Page 20 of Tashama
6
The tent flap jerked aside while torchlight cast shadows into the hospital. The royal guard studied Tashama for a second, then announced over his shoulder, “She is here, Your Highness.”
Aleron walked into the tent dressed entirely in black. His smile stretched across his face, and she folded her arms.
Oshon entered the tent, and the prince motioned to her. “Bring her with us.” He hurried outside.
“You’re to come with me.” Several of the prisoners had taken up position at the entrance of the tent, and Oshon said to her, “If you make any trouble for us, we’ll start killing prisoners.”
Tashama kissed the healer on the cheek. “I’ll see you again.”
Cheers resounded when she waved her hand at the men while the royal guards flanked her. “Wewillbe free!” she shouted, then walked with the royal guard, the crowd following her to the gates.
The camp guards doubled their numbers and bolted up the stairs to the wall walk while the ones in the compound unsheathed their swords.
Aleron watched the imprisoned soldiers stir into a frenzy. Oshon boosted Tashama into the saddle of a horse. As they rode from the compound, the guards rushed to close the gates while the prisoners surged toward them like cattle being prodded into a pen.
A cry of “We will be free!” was raised by the prisoners, and the prince kneed his horse to a canter. Tashama kept pace with him and studied his facial features. She turned her head from his view when she caught his eye, demurely, more like the way he expected his women to act.
Riders, a few horses in front, carried torches of flame, casting an eerie glow in the dark. The fragrance of pine scented the air, and an owl hooted in the distance.
“What am I to do with you?” Aleron asked. “You are dangerous left to your own cunning ways in the compound, so my guards have told me, but Carissian assures me you are just as much of a threat to me should you return to the palace.”
“Then he is feeble-minded. How can a mere woman be a threat to a”—Tashama hesitated, and considered the cut of the prince’s tunic—“powerful figure such as yourself? Why do you listen to such a man?”
He noted the sarcasm in her voice and dismissed it. “Carissian didn’t wish for me to come for you. He wouldn’t say why.”
“Yet, you came anyway. Release me, Prince Aleron. Let me return to Karthland. I didn’t believe Maldovians or Karthlanders, for that matter, took women hostage. In taking me prisoner, you’ve violated the rules of war.”
“I think not.” The prince rubbed his chin in thought. “If you would be dangerous to me here, then you would undoubtedly be more of a threat to me there, though I’m at a loss as to how this could be so.”
“You do not truly believe I’m dangerous to you.”
Her fingers were unadorned, and he assumed she could not be mated. “How old are you?”
“Old enough.” The breeze tossed a loose curl in her face, and she tucked it behind her ear. “I’ve heard it said you have never visited the compound before.”
“The time was right.” Aleron studied her fingers and added under his breath, “You are not linked.”
By early morning,Tashama was escorted into the palace. This time, the guards deposited her in a room where peach and gold sheer silks billowed out from a ten-square-foot window. Reaching the floor, the window served as an open doorway into gardens.
The gold doors leading back into the palace were shut behind her, and Tashama ran to the window and gazed at the garden. Pink, blue, purple, and yellow colors of numerous floral varieties filled islands that dripped into the peach-tiled walkways, and the smell of heavenly flowers scented the light breeze.
Movement on one of the paths caught her eye. She frowned when one of the members of the royal guard walked off the walkway, followed by Aleron. He smiled at her. She tilted her head up in defiance. Feminine voices caught her attention as three women, dressed in gaily colored shimmering sheers of blues and golds laced over opaque satins, entered her room.
Tashama’s back stiffened when they hurried to join her.
“Come with us, miss.” The one smiled at her.
“Where to?”
The ladies tugged gently at her arms, then, feeling her resistance, pulled her into a room off the main one.
“In here.” The lady waved at a Roman-style bath of marble. Fudge swirls whirled about the glassy surface of the ivory tiles covering both the tub and the surrounding floor and walls. Tashama was reminded of her favorite ice cream flavor—fudge ripple.
“A bath.” Tashama hurried to pull her turtleneck over her head. Then, as the woman gasped at the sight of her lacy bra, she held her shirt in front of her breasts. “Could I have some privacy, ladies?”
“We’re to help you, miss.” The lady yanked the shirt from Tashama’s grasp, then tossed it to another.
