Daughters of Jared, page 2
My throat went dry, and my heart pounded as if I’d just run to the hills and back. What was wrong with me? I blinked and tore my gaze from Akish, looking at the other men. Unlike Akish, they watched my sister. They hadn’t made the mistake of wasting their time looking at me. These men were normal, like the men we encountered every day, like the men who would give their right arms to please my sister.
Then my father spoke again, his deep voice cutting through my thoughts as he introduced us. “Naiva is a fine artist. Since she is the second daughter, her skills in art might provide her a living one day,” he said with a chuckle.
In truth, I should have been pleased at the backward, yet rare, compliment from my father, but I was mortified. Akish looked at me again, and for some reason, I wanted him to think I was an accomplished woman—skilled in all the things my sister had been taught—and that I would never stoop to earning a living selling paintings in the market.
“Of course, you’ve heard of Asherah, my eldest daughter.” The pride oozed from my father’s lips.
Ash stepped forward boldly, though none of the men seemed taken aback.
Akish’s lips formed a smile that was more than polite, but still, his gaze flickered back to me, and I was again on fire with the attention.
I was stunned. A man who wasn’t instantly besotted with my sister was a rarity—an impossibility if I hadn’t seen it for myself. I prayed that my sister didn’t notice. Her temper was worse than most methods of execution a king might dream up.
Akish stepped forward and took my sister’s hand, bringing it to his full lips. She smiled up at him and let her hand linger. Behind her gaze was a challenge, a game Ash liked to play. But instead of becoming cowed and besotted, Akish returned her stare, strength in his gaze. When he released her and straightened, his eyes went to me again, and before I could move, his hand grasped mine.
I practically felt my father’s and sister’s astonishment mirroring my own as Akish kissed my hand, that of a second daughter, a daughter who held no significance in the family except to serve the eldest. His lips were warm, and his beard brushed against my skin ever so softly. He smelled of earth and spices. Until this moment, I had never noticed one man’s scent from another.
His fingers tightened on mine for an instant before he released me, or maybe I imagined it. I wasn’t sure. No man had ever kissed my hand like I was a queen before.
MY SISTER DIDN’T SPEAK TO me for two days after Akish and his men left. She had noticed the special attention Akish had shown me, but even worse, the whole court had noticed. My father had tried to make light of it, though he, too, watched me closely now.
On the third day, Ash came into my chamber with a smile on her face and acted as if she had never been upset with me. I knew she was up to something.
“Eat with me,” Ash begged. She was usually cross in the mornings and preferred to take the first meal by herself. She tugged my hand, pulling me onto the veranda that overlooked the gardens. Two male servants quickly disappeared when we arrived. Both of the servants were borrowed, coming in the mornings to work then returning to their masters’ homes to finish out the rest of the day. The meal was already laid out for one, but my sister insisted I sit.
We lounged on the cushions and bit into the juicy guava. I watched her carefully. “Is Father well?”
“He is sad again,” Ash said, almost to herself. She looked out over the garden, her face glowing in the morning light as the sun warmed the eastern sky.
“Father’s been sad for many years,” I said in my matter-of-fact way. “His two loves are gone. Our mother is dead, and his kingdom is lost. We, his daughters, are his only solace now.”
Her dark eyes turned to me. “We can’t bring our mother back. Yet . . .” Her gaze was far away again.
“Ash? What are you thinking?”
She stood and stepped down from the veranda. I followed as she moved aimlessly through the garden. When I reached Ash, she stopped and faced me. I recoiled at the determination I saw in her eyes. My stomach tightened, and I regretted the fruit I’d eaten.
“Sorcery won’t bring our mother back, no matter what the oracle says,” I said. “And it’s too dangerous to try.”
“I’m not thinking about Mother.” Her eyes narrowed. “We must help our father get his kingdom back.”
“How?” I said. “By raising a militia? Going against Grandfather again? We’ve already discussed this. Grandfather is more powerful than ever. Our loyals will be killed on the first day of battle, and then we’ll have nothing and nowhere to live.”
