One Thousand Nights (14 page)

“Then he will realize what he has been denying himself all these months, and will abandon this foolish reticence of his once and for all.” Perhaps I frowned, for she hastened to add, “Not, my lady, that it is foolish for a man to wish to protect himself after he has been dealt such a grievous hurt. But surely seven months is quite enough time in your presence for him to realize you are nothing like the woman who inflicted that hurt. So a little…nudge…would not be amiss.”

A nudge. That was one way of looking at it. Then again, how much did I really have to lose? At worst he would rebuff my overtures, and we would be back where we were now. Surely it was worth making the attempt, if it meant that perhaps I might finally have a way of piercing the apparently impenetrable armor he had built around himself.

“Very well,” I said at last. “Perhaps it is time for a little…nudge.”

T
he next evening
I was nearly as nervous as I had been upon meeting my husband for the first time. Understandable, I supposed, as I hoped that what I was about to attempt would reestablish our footing with one another, would allow us to start over.

So, as he was escorting me back to my chambers after dinner…and when I knew we were very close to the corridor that led to his own suite…I said, with apparent carelessness, “Did you know, my lord, that in the far north of Farendon there is a lord who also happens to be a dragon?”

His eyebrows lifted. “A what?”

“A dragon,” I replied. “A great, fierce winged serpent which breathes fire.”

“I know what a dragon is,” Besh returned, although I detected no irritation in his tone. Then his head tilted slightly, and he inquired, “But how is it that one came to be a lord?”

We had arrived at the junction where we could turn off to his private wing of the palace. “As to that, there are conflicting stories, but….” I hesitated, then lifted my shoulders. “Perhaps we could go to your library, so I might tell the tale?”

He paused then, eyes perhaps narrowing slightly as he regarded me. I could only hope that my expression was serene and guileless, so he could catch no hint of the desperation which made my heart seem to beat all too quickly, and my fingers to tremble. Luckily, the skirt of the long tunic I wore was quite full, and I concealed my hands within its folds, praying he would not notice my unease.

Then he gave the smallest lift of his shoulders before replying, “If you wish, my lady. This way.” He offered me his arm, and I took it, willing my foolish and weak flesh to be calm and steady, so it would not betray me. Perhaps it was feeling the strength of his arm beneath mine that allowed my hand to rest lightly on his with no hint of a tremor, or perhaps I finally had gained enough mastery of myself to keep my limbs from shaking. Whichever it was, I walked serenely enough at his side down the long corridor, with its patterned marble floors and sweet-smelling oil burning in lamps of alabaster and bronze, until we reached his chambers. Two of the guards hastened forward to open the huge doors of pierced wood, nearly twice the height of a man, and the rest of them filed in behind us, taking up their positions in the antechamber as we continued to the library.

Once we were there, I did feel slightly more at ease, most likely because the presence of books always calmed me. As evenings went in Keshiaar, it was rather chilly, and so a brazier flickered in one corner, away from the bookshelves that lined all the other walls.

In addition to the chair behind the desk, there were several more scattered about the space. To my relief, Besh pulled out one of those for me, saying, “please sit, my lady,” before taking another for himself. I had feared he might sit behind the desk, using it as a way to keep me at a distance, but it seemed those fears had been for naught.

“And so there is truly a lord in Farendon who is a dragon?” he inquired. “However did you hear of such a thing?”

So it seemed he was willing to humor me for now. Good. I knew I must seem interested enough to keep him engaged, but not so over-eager that he would suspect any motive lay behind my wishing to be here, other than to share my tales with him. “Well, my lord, I have long made a habit of collecting the stories I hear and writing them down, and so people know to come to me with their fantastical tales.”

“They would come to you?” Besh inquired, head tilting slightly as he regarded me. “I had no idea the Crown Princess of Sirlende was so…available.”

A flush touched my cheeks, and I replied in an off-hand way, “Oh, they had to request an audience, of course, unless it was something I heard from one of the servants. They are quite a wealth of information, if one allows oneself to acknowledge that they are far more than merely servants, but people with their own thoughts and hopes and dreams.”

