Lady Of Fire (11 page)

Two thick braids hung on either side of her hennaed face, six from her crown, and one from the nape of her neck. “Lovely,” she murmured and returned her thoughts to Lucien.

Disappointed by the lack of enthusiasm, Nada made a mewl of disgust and began to peel the dried henna from Alessandra’s face. Once the residue of paste was wiped away, all that remained of the ceremonial preparations was the application of cosmetics.

To a restless Alessandra, it was a waste of time, for they would have to be reapplied on the morrow, but it was useless to protest. This was the women’s night, and they would be satisfied with nothing less than everything.

Finally, she rose from the stool. The women exclaimed over her, touched her hair, admired the orange henna stains, and breathed deeply of the fragrant scents wafting from her hair and skin.

Telling herself there would be time aplenty to discover the cause of Khalid’s distress, Alessandra yielded to the women, certain they would soon drift away and immerse themselves in the revelry.

It took longer than hoped, but at last she was free to seek out her mother.

“You look lovely, Daughter.” Sabine patted the cushion beside her.

Alessandra sank down on the divan. “Has something happened to Lucien?”

Sabine glanced around to be certain none were privy to their conversation. “Why do you ask?”

“I saw you speaking with Khalid. He seemed troubled.”

“It was nothing. All has been taken care of.”

“And Lucien?”

Eyes fixed elsewhere, Sabine said, “Be assured, it had naught to do with him.”

Alessandra followed her gaze to Leila.

“A dangerous woman,” Sabine murmured. “An even more dangerous mother-in-law.”

“I will be cautious,” Alessandra assured her.

Her mother looked back at her. “There is no need.”

“But have you not told me—”

“So I have.” Sabine flicked an impatient hand. “She is a viper and will stop at nothing to harm either of us.”

“Then why should I not be cautious?”

Her mother leaned near. “After tonight, you will be gone from here.”

Alessandra jerked back. “I will not! I have told you—”
 

“Do not speak so loud!” Sabine rasped. “And try to smile.”

A look around the hall revealing her outburst had not gone unnoticed, Alessandra pretended an interest in the dancers. “I am not going,” she whispered. “I will not leave you.”

Sabine squeezed her hand. “You cannot stay amid such danger.”

Alessandra peered sidelong at her. “If you can survive it, I can.”

“I have been fortunate, but one day, my luck will end.”

“Nay.” Alessandra shook her head. “You are too wise. Indeed, methinks you may live forever.”

Sabine stared at her daughter’s profile, wondered if she should have revealed her illness to Alessandra. Would knowledge of it make a difference? Move her to do what must be done?

In the end, she came to the same conclusion she always did. It would make her daughter more determined to remain at her side. And when the sickness finally took her, it would be too late to send Alessandra to England. She would be wed to Rashid, quite possibly with his child growing in her belly.

If not that Khalid caught her eye and gave the agreed upon signal, Sabine would have pursued the argument. Instead, she nudged Alessandra. “Go. I wish to see you dance one last time before you wed.”

Her daughter’s eyes widened. “You are granting me permission?”

Sabine shooed her away. “Enjoy yourself. When you are wed, Rashid will not allow it.”

Slowly, Alessandra rose. “You are sure?”

Sabine also gained her feet. “Go quickly before I change my mind.”

Still Alessandra hesitated, then she hurried away to join the dancers.

“It is done,” Khalid told Sabine as they watched her daughter take up the dance.

“You saw her?”

“I did. It was hidden in her vest.”

He spoke of Leila and the lethal drug he had earlier discovered missing from his closet of medicines.

“What did she put it on?” Sabine asked.

“Dates. Those on the platter the girl brings you.” Khalid jutted his chin at the servant girl who threaded her way toward them. “I will take them to Jabbar and show him Leila’s murderous deceit.”

“No. That will not stop the wedding. And even if Leila is removed, eventually, another will take her place.”

Khalid narrowed his eyes. “What do you propose, mistress?”

“Let the girl bring me the food. This night, Leila will have one small triumph.”

“Mistress, you do not intend—?”

“I am dying, Khalid. Whether it be this day or a month from now, the end is the same.”

“What of Alessandra?”

