beer.
Kamen's belly rumbled. He slapped his sculpted abs and hurried on. Breakfast
would have to wait.
When he rounded
the corner that connected the corridor with the main hall just outside the
throne room, Kamen ran right into the Fihdal ambassador.
“ Good morning, Your Grace.” The Fihdal man's wet hair stuck to his
flushed face. The pale northerners could not take the heat. “I was wondering if
perhaps today King Jahen might see to our dispute. I don't know how much longer
we can tolerate these Vadal incursions. You know—”
Kamen held up a
hand and smiled. “Yes, I know. I will speak to the King. Patience, ambassador.”
He rushed on. He would have to deal with the Vadal-Fihdal border dispute soon.
All he needed was a war on his northern border while he was trying to keep his
country out of the Ausir civil war.
Kamen stopped in
front of a door and knocked. Ajalira opened the door, and Kamen sucked in his
breath to keep her sudden beauty from stealing it. Her golden horns swept back
over her head, crowning her braided hair in loveliness. She wore a translucent
white Sunjaa gown, and Kamen could not keep his eyes from her peeking, pink
nipples. His gaze traveled lower to her hairless mound, though it was hidden in
the folds of her dress. He considered kissing her, but he did not want her to
react the way she had before. She had thought herself a whore and a slave;
Kamen hoped to disabuse her of that notion. Lotuses were highly honored among
both the Zenji and the Sunjaa. He would make her see her worth. He would never
accept the shame she imposed upon herself.
“ Good morning, Ajalira.” He bowed.
Ajalira returned
the bow in deep Zenji fashion. “Good morning, Your Grace.” Her eyes were more
green than blue this morning, and in them Kamen sensed apprehension.
Kamen glanced
back in annoyance at his servants. Ajalira would not be familiar with him in
front of the slaves, and he longed to hear her say his name. On her lips,
“Kamen” was a blessing. He looked her up and down. “You've been awake for some
time?”
“ Just reading.”
“ What were you reading?”
“ Brushing up on Aren.”
Kamen chuckled
and looked down at her beautiful, sandaled feet. Her pale skin was lovely
against the dark, stained leather. “In the original Sunjaa dialect, of course?”
Ajalira's lips
turned up in a smile, though her manner was still guarded. Kamen wanted more
than anything to break through that barrier and get to the woman he knew wanted
him as much as he wanted her.
“ I have need of you.” He would conjure her sense of duty to keep her
by his side.
The anxiety in
Ajalira's eyes vanished. “What do you require?” She had told him she owed him a
life-debt. She would serve him however she could. Was that a Tamari thing?
“ The Seranimesti are here.”
Ajalira's blonde
eyebrows shot up. “So soon?”
“ What can you tell me of them?” He extended his hand, and she took
it. He guided her from her apartments.
“ Little more than you probably already know, Sire.” Ajalira expertly
extricated her hand from his. She folded her hands behind her as she walked.
“They lead one of the three factions. As you know, the other two are led by the
Kimereth and the Losiengare.”
“ This damn war! Why not find the one most capable to lead and crown
him?”
Ajalira did not
reply immediately. In fact, she was silent so long that Kamen had to bend
forward to look past her flowing hair to see her face. A dark look had crept
into her eyes.
“ That is the problem,” she said at last. “There is no rightful heir.”
“ Surely there is a next in line.”
Ajalira shook
her head. “The assassins made sure there was no one left. Now those who fight
vie for power on equal political footing.”
“ Whom do you favor?” Kamen trusted her instincts already.
Ajalira looked
into Kamen's eyes. “It is not my place to say.”
“ Of course it is.” Kamen stopped, placed a hand on each of Ajalira's
shoulders, and
Kamen's belly rumbled. He slapped his sculpted abs and hurried on. Breakfast
would have to wait.
When he rounded
the corner that connected the corridor with the main hall just outside the
throne room, Kamen ran right into the Fihdal ambassador.
“ Good morning, Your Grace.” The Fihdal man's wet hair stuck to his
flushed face. The pale northerners could not take the heat. “I was wondering if
perhaps today King Jahen might see to our dispute. I don't know how much longer
we can tolerate these Vadal incursions. You know—”
Kamen held up a
hand and smiled. “Yes, I know. I will speak to the King. Patience, ambassador.”
He rushed on. He would have to deal with the Vadal-Fihdal border dispute soon.
All he needed was a war on his northern border while he was trying to keep his
country out of the Ausir civil war.
Kamen stopped in
front of a door and knocked. Ajalira opened the door, and Kamen sucked in his
breath to keep her sudden beauty from stealing it. Her golden horns swept back
over her head, crowning her braided hair in loveliness. She wore a translucent
white Sunjaa gown, and Kamen could not keep his eyes from her peeking, pink
nipples. His gaze traveled lower to her hairless mound, though it was hidden in
the folds of her dress. He considered kissing her, but he did not want her to
react the way she had before. She had thought herself a whore and a slave;
Kamen hoped to disabuse her of that notion. Lotuses were highly honored among
both the Zenji and the Sunjaa. He would make her see her worth. He would never
accept the shame she imposed upon herself.
“ Good morning, Ajalira.” He bowed.
Ajalira returned
the bow in deep Zenji fashion. “Good morning, Your Grace.” Her eyes were more
green than blue this morning, and in them Kamen sensed apprehension.
Kamen glanced
back in annoyance at his servants. Ajalira would not be familiar with him in
front of the slaves, and he longed to hear her say his name. On her lips,
“Kamen” was a blessing. He looked her up and down. “You've been awake for some
time?”
“ Just reading.”
“ What were you reading?”
“ Brushing up on Aren.”
Kamen chuckled
and looked down at her beautiful, sandaled feet. Her pale skin was lovely
against the dark, stained leather. “In the original Sunjaa dialect, of course?”
Ajalira's lips
turned up in a smile, though her manner was still guarded. Kamen wanted more
than anything to break through that barrier and get to the woman he knew wanted
him as much as he wanted her.
“ I have need of you.” He would conjure her sense of duty to keep her
by his side.
The anxiety in
Ajalira's eyes vanished. “What do you require?” She had told him she owed him a
life-debt. She would serve him however she could. Was that a Tamari thing?
“ The Seranimesti are here.”
Ajalira's blonde
eyebrows shot up. “So soon?”
“ What can you tell me of them?” He extended his hand, and she took
it. He guided her from her apartments.
“ Little more than you probably already know, Sire.” Ajalira expertly
extricated her hand from his. She folded her hands behind her as she walked.
“They lead one of the three factions. As you know, the other two are led by the
Kimereth and the Losiengare.”
“ This damn war! Why not find the one most capable to lead and crown
him?”
Ajalira did not
reply immediately. In fact, she was silent so long that Kamen had to bend
forward to look past her flowing hair to see her face. A dark look had crept
into her eyes.
“ That is the problem,” she said at last. “There is no rightful heir.”
“ Surely there is a next in line.”
Ajalira shook
her head. “The assassins made sure there was no one left. Now those who fight
vie for power on equal political footing.”
“ Whom do you favor?” Kamen trusted her instincts already.
Ajalira looked
into Kamen's eyes. “It is not my place to say.”
“ Of course it is.” Kamen stopped, placed a hand on each of Ajalira's
shoulders, and
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