Ash grabbed my arm and leaned close enough that I smelled the cinnamon in her hair. “I’ve been reading records from many generations ago and have studied their ancient conspiracies. If my plan works, we’ll each have our own palace.” Her words came out in a rush as her voice rose in pitch. “Every person in the land will bow down to us. And I will be queen. Father will be restored to his former glory. There will be no war, no loyals killed.”
“How can that be? Who will you marry that is powerful enough to win the kingdom back?” I pulled away from her, afraid of her frenzied speech, afraid of what I might hear. War meant loss of life, grieving in the roads, and danger for the royal family.
She straightened, her gaze exultant. “Come with me, dear sister. Listen to what I have to tell Father.” She hurried away, and it was all I could do to keep up with her. She passed the supper table without a glance and entered our home. It was not difficult to locate Father in the mornings, for he usually stayed in bed until midday. He preferred to stay up late at night, surrounding himself with entertainment.
A single guard was stationed outside his room. At the sight of us, the guard squared his shoulders and bowed deeply.
“I must speak with the king,” Ash said.
The guard knew better than to dissuade my sister, no matter what the hour. He opened the door and called into the room. “Her Highness seeks an audience.”
Father did not respond, so Ash pushed past the guard. We found my father just waking in his large platform bed, bleary eyed. He smiled as Ash poured a generous amount of wine into a goblet by his bedside.
“Here, Father, it will help you wake.” She handed the goblet to him and waited for him to take his first swallow.
“Why is the king still in bed on such a beautiful morning?” Ash said.
If anyone but my sister had spoken those words, our father would have been furious. For his favorite daughter, he simply chuckled. “The nights have been very long lately, as you know, my dear.”
“I’ll tell you why,” she said in a sweet but careful voice. “Because my father has been wrongfully forced to give up his throne. My father, who won the kingdom because of the love of the people, has been enslaved in his homeland by his own brothers, treated as a mere pauper when he should be revered by all. You should be wearing furs and feathered capes, not thin robes. You should have a vast selection of jewelry and headdresses to choose from for every meal.”
My father sat up straighter in his bed, his attention purely focused on his beloved daughter. The determination in her eyes was plain, and it demanded his attention.
“The people have not changed.” Ash took my father’s hand in hers. “They want you as their king, but they are afraid to go against Grandfather. We must give them what they truly want.” She kissed his hand. “And what they want is you.”
Father’s eyes were bright with pleasure. “How do you know they want me?”
“It’s whispered in every corner, by every set of lips.” She kissed his other hand. “I have heard their pleas more than a thousand times. The people must have their wish.”
“How will we gain back the throne?” Father said in a reverent voice.
“Do you not remember how King Shule obtained his kingdom more than once?”
I stared at my sister. Although I’d spent fewer hours in learning than her, I knew the old accounts well. Shule had battled his brother Corihor and had given the kingdom back to their father, Kib. When Kib bestowed the kingship to Shule, his nephew Noah rose up and battled for the kingdom. Later, a son of Shule crept into the house of Noah and killed him.
I exhaled, my heart thumping. Every story that included the kingdom of Shule involved battles or secret murders.
My father released Ash’s hand and threw off his covers. He swung his legs over the bed and stood, drawing himself up to his full height. “What are you saying?”
Ash drew back, a twisted smile on her face. “The kings of old obtained their kingdoms through secret strategies. And I have just that—” She lowered her voice conspiratorially—“a secret plan.” She knelt before my father and took his hand. “Soon, Father—soon every citizen will kneel before you as I do now.”
Father gripped her fingers, his eyes burning with excitement. “Tell me your idea.”
“First,” Ash said, “we must invite Akish back to our home. I have made some inquiries and discovered he will be the ideal man to fulfill my plan.”