It deeply grieved her that her daughter might see her in the throes of death, but there seemed no other way. “It will serve to convince her the dangers are real, and once I am gone, she will see there is nothing for her here.”

Khalid growled low. “Nothing except the only life she has known.”

“She will go with Lucien,” Sabine said firmly. In spite of her misgivings over trusting him with Alessandra, she had come to realize their mutual attraction could be the bond that held them together until they reached England. She only prayed Alessandra would not reveal she was a Breville.

Unaware she bore death upon her arms, the girl set the platter of beautifully prepared food on the nearby table. “For your daughter and you, mistress.” She bowed, turned away.

My daughter,
Sabine inwardly raged as she considered the half-dozen gleaming dates. She drew a deep breath, chose a sweetmeat instead, and carried it toward her mouth. “Does Leila watch?” she asked.

A muscle in Khalid’s jaw clenched. “Yes, mistress.”

Sabine slowly chewed the sweetmeat, slowly swallowed, more slowly considered the dates. And chose the plumpest. “I have prepared a bag for Alessandra’s journey,” she said. “You will find it beneath my dressing table.”

“I beg you, mistress”—Khalid’s voice was tight with what she knew were tears—“do not do this.”

“You have been a good friend. As promised, all except that which I give my daughter and the Englishman is yours.”

“Seif is more than capable of forcing her to go with him,” Khalid reminded her of their original plan.

Sabine rolled the sticky fruit between thumb and forefinger. “She holds her breath, does she not?”

Nostrils flaring, hands tight at his sides, Khalid glanced at where Leila reclined. “She does.”

“I wonder how long she can go without air before she faints,” Sabine mused and lifted the poisoned fruit to her lips. Holding it there, she waited for Khalid to turn his coal-black gaze upon her. When he did, she said, “Do not mourn me, old friend. At last, I shall be free of pain.”

Something warm and loving, as of deepest friendship, passed between them, then she turned her regard upon her lovely, vivacious daughter. She waited, and when she felt something akin to peace—the nearest she could come—she took her first bite of the poisoned fruit.

And so I win, Leila,
she silently gloried in her triumph.

Unhurriedly, she ate the remainder of the date, and four others. “A pity she did not put poison on something else,” she said as she licked the juice from her fingers. “I have never been fond of dates.”

She lowered herself to the divan that would be her deathbed, made herself comfortable among the pillows, and folded her hands over her abdomen. “Of course, they were intended for Alessandra, were they not?” It was well known her daughter had a passion for the little fruits.

Khalid poured a goblet of honeyed lemon juice and passed it to her.

Wondering when she would feel the beginnings of death, Sabine sipped the cool liquid and reached to the platter again. “This”—she nudged the last date—“you must take to Jabbar.”

A gleam in his eyes, Khalid said, “He will feed it to Leila.”

He probably would, and that was good. Even if Lucien de Gautier failed her, an almost unthinkable event, Leila would not be given another chance to harm Alessandra.

“Will it be long, Khalid?” she asked when several minutes had passed.

“Though it is deadly, it is slow to act.”

She should have known Leila would not choose something that would deprive her of the pleasure of a slow death. “Is it painful?”

“It is, but if you do not fight it, the pain will be less.”

There was not much comfort in that, but it was good to know what to expect. Looking past the dancers, she picked out Leila’s flushed countenance.

Poor woman,
she mused,
she knows not whether to celebrate or lament. She has what she has ever wanted, and yet not all to which she aspired this eve.

Sabine’s wry smile slipped when she caught sight of Alessandra making her way toward her.

“It was wonderful!” her daughter exclaimed as she neared. “I do not think I shall ever forget this night.”

For a different reason, Sabine hoped she would not.

Alessandra dropped down beside her, poured herself a drink, and quickly drained the goblet.

“Why do you waste your time with me when you could be dancing?” Sabine asked, gliding a hand over her daughter’s arm. As she did so, it occurred to her this was the last time they would touch. Vision blurring, she looked away.

Alessandra, who had not felt like laughing earlier, did so now. “Even I must rest sometime, Mother.” She leaned sideways, planted a kiss on Sabine’s cheek, and reached for the last date. Only to have it snatched from beneath her fingers.

“Khalid!” she exclaimed. Never had she seen the chief eunuch take food in front of the harem women.

