Kismet's Kiss: A Fantasy Romance (Alaia Chronicles) (45 page)

Sohad collected his materials and stood, staring at Chaaya’s headless body. For a moment it looked like he would spit on it, then he shook his head in disgust and exited to the chaos of the hall.

Silence blanketed the hammam. Varene gazed at the little boy in her arms, willing him to heal, then turned to the sultan. She wanted answers, but was mindful of the three who lay crippled, who might be listening despite their paralysis. “What Chaaya accused you of…” she began softly.

His lips firmed. “You deserve to know. As do my children.” He squeezed Burhan and Mishka’s hands, then watched Varene as he spoke. “Fifteen years ago, the High Priestess Intisar fomented the nobles’ rebellion that took my son Seif. Her antipathy—her
treachery
—was clear, but I couldn’t risk setting myself against the temple of my goddess. Just two weeks ago, I learned she’d also arranged the drowning of my daughter Lahari a decade past, and that she wouldn’t stop there.”

Varene shivered, remembering the dark grief Kuramos bore for his dead children. Her throat squeezed tight as she glimpsed the hell he would face if those they held now didn’t survive.

Kuramos stared at the tiles between them. “I couldn’t hazard a public confrontation with Intisar. The Lakshyya would have hurled us all into war. So I employed another path of justice.” His eyes frosted over and flicked up to meet hers. “She met a painless death, which is more than she’d allowed my elder children, or plotted for these youngest ones.”

Varene bit her lip. Walking in his garden, she’d asked him about the secret he believed had triggered Naaz’s divine vengeance. He’d said “sometimes there are no choices,” and that if necessary, he would make the same terrible decision again.

A fierce, wistful pride poured through her. “You’re a man worthy not only of your goddess, but of your children, your family and your people.”
And worthy of my heart. Every piece of it.

The door to the hall banged open and a stampede careened into the hammam, Sulya in the lead.

As Kuramos’s Sixth Wife saw Varene with Tahir in her arms, she jerked to a halt as if a wall had slammed up in front of her. Her black eyes gazed down at her son, then at her husband, then at Varene, full of anguish. “Is he alive?” she asked hoarsely.

Others swooped around her toward the fallen. Taleen knelt by Burhan and clutched his hand while Maitri cradled her daughter’s head in her lap. Nireh sat at her side, one hand cupping Kuramos’s shoulder, and Zahlia seated herself beside Maitri, eyeing Varene with such sympathy that the Healer choked back tears.

“He is…” But she wasn’t sure how to tell Sulya that her son might not survive. That none of the children were showing signs of recovery.

Sulya raised a shaking hand and clamped her teeth on the side of her fingers. Rajvi stepped close to wrap a supportive arm around her waist, and soon the Sixth Wife seemed to remember how to move. She flew toward her son, crying.

Varene transferred the limp child into Sulya’s arms. “But please, stay near. I must touch him to monitor him.” Sulya nodded, her eyes seeing only Tahir.

“Varene!” Kuramos exclaimed.

She swiveled around and viewed a miracle. Mishka was peering up at her mother.

Over the next few minutes, the girl began to move—first her fingers twitched, then her lips curved, and then she said her mother’s name, bringing grateful tears to those gathered in the hammam—including her father.

Minutes later, Burhan followed in his little sister’s steps. The joy in the room redoubled, and laughter mixed in with the sobs.

But when Tahir’s fern-green eyes finally focused on Sulya’s anxious face, the fist of tension gripping Varene’s spine uncurled its taut fingers.

Her eyelids sank closed, and though she was sitting, she soon felt herself listing to one side.

“Varene!” Kuramos caught her and pulled her against him as worried inquiries flew at her from all sides: “Oh no!” “Our Healer needs a Healer.” “Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry. Just…tired. Relieved.”

“Of course you are.” Zahlia patted her hand as the others peered solicitously at her, murmuring, “Poor dear, no wonder. Saving them has consumed your own strength.”

Maitri, holding her daughter, gazed quietly at Varene over Mishka’s head. “You have been a miracle for us.” The gathered wives echoed the sentiment, reaching out to pat Varene’s shoulder and touch her hand in thanks.

Kuramos wrapped Varene close and nuzzled her damp hair, and she curled back against him with a deep sigh. She was oddly at peace with the intimacy of it, even in the presence of his wives—even in front of Sulya, who watched them with a cool contemplation in her gaze.

Maybe at last she was too exhausted to worry.

L
ate that night, Varene slept in Kuramos’s arms under a heaven arrayed with stars.

He’d made love to her there, on a soft pallet in his garden amidst the jasmine and orange blossoms, so that when she was long gone from Kad, he would remember her face in the pale moonlight as they’d said goodbye with their bodies and souls.

He couldn’t blame her for wanting to be a man’s only wife, though it rent his heart that they hadn’t met until it was far too late. He couldn’t dishonor the six women who’d become his family.

As he drifted into sleep he curled around Varene, drinking in her scent and praying to the gods she would find happiness, even though it would be far from him, in a land not his own.

Neither of them heard the soft scrape of parchment under the door to his chamber. The edge of the scroll slipped beneath held the wax seals of each of his six wives—and the fate of them all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

T
he following morning, Varene sat on a crimson cushion in the splendor of the throne room, staring down at the parchment clutched in her fingers.

Kuramos paced the center aisle. “You’ve no idea what this is about?”

“None, unfortunately.” She silently re-read the message.

Great Sultan of Kad, your Sovereign Wives hereby summon you and the Royal Healer of Teganne to attend Us in the Throne Room at two hours past sunrise.

