietly mending a shawl. She set it aside as Fahima sat down beside her.

"Am I a fool?" Fahima asked softly, resting her head on Gulzar's shoulder.

"I think there are many fools involved in this drama," Gulzar replied, stroking her hair gently, kissing her brow. "If you are one of them, it is only the best sort of fool – a fool in love."

Fahima sighed. "That seems the worst sort of fool to me."

Gulzar laughed softly. "I suppose it must, at that. Certainly, my lady, I was quite miserable when I mooned over you."

That drew a laugh, and Fahima sat up enough to give Gulzar a lingering kiss. "I seem to recall sneaking several longing glances of my own, pretty maid mine."

"Yet here we are," Gulzar said. "If you can entrance a cynical street rat, my Lady, I do not see how you could fail to enthrall a King."

Fahima shrugged. "I was forced upon him, Gulzar. What person likes to have a life forced upon them?"

Gulzar clucked and flicked her on the nose. "Now, my lady. Often that is the case, but often one must be knocked upside the head before one realizes what should have been obvious. Your sister, for instance, would benefit from a sound beating. Perhaps things are not as dire as they seem, and certainly I think being Queen is better a life for you than a mere priestess. Certainly you have always been the real ruler of your parents' home."

"That is different than being Queen," Fahima replied.

"Only a grander scale, my Lady." Gulzar smiled. "You will see, and if all else fails I will knock some sense into that King myself."

Fahima chuckled at the thought. "I believe you would, Gulzar." She tucked back a strand of hair, suddenly feeling a bit hesitant though she knew that was silly. "Does that mean you will stay with me?"

Gulzar grinned and flicked her upon the nose again. "As though you had to ask. Can you imagine the cook’s face, when she learns I am to be concubine to the Queen of Tavamara? She will spit flames for a year!"

"That would be a sight to see," Fahima said, smiling.

Tucking her mending away in a basket, Gulzar stood and pulled Fahima to her feet. "Come, my Lady. You need rest, and to be reminded that you are worth loving. I love you, and I'm certain the King will too. He is acclaimed a smart man, after all."

Fahima did not share Gulzar's confidence, but it was warming to know someone cared for her, and she went willingly to bed and allowed Gulzar to do whatever she pleased, content to be loved.

*~*~*

She stopped with her teacup halfway to her mouth when the knock at the door came, and set it back down when it opened to admit a royal guard. Her breakfast lost what little appeal it had as the guard intoned that the King would like to speak with the Lord and Lady.

Her parents shot her a suspicious look, for they'd been able to glean nothing from either of their daughters about the rumors of the past few days.

Fahima sat in a tense, miserable silence. This was it, very likely. The period of 'consideration' was over; Shahjahan would say he preferred Fahima to Nawra. She wondered if her parents would be angry – but could not see why they would be. This would solve all their problems, and to best of their knowledge with neither her nor the King knowing the deception they had been attempting.

Picking up her teacup, she attempted a sip – but it tasted like ashes on her tongue, and she set the cup down again, folding her hands in her lap and worrying her lip. What would she do if her parents said no?

What would she do if they said yes? Could she be a Queen? She didn't have a choice, but it was an intimidating prospect no matter what Gulzar said. Being Queen was so far from being a priestess, especially when her husband did not even—

She picked her tea up again and was surprised to find it cold. Had she been brooding for so long?

A knock at the door startled her, and she nearly dropped the cup. Setting it down, she allowed one of the maids to open the door. The same guard as before stepped inside. "Lady Fahima, his Majesty would like to see you."

"Of course," Fahima said, hoping she did not sound as nervous as she felt. Smoothing her skirts as she stood, she tucked back a stray curl and stepped into her slippers. Nodding that she was ready, she followed the guard through the halls. It was early enough that few people were out, and those who were stared unabashedly until Fahima stared back, at which point they subsided into a guilty silence.

When at last they reached the small meeting room, Fahima was ready to turn and run. It was not an option, sadly, and so she nodded in thanks to the guard and stepped inside. "Majesty."

She looked briefly at her parents, who had the familiar closed expressions that said they wanted to be angry but knew very well they could not. Likely she would catch some sort of grief later, anyway, for they did not know all she knew and had done – but she found she did not care.

All she cared about was the man sitting on the raised dais, face implacable as he regarded her. "Lady Fahima…" Shahjahan broke off, shaking his head. He looked around the room at the guards, her parents. "I would like to speak to the Lady alone." He gestured sharply when protests were immediately launched. "You are dismissed."

His tone brooked no argument, and in seconds the room was empty save for the two of them. Improper, for she did not yet wear a wedding ring – but he was marrying her, and he was King. That granted some leniency.

