Page 6 of Tashama
Deadly silence ensued—no whispered voices—not even from the wood sprites now. The cavalry officer tossed her braid aside and stared at her clothes. “Isthiswhat they send to fight their battles now?”
She glared at him, matching his scowl. He considered her turtleneck a form-fitting shirt that accentuated her feminine figure. “It’s female—that’s for certain.” Then his eyes dropped to study her brass-buckled belt. His black bushy brows furrowed, and he ran his ruddy finger over the inscribed letters etched into her oval buckle.
His lips mouthed the letters in silence, then the armored men standing nearby parted briefly. The gray-haired man stared at her.
“I cannot read these strange symbols. What does it call her, Carissian?”
Carissian peered into Tashama’s eyes, and though she fought to turn her head from his stare, she found she was unable to do so.
“Dallas.” A whisper of a smile touched his lips. “But my saying so amuses her.”
Tashama struggled to clear her mind. He explored her thoughts as if fingers touched the most sensitive parts of her body.
He arched his brows in response. “She’s very clever—this one. Take her to his lordship at once.”
“A Karthlander female? What would Prince Aleron want with the likes of her?”
Carissian’s stern look made the warrior grunt in response. He grabbed Tashama’s wrist, then yanked her toward his closestmounted cavalry officer. Tashama cried out when he lifted her off her feet with a sudden jerk of her arm.
“Careful, Oshon. Be careful with this one.” Carissian vanished.
“Sorcerers—they’ll undo our realm!” Oshon yelled, jumped into the leather of his saddle, then waved his men toward the direction of the royal city.
Within the hour,the cavalry rode into the marbled city of Banf. Tashama assumed the rest of the men dismounted to take care of more pleasurable business, while Oshon rode straight with his captive, her, to Prince Aleron’s palace. Golden spires, fifteen in number, reached for the clear blue skies while white marble walls connecting the towers shimmered in the sunlight.
Tashama studied the steel gates as they opened, then glanced up at the wall walk. Guards roamed about on top of the wall, though several peered down at her to see the prisoner. She was led into the inner courtyard, where pages hurried to take the men’s mounts. The cavalry officer dumped her onto the grassy grounds.
Before she could recover from her unceremonious dismount, he jumped down beside her and yanked her to her feet. She fought crying out this time. She would not allow them to think of her as weak.
The two men hurried her into the palace, and she reached up to tuck a loose curl back into her braid, unraveling from the blue ribbon that once bound it. She studied a royal guard’s shining gold trappings when he saluted Oshon with his spear.
When she caught sight of his leering gaze, she quickened her pace to her escort’s surprise, and they hurried to catch up to her.Her rubber-soled shoes made nary a sound on the polished ivory floors. Still, the clicking of the metal-edged boots of Oshon and his officer echoed off the peach-tinted, variegated-marble walls, making their arrival all the more pronounced.
Young girls in flowing gowns of opalescent sheers covering opaque satins in vibrant blues, burgundy, purples, and golds fluttered up and down the cris-crossing hallways like butterflies flitting in a marble garden. They stopped only briefly to stare at the oddly dressed prisoner escorted through their residence, then floated away. The sweet-scented, jasmine-like waters they wore drifted in the air with their departure.
Male servants walked toward her, wearing white satin robes nearly touching the floor like garments worn by the early senators of Rome.
They did not wear trousers like her own people did. She would never have thought… She shook her head. She never realized everything would be so different in Maldovia.
They seemed a pleasant enough people, except for this Oshon, leader of the cavalry and a total brute. But if they learned she ruled the people that were their enemy, or would when she set things right, how would the Maldovians then treat her? Torture her for tactical secrets? Use her to ransom her kingdom?
She shuddered at the notion. For now, her best defense was to keep her lips sealed tight.
When Tashama and her escort arrived at the entrance of the throne room, the royal guard bowed low to Oshon. “Prince Aleron is expecting you in his chambers.”
“Surely he wouldn’t wish for me to bringthisto him there.” He lifted Tashama’s cut arm slightly.
“Carissian is already there and has advised His Highness concerning the prisoner. They’re expecting you at once.”
Oshon grumbled his displeasure, then pulled Tashama down the next corridor. When they arrived at Aleron’s apartments, aman greeted Oshon and turned to Tashama. “I’m Acholuria, the prince’s personal guard.” He motioned for them to enter.
Satin pillows in a rainbow of colors were piled high in a corner of the room, and a long wooden desk rested against the opposite wall. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her sense of fear and frustration. Level-headedness was what she needed to see her through.How, Balthazar, am I to get myself out of this?
“Well, what have we here?” a broad-shouldered man asked, stalking into the room. His deep, dark voice drew her in, though she fought the feeling, and she avoided looking at him, innately fearful of what she might see.
He’s your enemy, Tashama. Remember that.
“Prince Aleron,” Acholuria announced. “Bow before His Highness,” he ordered Tashama.
