The Healer's Warrior (2 page)

What am I doing?

Regaining his senses, he returned to the healing room and slept. When he woke up again the sun was shining. He breathed in the smell of salt water, oils and incense; the scent of Jem’ya. The house was quiet. His stomach growled.

“Jem’ya.”

 Jem’ya opened her eyes at the sound of a deep voice whispering her name. Her eyes focused in on the shirtless male figure towering over her with a grin on his face. She blinked up at him. She had never known any man to have such dark, full lashes before meeting Tareq. It was as though his hazel eyes were perpetually lined with black kohl.

“Are you hungry?” he smiled.

“I guess,” she yawned.

“Good, so am I. Why don’t you make us some breakfast? Honeyed porridge with dates would be nice.” He nodded and left the room.

Jem’ya rolled her eyes. “Why of course, King Tareq,” she muttered. She wondered why he was acting strange today. He’d never been as bold as to come into her bedroom or to walk about so long in only his undershorts. She got out of bed, brushed her hair into a neat bun, and changed into a long black cotton dress with three straps on each shoulder.

She prepared a breakfast of fried eggs, tomato salad and flatbread, all of which Tareq was smart enough to eat without complaint.

“Why have you not put on your clothes?” Jem’ya questioned as she began to clear the table, glancing suspiciously at his bare upper body.

Tareq blushed slightly then chuckled. “Because I have no reason to be shy with you, do I? Are you expecting guests today?”

“No.” Jem’ya began washing their dishes in a basin in the kitchen.

“Then it will not be an issue.” He stood up from the table and walked towards her. “Besides, I want us to go for a swim.”

“Us?
Aah
!
Tareq, no!”

Tareq knelt and grabbed her around her thighs. He stood up with her squirming over his hard shoulder. Laughing, he walked out of the house with her and strolled down the beach.

“Put me down! I do not want to swim, Tareq!” she screamed as he stepped foot into the water. “No!”

With an annoyed sigh, he stopped. His large hand slid unintentionally up across the rise of her behind and finally to her lower back to steady her as he bent to set her down.

Once she was standing on her own two feet she gave his shoulder a hard shove.

Tareq was shocked. He’d never been assailed by a woman before and he’d never seen Jem’ya look so angry.

“You can’t just take what you want!” she exclaimed. “You cannot bend others’ will to match your own. I am your friend and I demand some consideration!”

“I only wanted you to have fun!” he retorted. It was not a comfortable position for him to be on the receiving end of commands. He rubbed at his shoulder. “Fine,” he frowned. “I will swim alone.”

“You shouldn’t be swimming at all, Tareq,” she sighed as he ran further into the water. “You should rest your body as much as possible.” She shook her head as he dove under a large wave. What was the point of her work if he ran out and exhausted himself the very next day? She peered out at the water but Tareq was still under the surface.

Suddenly a wave crashed onto the shore and tossed Tareq at Jem’ya’s feet. It was as if the sea had spit him back out. He sputtered and coughed the salt water from his throat as he lie on his side in the wet sand.

Jem’ya howled laughing. Tangled in all that green seaweed, Tareq looked just like a cabbage roll.

He peeled off a strand of slimy seaweed and threw it at her but she dodged it. They laughed. Finally he cleared his throat and caught his breath. “I’m done having fun for today.” He stood up and shook the remaining seaweed from his body.

Jem’ya turned her face away from him and nervously rubbed at her brow. Soaked with water, his black shorts were clinging to his form in the most revealing way.

He smirked at her reaction. “Bring me a towel, please,” he said, eyeing the back of her slender neck.

“Yes.” She walked quickly back to the house.

He chuckled to himself. She was suddenly taking his direction. How interesting. He watched her long black dress flutter around her figure in the sea breeze. When she returned with the towel cloth he smiled and wiped the remaining debris from his face and body. He spread the towel out on the sand and lay down on it. “Sit with me while I dry in the sun.” He squinted up at Jem’ya.

“I’d rather sit in the shade of the house. I don’t want to dry out my skin and I have no need to tan.”

“It must be nice to always be dark-skinned and never have to worry about getting pale.”

Jem’ya’s round eyes narrowed. “Yes, it’s so nice to be a dark-skinned African. We are oppressed, exploited, murdered and enslaved, but how lucky we are to never have to worry about tanning.” She trudged away from him towards the house.

Propped up on his elbows, he called after her. “I didn’t…Don’t be so sensitive,
Mahsalom
!” His stomach felt queasy as he watched her disappear into her dwelling. Tareq lie back on the towel and closed his eyes to think through how his compliment had become an insult. Jem’ya was a well-respected black African healer among the local North Africans. She was treated well. He treated her well. In fact, he thought of her as a good friend. Why had she turned on him?

Did she know something?

Nonsense.
Though Jem’ya was sweet she was not silent. If she knew his true identity, if she knew his deeds, she would never want to touch him again. Tareq’s scalp, neck and shoulders began to ache.

 From the house, Jem’ya watched Tareq bathing in the sun. Why had she been so quick to anger? Now that she’d cooled down she realized her mistake. Tareq was only trying to be good-humored. And earlier when he’d been playful and brought her out to the water, she’d become unreasonably upset as well. He was her friend, yet she was pushing him away. Why?