"My Lady…" Shah sighed softly and stood and descended the dais, extending his hand as he reached her.

Fahima frowned, but slowly placed her hand in his. It was warm, and rougher than she thought a King's hand would be.

"My Lady," Shah said again, "I am afraid you leave me rather at a loss. From the very first, I have managed this affair quite poorly. The manner in which we spoke to you that night was unfair, for though your family is guilty of much you are guilty of nothing. Certainly Nandakumar was in a similar situation – that you two have so much in common is startling." He shook his head. "My point is that it was unfair to place the burden of reparation for those wrongs upon you." His grip on her hand tightened, and the startling focus of his eyes as he looked at her made it hard to breathe. "Though I have told your parents that I favor you far and above your sister, and would take you to wife – it is not right to force you into something you do not want. I know you wanted to become a priestess, and if that is your true aspiration I will see it becomes a reality."

She stared at him. "Majesty? But—you told me yourself all the problems—I know—" She bit the words off, because saying she knew she could not compare to her sister but sounded too much like a confession.

"That is no excuse to treat a woman cruelly," Shahjahan replied. "I never intended that, and there is no excuse for my behavior. I will endure whatever befalls me for not following through with this marriage, if your desire is not to marry me."

Fahima dropped her eyes, at a loss for words, looking at the way he still held her hand. "Majesty…" She shook her head and pulled her hand away, turning away because she could not focus her thoughts as she would like while facing him. She wanted not to be a substitute, but to confess such a thing sounded weak. Women would kill to be her right now, why did she fuss over such minor details?

Shah moved away, striding back up to the dais – but he returned a moment later, holding a small bundle.

She recognized it instantly, though before she had only seen it in the dark. By daylight, it was far more colorful than she'd realized – the crescent moons were either silver or gold, and the stars scattered amongst them were every color of the rainbow in rich jewel tones, against a black background, the whole trimmed in bands of more silver and gold.

"I first spoke to you at dinner that evening of our meeting because you seemed sad and bored. Your answer was far more than I could have expected, for even more experienced diplomats at the table missed certain details which occurred to you. It occurred to me then that perhaps there was more to you than I had thought."

Fahima nodded, acknowledging his words, but said nothing.

"I confess also your sister had not interested me at all; she felt flat. I am confused as to why everyone says she is the better." Shah shook his head and held out the bundle. "I know you have already refused this, and I promise it is merely a minor token, but whatever you decide – priestess or Queen – it is yours. You should also know that I never considered you a mere substitute. I think that regardless of these events, I would have wanted you for my wife anyway."

Her eyes widened, and she willed her fingers not to shake as she finally took the bundle he held out – mostly because this King who always seemed so in control and unruffled by anything seemed suddenly uncertain.

Slowly she unwound the fabric – and nearly dropped what was inside from sheer astonishment.

The moon orchid broach she had seen in the marketplace. Pink Sapphire shimmered in the sunlight. She looked up. "How?"

"We noted you leaving from the balcony, and I bid Beynum follow you for we knew you were upset."

Beynum? The concubines were forbidden to leave the premises, except in the company of the King or Queen. He'd followed her? Why?

Shahjahan laughed. "He was furious that you wandered alone into the market – I think only the knowledge he would be in a great deal of trouble kept him from hauling you right back to the palace.

Fahima frowned. "I go alone often to the market back home."

"It was not intended as an insult, my Lady," Shahjahan replied. "Merely that we felt guilty, and worried for you. I wanted you protected, but also left to your own devices."

Slowly Fahima nodded, unable to argue with so earnest an entreaty. She looked again at the broach, rubbing her thumb over the brilliant pink gems and gleaming silver. "I did not mind trying to be Queen," she said haltingly, fighting the sting in her eyes, refusing to look stupid by crying. "I did not want to be one simply because I was the only available replacement."

Gentle fingers touched her chin, urging her head up. Shahjahan smiled faintly, more than a bit ruefully. "Lady Fahima, I have been raised since birth to be a King; more lessons than I can fully recall drilled thousands of skills and volumes of knowledge into me. The one thing all my tutors seemed to miss was how to treat and court the Lady I would like very much to take to wife. Forgive me any awkwardness or unintended slight, and believe me when I say I consider you no mere replacement – I would like you to be my bride."

Fahima gave a shaky laugh and nodded, wiping away tears of relief – and no small happiness. "Perhaps we are well matched after all, Majesty, for I do not really know how to be courted. I'm afraid I skipped those lessons to read my father's mathematical treaties."

Shahjahan laughed and took her hand again, lifting it to kiss her knuckles softly. "Then may I assume, my Lady, that you will consent to be my wife and Queen?"