Most men in his position would have been taken aback by such a statement — even my own brother was not immune to the isolating effects of his title — but Besh seemed to consider my words carefully, expression thoughtful. “That is true enough, I suppose, although I must confess it is the first time I have ever heard a woman — or anyone — with such lofty status admit such a thing.” He straightened in his chair and rested his hands on his knees, then said, “So it was one of the servants who told you this?”

I shook my head. “No, my lord. It was a young nobleman from Farendon, who had come as part of a diplomatic party on behalf of his king, to bring gifts to my brother in advance of his wedding to a princess of that land.” As I told Besh this, though, I felt a twinge of sadness for that poor girl, dead so young, and wondered how different all our lives would be if she had married Torric as planned. For then of course he would never have met Ashara, and so I would have known nothing of her aunt — Mistress Larrin most likely would not have lifted a finger to help me in my current situation, as I would only be to her a princess of the land that had cast her out so many years before.

“And so this young man thought to impress you with wild tales from his homeland?”

The curl of Besh’s lip as he asked this question told me he guessed very well what the nobleman’s true objective had been, which was to flirt with the Crown Princess of Sirlende and perhaps gain her favor. I, too, had guessed his motives, and only smiled and asked him about Farendon, as of course I had never been there. And that was when the young nobleman — goodness, what had his name been? — told me about the dragon.

“Perhaps that was his intention, but as he was only the younger son of a baron, he had no hope of pressing his suit with me.”

At that Besh actually chuckled. “Ah, well, men do like to dream.”

And what is it you dream of, Besh, as you sleep here alone?
Of course I could not give voice to that thought, and so I went on, “But he was rather charming, and of course I began to listen very intently when he told me that in the far, far north of his land, just outside a small town called Lirinsholme, there is a castle called Black’s Keep, and in that castle lives a lord named Theran Blackmoor.”

“That does not sound like a very dragonish name to me.”

“Well, he was not a dragon when he was given that name.”

“Ah, so he
became
a dragon?” Besh’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, and he leaned forward slightly, attention fixed on my face.

Oh, gods, this may be working!
I nodded, replying, “That is what the young nobleman told me. He did admit that some claimed this Lord Blackmoor had been born a dragon, a curse from the gods because of some transgression committed by his parents, although no one was able to say precisely what that transgression might have been. But then the young man went on to say that most believed his lordship had been cursed in some way many, many years ago, when magic was still freely practiced, before the great mage wars.”

I paused then, for of course I knew that magic had not disappeared entirely from the world, although its practitioners must needs hide their gifts to avoid persecution and possibly even death. In Sirlende, that was the penalty for using magic, and I had heard they were nearly as strict in Farendon. Which, if they once had mages so powerful they could curse a man into dragon form and have him live for hundreds of years afterward, I supposed was understandable. Keshiaar had escaped the ravages of those terrible wars, and so magic was still practiced here — or so I had heard. Not in a way so any one person could gain an advantage over another, but I had gathered from overhearing several whispered conversations between Marsali and Alina that no one thought twice about consulting a soothsayer at the bazaar, or asking for a potion to relieve one’s aching joints…or attract a husband.

Hmm. Perhaps that was something I should consider. For if this plan that Mistress Larrin had concocted failed, then I could always send Lila to the bazaar to purchase a love potion to open my husband’s unwilling heart….

“So many years, and yet this lord still lives?” Besh asked, and now his tone was plainly skeptical.

Well, I had learned that my husband thought of himself as a man of learning, of science, and so I supposed he would raise an eyebrow at the notion of a mortal man not only cursed into a dragon’s form, but also gifted with what appeared to be unending life. “That is what the young nobleman told me.”

“And had he ever seen this dragon?”

“Oh, no, of course not. The dragon lord does not leave his castle very often.”

“I suppose that is wise, if one does not wish to be stared at.”

I lifted my chin and inquired, somewhat archly, “Are you mocking me, my lord?”

“Of course not.” But a quirk at the corner of his mouth told me otherwise.

“At any rate, the dragon stays inside his castle most of the time, unless he is angry. Then he has been seen flying above the town of Lirinsholme, and all its citizens hide inside, and hope he does not rain down fire upon them with his fearsome breath.”

“And what does one do to invoke the dragon’s wrath?”

