He was not so very many years older than she, but in experience she was a child compared to him. She was a ruler in name but not in fact, and he in fact and not in name.
One of the family men bowed and took the reins. As the horses were led off down to the camp, Inos was left standing at Azak’s side on the little hill. He turned to face the sea.
“I love this place. A pity it has no water.”
His changes of mood baffled her, but overall he seemed to have mellowed since leaving the palace that morning. Was that a result of her civilizing conversation, or was it release from the constant peril of brothers and uncles? She stretched, aware that she also felt oddly content, despite her weariness. ”I shall never forget this day. I am very grateful to you, Azak.” She reached out a hand to him, but he began strolling seaward through the rough grass. She followed.
“I love the sea,” he remarked pensively. “It never gives up. ” He stopped and stared down at the patient, mindless waves following one another to destruction. “The bathing is good here. Go ahead. I will send Zana with towels.”
“Did you ever slide down sand dunes when you were a child?”
He peered at her oddly. “No, never.”
“Then try it now! Come on!” She ran to the edge and launched herself down the shadowed slope on her seat, starting an avalanche of sand. There had been dunes near Krasnegar, but this sand was still so hot it almost burned through her jodhpurs. Stilt-legged birds on the beach ran and then took flight, low over the water.
She came to a halt when the angle lessened, her feet buried. In a moment Azak went sliding past. He stopped a little way lower and turned to grin at her, suddenly looking almost boyish.
“Yes, that’s fun! I shall declare it a royal prerogative, and behead any commoner who tries it!”
She laughed—this was a much pleasanter Azak than the tyrant of the hunt. If the water was as hot as she suspected, a dip would be heavenly. He was right, this was a glorious spot. It was a great relief just to be out of the sun.
Azak had risen to his knees. Although he was lower than she, their eyes were level—the size of the lad! His face was curiously solemn, but Inos was not feeling solemn. She felt weary, but also glad the long day was over at last, and happy to be away from the eternal crowding of dozens of men; especially glad to be away from the confines of the palace. He must be feeling the same, of course, and more so. Here he need not fear the hidden archer or the poisoned flask.
She pulled off her headcloth and unfastened her hair, shaking it loose to fall heavy on her shoulders. She stretched and lay back against the slope, gazing up at pink wisps of cloud, running sand through her fingers, listening to the surf pounding on the beach below. “How many wives do you have, anyway?” she asked dreamily.
“None,” Azak said, very softly. “I have many women in my household, and many men, also. I don’t know how many. Not all the women are designated for the sort of personal service that bothers you so much. Cleaners, cooks, seamstresses . . . Dancers, singers, glovemakers.”
Inos snorted to indicate disbelief. “And when did you start . . . collecting?”
“At my coming of age, my thirteenth birthday. A boy’s education is completed by a woman. She was much older than I, of course, but not too old, as I demonstrated.”
Maybe! That could have been faked, whether he knew about it or not. “But you never have queens regnant. What is a sultana?”
“The wife of a sultan. One day, when I am free of the odious sorceress, I shall marry—one of my women, or a royal daughter from elsewhere, to seal a treaty. She will be sultana and have charge of the palace. At the moment I have sisters to look after those things.”
“Only one wife?”
“Only one. And she may be spawn of prince or peasant, as I choose.”
“But you still keep all the others, just for fun.”
“And for sons.”
She sighed and dribbled mote sand through her fingers. “Inosolan!” His voice was suddenly harsh. “You honor me greatly—but I can’t!”
Can’t what? Inos lifted her head to look at him. He had not moved. Then she read in his eyes what he was thinking. Horrified, she sat up and hugged her knees tightly, stammering as she sought words. Of course he had assumed . . .
They were completely alone on this warm sand, with nothing but distant fishing boats to overlook them, and certainly none of the palace staff would interrupt. She felt her face blaze hotter than the desert sands. Blatant provocation! “Come on!” she had said—her idea, her invitation! She had led him here and then started babbling about wives and concubines. He was the ultimate arrogant male, so of course he would think she had meant—
Inos, what have you started?
The last ruddy blush of the sunset showed his face, yet the expression on it looked more like fury than passion.
“I thought women gossiped more,” Azak said. “There is another curse on me. Everyone must know of it. Has no one told you?”
Inos swallowed and could find no words. She shook her head in frightened silence. No more games! she had vowed, and here she was, playing in the sand with a barbarian killer. She had forgotten politics, put them aside to relax, but Azak would never relax. Even procreation was politics to a royal stallion.
“I cannot touch a woman.”
“What? But—”
“It is one of Rasha’s torments. I would burn you like hot iron. A mare, a falcon, a bitch, any female animal, but not a woman.”
The humiliation on his face was an agony, but he was keeping his eyes on hers, steady as nailheads. “I tried to have one of my women comb my hair. It scorched her fingers. From the oldest crone in the kingdom to my tiniest daughter, if her flesh touches mine, she will be blistered and burned.”
With one exception, of course?
“Your Majesty! That’s—I have never heard of anything so cruel.”
“Nor I. But she will never break me!”
Aghast, Inos hugged her knees tighter, then hid her face on them. She was appalled at the sorceress’ vindictiveness, but even more appalled at her own sense of relief, and at the narrowness of her escape. This was not the Impire, and she no longer had Kade hiding behind every bush. Idiot! Her heart was still pounding as she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. “I assure you, that was not what I had in mind, your Majesty. But I deplore such evil sorcery. It is foul and wicked, and I despise the sorceress for it.”
He frowned at her, as if puzzled.
The swift desert twilight was fading into night. She had finally achieved what she had been seeking for weeks, a private chat with Azak. She tried to collect her wits.
“Let us talk about Rasha now.”
He shrugged. “Why not? Of course, she may be spying on us. Or she may wait until we return tomorrow and then just ask, but at least no one else can hear. Speak, Queen Inosolan!” He turned around and made himself comfortable, sitting slightly downhill from her and leaning back to face the sea, elbows against the slope.
She began to talk and he kept cutting her off, saying he knew that, as if every word she or Kade had spoken in the palace had been repeated to him, the whole Krasnegar story. But when she came to the meeting with Olybmo, Azak fell silent, staring out at the waves, motionless as a tree until she had finished.
Even then, he seemed to speak to the sea and the huge bright moon. “I have never seen a goblin. Are they as bad as gnomes?”
“I don’t know gnomes.”
He stretched out and rolled over to lie on his belly and look up at her. ”You seek another choice, but if you are forced to that one, will you marry a goblin to win back your kingdom?”
That question had haunted her for two nights now. “If it came to that, the choice would not likely be mine to make.”
He grunted. “Good! Never answer hypothetical questions. What do you want me to do?”
“Help me!”
“Why?”
He had not asked How! Inos felt an upsurge of hope. This big, deadly young man might have a trick or two she had not thought of.
“Because: My enemy’s enemy is my friend.”
“Not necessarily! Who are your enemies? Both Rasha and the warlock were willing to put you on your throne. It’s not their objective you dislike, it’s their price.”