"Yes, my King, I consent most happily," Fahima replied, scarcely believing she was saying it. That did not keep her from going easily as Shah drew her closer still, and his kiss was completely different from Gulzar's, firmer, almost spicy, and the scratch of his beard was odd but not awful.

He was grinning when the kiss finally ended. "Now, my dear, I will introduce you to one of the better compensations for being a ruler."

Fahima looked at him, confused by the words but somewhat amused at how boyish he looked saying them. "What is that?"

"Telling the council I have yet again done what I wanted, and not what they wanted, and there's nothing they can do about it."

Fahima let out a startled laugh. "So it's true you like to aggravate them?"

"Quite true," Shahjahan said. "You will see. It is fun to do."

She shook her head, somewhat amused – but she could not dismiss the council as easily as he. "They have every reason to be upset, really. I was never meant to be Queen. I have no training for such things."

Shahjahan reached up to catch a curl which had slipped free of the knot in which she'd bound her hair. "You are more suited than perhaps you realized. These past days you have gotten men who normally only squabble to chat almost like they were friends." He took the broach she still held, and had all but forgotten, and carefully pinned it to her shoulder. "I promise, my jewel, you will be a fine Queen."

Fahima started at the endearment, glancing briefly at the broach before looking up at Shahjahan. Finally she nodded. "I will do my best."

"You will be brilliant, my jewel. You shine," Shahjahan replied, and bent to give her another kiss.

Comments

[mewschangeling.livejournal.com]

Mmmmm, much love for this. ♥

Your writing just makes me a happy camper. Thank you.

[melayneseahawk.livejournal.com]

Aww, they're sweet.

[mordred-risika.livejournal.com]

Awwwww I love it!!! They're awkward but real and I knew Benyum was following!!! Yeah!!! Thank you for finishing. Fahima is AWESOME, i really was not expecting to like her, just for the fact I liked the Harem so much. But leave it to you and Shah to continue having awesome taste!! ^_~

[unusualmusic.livejournal.com]

Yeah! Would you beleive that this is the first heterosexual story I have read in a year! And twas good!

[maderr.livejournal.com]

yay happy camper ^___^

[maderr.livejournal.com]

^___^

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Heh. I could not be so mean as to give Shah an unlikeable wife. I realize he's a bit too perfect with everything, but who wants to read about the asshole kings or the ones who are miserable with shrews for wives? Thanks for reading ^___^

[maderr.livejournal.com]

hee ^__^ Thanks for giving it a chance!

[mailechan.livejournal.com]

It's not just your mp3 player that loves you, M. I LOVE you too!

Oh my god, your Fahima made me just want to burst, I was so happy for her. And she has balls!

*love, love, love*

[dameange.livejournal.com]

yay! {happy dance} utterly wonderful!

[rotewolken.livejournal.com]

:D <3

Words are broken. Too much happiness and smiles. ^.^; Brain is mush of hearts and glee.

[chilayse.livejournal.com]

*gives cookies* thank you for pretty story..

[lynnette-lacy.livejournal.com]

Whhheeeee! That was brilliant! Love this story so much, it turned out beautifully! Thank you so much for sharing it with us!

[avalon13.livejournal.com]

I left off commenting till the end because I'm weird like that. That was verra, verra sweet and I am enamoured.

Fahima=Win.
Shah= inept!love
Benyum=Piratey!love
Nanda=Pretty hair!love

thank you and goodnight.

[tsubaki-dono.livejournal.com]

Impressive story. Very nice to see Shah this way, he has always seemed a little too smug for me in the past. About time a woman got under his skin, I suppose. I quite like the way that Fahima seems more a match for him than I originally anticipated. It's one thing to start reading a fiction knowing who will end up with who, but make it make sense that they do as the story goes. I think you did that well here.

Thanks for sharing this story... and I hope (as always) that you will continue to share more. Happy writing.

[broken-moons.livejournal.com]

Mmm, perfect. ^__^ I kinda suspected Shah would find a way to buy that brooch for her. Also, good that he never really liked Nawra, the silly girl.

Fahima let out a startled laugh. "So it's true you like to aggravate them?"

"Quite true," Shahjahan said. "You will see. It is fun to do."

*laughs*

[camden-rehab.livejournal.com]

Yay, lunchtime reading! And now I must return to college. T_T
That was very sweet. ^^ Aww, Shah is such a gentleman.

[tsaiko.livejournal.com]

I spent the last half of this story going "SHAH STOP FUCKING THIS UP." And he manages it. I love how awkward those two are, neither one of them really sure of each other even at the end but very willing. Fahima's ambivalence about being Queen is very realistic. You can tell she knows she should be happy, but isn't, and nothing she does to try and change that is working. I adore how it takes some time for her to be convinced (no, "Oh! Suddenly I love him and everything is sunshine and rainbows!"). The ambivalence is still there, just more subdued now.

