Tiger's Promise
Authors: Colleen Houck
The Tiger Saga
Tiger’s Curse
Tiger’s Quest
Tiger’s Voyage
Tiger’s Destiny
TIGER’S PROMISE
All Rights Reserved © 2014 by Colleen Houck
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or
by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of
the publisher.Published by Colleen Houck
Cover Art by Cliff Nielsen
For my brothers—Mel, Andrew, and Jared—
Challenging opponents in board games but devoted supporters in life
Hartley Coleridge 1796–1849
SHE pass’d away like morning dew
Before the sun was high;
So brief her time, she scarcely knew
The meaning of a sigh.
As round the rose its soft perfume,
Sweet love around her floated;
Admired she grew—while mortal doom
Crept on, unfear’d, unnoted.
Love was her guardian Angel here,
But Love to Death resign’d her;
Tho’ Love was kind, why should we fear
But holy Death is kinder?
Prologue
Most little girls looked forward to the time when their father returned home. Yesubai
did not. As soon as the clanging bell announced his arrival, fear seized her heart
in a powerful grip and the young girl stopped breathing.
No one who took note of the small child could tell how deathly terrified she actually
was. All one could see was a diminutive princess, adorned in the finest of silks.
Her large, unusual-colored lavender eyes, framed by thick, dark eyelashes, set in
a heart-shaped face, made even the crossest of hearts melt. On the outside, she was
as calm and as still as a mountain lake. There was nothing of the shrewd and the mysterious
about her, at least not outwardly. Yesubai’s demeanor reflected nothing of her father.
Despite this, not one soul who worked closely with the family would risk so much as
a whisper regarding the possibility of indiscretions on the part of their master’s
late wife. No one was that stupid. They thought it though. They all wondered how such
a rare gem could come forth from a fount so impure. None pondered this idea more than
Yesubai’s beloved caretaker, Isha.
The servant woman, Isha, had been called in almost immediately upon the death of the
master’s wife, Yuvakshi. Isha had, in fact, been friends with the midwife who helped
deliver Yuvakshi’s baby, but soon after the birth of her young ward, the unfortunate
death of Yuvakshi was announced. This was quickly followed by the midwife’s mysterious
disappearance. Isha, a nursemaid, was hired, and she and the young baby girl were
banished to the far side of the sumptuous home in the small kingdom of Bhreenam.
Bhreenam had once been a peaceful place to live. Their king was old but he was a good
man with very few political ambitions. Most of the people were herders and farmers,
and the military was just large enough to provide security from the occasional rabble-rouser
or drunkard. It was a good place to live. Once.
Now a new military commander had taken over. The very man who had hired Isha. He was
a dark man. A dangerous one. Outwardly, of course, he was all smiles, and to the king
he played at deference, but it was all Isha could do not to chant a plea to the gods
to ward off evil every time he came near. Her employer frightened her. More than anyone
she’d ever met.
Isha’s suspicion that the young baby’s father had done something terrible to his wife
was amplified when he visited the nursery. She’d often enter the room to find him
staring down at the young baby with naked loathing on his face. Like a coward, she’d
wait in the doorway, half hidden and wringing her hands as she whispered silent supplications
that the little girl who she’d come to love would not do anything to upset her father.
When he’d leave, she’d breathe a sigh of relief and thank the gods for keeping her
ward asleep through the ordeal. But after each of his visits, she’d discover the little
girl was awake after all, her liquid eyes still staring at the spot where her father’s
face had recently been. The baby’s little limbs were still, and her blanket remained
tightly tucked around her.
Later, despite the frequent appearance of the baby’s father, Isha would want the girl
to show more emotion; in fact, she often wondered if something was wrong with her
charge. She wasn’t a mean child. It was nothing of that sort. Yesubai just had a serious
nature.
She didn’t play as other children did. Instead of daydreaming or playacting with her
toys, she merely propped them up in a place that she said displayed them in the best
light. Her smiles were rare. Though her beauty was undeniable, most saw her as merely
a pretty doll. Only Isha could sense the deep feelings that ran beneath the surface.
The visits from Yesubai’s father became less frequent as the child grew older, and
most of the time, he left his daughter alone, the exception being when he trotted
her out for political assemblies and parties. The child’s rare beauty seemed to please
him then, especially when it was remarked upon by the king. Yesubai followed her father
from minister to minister, even holding his hand when he demanded it, and made not
a sound unless she was directly addressed. Even then, she was as polite and as perfect
as a princess, and her quiet nature charmed all who met her.
Though he used her to his advantage, Yesubai’s father spoke not a kind word to her
and passed the girl off as soon as was immediately possible. Only when ensconced safely
in Isha’s arms did the young girl’s shoulders droop and her beautiful eyes flutter
closed. Isha would then tuck the little ethereal creature into bed and wonder, not
for the first time, if she was a grown woman, wise beyond her years, trapped in the
body of a little girl.