My head snapped in Ash’s direction. How could she involve Akish in her plan to restore my father’s throne? My heart pounded, both with fear and exhilaration. I couldn’t wait to see Akish again, but what did my sister want with him? She’d always had her way in everything. I was afraid. Afraid of what she might do.
What would it be now?
The week passed in a flurry as preparations were made for the arrival of Akish’s party once again. Ash kept our few house servants busy from dawn till the darkest hours of the night, scouring the floors, painting the chipped wooden walls, repairing the rugs, and preparing food. My father seemed almost jovial, and his laughter frequently rang throughout the halls. It was almost as if Mother were still alive and my father had his kingdom back.
On the afternoon that Akish was to arrive, my sister came to my bedchamber.
I quickly hid the painting I was working on by turning over the vellum on the table. The paint would smear, but I didn’t want my sister to see it in case she recognized the man in the picture.
Through all of the preparations, I had not questioned my sister, for every time I thought of Akish, my face heated, and I didn’t want her to notice. To speak of him would surely bring a bright blush to my cheeks. But thoughts of him wouldn’t leave my mind, and I had to dispel them somehow. That’s why I had tried to paint him, unsuccessfully, many times. Charred remains of various images of Akish’s face lay in the cooking room’s fire pit.
Ash didn’t seem to notice my haste and only smiled when I looked up. “We must go to the ponds and wash ourselves.”
We collected perfumes and oil vials and carried them in a satchel to the ponds. Our home was secluded from the rest of the city, surrounded by trees and paths that twisted their way to the hills. We set out on the path leading to our favorite pond.
The brilliant sky and warm sun lightened my mood, and it matched my sister’s as we walked, arms linked.
“You and Father will love my idea,” Ash said.
“Will you not tell me yet?” I peered over at her. Ash’s hair had come undone and now trailed down her back, reaching her waist.
“Soon.” She laughed. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face.”
We reached the clearing. The pond was brilliant green in the afternoon sun, a backdrop to the lazing insects above it. She let go of my arm, stripped off her tunic, and jumped into the water.
“Ash!” I cried out. “Someone might come along.”
She dove under the water then came up, her hair wet, her smile victorious.
“Come on,” she said. “No one will see.”
I waded in more slowly, still wearing my under-tunic.
“Oh, Naiva, you must learn to have some fun.” She splashed me, but I ignored her.
I lowered myself into the water until I was soaked up to my neck. In one giant movement, Ash flew at me and dunked me.
I came up sputtering. The battle was on. I dove and locked onto her legs, dragging her down until we were both submerged. We wrestled in the silent underworld—everything seemed to move in slow motion. Our hair billowed out, our limbs graceful, our eyes wide.
Then I burst to the surface, gasping for air, Ash right behind me. Our energy spent, we floated until Ash said, “Fetch the oils for our hair.”
I stole out of the pond, on alert—I’d never trusted that we might be completely alone. The paths to the ponds were well traveled in the evenings but not so much during the day. Ash seemed to have no such concern. I removed an oil vial from the satchel and joined Ash in the water again. We rubbed the oil into each other’s hair then rinsed it out. The residue remained, which would make our hair soft and shiny when it dried.
I climbed onto the shore and rubbed oil on my arms and legs then lay down in the grass. As I closed my eyes, the sun warmed me and dried my clothes. I was drowsy with relaxation when Ash came to sit beside me.
I peeked at her. She had pulled on her under-tunic and was rifling through the satchel. “This one,” she said, handing over pomegranate oil. “Rub it into my back.”
I complied, and after her shoulders and neck glistened, she rubbed her own arms and legs. I lay back down and breathed in the sweet scent of pomegranate and listened to the buzzing insects and the gentle breeze that swayed the bordering trees.
I sensed the movement before I actually heard any change in sound. Alert, I sat up abruptly, looking toward the path that led uphill, parallel with the river. No one. Then I saw movement in the trees straight across from us. “Ash,” I whispered, reaching out to her. She bolted upright next to me, clutching at her damp tunic.