“The young nobleman did not say, I fear.” Actually, he had mentioned that long, long ago, a king of Farendon did attempt to vanquish the dragon, so the town of Lirinsholme might be free of its curse, and had been met with fire and death in retaliation. “It may have something to do with the Brides — ” And here I broke off, and feigned a yawn, as if I had only then realized how late the hour actually was.

“The Brides?” Besh asked, ignoring my yawn.

“I am so sorry, my lord, but I am very weary. Could we continue tomorrow night?”

For a second or two he paused. Then he gave a reluctant nod and said, “Of course, my lady. It is important that you get your sleep. We will speak again tomorrow after dinner.”

My heart leapt within my breast, but I only summoned what I hoped was a faint, tired little smile. “Thank you, my lord. I must confess that this unending rain has made me more fatigued than usual.” This was a complete fabrication, as I was finding the cool, grey days a welcome relief from the blazing heat that reigned in Keshiaar three seasons out of the year.

But Besh did not seem to question the proffered excuse, and only rose from his chair, then offered me his hand. I took it gratefully, and he led me from the library out to the antechamber, where the guards fell in around us. From there he safely delivered me to my own suite. The customary bow and a polite “good night,” and he was gone again.

We had parted in such a fashion so many nights before this one. Now, though, I felt my blood seem to sing and dance in my veins, for Besh had agreed to see me alone again, and that could only be a promising sign. And as “Miram” approached me, her dark eyes full of questions, I could only smile and nod, for the other three maids were present, and we could not share any confidences until we had the opportunity to be alone.

But Mistress Larrin, in her guise as the chief of my maids, seemed to understand, for she sent me a returning nod before bidding the other women to see to my wardrobe, while she lifted the heavy headdress from my hair and pulled the bracelets from my arms and the necklace from about my throat. My jewels were so extensive that I had a tall chest with many wide, flat drawers to hold them all, and “Miram” took away the pieces I had worn this evening and stowed them carefully in their proper places.

Odd that I trusted her so implicitly to handle them; after all, they were worth a great deal, and she was in a perfect position to take what she wanted and sell it to the sort of people who dealt in such goods. However, while I could not say I knew Therissa Larrin well, I did know that Ashara loved and trusted her, and so her intentions could only be noble. She had come here to help me, and nothing more.

And it seemed that her assistance was providing results even more quickly than I dared hope. When I was finally ready for bed and my maids had withdrawn to the outer rooms, I lay down and closed my eyes, smiling as I fell into welcome sleep.

T
he next evening
we entertained several princes from the far south of Keshiaar, and Besh seemed so involved in his conversation with them, about the gold mines there, and the need for better roads to them, that I feared he would forget our assignation altogether, or at least postpone it. But although he had broken with tradition by inviting them to sit at our table and converse with us, at the end of the meal he excused himself, saying he had a previous engagement.

So we walked through the corridors once again until we reached his apartments, and once again the guards took up their posts outside the door to the library as we seated ourselves within. It seemed that Besh had prepared himself in advance for tonight’s appointment, as a decanter of dark wine awaited us, along with two cups of gold studded with turquoise.

In that moment I was glad I had drunk sparingly at dinner, knowing that I needed to keep my wits about me. Even so, I would have to be cautious.

“Some wine?” Besh asked, and I said,

“Yes, thank you.”

He poured some into each goblet — not a good deal, not even filling them halfway. So perhaps this was more about hospitality than wishing to make me intoxicated. More’s the pity.

I had just taken my first sip of the wine when he prompted, “So…yesterday evening you mentioned the dragon lord having Brides? What on earth does a dragon want with a wife?”

Good question, my lord. I must wonder whether you have asked yourself very nearly the same thing.
But I made sure my expression was one of polite interest as I replied, “The young nobleman who told me the story didn’t know, for I asked him that as well. All he knew was that from time to time, usually every five years or so, although sometimes it could be much longer or much shorter, a red flag would be hoisted above the dragon lord’s castle, and that was the signal that a new Bride must be selected from the girls of Lirinsholme.”

“And how does that happen?” Besh asked, smiling faintly. I could tell he still didn’t quite believe the tale. To be sure, I wasn’t sure I believed it myself, either, although the young nobleman from Farendon had insisted that every word of it was true. “Does the dragon come down and choose the comeliest young woman for himself?”