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disheveled and fretsome. Granted, he had always disliked the temple and the necessary acts of worship that went on there. However, he looked as if he was practically losing his mind with whatever ailed him. He stood in the center of the temple gesticulating wildly at Amshazar and the Aleemite prisoners, his hands shaking, his eyes flitting anxiously.
"You cannot treat people this way,” Hanrah declared, pointing at the gallery where Amshazar and the assembled Aleemites were on their knees, heads bowed. Behind each prisoner a Palace guard stood, his sword's point at the back of the captive's neck warning against any rash move.
"I can,” she replied, savoring the thought of the high esteem they would gain from the god of war, when these bodies were offered as sacrifices to him. He would imbue their future efforts to win power and land with good fortune.
"Settle yourself down, Hanrah.” She pushed him toward the throne that had been set up for him, the seat from which he would take the hand of his bride.
He buckled under her aggressive gesture, and then leapt back at her, snatching at her arm. “Mother, you cannot force people to do things against their will."
"Yes, I can. Now lower your voice, you are making a spectacle of yourself. Don't let your people know how weak you really are."
"I do not wish to marry her,” he declared.
"Ah, so it is yourself you're afraid for. I thought you were concerned for your special ally, Amshazar."
"I am concerned for him.” Hanrah shook his head. The situation really had upset him, foolish boy. She wondered how he'd react when he realized she'd run his forbidden courtesan out of his hidden den and had him within her grasp as well. She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Hanrah, it will be an extremely short marriage, in name only. Remember that. But I do need you to do this one simple thing for me."
Still he shook his head. “I cannot do it. There is another to whom I...” His voice trailed away to nothing when he realized he was saying the wrong thing to her, his eyelids dropping.
Gods, he is a dullard, she thought to herself with annoyance. She resisted the urge to comment about the person he had almost referred to, and narrowed her eyes at him, forcing him to feel her will. “Do not disobey me."
She noticed a flurry of activity at the entrance of the temple, and Sibias emerged, his appearance clearing a passage between the assembled guards, servants and courtiers. Many of them had not seen him in his sorcerer's mantle, that which empowered and revealed his darkest powers.
"Be quiet,” she said to Hanrah, holding her son by the sleeve, turning her attention to her favorite as he approached. “Well?"
Sibias bowed his head and smiled at her, his eyes glowing. “Your will is done,” he said. “The empress is being prepared.” He glanced to her side and frowned, observing Hanrah, who struggled like an untrained hound in her grip.
Others watched too. Mehmet saw that it was time to take action. “Guards, stoke the temple fires in readiness for our offerings."
Sibias's eyes lit. “The first, as we agreed?"
Mehmet hesitated only a moment. Since Hanrah's forbidden courtesan was what seemed to be ailing him, it seemed the logical thing to do. If he were gone, Hanrah would have nothing to fight for. Right now, she needed him, even if it meant temporarily stamping the passion out of him to get her way. He had to learn. This was one way. “Yes, do it."
Sibias clapped his hands over his head.
Glancing to her right, Mehmet saw her men working steadily at Hurda's wall, stoking the fires there. The flames in Hurda's hungry open mouth leapt high. The assembled crowd moved back, afraid. Screams issued from beyond the entrance. A pair of guards entered, hauling a struggling figure between them.
Hanrah broke free of her hold when he saw who it was that was being brought in. “Kazeen,” he shouted.
Guards blocked his path to the prisoner. He looked back at her, his expression frantic.
"Say goodbye to your friend,” she instructed.
He shook his head vigorously. “Please, no."
"I need to make a sacrifice,” she said in a weary tone, secretly amused at his sudden turnaround.
"Not Kazeen, please.” He was quite desperate.
Would he do anything to save his lover? An idea occurred to her. Why not keep the slave a while, in order to manipulate her son. “What would you do to save him?"
Hanrah frowned, apparently fearful of saying the wrong thing. “Whatever you wish, Mother."
Mehmet smiled. “Agree to the marriage, and I may allow him to live."
Hanrah's frown deepened. “Promise me that if I do this thing, he will be spared."
She disliked promising something she had no intention of doing. She gave a deep sigh, rolling her eyes. “All right then, I promise.” She gestured to the guards who held Kazeen. “Take him over there. Where we can all see him.” Under her breath, she murmured: “We might as well have everyone and their lovers present and accounted for."