Tareq stood up from the sand. Jem’ya stepped away from the window and busied herself in the kitchen.

Tareq saw Jem’ya washing dishes. Wordlessly, he went into the healing room to put on his robes. He walked back to the kitchen licking the salty taste of the sea from his lips. “Jem’ya?”

Jem’ya let go of the bowl she was cleaning and turned to him, but her gaze fell to the wood floor.

Tareq crossed the room. “I’m very sorry that I offended you.” He reached out his hand and stroked her shoulder with his knuckles.

Her skin began to burn for more of his touch. “I overreacted. Forgive me,” she said. She shook her head. “I should never speak to a patient that way. I shouldn’t step outside my position as your healer. This is a professional relationship.” She looked up into Tareq’s eyes, golden brown with hints of green, outlined by full black lashes. Her mouth went dry.

He dropped his hand from her shoulder. “Yes.” He considered her words and forced himself to smile. “You care for my health like no one else. I have something for you.” He led her out to the camel where he pulled a small metal box from the saddlebag and placed it in her hand.

Jem’ya’s eyes widened when she opened the box. Tareq had always been one to give her sumptuous gifts of fine
silks,
valuable spices, rich foods and expensive baubles, but this gift took her breath away.

“May I?” Tareq smiled. He took one of the earrings from the box and stepped closer to her. Holding her ear between his fingers he pushed the hook into her pierced lobe. He affectionately rubbed her ear between his thumb and index finger and started on the next earring.

As Tareq held her other earlobe between his fingers, Jem’ya stood speechless. The earrings were dangling pearls wrapped in a cage of gold. He was much more prosperous than she’d thought if he could afford to give such a gift to his therapist.

After Tareq rubbed the other earlobe and stepped back, he looked at her in quiet admiration for a moment.

“Tareq, my services are free,” she breathed.

“Ah, but they are priceless to so many people.” He took Jem’ya’s hand and gently kissed the top of it, letting his lips linger on her soft dark skin. Then Tareq tugged down on the camel’s reins. “Down,” he barked. The camel batted its long lashes and kneeled, folding its legs beneath itself. Jem’ya ran her hand along the camel’s soft white neck as Tareq climbed onto its back.

Jem’ya smiled. “Goodbye, Handsome.”

“Thank you,” Tareq grinned.

She giggled. “I was talking to the camel.”

“Of course you were.” He winked. “God be with you, Jem’ya.”

Jem’ya nodded. “Thank you.”

Tareq clicked his tongue and the camel stood and began its pace.

A smile on her face and a blush on her cheeks, Jem’ya went back towards her house and sat in a chair under the shade of the roof. She glanced at the diminishing sight of Tareq riding away and suddenly began to weep. She wiped at her face and looked down at the tears on her fingers in shock. A terrible sob escaped her mouth. She buried her face in a handful of her skirt. It felt like her whole life was out of balance, like something that was once full inside her had become empty. Maybe she should have never left her family in
Tikso
: Mama, Papa, her older brother
Kibwe
, her new niece and her nephew, her half siblings, her grandparents, her aunts and uncles and cousins, her tribal brothers and sisters…Everyone.

She needed to feel the renewing warmth of her family’s love again. After two years, Jem’ya knew it was finally time to take a trip back home.

It was getting harder and harder to ride away from the paradise Jem’ya had created on the Coast. Jem’ya’s home brought Tareq such peace. There was such a confident, calm energy emanating from her that it soothed him just to see her face. He had searched three years for someone who could make the pain cease. He had been made ill by countless failed remedies and wasted a small fortune on the claims of witch doctors.

When he finally found Jem’ya it was an incredible relief. He was disappointed some mornings when he woke up in the palace rather than in Jem’ya’s healing room. She was gentle but powerful, dedicated and selfless. She made him smile. He chuckled, thinking of the way she touched at her brow when she was nervous and the endearing way her small half-moon ears stuck out. And she had those dark sultry eyes.

He wanted to take her to bed, true, but any man would. His brows wrinkled. Anyways, Jem’ya was a commoner so he would never allow himself to get involved with a woman of such low status. His father had fallen for a commoner, Tareq’s mother, and his weakness for her had destroyed the man’s soul.

Tareq sighed at the brown, rocky desert and rough hills before him. He cursed the camel’s slow speed when on his way to the Coast but never complained on his way back to Samhia. There was nothing but stress waiting for him there. His father was dying and the greedy bastard was being more controlling than ever. Their kingdom was falling apart under the strain of his father’s insatiable need for constant expansion.

Tareq was a bit resentful of his destiny. He was only next in line to the throne by default. His older brother Qadir had no couth or sense of responsibility and would surely let Samhia fall to a civil war under his drunken watch.

Everything fell to Tareq now.

Sometimes he thought that, if he had the choice, he’d leave it all behind and live the simple life of a farmer. The farmers envious of his riches had no idea the insanity of one day being responsible for millions of lives. Tareq’s heart and mind were pulled in so many directions every day. It was a torment that could only be endured by dulling one’s sympathy.