A man in a faded kilt stepped out of the trees. His beard was long and scraggly, his body filthy. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, as if he was just as surprised to see us. Perhaps he was only looking for a place to bathe. At least that’s what I thought until I saw the curved dagger gripped in his hand.
ASH SCREAMED.
I scrambled to my feet, pulling her with me. A thousand thoughts went through my mind, all laced with panic. The man stepped forward, holding his dagger out in front of him, his eyes shining wildly. Ash cowered behind me and screamed again.
We stepped back together, almost stumbling. My throat had tightened, making it impossible to speak or to scream.
He looked from me to my sister then smiled, revealing stumps for teeth. Perspiration broke out on my neck.
“Go away!” Ash cried out.
Something broke inside me, and my voice came back. “Leave us alone.” I stooped and picked up a rock as big as my fist. “Stay back!”
“Our brothers are just down the path.” Ash gripped my arm with a trembling hand.
The man tilted his head, his leering eyes sending another jolt of panic through me. “The sons of Jared are no more than boys.”
I felt as if I’d already been pierced through with the man’s dagger. He knew who we were.
“Our guards are within earshot,” Ash said.
“We’ll have to make haste then.” He lunged forward.
I threw the rock at him, but it fell short. Ash tugged me, and we turned and ran toward the downhill path. She stumbled in front of me, and we collided, both of us tumbling to the ground.
“Hurry,” Ash yelled as we climbed to our feet and started running again. But the man had reached us, and he leapt on me as Ash continued running.
He pulled me down, his hands clawing at my flailing arms and legs. The metal of the dagger, hot and sharp, touched my neck.
I stopped fighting and nearly stopped breathing as his other hand clamped around my neck, pressing me against the rocky ground.
Ash screamed again.
Hit him with something, I wanted to shout at her, but I was mute as I stared into the man’s wild eyes. His beard brushed my face, and the blade of the dagger pressed deeper against my skin until I feared it would penetrate.
Darkness pushed against the edges of my mind and threatened to overcome me completely. My vision blurred as his impossibly strong grip tightened around my neck. Just as the scene around me faded to gray, something exploded above me. Blackness claimed my mind, encompassing me in absolute silence, and my body felt heavy, as if a great weight pressed upon it, literally pushing me into the earth.
Then the weight lifted, and the black dissipated into gray again. When the gray cleared to blue, I realized my eyes were open and staring at the sky. The sounds rushed back with full force. Ash was crying and yelling, but there were other sounds too—men shouting, commanding.
Was there a whole band of them? Would they carry us off into the hills or leave us for dead? Were they enemies of my father? Did they work for my grandfather?
“She’s awake.” Ash’s voice.
I opened my mouth, but when I tried to speak, my throat felt as if it had been set aflame.
Someone lifted me, and I almost fainted again with the motion. I blinked, forcing myself to stay conscious. There was Ash, peering anxiously at me. Then another pair of eyes—blacker than the night.
Akish.
Where had he come from? He must have heard our screams and come to our aid. But how had he been near the ponds? They were in the opposite direction of Nehor. My neck throbbed fiercely, and the questions continued to dart through my mind, but I suddenly felt tired—so exhausted that I closed my eyes, and as Akish carried me in his capable arms, I dreamed of him kissing my hand again.
Akish held out his hand to me, never taking his eyes from mine. I reached for him and shivered as our hands touched. Then we were dancing together. I fit into his arms easily and he into mine. Somewhere in the background sat my sister and my father. They were angry, but I didn’t care. For tonight, all I saw was Akish. And all he saw was me.
The warmth of Akish’s touch faded as I became aware of my burning throat, both inside and out. My thirst was fiercer than I’d ever felt before, and I almost couldn’t catch a breath. I opened my eyes as the image of Akish faded, my heart rate increasing as I thought of him watching over my bedside. But the eyes that now watched me weren’t black like Akish’s. They were the most extraordinary color I’d ever seen—the color of leaves in the deepest of forests. Green and brown intermingling, as if they battled for space.