I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when Beynum got back after following Fahima. I bet he was all ranty and protective because Shah likes he and if anything happened to her Shah would be devastated and what was that woman thinking walking around alone in the marketplace? As you can tell, I can almost hear him in my head.

If you ever decide to write romance novels, let me know. I'd buy them in a heartbeat because damn, this is three times as good as half the ones I own.

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

Heck, I've only read *thinks* two (het, published) romance novels in my life, and I would read a hundred if Meg wrote them.^_^

I love the Beynum in your head, btw Tsai. He is win. ^_^

[mechante-fille.livejournal.com]

Yay!!!!! \o/

Drabble her anytime, sweets. She is love. I bet any combination of her and Nanda and Shah playing with the kids would be win. Well, talking while the kids played nearby? They don't have to have speaking parts. ^_^ Unless they grow up, of course, but wow does that open a whole new ball of twine. Or however that goes. Twine sounds more fun than worms, but twine is too linear. o.o

Anyway, loved this: I'm afraid I skipped those lessons to read my father's mathematical treaties. Fahima rocks, so hard. ^_____^

<33333

[kiyoshi-chan.livejournal.com]

I love Fahima. ^______^ She is so sweet.

[charisstoma.livejournal.com]

I had happy tears at the end. Is aghast as this is not m/m. This does not happen.
It has been a while since a f/m pairing has brought that warm wet sensation to my eyes.
Nicely done. Now a challenge. Can you write the wedding night?

[http://users.livejournal.com/_calex_/]

Mmm, I always do love your writing, and your characterizations. Fahima is wonderful, and I love Shah's uncertainty when it comes to courting a woman. *grin* The relationship between Fahima and Gulzar was also wonderful to read. Thoroughly enjoyed this.

[aqua-eyes.livejournal.com]

♥

They're going to need a REALLY big bed. An ABSURDLY big bed to fit them and their concubines in. bwahaha.

So how did she and Gulzar meet? And the other four concubines?

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Ahahaha, Shah's usually so in control, it was fun that he was totally pwned in this situation. Gods, I read a million bodice rippers growing up. I tried so hard to remember what NOT to do writing this. Slash is easier, I can get away with loads there.

Heh. I could probably write that. Snippet of Shah's POV are fun.

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

SQUEE!!!!!! *flying tackle glomps* So much love. <333! ^______^

1) Fahima rocks. I LOVED how she questioned and answered Shah on the thief question. XD And I love that she doesn't get how cool her answers were. ^_^
2) *snickers* I loved that Beynum followed her out into the market to protect her and I love how Gulzar pulled a knife on him. XD
3) That she could find her way back through the secret passages after Beynum had blindfolded her? XD Too cool.
4) I love that Gulzar was initially a street rat and I love that she realizes how much Fahima just wants to be loved for herself.
5) Silly Shah. XD I love how their romance played out and how long it took for Shah to grasp that Fahima didn't want to merely be her sister's replacement, even if it was handy and useful.
6) Did I mention that I liked Fahima? Cause she was kick ass. ^______^

*flying tackle glomps* ^__^

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

Also! Do I detect a future priestess as another of Fahima's concubines?

[maderr.livejournal.com]

Heh, you do ^___^

Ahaha, we were talking about you earlier. I made a post, but then I worried it came off wrong ^^;; Sammie said you couldn't be a serial killer (my mom was making jokes about our LJ friends being serial killers) because you'd get bored halfway through.

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

SQUEE! I thought I detected something there in that part! *bounces happily* ^____^


XD *snickers* I saw the post and thought I'd go back to respond, but when I didn't see it, I thought...maybe I imagined it? ^_^;;

Heehee!! XD I don't know so much about bored as clueless. I'm more apt to get halfway through, realize that I was missing some vital bit of information or tool needed to finish things off and then just give up. ^__~

(La, if we're serial killers, we are some whacked out kind of serial killers. *dies giggling* We should all have some cool nicknames or something. Ava can be the Capital Letter Killer. ;3)

[skylark97.livejournal.com]

Although, yes, I'd have to agree with Sammie too, my attention span is teeny tiny and after spending time with my mother, I know exactly where I get it from. XD

*tackle glomps* I take it that you made your flight all right and made it home okay? ;3

[marasmine.livejournal.com]

That was so beautifully done! I was worried that she was going to work herself to the point where she would never believe that Shah liked her for herself - but you walked that line so delicately! Their awkwardness with each other was wonderful. I hope there is/will be more about Fahima and her harem!