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“According to what Rakkur has told me, you did enough. Apparently neither of you know much about the mechanics of this thing, but I can have the doctors explain if you need me to. It’s yours, and there is no other possibility. He hasn’t been with any other men. I’m afraid you have to marry him.”
I’m sure there are worse things than having your father tell a man he’s “afraid he has to marry you” and watching that man almost pass out from the shock of it. More unflattering and awful things. Though I can’t think of any.
We all waited uneasily while Tariq recovered, and I spent the time mostly with my head in my hands, not looking at anybody. Finally, Tariq cleared his throat. “Rakkur, come here, please.”
I stood and went over to him right away, as my omak looked on in surprise. I usually didn’t respond well to being summoned like that, but this was Tariq, and I needed to be close to him. He took my hand in his, searching my face.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and despite whatever else he wanted to say, I put my arms around his waist and my head on his chest, unable not to touch him.
“I’m fine. And you don’t have to do this,” I said softly, but Omak turned on me like one of those spitting lemats on Lycan 3.
“Oh yes, he does. It’s the only way to keep your father from losing his mind. This whole thing is partially Davos’s fault, because he wouldn’t let me go along in the first place, but he’d never admit it. No, we’ll present this wedding to him as a fait accompli. Sorry, I mean, a done deal. He’ll be easier to manage that way. Colonel Tariq is a perfectly acceptable bridegroom. Unless he still thinks he wants to object.”
Tariq looked up at him. “Not an objection, no. But I need to speak with you privately, sir. Before any announcements are made.”
He glanced back at Tariq and raised one eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, not backing down in the least.
“All right. Come with me.” Blake came over to me first and kissed me on the cheek. My brothers said I was his favorite, but I knew he didn’t have those. He loved me, but he loved all of us—so much that sometimes he came off as overbearing. Okay, a lot of the time.
But we knew better. He just wanted the best for us, always, and he tried to be our champion. We’d grown up knowing he was always on our side, no matter what. Not that he didn’t see our faults. He did and let us know about them. But we knew that he loved us in spite of that and would help us work things out when we had a problem. He was always fair. So, what could be wrong with that?
He gave my hand a squeeze and then took Tariq’s arm to go out into the hallway. Mikos followed them out and I was left alone again. Alone to pace and worry and regret a lot of choices. Would Tariq keep trying to find a way out? It was tearing up my nerves and all my doubts came flooding back in a rush. If he didn’t love me the way I loved him, was I just setting myself up for heartbreak in the end? What were we doing? I plopped down on the bed to wait for my heart to stop beating so hard. I wondered if I really wanted to hang around and find out what was going to happen for the rest of my life. I was afraid it might kill me to wait, but it seemed I had no choice.
****
Tariq
The Royal Consort led me to a little alcove in the hallway, next to a broad window. He sat down and smoothed his long, sapphire-colored robes over his lap. This was the old style of clothing on Tygeria, and the king and his consort still kept to it, though the younger members of court had begun to wear more modern clothing. He looked very handsome there in the small space dappled with the sunset in the background. It was striking how it streaked his blond hair with silver strands. This was what Rakkur would look like one day, I thought, not at all unhappy about it. He’d probably have that same prim look around his mouth too, but with that little flash of steel in his blue eyes.
“Well, Colonel?” the consort said, looking slightly wary. “Did you have something you needed to say to me?”
“I’m not worthy of him, you know. That’s one reason why I didn’t say anything about our bonding long ago. I know he’s told you about that. It was an accident, and I was trying to save his life.”
“I know that, Colonel. I’m appreciative of the fact. Though it does seem like the two of you have a lot of ‘accidents.’”
That was true enough. It didn’t reflect well on either of us. “I’m also not a nobleman, and I’m too old for him. And I’ve been married before.”
“Yes, I know all of that. And I could argue those points. But let me skip the platitudes and just come out and ask. Why do you think you’re not worthy of my son?”
I raised my head and looked him directly in the eye. “You will have heard of my parents. Of my father?”
His eyes changed and softened. “Oh, Tariq. I knew your omak slightly. He was in my son-in-law Ryan’s group of warriors who participated in the Games, and I met him several times. I liked him very much. What happened to him and your father was tragic. Just awful.”
The consort surprised me then by taking my hand in his. “I know you were young when it happened. Tell me what you remember about that day.”
“They’d been arguing all day. Nothing serious, I think. Just bickering back and forth. They did that a lot. That evening, my father started drinking. It made the argument worse and my omak finally said he’d had enough, and he was leaving. I don’t think he really meant it—he’d been drinking too, and I think he just wanted to go outside and get some air. He stopped by his garden in the front, and I followed him out. I know he wouldn’t really have left. I know that. But I wanted to make sure.”
I looked up and saw the consort’s blue eyes, so much like Rakkur’s, gazing at me with so much sympathy and warmth, I had to turn away. “Go on,” he said, encouraging me.
“My father came after us. They started fighting even more and my omak shouted at him. Screamed at him that he hated him. My father…changed then. I saw the claws and the teeth, and I knew what was happening. I ran to get in front of Omak, but Father batted me away. I don’t think he meant to hurt me, but I fell hard and hurt my head. My omak screamed and jumped on him then, hitting him with one of the little garden shovels that was lying there. I know my father didn’t mean to hurt him. Omak had a terrible temper, though, and he was protecting me. He hit my father really hard, and blood started pouring out of his scalp. I think he was stunned. He wasn’t really aware of what he was doing—I truly believe that. He-he struck out blindly and caught my omak with his claws. Omak’s poor throat…” I stopped talking, feeling too choked up to go on, and the consort made a soft and wordless sound of sympathy and squeezed my arm. I took a deep breath and went on.
“He only struck him once, but he’d hit a vein or something. My omak bled out before the medics could arrive. We both tried so hard to help him. To stop the bleeding.”
“Oh, honey.”
“There was nothing we could do to save him. It destroyed my father. He killed himself later that same week. He used his own dagger to cut his wrists while I was sleeping.”