He smiled, a tight thing that did not reach his eyes or soften the grooves alongside his mouth.

“You are behaving most strange,” Alessandra said.

He shrugged. “I am hungry.”

She eyed the fruit. “Then why do you not eat it?”

“I would enjoy it in private.”

It did not seem as if he sported with her, and yet what other explanation was there? She stood, held out a hand. “If you are not going to eat it now, surely I ought to enjoy it?”

He crossed his arms over his chest.

It had to be a game he played. Smiling, she looked down at her mother, in the next instant crouched beside her.

“What is wrong?” she gasped, searching Sabine’s contorted face.

“I—” Her mother’s voice broke, and she lurched against the pillows, threw her head back, and wheezed.

Khalid yanked Alessandra to her feet and thrust her aside.

“What is wrong with her?” Alessandra cried.

He knelt alongside the divan and drew Sabine into his arms.

She convulsed again, rasped, “Pain!”

“Mother!” Alessandra dropped down beside Khalid. “What is happening?”

Drawing short, jerky breaths, Sabine opened her eyes. “Poison.” Her hand trembled violently as she raised it to Alessandra’s face. “I warned…”

Alessandra caught her mother’s hand and pressed it to her heart. “What do you mean?”

Sabine’s gaze flickered over the faces of those gathering around, and when they settled upon her rival, she cried, “Leila.” Then she convulsed again, snapping her head back and causing the muscles of her throat to bulge and veins to rise.

All of her trembling, Alessandra stared at Rashid’s mother whose face radiated satisfaction, then she thrust to her feet.

As if the others knew her intent, they cleared a path for her all the way to Leila. Alessandra halted before the woman. “You did this.”

Leila raised her eyebrows. “I know not what you speak of.”

Alessandra lunged, and the two fell to the floor, Leila taking the brunt of the fall upon the hard tiles.

“Murderer!” Alessandra raked her nails down the older woman’s face and neck.

Leila retaliated with a slap that snapped her attacker’s head to the side, then caught Alessandra’s braids and wrenched them.

Physical pain nothing compared to what shredded her heart, Alessandra bunched her hands and drove them into Leila’s sides. Distantly, she heard the woman’s cries, distantly she felt herself being tugged and pulled. Then she was dragged off Leila and back against a firm chest.

“What are you doing, Alessandra?” It was Rashid.

“Release me!” she screamed, straining and thrusting her body toward Leila who struggled to her feet.

Rashid wrapped his arms tight around her. “Cease!”

She jerked her chin around and met his gaze over her shoulder. “You are not my master! Loose me!”

Shock swept the anger from his eyes. “Alessandra, what—?”

A shout of denial resounding around the room, Rashid turned her with him to see Jabbar fall to his knees beside the divan.

“No!” he shouted and dragged Sabine’s limp form out of Khalid’s arms into his own.

The bones also went out of Alessandra. If not for Rashid’s support, she would have crumpled to the floor. “Mother,” she croaked as the man whom none had ever seen shed a tear buried his face in Sabine’s hair and began to sob.

“I do not understand,” Rashid said as if to himself.

“Release me,” Alessandra demanded. “Now!”

His arms fell away.

Legs feeling as if they might collapse, she stumbled forward and sank down beside Jabbar.

As he continued to weep and deny that the woman he loved was lost to him, Alessandra pressed a palm to Sabine’s back and prayed her heart yet beat. It had to. If Jabbar would only quiet, she would feel it.

Swallowing so hard it hurt, she lifted her mother’s wrist, stopped breathing, and strained to feel life jump beneath her fingers. Nothing.

“Mother,” she choked, then dropped her chin to her chest and arms to her sides, and sank back on her heels.

Though grief demanded a greater outlet than the tears streaming her face, she sealed her lips against the sobs and howls that filled her throat so full she felt it would burst. Shaking her head, she began to rock herself back and forth.

Minutes passed. Perhaps hours.

Alessandra did not know. She knew only that her mother had been carried away and all sent from the hall, and it was into this pounding silence that someone came to her.

He lowered beside her and, with gentle murmurings, stroked her hair. She did not know him. Did not want him here. Wanted to awaken and have all be as it was, no matter how the bars of her gilded cage chafed.