When Yesubai was eight, her father departed for a trip he’d been strangely excited
about. The gleam in his eyes was frightening, and Isha secretly hoped that whatever
compelled him to leave would somehow keep him away indefinitely, but, as always, he
returned, and she waited with crippling fear for the aftermath. If her master’s trip
had gone well, he’d have the servants deliver boxes of cut flowers, but if it had
gone badly, he’d seek out Yesubai personally. Isha didn’t have to wait long.
When she bustled into the room, she saw the little girl she’d come to love standing
immobile and staring at the door. She took the hand of her charge and squeezed lightly.
Lavender eyes blinked once, twice, and then she looked up at the old servant woman.
The tiniest lift at the corner of her mouth indicated to Isha that Yesubai was grateful
for her presence.
As Yesubai carefully covered her waist-length hair with a purple scarf, Isha bustled
around the already pristine room and slid a book an inch lower on the table, wiped
condensation from the cold flask of water, straightened a blanket, and fluffed a few
pillows.
The stomp of heavy boots was heard in the hallway, and quickly Yesubai secured her
scarf across her face so that only her lovely eyes could be seen. Isha took her place
off to the side of the room and hovered in the shadows, steeling herself to protect
her ward but secretly hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. As much as Isha wanted to be
a strong woman, one who would not bow down to evil, she always felt the guilty relief
that came when the little girl who knew too much was able to handle her father on
her own.
Someday
, she thought.
Someday, I will stand fearless beside her
.
But Isha did not stand fearless beside Yesubai, at least not right away. As the girl’s
father entered the room, power crackling at his fingertips, both the girl and the
old woman knew that the visit that day would not bring flowers but thorns. As Yesubai
curtsied for her father and diminutively lowered her eyes in the way he expected,
he lashed out—first with the unnatural power stored up in his arms, and then with
his fists.
Precious silks went up in flames. Chunks of stone blew away from the wall and crashed
into the opposite one. Little dolls with intricately carved wax faces melted into
puddles. When the physical destruction proved ineffective in calming his temper, he
finally turned on his daughter.
Bravely, she stood before him, head bowed and calm while he raged about the things
he wanted but were just out of his grasp—such as his lust for a woman who spurned
him, the fact that Yesubai was a cowering weakling, and that her birth had denied
him the son he so very much wanted at his side.
With the rage of a bull, he drew back his arm and struck Yesubai across the face with
so much strength that the force picked up her thin frame. The wind tossed her veil
aside and whipped her hair. With a sickening smack, Yesubai hit the wall and slid
slowly down, crumpling into a heap on the floor. The little girl lay still, her broken
body hung like a lifeless doll tossed carelessly over jagged pieces of stone.
With a cry, Isha rushed forward into the path of the monster only to be rewarded with
a broken leg, a crushed windpipe, two blackened eyes, and deep purple bruises down
her body. Her ward was dead and Isha knew she would be soon joining her.
In the quiet after his departure, she wakened. Pain licked her limbs and pounded beneath
her eyelids, and yet she sensed a fluttering touch on her arm. Yesubai. The girl was
alive.
She touched her beloved caretaker with tender, tentative fingers, and a warm tingle
soothed the pain that arced through Isha’s limbs. Hours passed and, as she healed,
Isha pondered the things she’d been able to glean from her master’s rants. It seemed
he had recently failed in an attempt to infiltrate a neighboring kingdom, which spurred
his rage. He’d screamed that the amulets
would
belong to him and that if he had to go through a thousand soldiers to get his hands
on the young princes, then so be it.
As he’d beaten his daughter, he’d said that she was worthless and as docile as her
mother and that a powerful man such as himself needed a strong and compelling woman
to stand at his side. He said he’d only wished he’d killed Yuvakshi before she’d given
him a mewling daughter to be the thorn in his side.
Isha lay quietly, the swelling in her face and body subsiding thanks to Yesubai’s
healing touch, but the young girl, with bleeding cuts from her father’s rings marring
her beautiful face, cried and softly apologized, saying that there wasn’t much she
could do to help with the leg. It didn’t matter. Isha would heal enough.
The limp she had following that day was a reminder for Isha to stand firm against
evil. It actually gave her a sense of pride to know that she’d been brave enough to
defend her ward after all. Yet, as heroic as she’d been that day, she still desperately
feared the future. What would her master do when he learned that the two of them had
not died?
On that day full of pain and sorrow, Isha came to understand two very important things.
First—there was a magic, darkly used by the father, which had been somehow passed
on to the daughter. And second—Yesubai’s father had indeed killed his late wife and
would not hesitate to murder again. She’d suspected him of the blackest evil before,
but now she knew that he was capable of worse. Much worse.