She and Kuramos had woken with the sun’s first rays and departed the garden hand-in-hand when he spotted the scroll. He’d frowned at the long row of waxen seals, then scowled at the contents of the message. “
Summon
me?” he’d grumbled, muttering something about impudence.

At first she’d chuckled at his reaction, but found herself growing more uneasy as the appointed time drew near. What could his wives want—all six of them in solidarity?

The wording they had used was formal, even demanding. She couldn’t help but think of it as foreboding, and that the meeting was about her being with Kuramos.

She tried to be logical. Zahlia and Taleen, at least, had told her they approved, and the relationship couldn’t have been a secret to the others, in any case. Besides, they all knew she was soon returning to Teganne. She wanted to believe that the subpoena had little to do with her—but if so, why had she been commanded to be present?

The sultan, too, seemed ill at ease. As the minutes wore on, his pacing began to wear a hole through her brain.

At last the guards outside swung the doors open and the patter of many sandals echoed in the hallway. She and Kuramos glanced at each other before swiveling toward the sound.

Varene tucked her feet protectively beneath her as the wives entered and arrayed themselves in a semicircle, Sulya at the center. The diminutive Sixth Wife stared at her husband, and then at Varene. Despite having the lowest rank among the royal spouses, Sulya’s blazing eyes marked her as the ringleader of this meeting.

Kuramos assumed his warrior stance, feet balanced and head tall. “What is this about, my wives?”

Sulya took a slow, deliberate step forward. “O Lord, Great Sultan of Kad, We request You be seated upon the Leonine Throne when You hear Our words.”

His eyes narrowed and swept the line of women before him, then he stepped to his dais and settled on the massive chair. His expression shifted into the imperial, forbidding one that Varene had only seen on him when he was seated in state.

Discomfited, Varene stirred on her cushion. Sulya eyed her. “Royal Healer, We request you stand before the sultan’s dais.”

After a moment Varene rose, but the woman’s face was as unreadable as an exquisite mask, as were those of the other wives. Varene reached the dais and pivoted toward the semicircle, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. She clasped them behind her back.

The six wives, united in purpose, were a harsh reminder of Varene’s awkward position. Of never quite belonging here.

“First,” Sulya began, with a grave tilt of her head, “it must be said we thank you both for all you have done for us. Royal Healer, twice you have saved lives—including the lives of our children, a debt no thanks can ever repay.”

“Your gratitude is appreciated,” Varene replied stiffly. She glanced across the row of women, some of whom had been her patients, and all of whom she’d wished had become her friends, and her voice softened. “I’m so glad I was able to help.”

Sulya lifted her chin and gazed for long seconds at the sultan, then dropped to her knees on the thick carpet. The five other wives followed suit as she spoke her next words. “Great Sultan, my lord husband, each of us thanks the heavens for the protection You have given. You are the most exemplary of husbands.”

He nodded. “As You are my esteemed wives, for which I also give thanks to the heavens.”

“As I have said here,” Sulya continued, “nothing could repay the debt we owe to You and the Royal Healer. To the woman who has captured Your heart.” The look she sent Varene punctured like a blade, but was soon muffled by lowered lids. Sulya stopped for a moment, as if recomposing her thoughts.

Zahlia touched her back, gently, and Sulya gave a minute nod. “You’ve asked her to marry You and share her life with Yours. She has refused, because to her, marriage should be a monogamous union, each person cleaving only to the other. And You are already married to the six of us. Is this correct, O Lord and Royal Healer?”

Varene and Kuramos glanced at each other, then concurred.

Sulya held still as if girding herself, then planted her palms on her thighs and straightened her spine. “Then there is only one way to repay our debts to you both. We are here this morning to divorce You.”

Varene’s pulse stuttered.

Kuramos took several breaths blank-faced, then arched a brow, eyeing his Sixth Wife. “You wish to divorce me?”

“Yes.” Sulya gazed back unblinkingly.

“All of you do?”

They each nodded their assent.

A pause hung over the room, and Kuramos leaned forward in disbelief. “You wish to divorce the sultan of Kad?”

Sulya ignored him and turned to Varene. “My son is my greatest accomplishment. And my whole heart. My life would be meaningless without him—yet you saved him from death twice over, risking your own life to do so.”

She took a deep breath and seemed about to add more, when Taleen spoke in a thin, determined voice. “I feel the same about Burhan. And you healed me, as well.”

“Me also, and my daughter,” Maitri said. “Mishka loves you, Varene. You’ve become…a mentor to her.” Her quiet words brought back memories of Mishka in the Infirmary observing how to use magic.

Zahlia’s voice rang out. “I would not be alive today without you.”

“Nor I,” said Rajvi, spreading her palms.

“And,” Nireh said, “while I had neither the bird illness, nor children for you to heal, your actions allowed my husband to kill the spy who’d helped Intisar murder my son and daughter long ago.”

Nireh’s hazel eyes glittered. When Kuramos had taken her aside in the hammam and told her of Chaaya’s loyalties and Intisar’s guilt, Nireh had stormed across the room, shouting, “You disgusting bitch—take
this
message to your vile mistress!” and punted Chaaya’s headless body into the water.

Now a numb shock was tumbling through Varene’s limbs as she gawked at Kuramos’s wives. “You would give him up?” she whispered. “So I could marry him?”

“I believe we’ve already answered that,” Zahlia said with an amused smile.

Varene covered her mouth, felt hot tears crowding her eyes. “I’m amazed. I can’t believe…” Her gaze paused on Sulya. “Your generosity overwhelms me. But I don’t deserve it. And I could not take your husband from you.” She swallowed, remembering Kuramos’s words:
You would have them forfeit their places in the palace, have them flung back to their family’s homes and lands with nothing, my children at their heels?
“I’m the one who cannot share. I will not make any of you bleed for it.”